Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [15]
For a moment, he thought Simenon might let them in on his problem. Then the Gnalish’s lizardlike features hardened with resolve. “I have to go back to Gnala,” he said. “That’s all. And if you’re my friends, you won’t ask me any more questions.”
Picard and his first officer exchanged glances. The captain didn’t like the idea of letting the matter drop. However, Simenon wasn’t leaving him any other option.
“Very well,” Picard said reluctantly. “I’ll respect your privacy. And I’ll grant your request for a leave of absence.”
Ben Zoma looked at him and shrugged. “There’s nothing urgent about Egreggedor, is there?”
“Nothing,” the captain agreed. He glanced at the intercom grid. “Picard to Gerda Asmund.”
“Asmund here,” came the response.
“Chart a course for Gnala, Lieutenant. Best speed.”
“Aye, sir,” said Gerda.
The Gnalish looked from one of them to the other. “Thank you,” he told them. Then, before they could engage him in further conversation, he left Picard’s ready room.
As the door whispered closed in Simenon’s wake, Ben Zoma whistled. “I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Nor have I,” the captain noted.
“I wonder what’s bugging him,” said Ben Zoma.
So did Picard. But he had given his word not to pry into Simenon’s business and he meant to keep that promise unconditionally.
Chapter Five
Captain’s Personal Log, supplemental. We are more than halfway to Gnala, the world of Simenon’s birth, and he has yet to volunteer any additional information regarding his business there. In fact, he has become rather close-mouthed in general, leading me to believe that what awaits him on Gnala may be something less than pleasant for him. Still, I continue to respect Simenon’s wishes and allow him to deal with the matter on his own.
FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME THAT DAY, Elizabeth Wu’s thoughts wandered in the direction of her return to the Crazy Horse. And for the umpteenth time, she reeled them back in.
For the time being, she was still serving on the Stargazer. Captain Picard and everyone else on the ship were depending on her to carry out her duties faithfully and efficiently, and she would be damned if she would fail them in any way.
Hence, her decision to visit the science section. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Lt. Kastiigan, who appeared to be a capable individual. It was just that new section chiefs often had questions, and it was the second officer’s job to answer them.
Just as soon as the double doors slid open in front of her, Wu began to look around for Kastiigan. As it turned out, he was nowhere in sight. All she could see was the section’s horseshoe-shaped bank of sleek, black sensor stations, through which all incoming data was available.
Half the stations were occupied—in every case but one by a science technician who had received prior authorization to access sensor data. The crewman who represented the exception was easy to identify, even when seen from the back.
After all, most of the 240 people serving on the Stargazer only donned a Starfleet-issue containment suit when they went outside the ship. Only one of them—a Nizhrak ensign named Jiterica, whose molecular structure was radically different from any of her colleagues’—was in the habit of wearing a suit on board.
Wu crossed the room to join Jiterica. But it wasn’t until she was standing beside the ensign that her presence was noted.
Turning in her chair, Jiterica looked up at the second officer. There was an expression of surprise imposed on the ghostly visage visible through her transparent faceplate.
“Commander,” she said, her voice sounding tinny as it emerged from her specially designed vocalization unit.
“Ensign,” Wu responded with the same note of formality.
Jiterica glanced at the monitor, then at Wu again. “I apologize. I accessed sensor data without the proper authorization.”
She was right. And the fact that she had violated regulations with full knowledge of what she was doing made her violation an even more grievous one.
The second officer’s first impulse was to come down on Jiterica for blatantly