Star Trek Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.”
    â€œFour hours.”
    â€œOne hour.”
    â€œTwo. That’s an order.”
    She glared and took a deep breath. “All right. Two hours. Let me get Fabian up to speed and then I’ll go. In the meantime, you keep on the horn and see what you can do about getting any other help here. I’m already transmitting what data I can to Starfleet Medical, but the lag time is way too long; they’re useless.”
    â€œFine. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do about keeping the ship running with a single op—”
    â€œDon’t try and one-up me, Captain, I’m not in the mood.”
    Gold shot Lense a look. “I’m not, Doctor—and I don’t appreciate your tone or your assumption. Clear?”
    Not waiting for an answer, Gold left the sickbay. Lense leaned back in her chair.
    Stevens turned and looked at Lense. “Okaaay … now what can I do?”
    Lense called out. “Emmett!”
    The EMH materialized five feet in front of her. “Good morning, Doctor.”
    â€œWe’ve got us a doozy, Emmett. Synch with my files and notes from the last forty-eight hours.”
    â€œSynching—oh.”
    â€œIt’s an epidemic. No, scratch that, it’s a pandemic. We’ve just identified the pathogen, we’re running tests to see what we can do to kill it. Keep an eye on the tests that are still running. He”—she pointed at Stevens—“is your extra set of hands. I’m going to get some rest, I’ve been told I need it.”
    * * *
    The door opened to the cabin Lense shared with Domenica Corsi. Like the rest of the ship, it was quiet and empty. No noise in the hall, no chatter, just the constant background hum of the engines.
    â€œLights, one quarter.” The room dimmed to a point that Lense could tolerate. The silence, however, would get to her. “Computer, play Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons.”
    The sounds of an orchestra filled the room and Lense collapsed into a chair. She massaged her temples, trying to relieve some of the eyestrain.
    The computer beeped.
“You have a message from Lt. Commander Corsi.”
    A message? That’s not like her,
Lense thought. She opened her eyes—there was no music. She must have fallen asleep in her chair and slept through the entire piece. “Computer, time?”
    â€œThe time is now fourteen hundred hours, twelve minutes.”
    She did some quick math in her head—she’d been asleep a little over two hours. “Tea, semihot, extra sugar, lemon, and caffeine.” The replicator hummed and she took the suddenly appearing mug in her hands and sipped. “Play the message.” She turned to the viewscreen on the wall, but there was no picture, just audio.
    â€œHey, roomie. I know we’re both incredibly busy, with me trying to keep things running smoothly down here and you playing with your test tubes. I’m down at the spaceport—we’re keeping the lid on. There are a lot of people who are trying to find a way off the planet, and I have my hands full keeping the ships grounded. I don’t want to distract you, so you’ll get this message when you get it. No rush—if you get it and it’s necessary, there’ll be plenty of time.
    â€œFrom what I understand, there’s a chance that I may be stuck on this planet for a very long time, either living out the rest of my days here or just taking up a good two meters of it. I’m not worried about it. I know you’re doing your damnedest up there, but we’ve all gotta go sometime. But there is one important thing you’ve gotta do for me.
    â€œIf I don’t make it off this planet, I want to make sure
that my little brother gets the axe. It’s a family heirloom, been in the family for years and years and years. He always complained that I got it. It’s under my bed—I never found a good way to hang it on the wall. He’s on Cestus