Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [78]
Zilder, conveniently, came to my rescue. With as disdainful a tone as I’d ever heard him use, he said, “Senator Moyya. Everybody’s favorite person. I wonder what pearls of wisdom he has to offer.”
This message is to inform you, Commander Gomez, that we are less than impressed with your performance to date. The accelerator is still behind what we consider an acceptable schedule. When we asked Starfleet for assistance, we were assured that we would be getting the best. I have seen nothing in the preliminary reports to indicate that you could be given that description. We removed Nalag because he was behind schedule. While you have improved on his work, you are still performing your task at below par. Either you are incompetent or Starfleet’s standards are lower than I was led to believe. If you have not brought the project to what we deem an acceptable level, we will have to consider having you replaced.
That was it. I stared in open-mouthed shock at the screen for several seconds.
“Ho’nig,” Zilder muttered, shaking his head. “Nalag quit, they didn’t ‘remove’ him. Can you believe that?”
Having dealt with enough bureaucrats in my time, I had to say, “Unfortunately, I can.”
“Should I prepare a reply?”
I thought about several creative ways to respond to that particular message. Then I got an inspiration. Smiling, I said, “No. When the next window opens, send all the results and reports on the ACB test we have at that point as a reply.”
“Any accompanying message?”
“None. Let the results speak for themselves.”
Zilder also smiled. “Ho’nig is smiling on you today, Commander.”
I laughed. “Whatever.”
I downloaded the message from the da Vinci to a padd, then went back to the camp.
After finishing the day’s work, I ate with the workers—something I’ve been doing every night since I killed that shii. It’s been fun hearing the different stories.
Then I read the da Vinci message, which turned out to be from Kieran.
Hey, Sonnie. Well, things are business as usual here on the ol’ homestead. Captain Gold got a nice message from his granddaughter—her child’s going to be a girl, and she and his grandson-in-law are arguing over the name. I started a betting pool, which the captain is pretending not to know about. Right now, “Judith” is the favorite.
Let’s see—Pattie went into a fit yesterday. Carol got another recording of that Sinnravian drad music she loves so much. It’s the latest from that person who founded the “atonal minimalist” subgenre. She’s been playing it over and over again. I really wish you were here—’cause then you’d get to listen to Pattie request a new roommate. I hate being the first officer, you do know that, don’t you?
I miss you—and not just because I want you to be first officer again. We had to crawl inside the guts of a derelict Tellarite freighter yesterday, and you know more about those weird overpowered engines they insist on. Fabe nearly blew the thing up—it was pretty ridiculous. We got out of it okay, though.
There’ve been some nasty rumblings coming from the general direction of Deep Space 9—apparently they were attacked. There’s a rumor going around that the Defiant was destroyed. I’ll let you know—I’m sure you don’t get much Starfleet gossip out on that crystal ball of yours.
Well, I gotta go—it’s my turn to run engineering. Talk to you later, Sonnie, and try not to have too much fun.
Razka came in as Kieran was finishing up. “Is that your mate?” he asked.
I took a long enough pause that Razka probably thought I didn’t hear him, and he repeated the question.
“I guess you could say that. Sort of.”
“Do you like your mate?”
I smiled. Whatever else I could say about how I felt about Kieran, I could safely say that I liked him. “Yeah, I do.”
Razka looked thoughtful. “I haven’t liked any of mine.”
At that, I couldn’t help but laugh—which turned out to be okay, because he laughed, too.