Star Trek: Ghost (Star Trek: Corp of Engineers, Book 72)
Ilsa J. Bick
Language: English
Pages: 64
ISBN: 2:00223167
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Continuing the adventures of the U.S.S. da Vinci, as Captain David Gold, Commander Sonya Gomez, and the rest of the Starfleet's miracle workers solve the problems of the galaxy, one disaster at a time.
Dr. Elizabeth Lense has left the da Vinci, returning to Earth to have the child conceived in another universe. But she arrives home to find that her estranged mother - renowned archaeologist Jennifer Almieri - is dead, and the investigation into her death is being handled by Starfleet. Soon Lense finds herself entwined in a web of intrigue, where everything she thought she knew about her mother is called into question.
Also returning to Earth is Bart Faulwell, recovering from the near-fatal injuries sustained in Signs from Heaven, and looking forward to a reunion with his lover Anthony Mark. But the reunion is far less satisfying than he'd been expecting.
Two crew members face major crossroads in their lives...
dismissed this. He’d simply needed. But now… Did I only imagine how close I grew to Jolen because it was the safe thing to do? Because I knew the da Vinci would leave and there was no risk? “Do you want to talk about it?” He was so caught up in his own thoughts that it took Faulwell a second to place the voice. Faulwell felt the bed dip and rise then dip again as Anthony turned onto his left side, facing Faulwell. “I don’t know.” Sounded feeble. He tried again. “There doesn’t have to be
seconds, he passed her and when she looked again, he was striding down M and then turned into a café. Somewhere cool, she imagined, where he’d sip something icy and enjoy a nice meal. The kid suddenly twisted as if seconding that rest and food were terrific ideas. Well, okay, she could just go back to the Academy. What did it all matter? Jennifer Almieri was dead. And she really didn’t feel…anything. Certainly not grief. Her PGS nagged: You are off-course. Please execute a
transporter coordinates and an address, then said, “And here’s the code to get into her apartment and for the privacy shield. Put it back up when you leave.” “Uh,” he said, in a sudden burst of clarity, “is this legal?” “Of course it is.” So, okay, why couldn’t Stern know? He thought about asking, decided he really didn’t want to know the answer, gathered his fraying wits long enough to muster: “So…uh…what am I looking for? Something suspicious?” That just broke him up. He collapsed in a fit
that and so made sure that only the relevant portions of DNA that would be tested matched what would be seen if the real Strong had given the sample?” “I’m lost,” Faulwell said. Stern said, “SNP typing—single nucleotide polymorphism typing—looks at predetermined portions within the genome. That’s constant across law enforcement, Starfleet, or any other agencies requiring DNA for ID purposes. Otherwise, the process just gets too cumbersome and then there are the privacy issues. The kicker is if
never has enough water, and the fire which never says, Enough. —Proverbs 30:16 PROLOGUE She is hot, so hot; the oppressive heat smothering her body; its sticky fingers tugging her flesh into thick molten runnels… …can’t be… …and she hopes she’s fallen asleep; that this is all a dream because she’s oiled her skin and spread her aching body to bake on a blanket on a beach somewhere—and maybe so because there’s a hollow roar in her ears, an ebb and flow. And she thinks of a time, long