Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [29]
“Pull up a chair,” he said, indicating the one across the desk from his own.
Nikolas didn’t thank his superior for his consideration. His only response was to sit down.
Ben Zoma regarded him for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve got a security report here that says you and Mister Hanta were fighting in the mess hall. Can you tell me what was so important that you came to blows over it?”
Nikolas had been anticipating a meeting like this one ever since security got involved in the matter. He shrugged. “It just happened, sir.”
Ben Zoma glanced at the monitor screen again. “According to Hanta, you started the fight. Is that true?”
The ensign didn’t care to defend himself any more now than he had in the mess hall. “I guess,” he said, “that depends on your point of view.”
The first officer leaned back in his chair. “And what’s your point of view, Mr. Nikolas?”
Nikolas shrugged again. “I upset Hanta’s tray. His food spilled on his uniform.”
“So you’re saying it was an accident?”
“That’s right.”
Ben Zoma looked puzzled. “Why didn’t you mention that to the security team?”
“I guess I didn’t think it was important,” Nikolas told him.
The first officer nodded. “I see. Tell me, Ensign…have you been having trouble sleeping lately?”
The question caught Nikolas off-guard. Then he remembered seeing Ben Zoma on one of his more recent jaunts.
“A little,” he confessed.
“And would that have anything to do with what happened in the mess hall?”
Nikolas really didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
But Ben Zoma was relentless. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Ensign.”
Nikolas squirmed in his chair. Unfortunately, he couldn’t leave—not without his superior’s permission.
“I’m hearing things I don’t like,” the first officer said, “and not just from the security section. In the past several days, you’ve been late for two different shifts and fallen asleep in a third one.”
Actually, Nikolas had fallen asleep on two occasions—once in engineering and once in sickbay—but he didn’t feel compelled to point that out. “I’ll try to do better, sir.”
Ben Zoma chuckled. “Why don’t I believe that? Why do I have the feeling you’ll go back to the very same behavior—with maybe another fight thrown in for good measure?”
The ensign didn’t have an answer for that. Of course, he wasn’t trying very hard to come up with one.
Ben Zoma smiled, but it was clear that he wasn’t very happy. “Good officers don’t turn into bad ones overnight. There’s always a reason for it. And I want to know what it is.”
Nikolas shook his head, feigning regret. “I’m sorry, Commander. I can’t help you.”
“Can’t?” the first officer echoed. “Or won’t?”
Again, Nikolas fell silent.
Ben Zoma leaned forward across the captain’s desk. “Does it have anything to do with Gerda Idun Asmund?”
Nikolas’s expression must have betrayed him, because he could see a sense of accomplishment in his superior’s.
“I know a little about what happens on this ship,” said Ben Zoma. “It was no secret that you were infatuated with her. And you’ve yet to explain how you wound up in the transporter room trying to stop her from abducting Simenon.”
Nikolas had gone there with the intention of returning with Gerda Idun to her own universe. It was only chance that had put him in a position to stop her from taking Simenon.
Not for the first time, he cursed the way things had worked out. Why couldn’t it have been me she came for? Why couldn’t I have been the key to her people’s survival?
Ben Zoma looked at him. “Well?”
Nikolas felt a new pang of longing. It happened every time he thought of her. Every single time.
“Gerda Idun is gone,” he told Ben Zoma. “There’s no point in talking about her.”
The first officer regarded him a moment longer, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. Then he said, “Have it your way, Ensign. Dismissed.”
Nikolas felt no sense of achievement for having stymied Ben Zoma’s attempts to uncover his pain. He felt no rush of victory as he got up and left the room.
All he felt was emptiness.
Picard felt an unaccustomed draft