Have Tech, Will Travel (SCE Books 1-4) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [63]
Bart shrugged. “Maybe they’ll decide to join the Federation. Or at least work something out so that some computer experts can be nearby until they can train people. Or something.”
“Maybe 110 and his new mate could do that after he rebonds,” Carol said.
“Maybe,” Bart said, looking down, and suddenly very interested in his root beer.
Sonya frowned, and wondered what that look was about—especially after that odd look 110 had given Bart before accepting the assignment.
Oh well , she thought. It’s not my business. She polished off her mug of Earl Grey and said, “Still, that’s not our lookout. We’re the fix-it squad, not the diplomats. We’ve done what we’re supposed to do—now we go on to the next assignment. Or, in this case, to Starbase 505. I’m sure both 110 and Geordi will be happy to finally be heading home.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Carol said with a smile, “they were both pretty handy. Maybe they’ll stick around.”
Returning the smile, Sonya said, “Trust me, nothing will keep Geordi off the Enterprise for any length of time. And 110 does have obligations.”
“True,” Carol said.
Bart continued to stare at his root beer.
110 stared at the ceiling of the quarters that, until recently, he had shared with the love of his life.
He had received accolades, not just from Captain Gold and Commander Gomez, but also from the new First Speaker of Eerlik, a man named Biral, who had gone on for quite some time about how grateful the Eerlikka were, to the S.C.E. in general and to 110 in particular.
And now, finally, the da Vinci was headed back to Starbase 505, from which 110 was supposed to take a transport to Bynaus.
110 got up off the bed and stared at the viewscreen, which presently was programmed to show the stars as they appeared when at warp. Humans always liked to gaze at the stars whenever they sought out answers, but 110 and 111 had always found the practice to be pointless.
Now that he was alone—it was just as pointless. The stars had no answers.
If he did not return to Bynaus, he would be an outcast.
If he did return to Bynaus, he would have to rebond.
He found each choice to be repugnant in some form or other. While he could not imagine not being a true part of Bynar society, neither could he imagine living without 111.
At least he knew that he could function without 111. He had fixed Ganitriul. He had saved Eerlik. That, at least, counted for something.
110 lay back down on the bunk and stared at the ceiling.
HARD CRASH
Christie Golden
CHAPTER
1
Our communications system appears to be damaged. I am receiving no response from you. Jaldark, please come in. You need to effect repairs so that we can communicate.
Jaldark, please come in.
Jaldark, respond.
Please.
Tlaimon Kassant sipped a cup of hot jiksn. He had the late shift, the solitary shift, and he liked it that way. His people were known for their close-knit bonds and love of socialization, but Tlaimon was considered unusual in that he preferred his own company for a few hours every day. He considered his “oddity” a boon, as he was paid twice as much for being willing to go the entire night by himself. Most Intarians liked to work in huddled groups.
All alone for the night. What a pleasant thing. Easy job, too; watching the monitor for things that seldom happened. Most ships communicated their arrival long before they showed up on the monitor. They were always eager to get to Intar. It wasn’t as well known in the quadrant as Risa, admittedly, but then, what planet was?
Tlaimon stretched the retractable tentacles that served as arms for the Intarians and lazily brought the gaze of his multifaceted eyes toward the screen.
The cup of jiksn fell to the padded floor unheeded and