Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
The chief engineer was so intent on setting up the scan that he barely heard the sudden outbreak of conversation outside. It registered only on the periphery of his consciousness-an unusual occurrence when there was so much to do, but nothing that really required any action from him.
His people were highly trained professionals. The conversation would end in a moment or two, and the men or women involved would get back to work.
At least, that was the way it was supposed to happen. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Not only did the conversation not stop, it seemed to be getting closer to his office-and involving more and more people as it approached.
A little exasperated, Geordi listened more closely. This had better be something interesting, he thought, or heads will roll.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked one of the voices. He recognized it as Bartel’s.
“I dinnae think so, lass. But I’ll let you know if you can do something for me later-I promise ye that.”
Geordi scowled. He recognized that voice too.
Getting up, he moved to the threshold of his office and peered around the corner.
His suspicions were confirmed. Captain Scott had cut a swathe through engineering and was now making his way toward the warp core-accompanied by a very concerned Kerry Bartel.
As Geordi approached them to intervene, the older man was regarding the pulsating core with genuine pleasure and affection. A distinctly paternal pleasure and affection.
“Sir,” Bartel argued, trying to interpose herself between Scott and the core, “this area is off-limits, restricted to-“
“It’s all right,” said Geordi, cutting the young engineer short. “I’ll handle it, Bartel.”
The engineer frowned. “If you say so, Commander.”
Geordi nodded. “I say so.”
Acquiescing, Bartel left. Geordi considered his unexpected visitor, who was slowly walking around the warp core, taking everything in. He sighed.
Be diplomatic, he told himself. Be gentle. He means well. And remember, he’s been through a tough experience.
“Captain Scott,” he ventured, “this … uh, really isn’t a good time-“
The older man turned to him and smiled affably. He was now wearing an Enterprise combadge. “We’re in engineering, lad. And in engineering, ye’ve got to call me Scotty.”
“Okay. Scotty then. This really isn’t a good time for a tour. We’re in the middle of-“
Scott seemed oblivious to what he was saying-or trying to say. “Are ye still using cobalt lathanide for the constrictor coils?” he asked.
“Uh, right.” Geordi thrust his chin out. “Sir. Scotty. We’re running a phase seven survey of the Dyson Sphere. I really can’t take the time for a tour right now.”
Scott turned and looked at him as if he’d just offered him a cup of antimatter. “I’m not here for a tour, lad,” he explained. “I’m here to help.”
Geordi was surprised. It showed, he was afraid.
“That’s, er… very kind of you. But I think we can handle it.”
Scott moved quickly to the pool table-like situations monitor. Geordi followed, wondering what the man was up to now.
“I figured,” said the older man, “that since I’m the only one here who’s had any experience at all with the Dyson Sphere, I could be of some assistance. You know, in getting yer investigation off on the right foot.”
Geordi hesitated. “Well…” For a moment, he considered that Scott might be right. He was the only person alive who’d done any real research on the sphere.
Scott looked at him askance. “I was a Starfleet engineer for fifty-two years, Mr. La Forge. I think I’m still of some use-am I nae?”
“You’re right, Captain Scott. We’d appreciate any help you can give us.”
Scott beamed. Was that a twinkle of surprise in his eye-surprise that he had actually been allowed to remain here? Geordi couldn’t be sure.
“Good,” said Scott, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?” And he turned to the situations monitor to do just that.
As Geordi joined him, he had a feeling he was going to regret this.
Captain’s Log, Stardate 46125.3
At my request, Starfleet Command has dispatched three science vessels to make