“Dr. Lense, do not patronize me,” Granger snapped. “I’ve been dealing with the woman since she and her people arrived here. She was an arrogant, pigheaded authoritarian when she was operating from out of her father’s shadow, and she’s only gotten worse since he died. Believe me, she won’t rest until she has things her way.”
Lense fumed. “I will concede that you grasp the finer details of the local political situation better than I do. However, I really don’t give a good hot damn; all I’m concerned about is the continued health of this colony.”
“I am talking about the continued health of this colony, dammit!” Veins were now pulsing visibly at Granger’s temples. “Odell will use this as precedent to have everything else taken away. Before long, we’ll be reduced to treating patients with leeches and prayers. If this were your sickbay, and your captain was asking the Romulans to take charge of your work, you would be just as adamant in defending it as I am.”
Lense glowered at Granger. “I don’t quite see the parallel between Starfleet and the Romulans,” she said hotly. “Although, if they had any expertise in the health concerns of cloned humans, I wouldn’t refuse their help.”
“This isn’t help you’re offering! This is enfeeblement!”
Lense sighed, and tapped her combadge. “Lense to Kim. Please return to the observation lounge. Dr. Granger is ready to leave.”
“So, that’s your answer?” Granger asked, the contempt not so much dripping from his voice as it was overflowing.
Lense met his haughty expression with a hard-eyed stare of her own. “Doctor, I’m very sorry you feel this way. But I am not going to simply walk away from a major health-care crisis, particularly not when said crisis would then be overseen by such a shortsighted, self-important ass as yourself. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, as the lounge doors slid open and Kim reappeared, “I have work to do.” She turned her back on both men and stormed out of the room.
Chapter
10
Domenica Corsi’s hands glided easily over her console, guiding the shuttle Shirley planetward through the dark of a thick cloud cover. Her jaw was hard-set, though not out of any concerns about flying blind on instruments only; the fact that she was on a shuttle in the first place was reason enough for concern. “Why can’t we just beam into the cloning lab, grab what we need to, and beam right back out?” she had asked, not unreasonably, during the pre-mission briefing.
“If there are any identifiable traces of viral DNA that survived the explosion and fire,” Lense had explained, “they’re going to be extremely damaged and fragile. The risk of damaging them further by subjecting them to the matter–energy conversion process of the transporter is too great.”
And of course, risks to random molecules trump the risks to people, Corsi thought ruefully. To make matters worse, they would need to put down at a large, highly trafficked gateway into the Capital Complex in order to get in and out of the cloning labs. Even on the friendliest of worlds, drawing the attention of spontaneous crowds was more risk than was wise to take.
The shuttle broke through the cloud ceiling into only slightly less darkness. It was about an hour before sunrise, and the overcast skies dulled the light beyond the eastern horizon. Yet there were already a number of people milling around the circular brick courtyard that was the convergence point of several rural roads leading into the complex. Vendors were setting up kiosks and carts with merchandise and food, anticipating the early morning influx of foot traffic. Also from their altitude, Corsi could see local farmers out and about taking care of their early morning chores…now distracted by the descending spacecraft, and starting to drift in the direction of their landing site. “Aw, crap,” she muttered.
Gomez reached over from her spot in the copilot’s seat to give her forearm a quick squeeze. She gave the commander a quick sideways glance, and saw her reassuring smile. After the fiasco at the prime ministers’ residence, the commander had just been glad that she and her people were getting a second chance to prove themselves, no matter how odious the engineer in her found their mission. Well, if she can grin and bear it, Corsi thought, so can I.
“All right, people,” Gomez swiveled in her seat to face the rest of the mission team seated astern. “We’ve already started attracting attention, so the faster we get in and out, the better. Are we all clear on our objectives?”
“Crystal,” Makk Vinx answered, while Soloman and Andrew Angelopoulos simply nodded.
The fourth team member, though, seemed lost in thought. “Doctor?”
“Identify and recover forensic biological samples, while you assess the state of the equipment, Soloman searches for research files, and Corsi’s team investigates the cause of the initial explosion.”
A quiet warning bell went off in the back of Corsi’s mind as she listened to the doctor’s dull recitation. Something, she knew, had been bothering Lense since her return to the da Vinci, something that happened on that transdimensional planet she’d been stranded on. She refused to talk about it, though. Lense had always, as long as they’d served together, been a very private person, slow to open up to others, holding everything close to the chest. Probably why we manage to deal with each other in close quarters so well…
She put it out of her mind when Gomez seemed satisfied with the doctor’s response, and concentrated instead on landing. She switched from thrusters to antigravs, and guided the Shirley down onto the brick surface of the courtyard with only the quietest of thumps. “Okay,” she said, standing out of her seat and moving to the shuttle hatch. “Let’s get this done.”
A group of thirty or so onlookers had gathered around the edge of the courtyard, ignoring the merchants and the scent of cooking breakfast foods from one of the vendor carts. “Good morning,” Corsi greeted them as she led the rest of the team toward the complex entrance. “Please, just go about your business. We have a few matters inside that—”
“What are you doing, landing that thing there?” A bearded Bringloidi man moved to intercept Corsi, causing her and the rest of the team to stop short. “You can’t just park that thing in the middle of the plaza!”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. We won’t be long, I promise.”
“What sort of business do you have here?” shouted another man, stepping out ahead of the rest of the crowd. This one was a Mariposan of the Hammond line, with the same dark skin and muscular build they’d seen on Kevin Hammond and his security force. “You here to steal more of our machines?”
Corsi did not care for the tone behind that challenge, nor for the supportive murmur that arose from the crowd in response. “We’re not here to steal anything,” she answered, as she brought her right hand behind her back and made a subtle gesture. Vinx and Angelopoulos shifted position so that they and Corsi formed a loose semicircle around the rest of the team.
“Oh, no?” Another Mariposan, a woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, stepped forward now, approaching Vinx. “This one was at my house yesterday, practically accusing me of being behind the attack two days ago, saying my name was on some list and threatening to take my biosynthesizer away.”
Vinx’s eyes narrowed, but he held himself motionless. “Hey, I was just doin’ my job. We got no beef with you no more, so why don’cha just step back, sister?”
“Who do you think you are, pushing us around like this?” she demanded, taking another step forward, chin thrust out.
“I axed you nice already, lady. Now petrify, or I’ll—”
“Vinx,” Corsi barked, though she kept her eyes on the crowd, which seemed to have grown quite a bit in just the past few seconds. “People, we are here to do a job, at the request of Prime Ministers Granger and Odell. Now, please—”
“Now, don’t you be lying to these good people, Miss Corsi.”
The crowd rippled before her, people stepping aside for Reade Latta to make his way up to the front of the group. The acting security minister tipped his hat cordially to his Starfleet counterpart. “Word tra
vels quickly, lass: Dr. Victor has already told us what really transpired up on that ship of yours.”
“And what did he tell you?” Corsi asked, even though it didn’t really matter; whatever it was had inflamed the populace, turning whatever degree of goodwill they may have had up until now against them.
“That you think we’re some child race. That we can’t be trusted to take care of ourselves.”
“That son of a bitch,” Lense said from behind her, in a louder voice than she probably intended.
“No, he’s not that,” said the bearded Bringloidi man. “He may be a navelless freak, but he ain’t nobody’s son.”
Most of the crowd laughed, with the exception of the several Mariposans. “Watch your mouth, ’Gloidi…”
“Why don’t y’ make me, y’ overgrown Lysserian larva?”
“Put it aside, both of you,” Latta snapped, and to Corsi’s mild surprise, they obeyed him. Obviously, she realized darkly, Starfleet was considered enough a common enemy that whatever other civil conflicts existed here paled in comparison.
This is not a good thing.
“Dr. Lense?” Corsi said out of the corner of her mouth, and took a couple small steps backward. Her eyes stayed on the crowd before them, just as their defiant eyes stayed warily on her.
She heard a pair of familiar footsteps move close behind her. “Commander?” Lense’s voice asked.
“I’m not liking the way this situation is shaping up.” She spoke in a low, neutral tone, and kept her face, still turned to the mob, an unreadable mask.
“Could have been better,” Lense agreed.
Corsi allowed herself a slight nod. “They really don’t have navels?”
“Why would a clone need one?”
“None of them look like they’re armed. We pull our phasers, they’re likely to disperse.”
Lense frowned. “Are you asking my opinion on tactics?”
“I’m asking if this is important enough that we go down that road,” said Corsi. She understood Lense’s determination to follow through on what she had started, and to do what she could to save the future of these people. However, even the threat of using weapons against a nonviolent, unarmed gathering was a drastic act, one that Corsi was not eager to take. “If this clone doctor is this dead-set against us getting access, it might not be a bad idea to rethink our strategy.”
Lense sighed behind her. Corsi understood how she felt. The idea of backing down from bullies, even as a strategic retreat, stuck in her craw as well.
Then it occurred to Corsi that what she had heard from the doctor wasn’t a sigh, but a deep bracing breath. This did not occur to her, however, until after she saw what Lense was bracing herself to do. She stepped right up past Corsi, up directly in front of Reade Latta. “Sir, I’m Elizabeth Lense, chief medical officer of the da Vinci.”
Latta nodded. “I’ve heard of you.”
“Yes, I’m sure Victor Granger had plenty to say about me,” said Lense with a sardonic smile. “But, sir, you have some firsthand experience with Starfleet officers, don’t you? While you were aboard the Enterprise?”
Latta didn’t answer, but Corsi could see that Lense had struck a chord. “You’ve seen for yourself the kind of people we are,” the doctor continued, also sounding confident that she was reaching the man. “The kind of people who would take you in, feed you, take care of your sick. We’ve helped you in the past; all we’re asking now is that you let us h—”
“Incoming!”
Instinctively, Corsi grabbed Lense by the shoulder and pulled her back, even as she spun in Vinx’s direction, then toward a low grassy knoll to the north of the plaza where he was looking. The Iotian guard had likewise grabbed Commander Gomez and forced her to the ground, just a second before an arc of orange flame flew over their heads and struck the hull of the shuttle. There was the sound of shattering glass, then the whoosh of an expanding sphere of fire.
“Down! Get down!” Corsi shouted as her phaser came out and she swept their surroundings with her eyes. Sounds of screams and general panic and fleeing erupted at Corsi’s back as the entire starboard side of the shuttle lit up ablaze from the Molotov cocktail that had exploded on impact with the hull. The shuttle itself, designed to withstand the heat of atmospheric descent, would not be damaged by such a low-tech weapon.
Its level of sophistication, though, meant nothing to the team of six trapped out in the open, now easy targets.
Well, guess all that worry about biosynthesizers was for nothing, Corsi thought ruefully.
“Another one!” shouted Angelopoulos, this time looking in the opposite direction from which the first missile had come. He fired his phaser at the incoming firebomb, scoring a direct hit in midair. The blast obliterated the container and most of its contents, but resulted in enough of a fireball to set off another wave of frightened screams from the civilians. Meanwhile, Corsi motioned for her guards to tighten their formation around the rest of the away team, and went to help Lense up and into the cluster.
But the doctor was gone.
She spat out an Italian obscenity that was a favorite of her uncle’s, then called out, “Lense!” She spared a second of watching for additional firebombs to scan the now largely abandoned courtyard. She almost missed it, but Corsi caught a brief glance of a blue-trimmed Starfleet jumpsuit. Its wearer was apparently being led by another dark-haired figure, down the southeast road and out of sight around a thick copse of trees.
She uttered another colorful metaphor as a full volley of firebombs came arcing toward them.
The rough bricks of the courtyard scraped away the skin of Lense’s palms, as well as ripping through the knees of her uniform. She looked up from where Corsi had forced her onto the ground, and then blinked at the bright explosion that erupted against the shuttle hull. She winced as blossoms of color floated before her eyes, and almost failed to notice Corsi’s feet, as the security chief paced in a tight arc while scanning the near horizon. Lense scrabbled out of the way just quickly enough to avoid being tripped over.
“Another one!” Lense looked up in time to see the second firebomb explode in midair, raining debris and sparks on the people below. Without thinking, Lense pushed herself onto her feet, and ran against the scattering crowd to check on any potentially injured parties. A few scorched shards of glass littered the ground when she reached the spot, but no bodies or blood, thank God.
She stopped to take in the courtyard as a whole. Vendor carts had been tipped over, fruits and other goods spilled across the ground. One of the hot food carts was now ablaze and billowing dark smoke. The majority of the former crowd had pushed their way into the safety of the Capital Complex, guided by Reade Latta and his makeshift security team in between breaking up minor scuffles between individual Bringloidi and Mariposans. Witnessing this scene, Lense almost wondered whether this wasn’t all for the best, to just walk away, wash her hands of these people…
“Dr. Elizabeth!”
Lense turned to see Kara McClay rushing toward her from behind one of the abandoned merchant stands. Lense started toward her, meeting her halfway. “Kara, are you all right? Are you hurt?”
The young woman didn’t answer, but instead took the doctor’s left hand and, gesturing with the free hand to follow, led Lense away from the courtyard, following one of the unpaved roads leading from the complex. Lense went without hesitation, trusting the urgency of McClay’s demeanor, and so was confused when they veered off the path and into the shade of a small grove of trees and stopped. She looked around for an injured colonist or something else to explain why she’d been led here, and noticed that they were out of sight of the courtyard and Complex. “Kara? What is this about?”
“I needed to talk to you, before you left,” she said. “You came back to try and find Dr. Sandra’s research?”
Lense nodded, wondering what all this drama was leading up to. That question was answered when, after casting a quick look around them for other prying eyes, Kara reached into a larg
e pocket in the front of her skirt and pulled out an antique wooden box. Smiling, she held it up for Lense and removed the lid.
“Oh…” The doctor’s breath caught as she saw inside the box a collection of plastic disks, six centimeters in diameter and strawberry red in color—Yoshimitsu Systems data disks.
After weighing her options, Corsi turned, aimed her phaser, and fired on the shuttle.
The alcohol residue from the Molotov cocktail disintegrated in the low-power energy beam, the sudden molecular phase change robbing the flame of its fuel while leaving the hull unmarred. “All right, go! Go!” she shouted at the S.C.E. team members, then to Vinx and Angelopoulos, without a pause for breath, “Keep them covered!”
She couldn’t help but catch the insolent look Angelopoulos shot her way before turning his focus on Soloman. Only a couple of weeks earlier, she had given him a harsh dressing-down for failing to stick with Tev during the mission to Artemis IX. Now, she had essentially repeated the same mistake. She couldn’t worry about that now, though. They needed to get out of the fire zone, then find Lense, which was going to be easier from the air than on foot.
Soloman ran the ten meters to the cover of the shuttle, bent over double to present as low a profile as possible. Gomez adopted the same posture, placing her hands at the small of the Bynar’s back as she brought up the rear. The two guards kept pace beside them, while the commander took up the rear position, visually scanning for further assaults. The plaza had been almost completely deserted by this point, the frightened screams replaced now with chants of “Our Mariposa! Our Mariposa!” from the surrounding hillocks.
“And you’re welcome to it,” Corsi muttered through clenched teeth. Her eyes flicked briefly to the spot where she saw Lense disappear. There better be an injured colonist out there you just saved, she thought. If not, dear roommate, you’re going to have hell to pay.
Her thoughts were interrupted then by the far-off sound of a throaty battle cry. This was soon blended with what sounded like a hundred more such cries echoing in a long tunnel, followed by the rapidly approaching pounding of stampeding feet. “Get them inside, now!” Corsi shouted as her eyes fixed on the Capital Complex entryway, watching a small army charge for the outside.
Out of the Cocoon Page 9
