Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [5]
“It’s partly constructs, of course,” Geordi said, somewhat apologetically. “But the biology department keeps seed in stasis for most of the bigger seaweeds, kelp and so forth, in case an emergency requires bringing up hydroponic support for the oxygen supply. I drew some of those stores, asked bio to clone and force a few specimens for me.”
Hwiii chattered softly in Delphine for a moment before saying, “Mr. La Forge, this is palatial! I thank you very much indeed. Too many times I’ve been stuck swimming around in something that most closely resembled a motel room.”
Picard burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, Commander, but when were you last in a motel room!”
The eyes mirrored the always-smiling face for a moment. “Don’t laugh, Captain. The publicity side of the organization calls me, occasionally, and even Starfleet specialists wind up doing the rubber-chicken circuit. Though in my case it’s more usually rubber mackerel.”
It occurred to Picard that this particular specialist would probably make more interesting publicity than either the two-legged kind or more alien ones. He suspected Hwiii knew it and took it in good part. “I think you’ll find the food to your liking here, though,” Picard said. “The synthesizers know what fresh fish should taste like.”
Hwiii looked wi/l. “I wish they knew what live fish tasted like, Captain, but unfortunately, that’s something they can’t quite manage. The aromatic esters just aren’t the same somehow.”
Picard looked thoughtful for a moment. “I must admit … the caviar does occasionally seem to lack something.”
Hwiii chuckled. “It doesn’t matter, Captain. I can’t fish up here, but I can’t do clean-hyperstring research back home, either. Too much interference! No, each thing to its proper place, and the fish can take care of themselves for the moment.”
“I would like to discuss your researches with you if you have leisure to do so,” Data said. “Especially as regards the relative “cleanliness” of hyperstring structures in spaces empty of dark matter.”
Hwiii snapped his jaws in annoyance. “I wish I had more researches to discuss, but we had just gotten into such space—this area, in fact—when the Laihe decided all of a sudden that she was going to turn back inward toward the settled worlds. We only spent a month and a half in space empty enough to suit the criteria I was investigating, so I haven’t much new data to share, or many new conclusions about it. But, at your leisure, let’s split a fish or two and discuss what I’ve got.”
“Bridge to Picard,” said the captain’s communicator. He touched it.
“Picard. Go ahead, Number One.”
“A hail from the Laihe, Captain,” Riker’s voice said. “She says she’d like to talk to you at your convenience … I think.”
Picard smiled ruefully. “I’ll be right up … Commander Hwiii, will you be all right?”
“Captain,” Hwiii said in what sounded like complete satisfaction, “I am going to be as happy as a clam in mud.”
“How does one go about quantifying the emotional state of mollusks, Commander?” Data asked innocently as Picard headed back for the turbolift. He almost wished he could stay to see how Hwiii did quantify it … but he had other fish to fry.
“Ahem,” Picard said, amused, as the turbolift doors shut. “Bridge.”
As Picard entered, Commander Riker got up from the center seat. “Captain, if I’m any judge of such things, she sounded downright impatient.”
“Not very usual,” Picard said. “If anything, the Laihe usually errs in the other direction. How long did it take for her to say “hello” to you the other day?”
“About ten minutes,” Riker said, and grinned slightly, “and nearly that long again for me to understand that that was what she meant.”
Picard glanced over at Troi, who was sitting in her seat, arms folded, looking mildly interested. “Counselor?”
Troi shrugged. “A general sense of urgency, but nothing more.”
“Very well,” Picard said, turning toward the viewer. “Hail the Laihe if you would, Mr. Worf.”
“Hailing, Captain.” The viewscreen had been