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  Having no interest in the doctor’s point, Gold waved his right hand in front of his face. “What happened to my CMO, Doctor?”

  “I honestly have no idea.”

  Gold whirled around to the tactical station behind him. “Put a call through to DS9, pronto.”

  Winn nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  “I’m sorry, if it wasn’t for the ion storm—” Terapane started.

  “Understandable, Captain. Don’t worry, we’ll get right on it.”

  “We need to make time to Cor Coroli IX. Again, sorry about this.”

  “It’s all right. Da Vinci out.”

  As soon as the screen reverted to the view of Avril Station, Winn said, “I’ve got Deep Space 9, sir.”

  Gold nodded, and the screen switched, this time to a very familiar Bajoran woman in a Starfleet uniform with a red collar and four pips.

  With a wry smile, she said, “David, this is getting to be a habit.”

  “Not a good one, I’m afraid, Nerys,” Gold said to Captain Kira in as serious a voice as he could muster. “It seems we’ve both got us a problem.”

  Chapter

  3

  U.S.S. da Vinci

  in orbit of Coroticus III

  NOW

  V ance Hawkins waited impatiently for Laura Poynter to hurry up and finish operating the transporter. I need to see my woman. Not to mention my CO.

  Their mission to Sachem II had been uneventful. The Dominion had done little to change the lives of the natives, mostly because the natives were fairly easygoing people. P8 Blue had supervised the team of engineers who’d be running the “duckblind,” Vance and his people had found no remnants of a Dominion base that might prove problematic—whatever one might say about the Jem’Hadar, they were good at cleaning up after themselves—and Bart Faulwell had found no evidence of cultural contamination. (The linguist also complained that the natives, who called themselves the O-Mor, had the most boring language he’d ever encountered. Vance gamely tried to be sympathetic.)

  Now they had to pick up Commander Corsi and her team from Coroticus, which included Carol Abramowitz.

  Vance and Carol had been serving on the da Vinci together since the war, but it wasn’t until their mission to Teneb—during which the entire away team, including the two of them, Fabian Stevens, and Commander Gomez, were almost killed—that they really noticed each other. He enjoyed listening to her talk, her sense of humor, her interest in the nuances of how other people lived their lives—and he could even stand to listen to her music for more than five minutes at a time, which put him one up on their two score crewmates.

  As Poynter energized the transporter, Vance felt his stomach drop. There had been no vocal communication with the away team to avoid possible Prime Directive issues. They simply sent a signal to Corsi’s combadge indicating that the da Vinci was approaching. So Vance had no idea how the mission went—though the lack of any kind of distress signal from the duckblind on the planet was, he had hoped, a good sign.

  When he saw one of the six members of the team beaming up in a horizontal position, he feared the worst. Dammit, we just buried Ken and that Deverick kid, and Lense has gone missing—we’re not losing another one!

  I’m not losing Carol.

  To Vance’s relief, the injured team member wasn’t Carol, but Lauoc Soan, and Vance soon saw that he was breathing. That tough little Bajoran had been through hell and back during the war, and Vance was fairly sure that, if he was breathing, he’d be fine.

  Corsi—like all of them, dressed in the brightly colored clothing and cloak that the Coroticans favored—barked at Poynter, “Get Lauoc to sickbay.” She tapped her combadge. “Corsi to Lense—Doctor, you’ve got a patient.”

  “Lense isn’t back yet,” Vance said quickly. Before he could answer the question that Corsi’s responding look posed, he tapped his own combadge. “Hawkins to Wetzel. Incoming wounded.” Even as he spoke, he felt the subtle change in vibration indicating that they were going to warp speed. Lauoc’s body disappeared in a shimmer of light.

  “Acknowledged,” came Nurse Sandy Wetzel’s voice. “He’s just materialized. I’ll get the EMH on it.”

  “What happened to Soan?” Vance asked.

  “What happened to Lense?” Corsi asked right back. “And why’d we go to warp so fast?”

  Since he was the chief petty officer and she was the lieutenant commander, her questions got answered first. “The Missouri apparently never made it to Kel-Artis. Nobody’s heard from Lense or Bashir since they left DS9 right before that Empok Nor disaster. The Defiant’s already searching, and we’re heading out to do the same now that we’ve got you guys.”

  Shaking her head, Corsi said, “Dammit.”

  “Captain wants you and Stevens in a staff meeting as soon as you get changed and, uh, bob your ears.”

  Coroticans had tapered ears, so all of the away team—save for T’Mandra, whose Vulcan physiology gave her adequate natural cover—had their ears surgically altered to pass muster. “Screw the ears.” She turned to the others. “Fabe, you’re with me. The rest of you, report to sickbay—the EMH can deal with you guys after he fixes up Lauoc. Then report to the security office. The minute my senior staff meeting’s over, I’ll be briefing you all.”

  “You’ll want to meet the new guy, too,” Vance said. “Tomozuka Kim. Robins has been showing him the ropes.”

  Corsi nodded. “Good.”

  With that, she and Stevens left. Vinx and T’Mandra followed behind her.

  After he gave Poynter a significant look, she said, “Uh, I think I need to go recalibrate something. Back in a bit.”

  The second the door closed behind Poynter’s retreating form, Vance leaned down and kissed Carol passionately. It had been a week, after all….

  When he came up for air several subjective centuries later, he smiled down at her, their arms still clasped around each other. “You taste kind of peaty.”

  She smiled. “That would be when the crazy Vorta dropped me to the ground.”

  Vance’s eyes widened. “Another crazy Vorta?”

  Nodding, Carol proceeded to tell him about the Vorta who had set himself up as one of the local deities. Deciding he liked the taste of godhood, he had stayed behind when the order to retreat came in, massacring his Jem’Hadar, and living on his own as a lunatic in the woods of Coroticus for a year, occasionally mutilating a native.

  Shaking his head, Vance said, “First Luaran, now this. Did we install a wacky-Vorta magnet on the ship or something?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past the engineers to build one.” Putting her hand to Vance’s cheek, she said, “I really missed you down there. I could’ve used someone to talk to.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t see us going on a lot of away teams together from here on in, after—” He cut himself off.

  She nodded, understanding. It had been a brutal year for all of them, and the most brutal part was Galvan VI, when Commander Duffy died shortly after proposing to Commander Gomez.

  I bet that’s why Stevens and Corsi have been dancing around each other for months. Well, that and Corsi’s an emotional coward, but try saying that to her face.

  Not wanting to gossip about his CO—not even to his girlfriend—he instead said, “Look, I gotta go prep the troops for the meeting.”

  “And I need to have EMH get rid of these ears.” Her hand went to the left one. “They itch like hell.”

  “Why don’t we try to catch up when I’m off-shift—say, the mess hall at 1615 hours?”

  She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, and Vance was one of the few who was privileged enough to see it. “It’s a date.”

  They both departed the transporter room. Poynter was standing outside the door.

  “What happened to the calibration?” Vance asked pseudo-innocently.

  Poynter rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like I need to calibrate things on this ship. Why do you think I requested the transfer here? S.C.E. ships are fine-tuned within an inch of their lives—e
asiest duty a transporter chief ever had.”

  Chuckling, Vance gave Carol a quick kiss good-bye, then headed toward the turbolift, while she made a beeline for sickbay.

  Chapter

  4

  U.S.S. da Vinci

  in transit between Coroticus III

  and Station Kel-Artis

  NOW

  R ennan Konya walked into the security office alongside Makk Vinx. An unfamiliar mind was inside, and when he looked around he pegged it as the very young human male sitting alone on the port side of the room. He recognized the minds sitting on the starboard side: T’Mandra’s orderly thought patterns and Andrew Angelopoulos’s somewhat more chaotic ones. Rennan wasn’t a strong enough telepath to detect a non-Betazoid’s actual thoughts, but he was able to get general impressions, and he certainly knew when he was around the people he worked with without ever having to see their faces.

  “Looks like we’re early,” he said to the Iotian.

  “That must be the new mug. C’mon, let’s roll out the welcome mat.”

  The “new mug” was sitting ramrod straight, and he seemed eager to please in the way that only recent recruits could be.

  Makk walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You nervous, kid?”

  Smiling, he said, “A little, yeah.”

  “Nothin’ here to be scared of. You signed yourself up for the best security detail in the quadrant.”

  “Oh, I already know that, sir.”

  Rennan chuckled; Makk winced. “Can the ‘sir’ hogwash, kid. Ain’t no officers in this room—exceptin’ the commander, of course, but she’s a good broad for an officer, so she don’t really count.”

  Unable to resist, Rennan asked, “Why do I get the feeling you’d never say that to her face?”

  Grinning, Makk said, “’Cause I ain’t got a death wish is why.” He offered his hand to the new recruit. “They call me—”

  “Makk Vinx,” he said, returning the handshake. “And you’re Rennan Konya. I’m Tomozuka Kim.”

  Rennan frowned. “Funny, you don’t look telepathic.”

  Grinning, Kim said, “I’m not, I just know the crew roster. I’ve followed Commander Corsi’s career pretty thoroughly, and I’ve kept track of the security personnel on the da Vinci since she reported.”

  “Why you got the hots for the commander?” Makk asked with a wink.

  “Got the—” Kim seemed confused at first. That was hardly surprising. Since reporting to the da Vinci on Earth months ago, Rennan had wondered how a non-telepath could possibly understand a single word Makk said, since without his ability to read the Iotian’s perspectives, Rennan himself would have found his colleague to be incomprehensible.

  When Kim finally did get it, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, nothing like that. God, no, the whole idea’s crazy.”

  “Good thing—she got the hots for Stevens.”

  Rennan gave a half-smile. “Well, he has the hots for her, anyhow.”

  “Yeah, jury’s still out on that one. So what’s the story, kid, why you go around memorizin’ Corsi’s duty rosters?”

  “I’m from Izar. My mother’s a peace officer there. A while back, Commander Corsi helped one of our people stop a killer. I was just a kid when it happened—it was ten years ago—”

  “You’re still a kid, kid,” Makk said with a wink.

  “—but I’ll never forget it. She’s a big hero on Izar. One of my mother’s coworkers, Christine Vale, she quit the force and joined Starfleet.”

  Makk frowned. “I know that moniker.”

  “Security chief on the Enterprise,” Rennan said. “Remember, Phantas 61?”

  Realization spread over Makk’s face. “Oh, yeah. Not a bad-lookin’ broad.”

  That, Rennan thought, is a perfect example. How does the word “broad” come to mean a female?

  “Anyhow,” Kim said, “when I was old enough, I signed up to join security, too, just like Commander Corsi and Officer—or, uh, Lieutenant Vale. I was hoping for the da Vinci or the Enterprise, but I’d have taken anything. It was just luck that this opening came when it did.”

  While he appreciated Kim’s enthusiasm, that last line hit a bit too close to home. In a quiet voice, Rennan said, “I think Ken Caitano might disagree with the notion that luck had anything to do with it.”

  Kim’s cheeks flushed again, and Rennan couldn’t help but feel the young man’s embarrassment this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Caitano did his job, kid.” Makk’s voice had hardened, all the friendliness drained from his demeanor, making his eccentric style of speech sound downright scary—though Rennan supposed that he was feeling it more strongly, both telepathically in Makk and within himself, too. Ken was good security, and he deserved better than the senseless death he got.

  Makk continued: “He hadn’t been on board for more’n a couple days when he put his keister on the line to save the ship. Turned on one of the engineers’ doohickeys. He hadn’t done that, we’d all be worm food. And then a couple days later, he died from some weapon made by a Vorta who belonged in a rubber room.”

  “Our job’s to protect the people on this ship,” Rennan added. “That’s a duty we all take very seriously.”

  Makk stood up. “It’d be real swell if you got your head outta the clouds and remembered that every once in a while. Otherwise, we’ll be buryin’ you next to Caitano—or worse, we’ll be buryin’ the guy you let die ’cause you were too busy droolin’ over Corsi to do your job right.”

  With that, the Iotian went over to sit on the starboard side of the security office, with T’Mandra and Andrew.

  Kim’s regret was washing over Rennan in waves. “I didn’t mean anything by that, honest, I just—”

  “I know you didn’t,” Rennan said in as soothing a voice as he could muster, “but you’d better get used to it. Every new assignment in security usually means you’re taking over from someone who died in the line and serving alongside that person’s comrades. This ship’s had it particularly rough this past year, and with only about forty people on board, people tend to get close. And the work is very intense. My first couple of weeks here, we explored a city inside a small ball bearing, helped terraform Venus, stopped a Ferengi time traveler, salvaged an alien ship, and went into a black hole. And that was a slow month. Not everyone can handle it. The person Caitano replaced was named Frank Powers, and he transferred off because he couldn’t deal with it. Now—”

  The door to the security office opened, and Corsi came in—still, Rennan noted after a moment, with the pointed ears from the Coroticus mission. Ellec Krotine, Madeleine Robins, and Vance Hawkins walked in behind her.

  Indicating Kim, Vance said, “Commander Corsi, this is Tomozuka Kim, our newest recruit.”

  Kim stood up at attention. “It’s an honor, ma’am!”

  Corsi let out a breath. “At ease, Kim. Why?”

  Relaxing hardly at all, Kim asked, “Why what, ma’am?”

  “Why is it an honor?”

  That seemed to surprise Kim. “The commander probably doesn’t remember me, but we’ve met before—ten years ago on Izar. My mother is Officer Soon-Li Kim.”

  If Kim’s earlier embarrassment came in waves, Corsi’s anger and hostility came like a slap to Rennan’s face. It happened as soon as Kim mentioned that he was from Izar. What the hell—?

  “Sit down, Kim.”

  If only Rennan noticed Corsi’s fury before she spoke, everyone caught it in her voice now.

  Baffled, Kim took his seat. “Uh, yes—yes, ma’am.”

  Corsi then looked out at the rest of them. “Here’s the drill. The Runabout Missouri, carrying Doctors Elizabeth Lense and Julian Bashir, has gone missing. It hasn’t been seen since departing DS9 two weeks ago. Since the conference they were to attend was to go on for twelve days, no one was the wiser. The Defiant has been dispatched to begin the search, and we’ll be joining them. They’re tracking the runabout’s path from DS9—we’ll be bac
ktracking from Kel-Artis, the station where the conference was held. Everybody’s on alert status until we determine what happened to the Missouri and its passengers. Lauoc’s out of commission for at least a few days, so we’re on beta formation, with Kim in Powers’s—or, rather, Caitano’s spot.”

  Rennan blinked. That was the second time since Ken’s death that Corsi had done that. Andrew rather stupidly called her on it then. Nobody seemed willing to brave that particular lion in its den now.

  “Kim, since you’re new, the beta form—” the commander started, but Kim interrupted her, proving he had less of a fear of lions.

  “I know the formation, ma’am.” Rennan could feel Kim’s pride as he spoke. “It’s the same as the alpha, only with you substituting for the injured crew member. In this case, you’ll be joining Angelopoulos and Krotine on gamma shift, with Chief Hawkins, T’Mandra, and Konya on alpha, and Robins, Vinx, and I on beta.”

  Rennan was once again impressed with Kim’s knowledge of the ship’s duty roster. That was a level of preparation most people didn’t bother with. Then again, most people don’t worship the water their new CO walks on…

  Corsi’s anger had come back full bore, though Rennan was more prepared for it this time. “Two things you need to know, Kim. One is that the duty roster shifts every few weeks, and the one you just recited was changed a week ago, after our mission to Artemis IX. And as of right now, the duty roster is changing yet again.”

  That was a surprise, but only a mild one. Changes didn’t happen that fast regularly, but that didn’t mean they never did.

  “Angelopoulos, Kim, and I will take alpha, with Lauoc slotting back in when he’s recovered. Beta is T’Mandra, Vinx, and Robins, with Hawkins, Konya, and Krotine on gamma.”

  That threw Rennan for a loop—mostly because he felt the loop that it threw Vance into. Rennan knew that Vance had requested alpha shift the next time the duty roster shifted, so he and Carol Abramowitz would be on duty at the same time. When Vance had mentioned it to Rennan, Andrew, and Makk over dinner one night, he had seemed pretty confident that Corsi would grant it. Since Vance had served with the commander longer than anyone on board save Madeleine, Rennan assumed it to be a sure thing. So why did she stick him on gamma?