Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [21]
“What I understand,” Garrett said, “is that you’ll probably drum me out of the fleet anyway. Otherwise I’ll be a danger to you—someone who can expose you for what you are.”
“Come now,” the admiral told her. “Do you really think I’d leave myself open like that? We haven’t mentioned a name, remember? We haven’t even mentioned a ship. So what is there to expose?”
That seemed to give Garrett pause.
“Besides,” he added, “this sort of maneuvering happens a lot more often than you might imagine. You might say it’s the business of admirals to maneuver.”
“Not being an admiral,” she said, “I wouldn’t know.”
He couldn’t resist a gibe after the way she’d refused him. “And you probably never will. Dismissed, Commander.”
Garrett stared at McAteer for a moment. Then she got up and left the room.
A pity, the admiral thought. The second officer of the Excelsior had seemed like the perfect candidate for what he was trying to accomplish. The perfect inside informant—though she might have suggested a slightly different term for it.
McAteer sighed. He would just have to find someone else to torpedo Jean-Luc Picard.
Chapter Seven
ELIZABETH WU WAS A WOMAN OF HER WORD, even if no one had heard her give it.
Stopping in front of Ensign Jiterica’s quarters, she touched the security pad in the bulkhead. A moment later, the doors parted and gave her access to what lay within.
As it turned out, the ensign was seated at her workstation, the blue glare of its screen superimposed over the gray, vaguely human face she effected. Though her chair was bigger than the standard, she looked uncomfortable in her containment suit. Cramped, Wu thought.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” Jiterica echoed.
“Doing some reading?”
The ensign paused for a moment before answering. “I am not accessing the sensors.”
Wu waved away the notion. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”
“Then why are you here?” Jiterica asked.
The second officer shrugged. “If you have no plans tonight, I thought you might like to join me for dinner.”
Jiterica looked at her. “I don’t eat.”
It hadn’t occurred to Wu to consider that possibility. “You must eat something,” she said.
The ensign pointed to a valve on her containment suit—one that the second officer hadn’t noticed before. “This mechanism allows me to create an aperture in my containment field. Through it, I can ingest air molecules, which my body is able to break down into their component atoms and use as sustenance.”
Wu nodded. “I see. But humans—and a great many other species—don’t just go to the mess hall to eat. We go to socialize, to—” She searched for the right word.
“Commune?” Jiterica suggested.
Wu breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. May I assume that your people have an equivalent activity?”
“We gather in groups at certain times of day,” the ensign explained. “We share experiences.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Wu said. “Even though your planet and your people are far away, you need to commune with someone. You need to share your experiences.”
Jiterica seemed to absorb the advice. However, there was no indication in the cast of her ghostly features as to whether the second officer had swayed her.
“What do you think?” Wu asked, trying not to be too pushy. “Would you like to give it a try?”
The ensign considered it for a moment longer. Then she said, “When would you like to do this?”
Wu smiled. “I’ll meet you back here as soon as our shifts are over. How does that sound?”
“As soon as our shifts are over,” Jiterica echoed.
As the second officer left the Nizhrak’s quarters, she felt a distinct sense of accomplishment. And for good reason.
She was about to make a difference in someone’s life. She had convinced a lonely outsider to take the first step on a journey of immense personal enrichment.
Even after she was gone, she thought, Jiterica would remember the woman who had helped her find her place on the Stargazer.
Nikolas was sitting