Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [86]
Simenon looked around at his comrades, who—until his progeny hatched—were the only real family he had. “And once in a while,” he found himself adding in a wildly uncharacteristic display of generosity, “something of a comfort.”
Ben Zoma looked at him as if he had grown another head. “I must be dreaming. Was that an expression of gratitude I heard? From our chief engineer?”
“I believe it was,” said Greyhorse, joining in.
The Gnalish made a sound of dismissal. “Don’t get too accustomed to it, either of you. You’re not likely to hear it again.”
“Now that,” said Ben Zoma, feigning relief, “is the Phigus Simenon we’ve come to know and love. For a minute there, I thought you’d been exchanged for your evil twin.”
That drew a few chuckles from the others.
Enough banter, Simenon thought. And enough time spent risking his skin in primitive forests. He longed for the civilized simplicity of his life back on the Stargazer.
Not that he would give his colleagues the additional satisfaction of hearing him say that. He was grateful, yes—but he had already expressed his gratitude far too extravagantly.
Assuming his trademark scowl, he said, “Shouldn’t someone be contacting the ship for a transport about now? Or would you like to run that course again just for the hell of it?”
As no one seemed eager to do so, Picard agreed to make the call.
Commander Wu arrived in the transporter room just in time to see Ensign Jiterica materialize on the hexagonal platform.
She turned to the operator on duty, and said, “Good work, Mr. Refsland.”
He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Thank you, Commander.”
Wu knew it wasn’t easy to transport a Nizhrak—particularly one in a force field-reinforced Starfleet containment suit. However, Refsland and the other transporter operators would have to get used to it.
Jiterica had proved for the second time in as many months how valuable she was to this ship and crew. Captain Picard would be a fool to let her get away, even if he had to build a special chair for her so she could join her fellow crewmen in the mess hall.
“Commander,” said the ensign as she stepped down from the platform. The visage behind her faceplate looked surprised.
Wu smiled at her. “I wanted to congratulate you as soon as I could. What you did out there was . . .” She couldn’t find the words. “You should be proud of yourself, Ensign. I know I am.”
Something amazing happened then. Jiterica smiled.
“Thank you,” she said in her tinny, mechanical voice. “I am pleased to hear you say that.”
Wu was about to tell her that she hoped to say it a lot. Then she remembered that that wouldn’t be the case—not with her rejoining Captain Rudolfini on the Crazy Horse.
Just then, the doors to the transporter room opened again and someone else came in. Glancing over her shoulder, the commander saw that it was Ensign Paris.
He was grinning like a hyena, looking nothing like the doubt-ravaged young man who had poured his heart out to Wu in Picard’s ready room. It was only after he saw the second officer standing there that he assumed a more professional demeanor.
“Commander Wu,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind my coming here. I just wanted to make sure Ensign Jiterica got back all right.”
Wu understood. She would have given into the same impulse if she had just risked her life with someone.
“Actually,” she said, “I’m glad you’re here, Ensign.”
Paris became concerned. “You are?”
“Yes. I was just telling Ensign Jiterica what a wonderful job she did—and the same goes for you.”
He seemed to take the praise in stride. “I appreciate that, Commander. But . . .” He shrugged. “I would never have had the chance if someone hadn’t had more confidence in me than I had in myself.”
Wu felt a lump grow in her throat. She shook her head until it went away. “Don’t flatter me, Mr. Paris. Any commanding officer worth her salt would have had confidence in you.” She turned to Jiterica and added, “In both of you.”
It was a pity that she was leaving, the commander reflected. It would have been fun to watch these ensigns grow—both as people