Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [153]
He grunted thoughtfully, seeing an opportunity to establish some kind of rapport with her. “It must have been quite…”
“Yes?” Gerda prodded.
He felt himself wither under her scrutiny. “Nothing,” he said at last. “Nothing at all.”
It was no use, he reflected. He wasn’t good at small talk. Truthfully, he wasn’t good at any kind of talk.
If someone gave him a disease to cure or an injury to heal, he was as sharp as any physician in the Federation. But when it came to being a person, a social creature capable of interacting with other social creatures, he fell significantly short of the mark.
Greyhorse had come to grips with his shortcomings a long time ago. He had gotten to the point where they didn’t bother him. But they bothered him now, he had to admit.
And it was all because of Gerda Asmund.
“Doctor?” she said.
He realized that he had been silent for what must have seemed like a long time. “Yes,” he responded clumsily. “Sorry. I was just thinking of something. Er…let’s begin, shall we?”
Gerda nodded. “Indeed.”
“I’ll bring a picture up on my screen,” Greyhorse explained for the fifteenth time that day. “You try to develop an impression of it in your head, using any means that occurs to you. And while you’re at it, the internal sensors in this room will monitor your brainwaves.”
She smiled a weary smile. “I know. As we’ve established, I have undergone this test before.”
He smiled back as best he could. “So you said.”
And he began the examination.
Picard studied the small, blue-and-green world on the Stargazer’s forward viewscreen from his place beside Captain Ruhalter.
“Establish a synchronous orbit,” said Ruhalter.
“Aye, sir,” replied Idun Asmund from the helm console.
Nalogen IV was an M-Class planet, which meant it was inhabitable by most oxygen-breathing species. Indeed, there was only one sentient form of life on the planet, and it required oxygen to survive. However, it wasn’t an indigenous form of life. It had originated in a solar system one hundred thousand light-years away.
Nearly a century earlier, several ships’ worth of Kelvans had set out from their home in the Andromeda Galaxy to find a new place for their people to live. One of their vessels was damaged as it penetrated the galactic barrier and its crew was forced to abandon ship.
Since Kelvan technology allowed them to change form, they took on the appearance of humans—a populous species in that part of the Milky Way galaxy—and put out a distress call. Ultimately, they hoped to commandeer a starship and use it to return to their homeworld.
However, their takeover attempt was thwarted by Captain James Kirk—the same near-legendary Starfleet officer who had dealt with the menace of Gary Mitchell a few years earlier. Once the threat to his vessel was defused, Kirk arranged for the Kelvans to settle on a world in Federation space.
That world was Nalogen IV.
“Hail the colony,” said Captain Ruhalter from his captain’s chair.
“Aye, sir,” responded Paxton.
The comm officer’s fingers flew over his communications panel. A few moments later, he looked up again.
“I’ve got the colony administrator,” Paxton reported. “His name is Najak. But he says he’d like to restrict communications to audio only.”
Ruhalter frowned as he considered the viewscreen. “Very well, Lieutenant. Tell him I’ll comply with his request.”
Picard had to admit that he was disappointed, if only to himself. He had hoped to get a glimpse of Kelvan civilization. Now it looked as if he wouldn’t get the chance.
Abruptly, a deep and commanding voice filled the bridge. “This is Administrator Najak,” it said.
Ruhalter looked up at the intercom grid. “Captain Ruhalter here. It’s a pleasure to speak with you, Administrator.”
“The pleasure is mine,” said Najak. “And thank you for respecting my privacy,