Have Tech, Will Travel (SCE Books 1-4) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [33]
Not wanting to dwell on the recent unpleasantness, Gold added with a sardonic grin, “Plus, La Forge is itching to get back to the Enterprise .”
“Nothin’ worse for a chief engineer than to be separated from his ship,” Scotty said with a chuckle. “I understand the difficulties, lad, but Eerlik’s whole bloody socioeconomic structure’s collapsin’. They canna wait.”
“I know the drill, Scotty. When they put that funny-looking ‘A’ on your chest, you dance where they tell you.”
“Aye, that you do. Oh, by the way, I took your advice. Had dinner with your wife last night. Lovely woman. Makes a fine matzoh ball soup.”
Shaking his head, Gold chuckled. The universe is full of damn strange connections. For months, Gold’s wife—Rabbi Rachel Gilman, the finest cook on the east coast of the Americas—had been bugging her husband to get “the legend” to come over for dinner.
Returning the chuckle, Scotty said, “ ’Twas a lovely evening. I now know everything there is to know about your entire family. Oh, and your granddaughter’s pregnant again.”
“You’re kidding,” Gold said. I’m a great-grandfather again , he thought, with a certain pride.
“She only found out yesterday, and Rachel asked me to pass it on. She really is a fine woman, lad. Pity she’s all alone. . . .” Scotty had a slight twinkle in his eye, visible even on the viewscreen across the gulf of light-years.
“Don’t even think about it,” Gold said with an amused glare. “Otherwise, I’ll set her mother on you, and then you’ll be sorry.”
Grinning, Scotty said, “In any event, she really is a fine chef. You should convince her to make haggis.”
“Sorry, but she’s a Jewish mother—she’s only allowed to make edible food.”
Putting his hand over his heart, Scotty said, with mock indignation, “My dear lad! Haggis is a delicacy!”
“I refuse to accept culinary judgments from a man whose idea of a good drink is liquid peat bog.”
“Lad, people who live in slivovitz houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Shaking his head, Scotty said, “In any event, I’ll be off. The Sugihara will be in the area if you need any kind of backup.”
“Good.”
“Scott out.”
The screen went blank again. “Computer,” Gold said, “leave messages for all personnel about our course change, and let the S.C.E. crew know that there’s a staff meeting at—” he thought a moment, then finished, “—0800.” That left him with three more hours to sleep, and would still give everyone over ten hours to prepare for the mission. “Leave copies of the mission profile with Commander Gomez and Lieutenant Commander Duffy. Oh, and instruct Duffy to compile a complete report on Eerlik, based on the profile.”
“Acknowledged.”
He thought a moment, then added, “Also, let Lieutenant Commander La Forge know that he’s welcome to sit in on that meeting.”
“Acknowledged,” the computer repeated.
Within three seconds, David Gold had set his head on his pillow and was fast asleep again. A few seconds after that, he was dreaming of drinking a nice slivovitz white with his wife’s soup.
Or maybe it was Scotch. . . .
110 stared at the ceiling of the quarters that, until recently, he had shared with the love of his life.
For hours, he had been trying to imagine how he could possibly go on without 111. It was proving to be impossible.
So was getting any rest. Bynars only required a couple of hours of downtime per day, but every attempt 110 had made to try to off-line had resulted in nightmares, where he relived those awful moments when 111 had died. Through their link, 110 had felt his bondmate’s death.
He was not sure if he would ever be able to rest soundly again.
The da Vinci computer then conveyed a message directly to him through his belt unit—110 had never understood how the others could communicate with a computer by so clumsy a method as voice. According to the message, the da Vinci had changed course to a planet called Eerlik, delaying their arrival at Starbase 505, and there was a meeting of the S.C.E. staff at 0800.
110 doubted