Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [21]
“I’m sorry,” said the other man, the taller one. He had the look of an officer who’d lost men himself. He seemed to know how it felt.
Wearily, Scott dragged his hand across his face. “So am I,” he said. “He was a good lad. A brave lad. They dinnae come any better.”
After a beat, the taller man moved forward. “I’m Commander William Riker,” he said. “First officer of the Starship Enterprise.”
At the name, Scott felt something rise within him. A gladness that, just for a second or two, made him forget his sorrow.
“The Enterprise, eh? I should’ve known, lad. And I’ll bet it was Kirk himself who hauled the old girl out of mothballs to come looking for me.”
He took Riker’s hand and shook it vigorously, wondering just when Starfleet had started outfitting its officers in these tight suits. There was barely enough room in them to hide a wart.
“Captain Montgomery Scott. How long have I been missing?”
Riker looked at his companion. The man wearing the band just shrugged.
“Well,” said the first officer, “this may come as something of a shock, sir, but it’s been a good …”
“Sir?”
The word had been spoken by someone with a deep voice. A very deep voice.
Scott, like the others, turned in response … and found himself staring at a savage, bony-browed Klingon, the same kind of villain who’d tried to take his life time and again during his exploits under Jim Kirk.
A Klingon… not attacking them, not even spitting in rage at them. Just standing there as casual as you please.
And, impossible as it seemed, the bloody heathen was wearing the same kind of uniform as Commander Riker. Did that mean… could it possibly mean … ?
But how could that be? It was one thing to sign a treaty with the barbarians … but this! Scott felt himself getting light-headed.
Unlike the human, however, the Klingon seemed unperturbed. Turning to the first officer, he said “I have restored life support. The oxygen levels will return to normal shortly.” Then, finally noticing the intensity with which Scott was scrutinizing him, Worf returned the stare.
“Captain Scott?”
He turned and saw Riker looking down at him. The man seemed … sympathetic.
“Aye?” Scott got out.
“This is Lieutenant Worf,” Riker told him.
“Lieutenant?” Scott muttered. He’d been hoping there was some other explanation.
Worf’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Yes. Lieutenant. “
Scott continued to stare at him … until Riker moved to his side. Gently, the first officer said “Captain Scott… perhaps there are a few things we should talk about.”
Scott turned to him, feeling very much up the stream without a paddle. “Aye, laddie. Perhaps more than a few.”
It took a while for them to brief him on the truth. And a lot longer before he could even come close to accepting it.
My god, thought Scott. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five years…
Transporter Chief Miles O’Brien wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right. “Would you repeat that, Commander?”
“Four to beam up,” Riker confirmed.
O’Brien shrugged. Was this some kind of macabre joke? That transport vessel had crashed seventy-five years ago.
“Oh, well,” he said out loud. “Mine is not to reason why.”
Opening up the scope of his annular confinement beam, he focused it on the away team’s communicator signals, confident that they would have placed their “mystery guest” in their midst. Then, satisfied that he had a good fix on them, he activated the emitter array.
A moment later, the group took shape on the platform in front of him. And sure enough, there were four of them-not just Riker, Worf and Geordi, but an older man with graying hair and a dark moustache. It wasn’t until the three officers started descending from the platform that O’Brien realized the man’s arm was in a makeshift sling.
But who was he? And what the devil was he doing on the Jenolen?
Ah, well, thought O’Brien. He supposed he’d find out about the mystery man soon enough. After all, news traveled quickly on the Enterprise.
When one beamed up to a starship like the Enterprise, it was customary to step down off the transporter platform as soon