Declassified

“I should think not. Starfleet has him locked away in a cell under limited access. Even if Reyes himself said he wanted to see me, I can’t imagine I would have a chance to talk to him until the court-martial proceedings conclude. And should things go bad for him, I doubt I’d get a chance at all.”

“Hmm. Guess you’ll be asking someone else about him then.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, Qui

“Damn,” he said. “I hit close to the nerve?”

“Sorry. I’ve been getting pressure from the boss about following up my Jinoteur report as well as my Reyes report, but no one is talking to me. It’s a bit of a surprise if I get even the courtesy of a hello from someone in a Starfleet uniform who just happens to pass me by.”

“That’s no good. I would think someone out there would be willing to at least point you in a direction for a story.”

“Not that I’m aware.” I paused and looked at Qui

“Maybe.”

Qui

I waited what I assumed was long enough to get an answer before filling the silence. “But maybe you don’t want to tell me?”

“Because that’s how I do things? Dangle something out in front of you to tease you when I know you’re struggling?”

“What makes you think I’m struggling?”

“Damn, this thing’s dry.” Qui

“Wait a minute. You look for my byline?”

“What of it?”

“No, it’s just . . . I’m flattered,” I said. “You look for my byline.”

“And I’m not seeing it.”

I paused for a moment and drew a breath. “Okay, yeah, I’m struggling.”

“And maybe I can help.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t go thanking me until something breaks loose,” Qui

That gave me pause. “Something going on?”

“Simmer down, newsboy. I said there were no scoops here. Give me a little time and I’ll let ya know.”

“I didn’t come around looking for handouts, but I’ll take this one,” I said. “Thanks. Sincerely.”

He waved his hand at me as if to brush aside my appreciation as he got the final bite of his breakfast down. “Been to the hospital?”

“Why?”

“I figured you were keeping an eye on T’Pry

“Oh,” I said, my mind snapping to the last time I had seen the Vulcan intelligence officer who arguably was the person most responsible for the shattered state of my career at that point. She had witnessed, as had Qui

“I get that she’s not your best friend and all, but I thought you would at least be curious.”

“Curious as you are.”

“Sure.”

“So why not stop by and check on her yourself?”

“I’ve got no business poking around up there,” Qui

“So, is this your fee for trying to co

“I won’t ask you to go for me,” he said. “I want you to think about going for yourself. The two of you have some unfinished business, and I don’t think you would want it to end that way.”

“To be truthful, I hadn’t considered it. I also can’t deny that part of me might have wished this on her.”

“Not the part of you that deleted the vid you made,” he said. “I’m just saying that you might want to wander past the hospital. When you get there, you can decide whether to go in.”

“If it’s any consolation, you do have my curiosity piqued about one thing.”

“Okay.”

“How something got into your system to reactivate your compassion program,” I said. “Maybe there are more risks in being exposed to the Shedai than Starfleet is telling us.”

“Well, look at the time,” Qui

“Evidently, I do,” I said as I started back across the hangar. “You know how to find me. And for what it’s worth, Qui

He squeezed his eyebrows together at the unexpected compliment, almost as if he did not believe me.

“Okay, maybe that’s generous. You look . . . better.”

I actually managed to get a smile out of the man. “Now that I’ll buy, but only because I’ve looked a lot worse.”

6

“Damn you, Qui

In my time on the station, I had made relatively few visits to the hospital, and when I did, I happened to be the one in need of care. The last time, I had come for a brief scan to follow up on the injuries I had suffered on Jinoteur, and as I walked into the main reception area, I hoped my visit had been recent enough that I might look a little less conspicuous as I breezed past the admissions desk. I was following one of the most useful pieces of advice from my days in journalism school: if you look like you belong somewhere and know what you’re doing, no one will ask you any questions. I gave a sideways glance to the desk, and to a woman seated there wearing a loose-fitting nurse’s uniform whose attention seemingly was on the desk-mounted viewer before her, and turned the back of my head to her just as I passed.

“Sir? Can I help you, please?”

I sighed, knowing it would be too unbelievable had I pretended not to hear her. “Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked busy.”

She looked up at me with her slender face framed by straight blond hair and what may have been the widest pair of hazel eyes I had ever seen. “You’re very kind, but I’m fine. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m wanting to check on a friend. She would have come in about a week ago with what I suspect was brain trauma.”

She returned to her desk monitor. “Can you tell me her name?”

“Yes, it’s T’Pry

“Ah,” she said, looking back at me. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid she is not allowed visitors at this time.”

I leaned a bit onto the desktop. “I’m just trying to ease my concern, Ms. . . .”

She lowered her eyes and softened her posture a bit, almost as if she had been hoping I might ask. My hope for getting past the desk buoyed a bit, so I offered a smile as soon as she looked back up. “Braun. Je

As I offered my hand, I had considered keeping my name to myself, or even giving a false one, but when she took my grasp, I could not help but play straight with her. “I’m Tim. And I assure you that I would not stay if I could only look in on her. I was with her when she fell ill, you see, and I’ve heard nothing about her condition.”

Je

“Is that where she is, Je

“I’m not able to release any information about a patient, or even confirm that someone is a patient,” she said. “But the isolation wards are where you might have ended up, had you kept going.”