“Ahem,” Weston cleared his throat, startling the man, as he shook his head in an attempt to clear the ringing. “How on earth could you possibly decipher anything from that mess?”

“Mess? Hardly. So far I’ve been able to tell at least three words apart, although I can only be sure of one—‘escouros.’ It seems to mean ‘help’ or perhaps ‘rescue.’”

Weston did a double take and stared at the tech. “I don’t take well to jokes at times like this Mr….”

The man looked startled for a moment, then grabbed Weston’s hand and shook it energetically. “I’m so sorry, Captain! I’m Dr. Palin. I see you haven’t had a chance to read my file yet, so I’ll apologize for my apparent levity. I’m the Odyssey’s token linguist.” The man grinned wryly at the word token. “My previous supervisor recommended me for the position, probably to get rid of me, I suppose, but I really am the best at what I do, Captain.”

Weston was taken aback by the man’s quick change of tack, his hand limply following Palin’s. “Uh, all right. So you’re the one who thinks it’s a distress call?”

“No. I know it’s a distress call. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find any specifics in the signal.” Palin frowned.

Weston spent the next few minutes talking with Dr. Palin, occasionally interrupted by the lab technicians as they attempted to disassociate themselves from Palin, who was clearly considered a heretic.

Weston ignored them, as they didn’t have any thoughts of their own to add to the discussion. He didn’t have much patience for people who were only willing to toe the company line. While they were responsible for what they knew, he wanted to hear what people thought as well. Whether he was right or not, Palin was at least willing to step up to the plate, as it were.

“I’m going to take the Odyssey to investigate. If you’re right, it’s our duty to respond.” Weston paused a moment. “And besides, even if you’re wrong, it’s something we really have to see for ourselves. Oh, and Doc? I think it would be best if you used the headphones for a while, give the others a break.”

“Very well, Captain. I suppose I could restrict myself.” Palin’s voice sounded disappointed. “For a little while, at least.”

Weston retreated from the lab, tapping the signal key to activate the induction microphone on his jaw. “Commander Roberts.”

Roberts responded, “Yes, sir?”

“I’m heading to my office for a while. Contact me when we clear the gravity well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Weston took the tube back to the forward habitat and navigated through the rolling corridors to his office. Once inside, he called up Dr. Palin’s file on his local terminal, determined to find out what kind of man he was going to trust his ship’s future to.

This is strange. To say that Palin’s file was nondescript was an understatement. There were no particularly impressive achievements, nor were there any notes of discipline problems, something which drew his attention rather quickly after his first meeting with the man. This can’t be his record. A clerical error? Weston began sweeping through dossiers that were stored in the computer’s fractal core, sifting through terabytes of information as he had the computer cross-reference the good doctor’s past.