What Judgments Come

“Even if that’s true,” Nyn said as she reached up to brush aside an errant lock of blond hair, “we still don’t have any evidence of Klingon involvement.”

Gesturing toward the viewscreen, Blair asked, “Have engineering retrieve some of the debris and give it a complete onceover. Maybe Mister Stevok and his team can find us an additional clue or two as to who’s responsible for this attack.” If anyone could convince the remnants of the wrecked Tholian ship to divulge any secrets they might hold, it was Stevok, the Defiant’s chief engineer. The Vulcan’s investigative talents were on a par with his technical skills, which were formidable.

Mbugua replied, “Aye, sir. What do we do in the meantime?”

“Update Vanguard on our latest findings, and carry on with our patrol,” Blair said, his attention returning to the viewscreen and the image of the destroyed vessel. “If Admiral Nogura wants us to investigate further, he’ll let us know.”

Thomas Blair’s gut was already telling him exactly what the admiral would say.

9

“Turn your head and say, ‘Ahhh.’ Oh, wait. I mean, open your mouth and cough. Whatever. I never could get those straight.”

Though Reyes thought he detected the hint of a whimsical smile on the face of Ezekiel Fisher, the doctor offered no other hint that he might be joking. Still, Reyes was certain he knew his old friend well enough to sense a scam in the offing, so he decided to play along for a bit and see what might happen. “Any other parts of your job you tend to mix up? Medications, operations, patients, that sort of thing?” He sat in one of two chairs that, along with the small, unadorned table positioned against the wall, comprised the sole furnishings within the drab, windowless office that had been provided by Ganz for Fisher during the doctor’s visit to the Omari-Ekon.

The doctor shrugged, keeping his attention on the status display of the tricorder he held in his left hand as he waved a medical sca

“That figures,” Reyes countered, now certain his friend was playing at something despite his implacable expression. “Wish I’d had them on my staff. I might’ve been able to avoid all this trouble.”

Shaking his head in apparent disagreement, Fisher replied, “I doubt it. Subordinates tend to hold a grudge when you don’t remember birthdays, a

“That’s why I had a yeoman,” Reyes said, before pausing to reconsider his comment. “Come to think of it, I probably forgot her birthday, too.”

“And there you go,” Fisher said, deactivating the medical sca

“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” he asked after a moment, wondering what Fisher’s response might be and hoping it at least would be entertaining.

Drawing a breath, the doctor replied, “My scans are inconclusive. It’s possible you came into contact with someone who’s infected, but so far no symptoms have manifested themselves. I’m going to inoculate you anyway, just to be safe.”

Rather than reply, Reyes offered a nod with an expression he hoped would convey the proper level of concern for anyone who might be observing the examination, not the least of whom was the towering, muscled Orion male who had been assigned as Fisher’s escort. He stood behind the doctor, blocking the only exit from the office.

“You ca

Fisher offered the guard an admonishing glare. “Says who?”

The blunt nature of the question seemed to catch the Orion by surprise, and Reyes watched while the guard blinked several times, as though struggling to formulate a reply. “My orders are to prevent you from having any physical contact with this human.”

“Son,” Fisher said, “you want to live, right?” He crossed his arms, adopting his most disapproving demeanor—the one Reyes knew was reserved for wayward interns and low-ranking Starfleet officers who came to Vanguard’s hospital with injuries sustained during a bout of binge drinking at Stars Landing. The expression on the sentry’s face was such that Reyes almost laughed, though he was able to maintain his professional decorum.

“Yes,” the guard replied after a moment, uncertainty begi

Nodding in what Reyes took to be understanding, Fisher replied, “Well, okay then.” He indicated Reyes with a wave of his hand. “This man has presented preliminary indications of having been infected, which means he requires a vaccination, the same vaccination I gave you an hour ago. If I miss inoculating even one person on this ship who’s come into contact with the contagion, it means that I’ve wasted a lot of valuable time and medicine vaccinating the rest of you. Get what I’m saying?”

His expression wavering as he appeared to ponder Fisher’s words, the sentry finally said, “I will have to verify this with Ganz.”

“You do that,” Fisher replied, “and while you’re at it, remind Mister Ganz that Starfleet regulations state that in the event of any form of potential viral contagion, the station’s chief medical officer is required to conduct a thorough inspection of all vessels docked or seeking to dock at this facility. Further, all infected persons aboard any such ship are required to receive the proper vaccinations in order to arrest the possibility of widespread infection.” He indicated himself by pointing his thumb at his chest. “Since I’m the chief medical officer, if I don’t get to do what regulations require me to do while your ship’s docked at our station, the alternative is for you to undock your little ship from our station and be on your merry way. I’m betting Mister Ganz won’t be happy when he finds out his having to leave is all your fault, and that’s before the fever really takes hold and body parts start falling off people in a day or so.”

The guard now eyed both Fisher and Reyes with no small amount of concern. “Body parts?”

Fisher nodded. “Yep. The small, fleshy parts are usually the first to go.” Reyes was forced to look away as the doctor made a point of glancing toward the wide belt encircling the sentry’s waist. “It’s not a pretty sight, let me tell you, but that’s Arcturian blood disease for you.”

“Arcturian blood disease?” Reyes repeated. He had heard of the rare disorder once or twice before, but that was the limit of his knowledge on the subject. Still, he sensed the need to help strengthen the obvious falsehood Fisher was attempting to feed the Orion. “You’re kidding.”

Continuing to play his role, Fisher said, “Wish I was. Somebody brought it aboard. Probably a freight hauler picked it up from one of the colony planets.”

“What is this Arcturian blood disease?” the sentry asked, his tone one of skepticism. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s okay,” Fisher said, and Reyes said nothing more as the doctor turned back to the table and the equipment he had laid out atop its surface. “Not many people know about it.” Reaching for his medical kit, he picked up a hypospray and checked its setting. “It has a lot in common with Rigelian fever, and seems to favor humanoids of various species, including humans, Vulcans, and Orions. Tellarites seem immune, but then Tellarites are pretty much immune to almost everything.”

Watching Fisher ready the hypospray for use, Reyes silently commended Fisher on the ease with which he was playing this little game of misinformation. The strength of a good lie was in not overselling it, and the doctor’s delivery of all the technical-sounding medical mumbo jumbo was just as smooth and polished as when providing an actual, truthful diagnosis. Indeed, Reyes was starting to wonder if the Orion might run from the room in a panic, perhaps to summon a superior or even Ganz himself in order to weigh in on what the guard might well believe was a dangerous viral outbreak aboard the Omari-Ekon.