Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [74]
Suddenly, he remembered Geordi. Captain Scott.
“You’ve got the conn,” he told Data. And without a word of explanation, he headed for the transporter room.
“Come on,” growled Chief O’Brien, laboring at his controls. “After all you’ve been through, you can’t give up now. Damn it, you can’t!”
As if either of his charges had any voice in whether they came back to the Enterprise alive-or remained on the Jenolen in the form of biological debris. As if it wasn’t, finally and irrevocably, up to him-Mrs. O’Brien’s boy Miles.
Across the room, up on the transporter platform, the outlines of two men flickered hopefully. A grim O’Brien set his teeth. He had a chance. They were out there somewhere, if only he could reel them in.
Abruptly, the shimmering outlines disappeared. O’Brien’s heart sank. But he’d done this enough times to know that there was still a chance. Making adjustments in the attitude of the emitter array, he tried to bring them back again.
A moment later, they reappeared-but they were still flickering. This was going to be a fight all the way. Ever so carefully, he modulated the gain in the phase transition coils and sent more power to the pattern buffer.
The images got stronger. And stronger still. He could almost make out details in their clothing, even in their faces. One of them was wearing a VISOR, he noted.
Still, the transporter chief had to be careful. After all, he’d captured a whole lot of molecules that were neither Geordi nor Scott, and it would take some doing to separate those out. If he got too eager, if he failed to bring them out of the buffer at just the right frequency … he didn’t even want to think about it.
“Steady now,” he told himself. “Slow and steady does it.”
Finally, the outlines stabilized. They took on texture. And then, as if their atoms hadn’t been travelling through space a few seconds ago at a speed that could barely be imagined, the two men materialized.
For a moment, they just stood there, amazed that they were still alive. Then they looked at each other. And they laughed, despite everything. Or was it because of everything?
Scott threw an arm around La Forge’s shoulder. “There now,” he said. “That was nae so bad, was it?”
Geordi smiled back at him. “I guess it could’ve been worse,” he said judiciously. “Although I think I’ve had one close transport too many.”
Scott’s eyes opened wide. “You? How about me? If I never see another transporter, it’ll be too soon.”
And like a couple of drunken sailors, they staggered off the platform together. O’Brien watched them go-hearing their banter rise to a crescendo as they saw a familiar face out in the corridor-until the doors closed behind them.
Shaking his head and chuckling, he said “You’re welcome, lads. Pleased to be of service.”
At the sound of her door chimes, Deanna Troi turned away from her desktop monitor. She hadn’t been expecting anyone…
But then, she was the ship’s counselor. And people’s problems didn’t stick to a regimented schedule.
“Come in,” she said.
A moment later, the door slid aside. Ensign Kane was standing in the opening, looking more than a little uncomfortable-even hesitating for a bit before taking her up on her invitation to come inside.
The Betazoid smiled. “Sit down, Mr. Kane.” And then, after he’d taken a seat “What can I do for you?”
Not that she had any doubt about why he was here. This had to be about what had happened on the away mission.
But Kane didn’t talk about it. Not directly-not yet. “I just visited Ensign Sousa,” he said. “He’s sleeping now, but he’s going to be all right.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I know. I have been to see him too.”
“He certainly gave us a scare,” the young man noted.
“That he did,” Troi agreed.
Kane cleared his throat. “Uh, back in that tower…” he began. “The one where the wedge of machinery fell on Ensign Sousa?”
“Yes,” she said. “I remember.”
Kane straightened. “That machinery didn’t just come off the wall. I, uh … I shot it off with my phaser.” He licked his lips. “Accidentally, of course. But it was me all the same.”
“I see,