Текст книги "Taking Wing "

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“But they’re handsome,” Pazlar said, smiling. “And they’re twins.”

Ledrah carefully extricated herself from the Jefferies tube hatch, laughing. “You’re right. And they aren’t anywhere as bad as I make them out to be.” She cautiously kept one hand on the rail, to steady herself in the micro-g environment.

“My understanding among your type is that hostility often masks attraction,” Bralik said, her toothy smile showing. “Better be careful. They’re junior officers.”

With a mock scowl, Ledrah waggled a mottled, salmon-colored finger at the Ferengi. “You just watch yourself there. I know some of your secrets, too!”

As Bralik put her hands up, as if to protest her innocence, Melora spoke up. “I really appreciate all the work you’re putting into the place, Commander.”

“Well, it is a challenge, but it’s about time we tried something new,” Ledrah said. She looked around guiltily and dropped her voice. “Not that there’s anything wrongwith Ra-Havreii’s basic design, mind you. It’s just nice to see a few of my own ideas integrated into this ship, too.”

“I’ve never met a chief engineer yet who didn’t want to make the ship she’s serving on her own,” Pazlar said.

Engineers.She thought for a moment of Reginald Barclay, the shy man with whom she had shared a brief romance while serving aboard the Enterprise.She understood that in the time since then, he had been an active part of Project Pathfinder, which was instrumental in bringing the lost starship U.S.S. Voyagerback to Earth. She hadn’t spoken to Reg in years, and wasn’t certain even now whether she was avoiding him, or vice versa. Or if their protracted mutual silence was mere happenstance.

Perhaps once she was fully settled aboard Titan,with a mission or two under her belt, she would make the time to contact him.

“Hellooooo,” a pair of heavily accented voices called from above them, in unison. Ensigns Paolo and Koasa Rossini came swimming down toward them, pulling along a cart of tools between them.

“Ooooh, your favorite junior officers are here,” Bralik said, not quite quietly enough.

Ledrah flushed a bright pink, particularly along the vertical ridge of tiny horns that bisected her forehead, then lobbed the small instrument in her hand straight at Bralik.

Pazlar stifled a laugh as the object bonked the Ferengi woman directly between the twin lobes of her cranium, then ricocheted off into the room’s lower levels.

I think I’m going to like this crew,she thought. For once,I’m not the only outsider who has to adapt. We’reall going to have to adapt to each other.

Nurse Alyssa Ogawa watched the rhythmic, repetitive motions of Xin Ra-Havreii’s long, wispy white mustachios. She found the effect almost hypnotic.

He’s trembling,she realized with no small amount of surprise. Why is he so nervous?

“How long did you say this had been bothering you, Commander?” Ogawa asked.

Idly playing with the pips on the collar of his standard Starfleet duty uniform, Dr. Ra-Havreii swayed unsteadily toward one of the biobeds and reclined heavily on it. He assayed a laugh, but its apparent breeziness was belied by a subtle deepening of his slightly rusty complexion. “It comes and goes. I can usually cope with it, but it’s flared up since I came aboard. One of my stomachs seems to have remained behind at the Utopia ground station.”

Ogawa reflected on how ironic it was that a designer of starships had such wobbly space legs.

Offering him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she said, “Then let’s see what we can do about that. Short of sending a search party down to look for that missing stomach, that is.”

He returned a pale reflection of Ogawa’s smile as she walked to an interface console, where she checked the pharmacological database for broad-spectrum antinausea agents that were compatible with Efrosian physiology. Selecting one, she retrieved the proper vial and a hypospray from one of sickbay’s equipment shelves and returned to her patient.

She touched it to the commander’s neck and released the drug into his system.

“Feeling better?” she asked after a moment.

He nodded tentatively, his long, shimmering white hair undulating with the motion like some undersea reef-creature as he sat up slowly on the biobed. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m most grateful.”

“Happy to help. You still need to see one of the doctors, though,” she cautioned. “I recommend doing it as soon as possible.”

Ra-Havreii nodded again, hand to abdomen as he breathed.

“I take it you don’t make it out of the lab very often,” Ogawa said.

Ra-Havreii seemed to hesitate before answering. “Not for several years. Nearly four decades of theoretical engineering for the Skunkworks seldom required that I leave Mars.”

“The Skunkworks?” Ogawa said, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice as she repeated the odd word.

“A nickname among us engineers for Utopia Planitia. Apparently it’s an homage to an organization with a similar function from Earth’s history.” Ra-Havreii’s elaborate eyebrows drew together. “I’m surprised you’re unfamiliar with the term.”

Ogawa smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any Terran who knows every obscure detail of our history. Surely not every Efrosian knows his own that well.”

That seemed to take the commander aback. “Forgive me, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I have a bad habit of imposing my own cultural norms on my associates. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” Ogawa assured him. “But does that mean Efrosians generally do having a working knowledge of those kinds of details?”

“It’s culturally mandated,” Ra-Havreii revealed. “You may be aware that my world is in the final stages of a prolonged ice age. My people evolved in the forests of the temperate band straddling Efros Delta’s equator. Because of the difficult conditions there, our road to technological advancement was longer than it was for many other humanoid civilizations. As a result, we developed a highly structured and fiercely observed oral tradition to pass information from one generation to the next. Such practices are still observed, even though there is no longer a practical need for it.”

Ogawa was intrigued. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Doctor, it sounds like a very problematic and imprecise way to convey and preserve information.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ra-Havreii said with a soft laugh. “Abstract knowledge, after all, may be stored and communicated in any number of ways. Meaningis a different matter altogether. Our oral tradition has allowed us to preserve not only very ancient knowledge, but, where relevant, its emotional context. We’ve found that to be a powerful advantage when it comes to learning and, more importantly, to understanding.

“You must understand also that the idea of a written language had not yet occurred to my kind when all this was taking hold. Our oral tradition evolved out of necessity, not by choice. To this day, our method of data storage is aural, not optical. Our libraries have more in common with symphonic archives than they do with, say, this ship’s databases. Rather than utilizing visual symbolism, we’ve created tonal vocabularies for history, science, philosophy, even mathematics. Similarly, our spoken language includes a range of vocalizations, imperceptible to most other species, that may contain many layers of subtext.”

“Music,” Ogawa realized. “Your entire culture is music-based. I’ve heard of such things, but the species that evolve along those lines are always aquatic. Never those that evolve on land. That’s fascinating.”

Ra-Havreii seemed delighted by her amazement. “We’ve come to understand that we’re unusual in this regard,” he admitted, “but it has served my kind well.”

Ogawa wanted to ask more—she craved to, in fact—but at that moment the main sickbay door hissed open, drawing her attention toward the sound. She smiled as Commander Troi entered.

Then Ogawa’s eyes widened as she focused on the large, sharp-toothed reptiloid who accompanied Titan’s diplomatic officer.

She quickly recovered herself. “Dr. Ree, I presume?” Ogawa said, smiling broadly.

Ree righted his head, blinked his opaque inner set of eyelids, then the transparent outer ones. His wide mouth pulled back in an approximation of either a grin, or a look of predatory hunger. “Unless you have another Pahkwathahn on your medical staff, that must be me.” His clawed feet barely clicked against the floor as he stepped forward and extended one arm toward Ogawa. “You must be my indispensable chief nurse, Lieutenant Ogawa.”

She grasped his hand and shook it, struck at once by the smoothness of his scaly skin and the gentleness of his touch. “At your service, Doctor. A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our working together.”

“As do I, Nurse.” Ree’s head suddenly swerved to face Ra-Havreii, who flinched slightly at the motion. “And who have we here?”

“Doctor Shenti Yisec Eres Ree,” Troi said, “may I present Doctor Xin Ra-Havreii of Utopia Planitia.”

“Ah, one of Starfleet’s shipwrights,” Ree said, then peered at Ra-Havreii more closely. “You seem a bit waxen for one of your species, Commander. What seems to be the matter?”

“Nothing serious,” Ra-Havreii said. “Just an upset stomach.”

“Chronic?”

The engineer looked surprised. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Let me guess: replicated levithinuts.”

Ra-Havreii shrugged, embarrassed. “I’ve been waiting on a shipment of the real thing from Efros, but I don’t expect it to arrive before Titanleaves the Sol System.”

“You’ll be with us awhile, then?”

Ra-Havreii glanced briefly at Troi, who nodded ever so slightly. “That was my intention, at least until Titanstops over at Starbase 185.”

“A ten-day voyage, assuming there are no complications, not to commence for another two weeks,” Ree said. “That’s an unacceptable amount of time to go without health-sustaining nutrients that are obtainable only from foodstuffs native to your homeworld, Commander.”

“I’ve managed through similar periods in the past,” Ra-Havreii said. “The most difficult part is the nausea, but Nurse Ogawa has been very helpful in that regard.”

Ogawa took that as her cue to tell Ree, “I’ve administered two cc’s of peratheline, Doctor.”

“An efficacious choice,” Ree said. “But while peratheline will alleviate the symptoms, it will not address the underlying problem.” Ree picked up a nearby padd and deftly tapped it with the tips of his blunted claws.

“I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but really, I can tough it out,” Ra-Havreii said. “Besides, the replicated nuts—”

“Are unfit for Efrosian consumption,” Ree finished. “Not that the dieticians who program Starfleet replicators don’t try hard, but there are certain complex organic molecules the technology still has trouble with, the unique essential oils in levithinuts being a prime example.” Ree finished tapping the padd and handed the device to Ra-Havreii. “This should take care of the problem.”

The commander looked at the padd. “I don’t understand. Who is Chief Moreno?”

“One of the engineers aboard the Seyetik.We got to know each other quite well during the voyage from Deep Space 7. Quite an amiable fellow, and if I may say, an absolute fiend for Efrosian levithinuts. He boasted having four containers in one of the ship’s cargo bays. Since the Seyetikhas put in to Utopia for upgrades that should extend well beyond Titan’s departure, I expect Chief Moreno may be amenable to cutting a deal whereby he takes possession of your expected shipment in exchange for a good portion of his present supply.”

Impressed, Ogawa exchanged a look with Troi, who winked at her. Ra-Havreii seemed speechless. “Doctor Ree…I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Commander. Now, off you go.”

Ra-Havreii thanked Ogawa one more time, then left sickbay with Troi to pursue whatever was next on each of their no doubt busy itineraries, leaving the main sickbay area empty except for Ogawa and her newly arrived superior officer.

“Now then, Nurse, do you happen to know whether my medical supplies have been brought aboard?” Ree asked in his raspy, sibilant voice.

Ogawa nodded. “The quartermaster received your materials late yesterday. I’ve already arranged to have most of them transferred to sickbay, and they should be here by day’s end. As you requested, a portion of the arboretum has been set aside for your pharmacological plants, but I strongly recommend you supervise any retrofitting yourself.”

“You anticipate problems?”

Ogawa hesitated. “I took the liberty of reviewing the list of plants and the environmental modifications you specified,” she admitted, “and let’s just say I suspect the complexity of your proposed greenhouse and the precision with which it’ll need to be balanced will present the engineers with a few new and potentially unwelcome challenges.”

Ree’s laugh sounded like an overturned rain stick. “Nurse Ogawa, that has to be the most gently worded critique of my complete unreasonableness that I’ve ever heard. I rather think I’m going to like it here.”

Ogawa beamed. “Please, Doctor, call me Alyssa.”

“Very well, Alyssa,” he said, pronouncing the name with a lengthy hiss. “And you may call me Ree. Now, while I await the arrival of my personal effects, I should like to begin scheduling the crew physicals to ensure that the reports will be complete and filed before we launch. I understand we have eighteen civilians on board, is that correct?”

“Soon to be nineteen,” Ogawa said, thinking of Ensign Bolaji, a shuttle pilot now in the middle of her second trimester of pregnancy. “But yes, that’s correct.”

“Then I would like to begin with the civilians. Get a taste of them, as it were.”

Ogawa laughed aloud at Ree’s joke. She was beginning to find his enthusiasm infectious. Nodding, she said, “I have just the person in mind to be your first patient, Doctor.”

Ogawa walked across the sickbay toward her office. The door slid obediently open, revealing two figures seated behind the desk. Her young son Noah was staring down at a padd, his brow crumpled in concentration. Hunched over it with him, his Trill spots only just visible on his thickly bearded face, was Ranul Keru.

“You can do it, all you have to do is think it through,” Ranul said in an encouraging tone. “Just remember to cancel out the terms on both sides of the equation.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Noah complained.

“It only seems that way. Take your time.”

Ogawa paused in the doorway for a moment to watch them work. She felt a surge of gratitude for Ranul’s continued presence in Noah’s life. Like Ranul, Ogawa and her son had suffered a terrible loss while serving aboard the Enterprise;over the past two years, that shared grief had drawn the three of them together, almost as a de facto family. Ranul had lost Sean Hawk to the Borg more than six years ago; two years later, Ogawa had lost Andrew Powell, Noah’s father, during the Dominion War at the Battle of Rigel. Sometimes she likened the three of them to ionized atoms brought together out of a desperate need to share their few remaining electrons.

Though Andrew had been dead for nearly five years, Ogawa saw her late husband’s kind, strong face every time she looked at Noah. The child was both a comfort to her and a painful reminder of her loss, though thankfully much more the former than the latter.

“Sorry to interrupt the math lesson,” she said.

Ranul grinned at her. “That’s all right. I think we both needed a break.”

Ogawa stepped into the office. “Good. Because there’s somebody here I want you to meet.” She swept her arm toward the open doorway behind her, where Titan’s new chief medical officer crouched so as not to bump his scaly head as he entered. “Lieutenant Commander Keru, Noah Powell, say hello to Doctor Ree.”

Ranul looked startled for a split second. Then he smiled an easy smile, and introduced himself as he leaned forward across the desk to offer his hand in greeting. The doctor briefly took the hand in his gentle, hyperarticulated grasp. Then the reptiloid surgeon disengaged from the handshake and fixed his serpentine gaze on her son.

She squinted and held her breath for a moment, hoping that Dr. Ree’s decidedly alien appearance wouldn’t startle her son into saying something embarrassing. Noah was, after all, only eight years old.

Noah rose, goggle-eyed and silent as he stared at Ree. A long beat passed. “Wow,” he said at length, drawing out the word and brushing a shock of jet-black hair out of his eyes. His voice was breathless, but without a trace of fear. “A Pahkwa-thanh. Cool!”

“So, you stilldon’t have your exec, then?” Admiral William Ross asked, a concerned look on his face as he snatched the steaming cup of raktajinofrom the replicator.

Riker maintained a neutral expression, though he inwardly counted to ten before answering. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that Ross and Akaar were second-guessing him. Maybe they’re just testing me for prelaunch jitters. Better not disappoint them.

“No, sir. But I can’t afford to rush a decision as important as this one,” Riker said evenly, seated behind his heavy Elaminite desk. “My XO needs to be someone that I know I can trust implicitly before we even clear the moorings.”

Seated in one of the chairs in front of Riker’s desk, Admiral Akaar uncrossed and recrossed his long legs, almost grazing the side of the desk as he did so. Though the towering Capellan seemed less tightly wound than Ross, Riker still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that whatever news they were bringing him could not be good.

“And none of your Enterpriseconfederates fit the bill?” Akaar asked.

“Yes, and no, sir. I had three candidates from the Enterprise.All of them turned me down.” He had more or less expected Geordi and Worf not to take the position, though either man would have excelled in it. But he was still stunned that Christine Vale had turned him down not once, but twice.

Of course, I turned down three captaincies before I finally saw the light,he thought. If he could finally change his mind, then why couldn’t she?

Akaar and Ross exchanged a glance, then looked back at Riker, neither saying anything. Ross blew on his raktajinoand sipped cautiously.

“There were exigent circumstances behind their decisions,” Riker said, feeling defensive in the silence. “In fact, I’m going to pay a visit to one of them shortly. This time I feel certain that the candidate in question will accept my offer.” Please, Christine, take the job!Riker thought to himself.

Akaar’s mahogany-brown eyes focused on Riker like a pair of mining lasers. “May we assume, Captain, that the unnamed person who eventually becomes this ship’s executive officer will not be another member of your immediate family?”

He’s trying to bait me,Riker thought, though he wasn’t about to allow either admiral to provoke him into losing his cool. “I assume, Admiral, that you’re referring to the presence of my wife on my senior staff.”

“I am, Captain,” Akaar said. “I have seen other command officers make similar personnel decisions, often to their great regret. They frequently have great difficulty maintaining their objectivity.”

Riker wondered if Akaar was referring to Lieutenant Nella Daren, who had served as the Enterprise-D’s head stellar cartographer about a decade ago. Daren’s brief romance with Jean-Luc Picard had resulted in both her and the captain going their separate ways over the very issue Akaar was raising now. But my relationship with Deanna is different,Riker told himself. We didn’t just meet and start a relationship from scratch. We’ve known each other for twenty years. And we’remarried now.

Families serving together on starships was nothing new to Starfleet, but seldom the captain’s family, and Riker knew that was Akaar’s point.

“I am well aware of the pitfalls, Admiral,” Riker said evenly. “Nevertheless, I’m completely satisfied that Commander Troi is my best possible choice for the dual role of diplomatic officer and senior counselor. Her record speaks for itself. As does mine, I think.”

Riker had been shifting his gaze from one admiral to the other as he spoke. He made certain his next utterance was directed squarely at Akaar. “The fact that Commander Troi and I are married will have absolutely nobearing on any decision I might make.”

Both admirals sat impassively, concealing their reactions with the skill of master poker players. A moment of silence passed, and Riker decided to take the bull by the horns. “Please forgive my bluntness, but I find it hard to believe that the purpose of your surprise visit was to quiz me about my senior-officer roster.”

Akaar leaned forward, uncrossing his legs again and resting his large hands on his knees. “No, it is not, Captain. The reason we came was to discuss your first assignment.”

Riker’s brow furrowed. “It was my understanding,” he began, “that I would be receiving specific orders about our mission from Admiral de la Fuego, once we arrived at Starbase 185.”

“No,” Ross said tersely, interrupting—and making Riker’s heart sink precipitously. “There’s going to be a delay, Captain. Admiral de la Fuego has already been advised that you won’t be reporting to Starbase 185 on schedule. You have a new mission.” He set his mug down on the desktop and leaned in slightly, drawing closer to Riker. “Understand that for now, most of the information about this mission is being distributed on a purely need-to-know basis, and all you need to know at this moment are the basics. You may inform members of your senior staff and your crew what we’re about to tell you. However, many of the details are quite sensitive, based on intelligence that’s currently in flux, and therefore may not be made completely available to you or your crew until this ship is ready to sail.”

Riker leaned back in his chair, pulling away from Ross in the process. “I take it that despite this ship’s stated purpose, the mission we’re about to undertake will be neither exploratory nor scientific?”

“You are to proceed to the Romulan Neutral Zone, Captain,” Akaar said emphatically, pointedly not responding to Riker’s obvious but not-yet-stated concerns. “In response to Praetor Tal’Aura’s request for a Federation-Romulan dialogue, the Federation Council and Starfleet Command have placed Titanat the head of a small multilateral diplomatic and humanitarian convoy. I do not need to tell you how dangerous it would be if the Romulan Empire were to dissolve. The resulting political upheavals could spread large amounts of unaccounted-for weaponry across the quadrant. But this is a very real possibility. Your mission, in part, is to alleviate the social and political chaos that now threatens to sweep Romulus, Remus, and the rest of the Empire because of Shinzon’s assassination of the Romulan Senate, and the power vacuum left in the wake of his own subsequent demise.”

Riker was already regrettably all too well aware of Shinzon’s crimes; the crew of the Enterprise-E had been directly involved in stopping the mad, self-anointed praetor’s murderous bid for galactic power.

“We expect that the task force will be greeted by a contingent of Romulan ships in the Neutral Zone,” Akaar said. “And we anticipate that they will then conduct Titanand her convoy to Romulus itself, where you will conduct the diplomatic phase of your mission.”

“I’m curious as to why we’re sending relief ships,” Riker said, already beginning to get over his initial surprise at this sudden change to his mission. “I wasn’t aware that things had gotten so desperate on the other side of the Neutral Zone.” If they had, he reasoned, then it was doubtful that the crew would have the luxury of spending the next two weeks completing Titan’s launch preparations.

“Romulus has not descended into complete chaos– yet,”Akaar said. “But the supply chains within empires are notoriously vulnerable to political instabilities. Should the regime on Romulus topple altogether, the aid supplies carried by your task force may well become essential, at least in the short term. We anticipate, in that event, that whichever Romulan and Reman leaders emerge from the subsequent power struggles will respond to our goodwill with the appropriate gratitude.”

Running one hand through his brown-and-gray hair, Ross continued after Akaar paused. “The Romulan Star Empire, or what’s presently left of it, now stands vulnerable not only to outside attack, but also teeters at the edge of a potentially apocalyptic civil war as various Romulan and Reman political factions squabble over the reins of power. At the request of Praetor Tal’Aura, you will mediate power-sharing talks between the various opposing sides. Though the Romulans have been committed Federation adversaries for the last two centuries, the Federation Council and Starfleet Command are both greatly concerned about the ramifications of political chaos in the Romulan Empire.”

Chaos.Riker found his own mind verging on it at this moment. The Enterprise’s last mission to Romulan space had been traumatic enough for that ship and her crew, bringing about the deaths of Lieutenant Commander Data and scores of others. Not to mention the psychic rape that Shinzon himself had inflicted on Deanna. Though Riker had no doubt that his wife and diplomatic officer would do her duty without hesitation, he could also guess how hard it would be for her to return so soon to the very place where Shinzon had violated her.

He was about to be sent into one of the most politically volatile places in the galaxy, with an untried new ship and an untested crew—nearly all of them dedicated explorers who had prepared for, and expected to undertake, a mission of an entirely different order.