Open Secrets

T’Pry

“So be it,” Sten said, and for a fleeting instant, T’Pry

Expecting the feint, T’Pry

Sten recovered his stance, twirling his lirpain his hands until its blade was near his left hand. Lunging forward, he swung the weapon up and over his head, bringing it down straight at her head. T’Pry

He thrust the weapon forward, and T’Pry

T’Pry

“Submit,” she heard his voice call out, carrying over the wind.

Gripping the lirpain her hands ever tighter, she screamed her reply. “Never!”

Dr. Jabilo M’Benga sat alone in Isolation Ward 4 of Starbase 47’s sickbay, which was darkened save for the feeble illumination offered by the work light over his desk. So engrossed was he in the stack of reports that he had allowed to accumulate in his office—paperwork for which there never seemed to be sufficient time except for late at night, well after his normal duty shift had ended—that several seconds passed before he became aware of the telltale string of beeps echoing across the room. Their volume was subdued, barely carrying over the music M’Benga had set to play over the room’s internal communications system.

Turning in his seat, M’Benga’s gaze shifted to the ward’s only patient and the biofunction monitor positioned above her bed. Bathed in the soft crimson light cast down from a small lamp he had found in her quarters, T’Pry

From where he sat, M’Benga could make out the one indicator on the bio monitor that deviated from the others. Unlike those designated for a patient’s pulse, blood pressure, respiration, and other autonomic actions—all of which hovered just above the minimal levels needed to sustain life—the gauge denoting the detection of brain-wave function had spiked, bouncing up and down along its column of status markers as the monitoring equipment detected heightened activity.

“Hello,” M’Benga said, rising from his chair and crossing to the biobed. He watched as the indicator rose to its highest level, remaining there for several seconds, as though fighting to free itself from the constraints of the monitor’s display. Based on the readings, T’Pry

As part of his routine examination of the equipment overseeing his patient, M’Benga also checked the small, shallow clay bowl he had set on the nightstand next to her bed. A thin wisp of smoke drifted up from a coil of incense resting in the bowl, releasing a pleasing, earthy fragrance that reminded M’Benga of Vulcan’s arid climate. It also did a wonderful job of masking the smell of cleansing agents used to disinfect and sanitize the sickbay patient areas. Knowing that incense was often used by Vulcans as a means of facilitating meditation, he had placed the bowl near T’Pry

He activated a computer interface terminal at the side of T’Pry

“Recording,”replied the feminine voice of the station’s main computer system.

M’Benga cleared his throat before reciting, “Personal log, stardate 1573.9, time index 2137 hours. Notes on patient T’Pry

There was a momentary pause before the computer replied, “Acknowledged.”

“As before, I’m unable to determine the cause of this latest spike in activity,” M’Benga continued, watching as the gauge began dropping until it came to rest at one of its lowest levels, an indication that T’Pry

He had paused, considering his next comments, when he heard from behind him the door to the ward sliding open. He was not surprised to see Ezekiel Fisher entering the room. The station’s chief medical officer seemed preoccupied, which M’Benga could not fault, given that Fisher likely was returning from one of his frequent visits to see Commodore Reyes.

“Good evening, Doctor,” M’Benga offered as Fisher strode toward him.

Fisher nodded. “Evening, Jabilo,” he said, his attention on the bio monitor above T’Pry