Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
Nikolas had barely heard of the White Wolf before he embarked on this mission. But that didn’t keep him from wanting to find the guy, and not just because he had stolen something valuable from the Federation, something that could help people.
It was the challenge—the idea of doing what no one before them had ever done. Back on the handball courts of Canarsie, Nikolas had itched to take on the legendary Red O’Reilly. Now he was itching to take on the White Wolf.
Which was why Picard and his people had to come up with a new sensor arrangement—and why Nikolas would try like hell to keep them in the running in the meantime.
“Look at him,” said Caber, who was sitting at the next console.
Nikolas looked up from his monitor, still lost in the data he had been scanning. “Look at who?”
Caber was staring across the room. “Who do you think?”
Nikolas followed his friend’s gaze. He found himself looking at Obal, who had raised himself onto his tiptoes to peer at a monitor over an ensign’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe they’ve got him overseeing us,” Caber said, his voice tinged with irony.
“Believe it,” Nikolas told him, pulling up another sensor graphic on his monitor.
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like taking orders from some kind of pest.”
“He’s still your superior,” Nikolas reminded him. “You might want to remember that.”
Silence for a moment. Then Caber said, “Watch this.”
By the time Nikolas looked up again, his roommmate was walking across the room, headed right for Obal. Oh man, the ensign thought, sensing something bad in the offing.
Caber stopped when he got to the Binderian, over whom he towered the way an adult might tower over an eight-year-old. “Lieutenant?”
Obal turned and looked up at him. “Yes?”
What’s he up to? Nikolas wondered.
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” said Caber, “but I could use some help here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking at.”
Obal glanced at Caber’s console, then turned back to Caber himself. “We will take a look,” he said agreeably.
They crossed the room together and Caber sat down in front of the screen. Unfortunately, he blocked the Binderian’s view in the process, so Obal moved to the other side to see around him.
“You see what I mean?” Caber asked.
As he posed the question, he moved his chair around to the other part of the screen, again blocking Obal’s view. Obal frowned, obviously a little frustrated, and moved back to his original position.
But by then, Caber had moved as well. “Sir?” he said, sounding completely innocent of any wrongdoing. “You do see what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Nikolas heard a sound and looked around the room. Some of his colleagues were watching Caber’s antics and trying their best not to laugh at them.
“Sir?” Caber said again, provoking a snicker. He glanced back at Obal. “Can you help me, sir?”
It was only then that the Binderian got an inkling of what was going on. Looking up at the big man, he said, “This is not appropriate behavior for Starfleet personnel.”
Caber turned to Obal and assumed a serious expression. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”
The Binderian regarded him for a moment. Surely, thought Nikolas, he’s going to issue Caber a reprimand. Under the circumstances, it’s the only thing he can do.
But Obal didn’t do it. He didn’t do anything. He just turned from his tormentor and walked away, leaving Caber unpunished and free to repeat his antics.
Nikolas sighed.
“Hey, Nik,” Caber rasped at him. He was grinning his perfect, white grin. “Did you see the look on his face? If that wasn’t priceless, I don’t know what is.”
Nikolas frowned as he watched the Binderian sit down at his monitor and return to his work. “Yeah,” the ensign said with an empty feeling in his