666: Unfamiliar Faces in Familiar Places

by Lance Hartcort, Jariel Camen and Azalea Adams
81120.13
Time: Just Before Arrival at Bajor

-=USS Alchemy=-

The information scrolled across the screen in front of Lance. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. It did not make any sense.

With all of the modern technology available, high quality control standards, and error checking that was used in modern medicine a mistake of this magnitude should not, could not, have happened with a vaccine.

Still the information, the tests, conclusions all pointed to just that; a mistake.

"Or," Lance sat back in the chair. "biological terrorism."

That was not a conclusion that Lance was ready to make, at least not yet. The thought alone chilled him. The fact that someone would be willing to harm to seeking help sickened him. But it was a possibility that he had to consider.

He needed more data.

He stood up from the chair in the CMO office in the small sickbay of the Alchemy and started to pace. Before he was chagrined about being detoured to Bajor, now he could not wait to arrive.

He had submerged himself into the issue at hand and had been making progress. He had already synthesized a new vaccine that he hoped would offset the outbreak on the planet. He needed new blood samples of those infected by the old vaccine to continue. Without them he was just guessing. , something the Vulcan blood in him abhorred.

"Dr. Hartcort. Still up I see." Dr. Adams voice stirred him from his thoughts.

Lance turned and smiled. "Yes." He pointed at her shaking his finger. "I could say the same for you."

"Every time I close my eyes," Azalea began, but she didn't need to continue. Lance could imagine very vividly what she was likely seeing when she tried to sleep.

Suffering.

The eradication of such suffering was the common motivating factor in every doctor. Ending pain and where possible, even cheating death. The drive to accomplish those goals served as the only reason needed to summon to others what seemed to be a super-humanoid strength. They would forego sleep, food, anything to work harder for the good of their patients.

In this, Azalea knew that she had found a true kindred spirit in Lance. Surely not all physicians were that way, especially not those in private practice on posh worlds like Risa or even Earth. Starfleet doctors, however, were truly a breed apart.

"This bothers me, Doctor..."

"Lance."

"Lance." She smiled wearily. "Azalea."

He saluted her with his long gone cold cup of coffee with triple sugar.

"Lance, this whole situation bothers me. I just don't see how something as serious as an entire lot of tainted vaccine could actually make it to a population of people on a Federation world. Unless."

"Unless it was specifically meant to."

"Exactly."

"Okay. So, let's think. Who would possibly do such a thing? To a group of people who have already suffered so much as those in the Plains?"

"We all know that the healthcare and social service systems on Bajor have been operating past their breaking point for decades. Sadly, this is not one of the Federation's shining achievements. Helping them get back on their feet in a timely fashion, I mean."

Lance ran his hand through his hair as he walked to the replicator to get another cup of coffee. "Well sometimes things get muddled in the politics." He nodded towards the replicator to see if she wanted something.

"Double espresso."

"Ooh. Hitting the hard stuff."

He retrieved his new cup of coffee and turned to hand it to Azalea.

"In ancient Earth history the new nation of the United States made several treaties with the Native Americans to legally gain the lands that those people lived on. Of course they broke just about every treaty that they proposed to the Indians. One of the items in one of the treaties was that in exchange for signing over lands that the Indians used for hunting the US government would provide meat to the reservations to replace the game that would not long be hunted.

"The government hired contractors to fulfill that part of the contract. Those they hired did in fact provide the meat as they were paid to but it was rotted and infested with maggots. Of course the Indians complained about it but as far as the US government was concerned the oversight of the meat was not their problem. Only that they paid for it."

Lance shrugged. "Maybe that is the issue here." He stared at her. "Otherwise we are looking at something much more sinister."

They stared at each other in silence as they considered the full implications of those two terrifying words; biological terrorism.

[Commander Adams, we are receiving a hail from Bajor.]

"We're in orbit already?"

[Soon. But this message was sent days ago and waiting for our arrival. Text only, over a highly secured channel.] Dane announced.

"Route it down here, Dane, please?"

[Aye, Sir.]

Lance's eyes asked if she wanted him to give her privacy, but she indicated for him to stay where he was.

They both focused on the screen and read simultaneously.

"Well, if nothing else we would get a chance to get those blood samples we wanted before we get to Altaan."

"He may even be able to obtain a sample of the vaccine serum for us. It looks like we're about to have company." Azalea looked at the signature on the message, and she realized that the man who sent it had no idea which ship in particular he was trying to hitch a ride aboard. "It looks like the Sera's chaplain is about to have a sort of homecoming." She turned for the door. "Care to join me, Doctor? I think it's time we asked Dane and Micah to tell us a little about this Vedek Jariel Camen."

Lance nodded quickly happy to have a reason to leave sickbay. "After you."

=^=

The doors to the lift opened and Azalea wasted no time. "We're going to take on a few passengers as soon as we reach orbit. One of them is a man called Jariel Camen."

She waited purposely to see the response she'd get, and both Dane and Micah expelled a quick puff of air.

"You know him, then."

"He's the Sera's Chaplain. But he was also-" Micah began, but Dane was shaking his head furiously at him and making a slashing motion with his hand across his throat.

"He is very popular among the crew." Micah altered his original choice of words, figuring that since Captain Zanh wasn't here, there was no reason to bring her into the conversation.

"He's been ill with the fever but is said to be on the mend." Azalea informed them. "He wants to go with us to Altaan and so we'll be bringing him and a small party along with him as soon as we can snag them with the transporter. They'll be beamed directly from these coordinates." She brought the encrypted message up for Dane, and he nodded, sending them over to Samson's console so he could see them as well. "How long until we can get them?"

"About half an hour." Micah replied, "That's when we reach the absolute outside perimeter of safe transport."

"Beam them directly to Sickbay. I want to look them over, and have Doctor Hartcort do so as well, before we introduce the Vedek or anyone with him into the population at Altaan."

"Understood."

Adams turned to her flight controller. "Have you found a secure enough location to land the ship?"

"Commander Salvek gave us a set of coordinates that puts us just outside Altaan. We should be in good shape." Ensign Holt replied from the CONN. *Provided I can land this thing, have never made the attempt...* Holt thought nervously, not wanting to share that particular bit of information with the ship's temporary CO.

"I'm going to grab a shower and fresh uniform, I would recommend that any of you who haven't had a chance to do so in the past twenty-four hours do so as well, in shifts." Azalea warned. "It'll be awhile before we have the chance again."

-=Forty-five minutes later=-

Camen paced about the small house as he waited for the signal that seemed it would never come. He was feeling better physically, but it was disease of the mind and heart which troubled him now and all he wanted to do was get home.

"Are you ready?" He hurried to take Tress from the arms of an exhausted Fleur. The baby's cheeks still burned brightly with fever, her hair matted down with sweat.

"I think so. As we will ever be." Fleur droned. She struggled beneath the weight of the bag she was carrying, even though there was not really much in it. "Let me take that." Camen reached for it, but she stepped back. "No. Only Tress."

[USS Alchemy to Vedek Jariel.]

Jariel's eyes widened as he and Fleur both reacted to the name of the ship that was contacting them.

"Say again the name of your vessel?" Jariel asked slowly, disbelieving.

[This is Dane Cristiane aboard the Alchemy,] came the reply. [It's good to hear your voice, Vedek.]

"Yours too, Dane." Camen's eyes glazed over, and he realized in this moment just how much he had missed knowing that he had a crew of people he could depend upon behind him, ready and willing to help anyone in trouble at a moment's notice.

[Stand by. How many to beam up?]

"Three." Jariel replied, nodding to Fleur. "Two adults and one child."

[Energizing.]

As the room began to flicker and fade around her, Fleur Le Marc sighed deeply. She wondered who was going to be waiting to greet them when they arrived on the other end of that transporter beam.

There was one person in particular that she hoped it would not be.

Lance smiled broadly as the three people materialized into Sickbay. He quickly took note of each of them and seeing Fleur smiled ever broader; his charm kicking in at the site of the unknown female.

"Welcome aboard." He offered. "I am Dr. Hartcort."

"Pleased to meet you." Fleur said, her shoulders instantly relaxing when she saw that the Serendipty's captain seemed to be absent from their surroundings. "We have brought the sample of vaccine you asked for."

"Thank you, please, set it down." Lance gestured toward the closest counter. Fleur did just as asked, placing two small vials down before the man.

"Hartcort?" Jariel asked, with a Salvek-like raised eyebrow. "Are you new to the ship?"

"Well, yes and no. I was drafted into this mission after coming aboard the Serendipity to hitch a lift to a conference."

"Well, wherever you came from I'm glad to see you. Jariel Camen." Camen bowed respectfully to Hartcort. "This lovely young lady is named Tress, and I'm afraid she's very ill. The other lovely young lady is my," Camen paused, wondering what word to use. He would not be so presumptuous as to call her his girlfriend, and besides that word seemed more appropriate for teenagers than grown adults. "This is my companion, Fleur Le Marc."

Hartcort suddenly produced a hypo spray from his lab coat pocket. "I don't mean to be rude but I need you all to please step over here into this containment field."

Waving his arms he shuffled them over near a biobed. "Computer, activate bio-containment field."

There was a shimmer around the bed and the new arrivals, Lance included.

"There we go. Can't be letting any bugs that you might have go running free on the ship." He held up the hypo. "I need to draw a blood sample from each of you." He stared at Camen. "Especially you."

"Good to be back," Camen said with a wry smile. Of course the Doctor was only doing his job, but he had not exactly envisioned his return to the Alchemy resulting in being locked up behind a forcefield moments after beaming aboard. He rolled up his sleeve and Hartcort took the sample from his forearm.

"The lady is immune, you are aware," Camen pointed out.

"Can't hurt to be safe," Lance replied.

Camen cradled Tress in his arms as Hartcort took the sample from her. Lance sighed, as the mere brush of his fingers against Tress's skin told him just how bad the child's fever was.

"I don't suppose you have anything better for the fever?" Fleur asked.

"I can give her something to help her sleep, which will help along the recovery process, but," Hartcort held up the hypo. "I am hoping that you can provide the cure."

Camen and Fleur gave the doctor curious looks.

Lance smiled. "You have been exposed and seem to be on the mend, which means that you have the anti-bodies needed to fight off the fever. If that is true I'll be able to manufacture a new, working, vaccine from your blood."

"How long until you have your blood test results?" Camen asked.

"About ten minutes." He jabbed his own arms with the hypo. "That will give me the data that I need and also enable us to make sure this virus does not jump ship."

"Jump ship?" Fleur asked.

Lance smiled as he stepped out of the containment field. "Yes, from a Bajoran virus to a 'don't care who gets it'virus."

He swapped hypos and returned to the containment field. "But I would not worry about that, very rare." He smiled. "Much like a French woman hanging in the company of a Bajoran Vedek."

He stuck the hypo to Tress' neck. "You can put her on the bed. She'll be sleeping comfortably for awhile."

He spun on his heel and made his way back to the blood samples. "Make yourselves at home, I'll have these done in no time."

Commander Lance Hartcort
CMO USS Revolution
Currently aboard the Alchemy


Vedek Jariel Camen
Ship's Chaplain
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Commander Azalea Adams
Currently in Command
USS Alchemy NX- 53099