Star Trek #37: Bloodthirst by J. M. Dillard

Author:J. M. Dillard [Dillard, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671644895
Amazon: 0671644890
Barnesnoble: 0671644890
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1987-11-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

QUINCE WAVERLEIGH PASSED through the anteroom to his office with barely a glance at the aide already seated at the terminal. He was nursing a spectacular headache this morning, no doubt due to the tequila he'd consumed the night before and the fact that he hadn't taken anything to prevent the hangover. It'd gone this way the past several days, each time with Quince telling himself that he wasn't going to be drinking that night, ergo the pills were an unnecessary precaution. And each night he drank anyway, punishing himself for it by not taking the pills.

He might as well admit that he needed to talk to the staff psychologist about Ke. Maybe this morning he'd get Rhonda to make an appointment for him. She'd been after him for weeks to quit pretending it had been a breezy transition.

"Morning, Rhonda," he croaked without looking at her. He'd ask for the appointment later. First, to the synthesizer outlet in his office for a cup of coffee. Rank, after all, had its privileges.

"Good morning, Admiral." Quince stopped and turned his head-slowly, to keep the pain to a minimum-to stare. Rhonda had just answered in an uncharacteristically baritone pitch.

"You're not Rhonda." The man in Rhonda's chair swiveled to face him. "Ensign

Sareel, Admiral." A Vulcan male, young-at least as far as Quince could guess; they all looked young to him until their hair began to silver-with a broad, square jaw and pointed chin. He had the typical Vulcan coloring-dark brown hair and eyes. "I am Lieutenant Stein's replacement." "What, did she call in sick?" She'd seemed fine the evening before.

"It is my understanding that Mr. Stein was transferred." -Transf~rred? Are you sure?" Now, what kind of major screw-up had Personnel pulled this time? Rhonda had been on temporary assignment, but he'd made it clear that she was to stay with him until his regular aide returned. "I want her back in this office immediately!" He realized he was yelling and stopped himself. The Vulcan blinked twice, his face absolutely devoid of expression, and said, "Perhaps you should take this up with Admiral Tsebili." "I'll do that." Quince stomped into his own office. The rise in blood pressure did nothing for his mood or his headache. He slumped into his desk chair and swiveled to one side to unthinkingly punch the code into the synthesizer.

Great. Just great. As if things weren't rotten enough, now he was going to lose Rhonda, too. The synthesizer panel rose and he picked the coffee up, cradling it in both hands. He let the steam rise into his face before taking a reverent sip.

Rhonda was one of the most efficient aides he'd ever worked with. Hell, after a month here she was as efficient as his regular aide, Bazir-om the Aurelian, had ever been. Quince had been sorely tempted to ask her to stay on permanently-but that wouldn't have been fair to Baz. Every officer had the right to take parental leave and come back to the same position, even if Baz had been sitting on those damn eggs for three months now.

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