Q & A - Keith R. A. DeCandido [16]
Smiling, Kadohata asked, “When did you become such an expert?”
“I’m not,” Crusher said emphatically, “but I heard Will talk about it endlessly, particularly when he was trying to sell the captain the name. For a while, we were still calling it Ten-Forward, I suppose out of habit. Will kept arguing, ‘New ship, new name.’”
Worf grunted and mumbled something.
Miranda said, “I didn’t get that.”
“For some reason, Worf thinks it was all an elaborate practical joke, a parting shot by Captain Riker,” Crusher explained. She leaned in closer to Miranda and whispered, “Just pay no attention to Worf.”
The Riding Club’s host, Jordan, came by. A tall, attractive man with a sharp widow’s peak, he’d been the steward in the lounge for the last several years. Guinan, who had managed Ten-Forward on the D, had moved on to other things. La Forge was surprised to see her at Riker and Troi’s wedding a few months ago. It was as if she had never left, and all things considered, Geordi wouldn’t be surprised to see Guinan one day behind the bar like she had never left.
Since the crew lounge had been christened “The Happy Bottom Riding Club,” Jordan had embraced Barnes’s tradition of attaching items and two-dimensional images to the wall behind the bar. The first so honored was Guinan, with a two-D photo of her in one of her infamous hats—the yellow one. Then he’d added an actual horseshoe, a portrait of Barnes, an early-twentieth-century map of southern California indicating the original Riding Club’s location, framed pictures of crew members who had been killed in action since the double E was launched, a mission patch from Archer’s Enterprise, a copy of the original club’s liquor license, and a replica of the dedication plaque of Kirk’s Enterprise. The captain had even gotten into the act, donating his d’k tahg. Each time something was added, Jordan would regale whoever was sitting at the bar with a tale about it, and pity any newbie who dared to ask, “What’s with the wall?”
“Let me guess,” Jordan said as he approached the table. He looked at the group. “For our XO, steamed hasperat and iced tea. The doctor will have lIngta’ lo mein with a grakizh salad and quinine water. Geordi will have jambalaya a la Sisko with raktajino. And Commander, I have fresh taknar gizzards with grapok sauce and your usual prune juice.”
La Forge looked at his dinner mates. “He’s good.”
Kadohata said, “Jordan, if I have to eat one more steamed dish I’m going to break down and cry.” She turned to La Forge. “Geordi, do you mind if I copy you and try the jambalaya?”
Wincing at the familiarity of using his first name, La Forge shrugged. “No.”
“Cheers, then, I’ll have that.”
“Still the iced tea?” Jordan asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Jordan went to place the order. Crusher gave the others a conspiratorial look. “I think we’re getting predictable in our old age. Worf, Jordan even knew what you wanted.”
“When I dine in the company of others,” Worf said, “I tend toward taknar gizzards as they are the Klingon food that tends to provoke the least…extreme response in others.”
La Forge could have sworn he saw a smile play on the Klingon’s lips. He’s definitely mellowed.
So why the hell haven’t I? He had never been one for formality, having always been content to let even his engineers call him by his first name. He didn’t understand why Miranda calling him “Geordi” made him skittish.
“By the way, Geordi,” Kadohata said, and damned if La Forge didn’t wince again, “good job on the repair work. I read the damage reports when I was en route to Starbase 815 from Cestus, and I would’ve imagined the repairs would take weeks, plural, but your lot got the Corps to move…well, it was amazing.”
“Thanks,” La Forge said.
Kadohata said with a roll of her eyes, “Our chief engineer never met a repair