Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [58]
It had been hours since Geordi had agreed to help get the Jenolen’s engines started. But in that time, he and Scott had made more progress than he would have imagined possible. Every power conduit and relay circuit was back on line. If the engines themselves hadn’t been damaged beyond repair, they actually stood a chance of getting this vessel moving again.
The man may not have a perfect grasp of modern technology, La Forge told himself. But when it comes to engineering principles and the twenty-third century, he really knows his stuff. In fact, I’d be surprised if anyone of his time knew it better.
“Shunt the deuterium from the main cryo pump to the auxiliary tank,” Scott recommended.
“The tank won’t hold up under that much pressure,” Geordi told him, poking his head out for a moment.
The older man poked his head out as well. “Where’d ye get that idea, laddie?”
Geordi shrugged. “It’s in the impulse engine specifications.”
“Regulation forty-two slash fifteen alpha? ‘Pressure Variances in IRC Tank Storage?’ “
“Right.”
“Forget it,” said Scott. “I wrote the bloody thing.”
Withdrawing his head below t he console again, he continued his commentary as he worked. “A good engineer is always a wee bit conservative, Commander.” He chuckled. “At least on paper. Just bypass the secondary cut-off valve and boost the flow. It’ll work -trust me.”
Smiling to himself, Geordi hauled himself to his feet and made the necessary adjustments on the console’s control panel. “Okay,” he said. “I’m shunting the deuterium.”
This had better work, he mused, or we’ll both be little puffs of free-floating gases.
A moment passed. Two. If there was going to be a problem in the auxiliary tank, it probably would’ve manifested itself by now.
“Well?” asked the older man.
“So far so good,” Geordi reported. “Looks like you were right.”
Scott grunted. “Naturally, lad.” Crawling out from under his own console, he cracked his knuckles and, with a bit of a flourish, pressed a few buttons.
“What are you doing?” asked Geordi. “We’re not at the moment of truth yet… are we?”
It seemed to him there were still a couple of tests to be made first. But then, Scott’s methods were a little different from his.
“Well,” said the older man, “let me put it this way. If we’ve done our jobs properly, the engines should be coming back on-line about… now.”
For a moment, they watched the display and nothing happened. Then, slowly, console by dead console, the remainder of the Ops center came to life. The place was rife with blinking lights.
Geordi laughed, as delighted as a child who’d just been taught a new trick. He checked his levels. “And the auxiliary tank is still holding.”
Scott flashed a grin at him and then indicated the Jenolen’s small command chair. “The bridge is yours, Commander.”
Geordi held up a hand to demur. “Uh, uh. You’re the senior officer here.”
“I may be a captain by rank,” Scott conceded, “but I’ve never wanted to be anything but an engineer. Take the conn, Geordi.”
For a moment, Geordi found himself admiring the hell out of Captain Montgomery Scott. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll take the conn.”
Moving to the command chair, he sat down in it, while Scott made his way to the engineering panel. “Okay then,” he said, examining the readouts in his armrest monitor. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a starship to track down.”
“Aye, sir,” said the older man.
“Full impulse,” said Geordi.
“Full impulse,” Scott echoed.
And they were off.
“Energize.”
Funny thing about transporters, thought Riker. The first time he’d used one, he’d expected there to be some sort of transitional feeling… some sensation of being gradually drawn out of one place and phased into another.
But it wasn’t like that at all. One moment you were in the transporter room, the next you were standing on a planet or in a space station or on another ship. There was nothing in between, no period of adjustment. You were just, all of a sudden, there.
It was that way this time, too. Except this time, there was unlike anywhere else Riker had ever seen. Without