Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [28]
“It appears I won’t be able to make our lesson this week,” Greyhorse informed her.
He listened carefully for the tone of her reaction. Please, he thought, give me a crumb. Even a hint of disappointment.
“Oh?” Gerda said.
“I’m going on an away mission,” he elaborated.
“In the next few days?”
“Yes,” Greyhorse told her.
In fact, all chief medical officers went on away missions at one time or another, so there was nothing inherently impressive about his announcement. But this was the doctor’s first such mission since joining the Stargazer.
“I haven’t been apprised of any away mission,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Is it classified?”
“It’s not,” Greyhorse assured her. And he described the endeavor in broad strokes, trying his best to wring some mystery and importance out of them.
Gerda chuckled, making his heart sink. “Oh, that. I wouldn’t call it much of an away mission.”
“There’s danger involved,” the doctor maintained. “I’ve been warned to expect casualties.”
“Casualties?” she echoed.
He licked his lips. “Yes. The captain informed me that they were a distinct possibility.”
Gerda paused, causing Greyhorse’s heart to soar. Was it possible that she was actually worried about him? Was she perhaps wondering how she might feel if he didn’t come back?
“Tell me more,” Gerda said curtly.
The doctor savored the words as he might an exotic elixir. Then he did as the navigator asked.
Picard regarded the peaceful-looking sphere pictured on his viewscreen, half of its surface brilliant with sunlight and the other half blanketed in shadow.
He had never seen this particular world before, but he had seen others very much like it. In fact, it was a good deal like his native Earth except for the predominance of red-leafed vegetation that gave its landmasses their striking crimson color.
“We’ve established orbit, sir,” Gerda announced.
Picard nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He glanced at Ulelo. “Contact the authorities, Lieutenant. Let them know we’re here.”
“Aye, sir,” said the comm officer.
Next, the captain addressed his second officer, who was waiting patiently beside his center seat. “Commander Wu,” he said, “you’ve got the bridge.”
Wu inclined her head slightly. “Acknowledged, sir.”
Picard had already briefed her thoroughly on his intentions. If she had had any questions, she would have asked them then.
He got up from his seat and headed for the turbolift. But before he could get there, he heard Wu say, “Captain?”
Surprised, he turned back to her. “Yes, Commander?”
She smiled. At least, it looked like a smile. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” said Picard.
If his luck were really good, Wu would have been remaining with him on the Stargazer instead of returning to the Crazy Horse. But the captain didn’t tell her that.
Instead, he entered the turbolift, watched the doors close, and punched in his destination. Then he waited for the compartment to take him to Transporter Room Two.
Phigus Simenon stood in the corridor outside his quarters, watched the duranium doors hiss closed behind him, and frowned at the thought that he might never see this place again.
Not that he was leaving behind the most comfortable living arrangement in the galaxy. At best, his suite was plain and uninspired, just like that of every other officer on the ship. At worst, it was poorly designed for someone of his size and physiology, not to mention his unique esthetic preferences.
But Simenon had called his quarters home, however briefly. He had looked forward to remaining in them for a while as a key component of the Stargazer’s command staff. And for that reason, he was reluctant to put the place behind him.
On the other hand, there was nothing he could do about the situation. He had received the summons. It was time to go.
Turning, he made his way down the corridor. But as much as he would have liked to reach the nearest turbolift without running into anyone en route, he hadn’t even reached the first bend before two of his engineers appeared in front of him.
Urajel and Dubinski. The pair who had borne the brunt of his