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"Calm Before the Storm" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 This story has a couple of more chapters to go...it’s meant to give some background on some future developments in this AU, esp. the Vulcan/Romulan thing. PLEASE let me know what you think of this so far...reviews are great, and if anyone has any ideas on future stories (and how to complicate things more, LOL) PLEASE leave me a review or a PM. Thanks. Feedback helps a writer! :) Thanks for the edit, Pesterfield! :) Fourteen Malcolm Reed glared at the information on the screen, as if willing it to tell him its secrets. He looked down at the mess of PADDs on the desk, found the right one, and compared his notes to what he saw on the screen. He frowned, then picked up another PADD and accessed the records of T’Vau’s “mystery patient”. All his instincts screamed at him that this was much worse than it appeared. The initial results seemed rather innocuous, but if he extrapolated the deterioration rates from the known data... He scrolled back up and noticed the patient’s name was encrypted. After a few moments of contemplation, he pushed a series of buttons and input his private codes. The letters reformed and slowly made sense and, although he had guessed who the patient was, the name still startled him. High Minister V’Lar, the highest ranking Vulcan on the planet. Malcolm rescrambled the name and put down the PADD. He massaged his temples, then thought wryly, Of course, there is no pressure to solve this particular conundrum. “What’s got you so engrossed in your work, Malcolm?” Doctor Rosie Arroyo asked, her Mexican accent heavier than usual. He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at her. “A little project from the Vulcan Medical Academy, Rosie.” She raised her eyebrows. “Pa’nar Syndrome? That’s a serious disease you’re looking at. Did they give you the impossible project and want you to find a cure for Pa’nar?” “I’m not looking for a cure per se, Rosie, not directly.” He bit his lip, gauging just how much to tell her. Rosie’s specialties were biochemistry and immunology, so he could use her help on this pretty problem. He brought up some information, then turned the screen so she could see it clearly. “It appears to be a mutation of the Pa’nar virus, but its characteristics are unlike any I’ve seen before, and the effects are accelerated at an exponential rate—“ “Mmmm.” Her eyes narrowed as she read the results. “Looks like it’s dormant within the host for months before it becomes active within the brain—“ she reached over and tapped the screen. “That’s interesting.” He nodded at the passage. “Yes, I noticed that.” “It takes over a normal T-cell and basically rewrites its genetic code with its own, like a typical virus. Then it secretes some sort of coating that protects it from the body’s defense system, and after a certain amount of time, that coating falls apart and turns the virus loose.” Rosie shuddered at the concept. “That’s nasty.” Malcolm nodded in agreement, then asked the question foremost in his mind. “Could such a thing be genetically engineered, Rosie?” She bit her lip as she thought about the possibility. “Could be. All you have to do is program the coating to dissolve at a certain rate...but that takes a lot of skill in genetics, biochemistry, immunology..." She gave him a sharp look. "The Vulcans certainly could do it.” “Perhaps, but then the question becomes, ‘Why?’” “Maybe someone was trying to find a cure for Pa’nar and screwed up somewhere? The virus escaped from containment and now it’s in the general public?” Rosie speculated. “Pa’nar doesn’t affect Humans, right?” “The pure strain of the virus doesn’t,” Malcolm replied, “but this mutated form...I don’t know. It’s usually spread by mental contact, like through a mind meld—“ “But Humans don’t usually mind-meld. Um...present company notwithstanding. Perdon, Malcolm—“ “No offense taken, Rosie.” He frowned as he recalled the strange group mind-meld he’d experienced when Enterprise and Columbia were in orbit around Vulcan, during T’Marui’s failed coup attempt. At first, he’d chalked it up as one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ occurrences, but...what if there was some other reason for it? The prospect chilled him to the bone. T’Pol, myself, Jon Archer, Trip, T’Pau, V’Lar, T’Les, Soval...and countless others who had fought back against T’Marui. What if it hadn’t been an accident, but an insidious way of spreading the virus? Then who had been responsible for that? Someone who had amazing mental powers. The only ones who even came close to such power were the acolytes of Mount Seleya, but those acolytes were isolated from the rest of Vulcan society, and didn’t involved themselves with politics. At least, that was the general consensus. The alternative was too frightening to contemplate. “Malcolm, you’re zoning out on me again. Talk to me.” He snapped out of his thoughts. “Forgive me, Rosie; I was just pondering other possibilities. Can you do me a favor?” She frowned at his overly serious tone. “Of course, Malcolm.” “I need a scan and tissue samples...of myself, and I can’t do it on my own body.” Rosie held his gaze and asked, “Do you think you’ve got...whatever it is?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He admitted, “I don’t know, but if I do...it might explain a few things. I must ask you to do this in utmost confidence, Rosie.” She nodded and said, “I won’t tell anyone unless circumstances force me to, of course. Hop onto the biobed and we’ll get started.” An hour later, Rosie analyzed the scan and the samples and compared them to the results they’d been studying earlier. Her mouth pressed into a thin line and she glanced at Malcolm. He only nodded at the information on the screen. “Malcolm, you’re trying to keep this as low-key as possible, and I understand that, but would you mind if I took some of this information with me on Columbia? I can work on the immunological and biochemical aspects of this and let you know what I find out.” She tilted her head as he began to protest. “ˇAy, chico! Quit thinking that you’ve got to carry the whole universe on your shoulders, no? Tu eres no Supermedico. Let me help you.” Despite himself, he laughed softly. You aren’t Supermedico. Rosie only called him that whenever he got into his “delusions of grandeur” mode, as Janeese Samirah called it. “All right, let me transfer some of this and—“ He choked as disorientation hit him...he didn’t know which way was up, and his stomach dropped as nausea hit him. Then, just as suddenly, it stopped, and he found himself sitting on the floor with Rosie kneeling next to him. “Malcolm! You okay?” She had her scanner out and was passing it over him. “Looks like your vestibular sense went haywire for a moment there—“ “I’m all right, Rosie,” he gasped, closing his eyes against another surge of dizziness. “It’s just that—“ “What’s going on, Malcolm?” He struggled to his feet just as Nate Kemper rushed in. “Doctor Reed! Doctor Arroyo! We’ve got people incoming! Trip, Jon Archer, Ambassador Soval, Captain Shran and Captain Gral!” “Oh bloody hell,” Malcolm muttered. He was already in emergency mode. “Rosie, scramble the medteams and prep Surgery Room One. If Trip Tucker follows his regular routine, we’re going to need it.” “Mister Tucker gets himself into the worst trouble, doesn’t he?” Soval glanced over at Doctor Malcolm Reed. He couldn’t agree with Reed’s assessment more, but why was trouble so adept at finding Tucker? For a Security officer, Tucker attracted it like a moth to a flame. The ambassador followed Reed’s gaze at T’Pol, who sat at Tucker’s side, her two fingers at his wrist. It appeared as if she was taking his pulse, but the gesture—innocent as it seemed—was astounding in its intimacy. It only deepened Soval’s concern for T’Pol and her “friendship” with Tucker. She didn’t know about Tucker’s past in the so-called “Section 31", the dark deeds he’d been forced to do in the name of Earth’s security. Yes, his young cousin was attracted to the illogical, to the non-traditional, but this...this was dangerous. Soval considered him more dangerous than Koss, in some ways. At least Koss was a (mostly) known quantity. Tucker, on the other hand... He is an enigma, even after ten years, Soval reflected. The man’s soul is markedly different from the facade he shows to his crewmates and his friends. I do not wish T’Pol to become—what is it called?—collateral damage in a possible conflict. “He will live?” Reed gave him a look of amusement. “Lieutenant Commander Tucker is too stubborn to die. I’ve reset and regenerated the broken bones in his hand and I’ve patched up the internal injuries he suffered in his fall. I believe he owes Shran a few ales to make up for the cost of realigning Shran’s left antenna.” Despite himself, Soval allowed a ghost of a smile to appear on his face. “Yes, those antennae of his are more than a—fashion statement.” Malcolm gave him a quirky grin. “Indeed. And I assume that your shoulder isn’t giving you trouble?” “Considering it had a collision with a hard-headed Human, it is remarkably mobile.” The doctor smirked. “Unfortunately, I doubt Jonathan would agree with you. I gave him an analgesic and an ice pack for his concussion. And Gral will have an upset stomach for at least a couple of days.” T’Pol glanced up at the two men. With a whispered reassurance to Tucker, she got to her feet and approached them. Soval noticed the tightness of her lips, the controlled anger in the amber-dark eyes. A wave of cold, calculated rage washed over Soval like a gray sea; he strengthened his mental shields against it, and noticed that Reed had to do the same. “Cousin, I claim the Rite of Vengeance,” she said in Vulcan. “I know who has hurt him, and I would go and seek justice against this woman.” Soval’s eyes widened a trifle. He glanced at Reed, but the doctor wisely said nothing. The ambassador adopted the same formal tone. “Thy ship launches in a month, Cousin. Time is short for revenge.” “I seek justice,” T’Pol repeated flatly. “I go with or without thy blessing.” He gazed at her. “Thy words come from emotion, not logic. Take care, Cousin. Do not let anger overwhelm thy rational thought.” “On the contrary, Soval, I have thought of this. The one who has hurt him is one who has escaped Vulcan justice before—“ “Who is she, T’Pol?” Her eyes flashed as she replied, “Her name is T’Phena.” Soval stared at her and Malcolm raised an eyebrow. Both men glanced at each other, then Soval addressed her again. “From the Vulcan Security Ministry—“ “She murdered my mentor, Major T’Lydya, she who was also Lieutenant Commander Tucker’s friend at the Vulcan Consulate in San Francisco. Now she has harmed Tucker himself. She had also been one of T’Marui’s lieutenants during the failed coup.” T’Pol took a deep breath. “She is a threat to Vulcan and Earth and has already demonstrated the lengths she will go to. Logic dictates that she must be stopped before she harms others.” “What shall I tell thy mother? Thy captain? Lieutenant Commander Tucker, when he awakens?” “That I am on a mission for Vulcan’s security. That is the truth.” Soval raised an eyebrow. “Have thee considered that she wishes for thee to pursue her? If thee follows, it may be detrimental to thee.” T’Pol’s expression didn’t change. “I know she wishes me to follow, but I will not give her the satisfaction of control.” “Thee will go alone?” “It would be best if I involve as few people as possible. What I have told thee is not common knowledge...and it is difficult to say whether or not Minister T’Pau’s ministry is already compromised.” He nodded reluctantly. “In that case, at least let Commander Mayweather know of the situation, so he can tell thy captain when she returns.” “Very well. Do I have thy blessing, Soval?” “Go with Surak’s grace, Cousin, and I pray you find whom you seek.” Every word seemed wrenched from him. “Be careful.” She nodded. Then her gaze flickered toward Reed, who only gave her a slight nod. Then she turned and went to Tucker’s bedside. Her hand brushed a blond strand of hair from his forehead and she murmured something to him in Vulcan in a low tone. With that, she straightened her shoulders and left the room. “She feels responsible for what’s happened to him,” Malcolm said. Soval stared at where she’d gone. “She feels responsible for many things, Doctor.” |
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