“We have believed ourselves to have no leads before. Further investigation has produced new ones.”

“Which have all gone nowhere.”

“That is not predictive of future outcomes.”

She laughed. “You know, Doctor McCoy is wrong. Your logic can be very comforting at times.”

“Logic is meant for utility, Commander. We seek answers, not comfort. To that end, I suggest we return to the Enterprise and plan our next move.”

“Yes, sir. Let me say goodbye to the commodore and Morning Nectar.”

“Certainly.”

She moved into the kitchen, where the commodore and the nurse were preparing something that resembled cucumber sandwiches. “Ah, there you are,” Reppert said. “Would you like to stay for lunch? I… I’m sorry, I can’t recall your name.”

She stared at him for a brief moment. “It’s Uhura, sir. And no, it looks lovely, but we don’t have the time.”

“Oh, too bad. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your… the thing you wanted to know. I’m afraid it’s all classified, you see.” He tapped his forehead. “Couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. Locked up so tight even I can’t find it. Sorry.” He chuckled in evident good humor.

“I understand, sir. We appreciate your willingness to make the attempt.”

“That’s all right, dear. You always were passionate about recovering lost knowledge.”

Uhura stared at him, shocked. “Sir? What do you mean by that?”

“Now, where did I leave the brown mustard?” The commodore turned away and toddled around the kitchen. None of Uhura’s further entreaties distracted him from his quest for condiments.

What could he have meant—assuming he had even been thinking of Nyota Uhura, not someone else she had momentarily reminded him of? The one time they had met was long before Nomad, so what lost knowledge could she have sought back then? Lost by whom, and when? Where had she been seeking it? And what could it possibly have to do with the vacuum flares?

“Ah, there it is!” Reppert held up the mustard jar triumphantly. Uhura was grateful that at least someone was able to find what they were looking for.

Starfleet Medical

Leonard McCoy leaned back in his office chair and stretched his limbs, letting out a yawn. He’d lost track of the time he’d spent coordinating with Starfleet and civilian emergency teams and cataloguing medical supplies as part of Admiral Cartwright’s vacuum flare preparation effort.

He would have preferred to spend the evening with Ashley Janith-Lau, as he had been spending the majority of his evenings and mornings lately. But she’d had to postpone their plans, for she’d finally convinced Commander Rakatheema to agree to another meeting to discuss her concerns about his goals for the Warborn. Since he’d resisted for so long, there was no room in his formal schedule, so they would be meeting after hours at his home.