wait? Why not watch me come and go at the public MAT station.”
“Do you use the public booths often?” he asked, while making her a tall drink on his side of the bar.
“On personal business, sometimes, but not when…” She decided not to reveal more. He probably knew her profession or, at least, her employer. MCE uniforms had the logo on the breast, just under where her voice-badge attached. Besides, Sierra and Regis had both addressed her as ‘Doctor.’
“Well, don’t forget, all the public booths are tied up with the Meeting of the Masters.”
She sighed. “Yes, I forgot about that.”
Taylor shook his head, setting a glass with a pinkish colored liquid before her. “This should help.”
“So, do I go home?” She wondered aloud, enjoying her first sip of the sweet, pink lemonade flavored cocktail. “This is good.”
“Absolutely not — unless you have a zoo-weight gorilla bodyguard. Even then, I’d be worried.” Taylor drifted away to tend to other patrons.
Dana sulked as she sipped, musing, “Were they really after me? Or after something else? The Ambassador’s cloak perhaps? It’s at my office still. Or… Or what? I must need sleep! Why didn’t I think of this sooner! The blade…”
She slid her hand down her crossed leg to her boot, rather surreptitiously checking that the blade was still there. Yes, it was. The Sterillian blade! Perhaps they were looking for it.
Who knew she had it except Kieran? They were so rare and valuable, made of bone so they did not register on normal weapons scans. How had Kieran described it? Class four non-metal...
Kieran knew…Who else knew? No one, unless he told them. Unless…unless, someone telepathically read his mind or hers - but that didn’t make sense. He was a trained SSID officer. He surely had techniques to block intrusive attempts. So, who could do that? Only another SSID telepath. Colonel Sierra was Galaxean, not Alphan. They could do mind-links and retrieve memories, but required physical contact.
Who else had access?
Doctor Garcia - but Garcia was human. He… Wait, his adoptive brother was an Enturian/Galaxean hybrid. Could he be…
Her head began to swim. What if… What if…
It didn’t matter.
“Focus, Dana!” It was becoming harder to concentrate. She felt a bout of nausea coming on and her esophagus and stomach burned. “Oh!” She pushed the drink away and stood up, using the bar to steady herself. The room began to revolve.
“Oh, no!” She tapped her voice-badge. “Computer? Emergency MAT transfer: MCE! Severe allergic reaction!”
The MAT pad in the reception area had a single step down. It was just outside the doctors’ lounge. Three of her colleagues were chatting there, just having come from the clean room.
Dana Cartwright reached out her hand toward them, gasped, and then she collapsed and lost consciousness.
“Dana?” Francis Calagura smiled down at her. “Lady, you need to eat! Your blood sugar is at sixty.”
She stared up at him from a diagnostic bed. “Francis… The drink… I think it was the drink.”
He scowled. “Sulfites? You know better.” He ran more diagnostic scans. “Yes, sodium sulfite! That’s it! Quite a heavy dose!”
He programmed the DIA-dermal injector for a counter agent. Soon after he administered the medication, her head began to clear.
“Much better…” Dana commended, as her brain fog departed and the room stopped spinning, “…but my hands are burning.” She showed him.
“That’s not from ingestion,” he commented, quickly taking a reading and spraying her liberally with an anti-toxin. “Maybe you should go through decon!”
She nodded.
He helped her up from the diagnostic bed and walked her into the decon chamber, where any trace of the toxin would be vacuumed off her body and clothing.
She began to feel much better.
“I think you should stay in an exam room for a little while longer. I’ll come back and collect you. Just have one case
“Do you use the public booths often?” he asked, while making her a tall drink on his side of the bar.
“On personal business, sometimes, but not when…” She decided not to reveal more. He probably knew her profession or, at least, her employer. MCE uniforms had the logo on the breast, just under where her voice-badge attached. Besides, Sierra and Regis had both addressed her as ‘Doctor.’
“Well, don’t forget, all the public booths are tied up with the Meeting of the Masters.”
She sighed. “Yes, I forgot about that.”
Taylor shook his head, setting a glass with a pinkish colored liquid before her. “This should help.”
“So, do I go home?” She wondered aloud, enjoying her first sip of the sweet, pink lemonade flavored cocktail. “This is good.”
“Absolutely not — unless you have a zoo-weight gorilla bodyguard. Even then, I’d be worried.” Taylor drifted away to tend to other patrons.
Dana sulked as she sipped, musing, “Were they really after me? Or after something else? The Ambassador’s cloak perhaps? It’s at my office still. Or… Or what? I must need sleep! Why didn’t I think of this sooner! The blade…”
She slid her hand down her crossed leg to her boot, rather surreptitiously checking that the blade was still there. Yes, it was. The Sterillian blade! Perhaps they were looking for it.
Who knew she had it except Kieran? They were so rare and valuable, made of bone so they did not register on normal weapons scans. How had Kieran described it? Class four non-metal...
Kieran knew…Who else knew? No one, unless he told them. Unless…unless, someone telepathically read his mind or hers - but that didn’t make sense. He was a trained SSID officer. He surely had techniques to block intrusive attempts. So, who could do that? Only another SSID telepath. Colonel Sierra was Galaxean, not Alphan. They could do mind-links and retrieve memories, but required physical contact.
Who else had access?
Doctor Garcia - but Garcia was human. He… Wait, his adoptive brother was an Enturian/Galaxean hybrid. Could he be…
Her head began to swim. What if… What if…
It didn’t matter.
“Focus, Dana!” It was becoming harder to concentrate. She felt a bout of nausea coming on and her esophagus and stomach burned. “Oh!” She pushed the drink away and stood up, using the bar to steady herself. The room began to revolve.
“Oh, no!” She tapped her voice-badge. “Computer? Emergency MAT transfer: MCE! Severe allergic reaction!”
The MAT pad in the reception area had a single step down. It was just outside the doctors’ lounge. Three of her colleagues were chatting there, just having come from the clean room.
Dana Cartwright reached out her hand toward them, gasped, and then she collapsed and lost consciousness.
“Dana?” Francis Calagura smiled down at her. “Lady, you need to eat! Your blood sugar is at sixty.”
She stared up at him from a diagnostic bed. “Francis… The drink… I think it was the drink.”
He scowled. “Sulfites? You know better.” He ran more diagnostic scans. “Yes, sodium sulfite! That’s it! Quite a heavy dose!”
He programmed the DIA-dermal injector for a counter agent. Soon after he administered the medication, her head began to clear.
“Much better…” Dana commended, as her brain fog departed and the room stopped spinning, “…but my hands are burning.” She showed him.
“That’s not from ingestion,” he commented, quickly taking a reading and spraying her liberally with an anti-toxin. “Maybe you should go through decon!”
She nodded.
He helped her up from the diagnostic bed and walked her into the decon chamber, where any trace of the toxin would be vacuumed off her body and clothing.
She began to feel much better.
“I think you should stay in an exam room for a little while longer. I’ll come back and collect you. Just have one case
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