Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [53]
You see, sir, I was held captive by an alien superbeing, but then he fell apart and made this woman for me. A starship captain might have a few problems with that.
“Six minutes and fifty seconds,” Gerda Idun announced. “You’d better tell them to bring their best sensors.”
“Don’t worry,” said Nikolas, declining to share his concerns. “I will.”
He rechecked his monitors. Just about everything was working fine, despite the damage they had sustained in battling the Ubarrak. Brakmaktin had left them in good shape.
“Come to think of it,” Nikolas said, “maybe I won’t mention the Iktoj’ni after all. Maybe I’ll tell them I’m an ensign assigned to the Stargazer.”
“That’s not true,” she cautioned him.
“Not anymore. But we may get better service if I let them know I was one of them.”
Gerda Idun shook her head in mock disapproval. “Deception and cronyism. I’m ashamed to know you.”
“I don’t blame you,” Nikolas said.
Five minutes and six seconds.
“On the other hand,” said Gerda Idun, “who am I to talk? I lied to you about how I wound up on your Stargazer, and then tried to kidnap your chief engineer.”
“Water under the bridge,” he said.
Besides, it wasn’t she who had done those things. It was the woman she had been modeled after.
“I imagine your friends on the Stargazer will be happy to hear from you.”
“No doubt,” said Nikolas.
Of course, they had no idea what he had been through. But they would, as soon as word spread about Brakmaktin.
He wished he hadn’t ever left Starfleet. He could admit it now—he missed his friends pretty badly. And Obal in particular. Wouldn’t he be surprised when he saw Gerda Idun at Nikolas’s side again.
That is, if they lived long enough to see him.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds.
“Think it’s worth a try?” Gerda Idun asked.
Nikolas knew exactly what she was talking about. “Why not?” Sometimes conditions allowed the network to operate at better than rated efficiency.
She worked at her console for a moment. Then they waited. But after a minute or so, there was no response.
“Too early,” he said.
Gerda Idun nodded. “But it won’t be much longer.” She glanced at her chronometer. “Only a minute and eighteen seconds.”
“And counting,” he added.
“And even if your calculations are off a little,” she said with an admirably deadpan expression, “it probably won’t be by much.”
Nikolas looked at her. “Are you saying I’m incapable of figuring out something as simple as a subspace signal decay rate?”
“I must have been thinking about someone else.”
“That would explain it.”
“Thirty-three seconds,” said Gerda Idun.
Now he was really excited.
Apparently she could tell, because she didn’t say anything more. She just watched the chronometer on her board as he was watching his. Twenty-five, he thought. Twenty. Fifteen.
Without Gerda Idun’s comments to distract him, Nikolas was preternaturally aware of the sounds around him. The hum of the engines, louder than on any other vessel he had known—the Iktoj’ni included. The warbling of those consoles that still functioned as they registered minute fluctuations in engine temperature, plasma flow, shield strength, and a hundred other aspects of operations. The almost inaudible buzz of a damaged data conduit.
Ten seconds to go.
If Brakmaktin hadn’t appeared to gum up the works by then, he probably wasn’t going to. But he had to know they were just seconds away from contacting the Federation. Only a fool would ignore the possibility of the alien’s changing his mind.
Five seconds. Four. Three.
All right, Nikolas thought. So I’m a fool.
Two…
One.
It was time.
Pressing a rectangular stud on her control panel, Gerda Idun sent out a hailing signal on the most commonly used Starfleet frequency.
Come on, Nikolas thought. Don’t keep us waiting.
A minute later, he got his wish. “This is Admiral Mehdi at Starbase Three-Two-Five. With whom