Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [10]
A moment later, Scotty guided the shuttle to the coordinates transmitted. It glided into the appropriate bay, one of many on the large station.
As soon as the shuttle came to a halt, the computer notified him that the bay had been pressurized. For perhaps the tenth time that day, Scotty marveled at the pace of modern life.
Then he opened the shuttle door and descended to the deck outside. Abruptly, he came face-to-face with a smiling Starfleet officer. A quick look at the uniform pips told the engineer that the man was a commander— probably the one in charge of the station.
The officer had a large smile on his round, cherubic face. He put out his hand.
“I’m Commander Yuri Nelson, Captain Scott. It’s a real honor to have you on my station.”
Scott took the commander’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Commander.”
“I wish we’d had more notice,” remarked Nelson. “I would have liked to arrange something,” he said as the two men walked across the shuttlebay.
Though Nelson was clearly enthusiastic about having a legend on his base, Scotty wondered if anyone else on the staff had heard of him. When the engineer last saw active duty seventy-five years ago, the grandparents of most of the station crew would have been young children.
“Will you be with us for very long?” the commander asked, stopping in front of a turbolift door. “We have quite a collection of alien artifacts here. No doubt, some pieces that would be of interest to you.”
Scott shook his head. “I’m afraid nae, Commander. Nae on this trip.”
Looking at Nelson’s open, friendly features, Scott regretted what he was about to do. At some point in the future, he might have liked to come back to Starbase 178 and spend some time. But if all went well, the commander wouldn’t be nearly so glad to see him the next time.
“I’ll be back, though, as soon as I can,” Scott promised. It was true enough.
By the look on his face, the commander was about to ask another question. Scott cut him off with a gesture.
“The tour?” the engineer asked. “The one I inquired about?”
“Yes, of course,” Nelson replied. “The last one of the day leaves in a few minutes. This turbolift will take you directly to the shuttle. If you had time, we could arrange something more private. These public tours can be a bit basic for someone like you.”
“It’ll be fine,” Scott assured him. “I’m glad ye could fit me in.”
Nelson extended his hand and Scotty shook it again. “Believe me,” said the commander, “that was the least I could do. It was good to meet you, sir.”
Scott entered the turbolift. “The same here. Thank ye, Commander. I’ll be speaking with ye.”
A moment later, Scotty was in the turbolift, speeding toward the shuttle in what would no doubt be the shortest and easiest leg of his journey.
The turbolift came to a stop. The door opened onto a shuttledeck almost exactly like the one he had landed in.
Sitting on the deck was a large, short-range passenger shuttle. The deck was clear of people except for a single attendant waiting by the shuttle door.
As Scott approached, he could see that the attendant was a young woman wearing an ensign’s uniform. She flashed him a smile, but her eyes looked thoughtful— even worried.
Probably nervous about having to give the red carpet treatment to an ancient Starfleet officer she’d probably never heard of—at least, until her commander briefed her on him. Scotty grunted.
“I’m Ensign Hammond,” the woman told him. “Welcome aboard, Captain Scott. It’s an honor to have you with us, sir.”
“Montgomery Scott, lass. Captain Montgomery Scott, if ye want to get formal about it—which I do nae. In fact,” he said, leaning a bit closer to her, “I’d like to keep a low profile on this tour, if ye know what I mean. No special treatment, please.”
Ensign Hammond nodded, clearly relieved. “Yes, sir,” she replied. “No special treatment. I’ve got it.”
As Scott boarded the shuttlecraft and looked around for a place to sit, he saw that the shuttle had four rows of five seats with an aisle down the middle. Nineteen of those seats were occupied—perhaps a third of them by