Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [15]
While waiting for Crusher’s approval, La Forge and Data settled in a corner to discuss a paper they were preparing for a journal, while Troi and Riker took the spare moment to review a handful of outstanding crew evaluations. Picard and McAdams found themselves standing off to one side and the captain was once again pleased to discover how easy it was to fall into conversation with his new chief of security.
“Have you visited any of the Daystrom Institute campuses before, Lieutenant?”
“Yes,” she said, “but not since I was a little girl.” McAdams smiled as if at a fond memory. “My grandfather was invited to lecture and he took me with him. I don’t really remember much about the place, though, except that there were no other children and none of the adults would let me play with their toys.”
Picard laughed, then asked, “What was your grandfather’s field?”
“At the time, molecular biology, I think. That year. He was a bit of a dabbler. Didn’t stick with anything in particular very long. The last time I talked to him he was on an archaeological dig in Central America.”
“Really?” Picard asked, his interest piqued. “That’s something of a hobby of mine.”
“Really? Terran or xeno?”
“Xeno. I’m particularly interested in early galactic seed civilizations,” Picard said, warming to the topic. “What about your grandfather?”
“Mostly Terran, though he was also interested in early Lunar settlements.”
“Ah,” Picard said. “I recently read a fascinating piece about the discovery of a midden heap near the Sea of Tranquillity …”
The doors to the transporter room parted. “Thank goodness,” Beverly Crusher said from behind him, “I’ve arrived just in time.” Picard turned to see the doctor checking her medical tricorder’s calibration. “Lieutenant, you have no idea how perilous your situation was. If he had managed to get up a good head of steam, we never would have gotten out of here.”
McAdams grinned and said, “That’s the sort of thing people say about my grandfather.”
Picard sighed good-naturedly and said, “You’re satisfied with your filters, Doctor?”
“Everything’s fine, Captain.”
“Then let’s go to work.”
The away team beamed directly to the infirmary entrance where they found Admiral Anthony Haftel waiting for them. A serious-minded administrator, he and Picard had locked horns some years ago over the disposition of Lal, soon after Data had created her. Backed by his own superiors, the admiral had wanted her turned over to Starfleet Research for study, and it had taken the tragedy of Lal’s fatal cascade failure to convince Haftel to back off from pursuing the matter further. Picard reflected that it made a perverse kind of sense that Bruce Maddox—who years ago had fought so hard for the opportunity to disassemble Data in order to learn the secret that would enable him to produce more Soong-type androids—would end up under Haftel’s command at Starfleet’s R&D labs at the Daystrom Annex.
As soon as the introductions and reintroductions were completed, Dr. Crusher asked to be taken to Maddox’s room. Taking their cue from the doctor, everyone moved as quietly as possible through the halls, despite the fact that Picard saw no evidence of any other patients.
“Not a particularly busy place usually,” Haftel commented. “Most of the doctors who work here are also researchers, so we’re glad to see you, Dr. Crusher.”
“Respectfully, Admiral, please try to keep your voice down,” Crusher said.
Picard winced inwardly. Fortunately, Haftel seemed willing to cut her some slack. “Don’t worry, Doctor,” Haftel said. “There’s only one patient currently in residence: yours. And he won’t be bothered. I wish that he could,