Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [12]
“I’d say it was a good possibility, Lieutenant,” the first officer tossed back as he led the team out into the corridor. Barclay and his light source brought up the rear.
This corridor looked much like the place they had come from, smallish and comfortable. The ceiling was a couple of inches higher than Riker’s head and wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The walls were again molded and gently curved into the distance. From the angle of the curve, Geordi guessed the corridor ran the entire outer edge of the station.
He took some tricorder readings. “I’m picking up chambers and windows as well as hatches and airlocks all along the outer wall of the station,” he said. “This place is laid out very efficiently.”
“Not the kind of thing you throw away,” Riker commented. “Where could everybody have gone?”
“Commander,” Geordi said, “if the station is really a large subspace field coil, it’s possible that it could move the mass of the entire station. A major malfunction could have transported this place from light-years away.”
The first officer was interested. “You’re saying that the station may have left its masters behind?”
The engineer shrugged. “This early in the game, anything is possible.”
Once again, Riker took the lead, heading down the corridor. “Let’s see if we can pry some of those secrets out of her.”
Geordi could see that Barclay was studying what seemed to be a small access tunnel, possibly a meter and a half high and just wide enough for one person. “Anything interesting, Reg?”
“There’s a lot of circuitry packed into here,” the lieutenant replied.
La Forge nodded. “I’ll give you a hand.”
Riker was already heading for the next archway, barely visible in the distance. “I’m going to take a look around down there,” he said.
By the time Geordi reached Barclay, the lieutenant was already crouched in front of the tunnel, shining his handlamp down its length.
“There’s another chamber further on,” Barclay said, crawling into the opening.
Taking a quick reading on his tricorder, Geordi confirmed that the tunnel was as innocuous as it seemed. He ducked his head inside tentatively. After a moment, he crawled after the lieutenant. “I’m right behind you, Reg.”
Barclay was taking the short, dark trip in stride. “No fear of cramped, dark places?” Geordi called ahead.
“No, sir,” came the other man’s reply. “My cousins and I used to explore caves near our grandfather’s house.” His voice echoed along the tunnel.
“I didn’t figure you for a spelunker, Reg.” Geordi smiled at the image of a fearless Barclay making his way through dangerous caverns.
The lieutenant shrugged. “The dark never bothered me, sir. And I’m not claustrophobic. I thought it was kind of exciting, unknown and mysterious. My grandfather thought the caves were a good test of character.” Barclay seemed to think carefully for a moment before he continued. “He always maintained that there were two kinds of people.”
“Just two?” Geordi asked.
“Yes, sir,” Barclay replied. “He said some people are made of steel and some are made of clay, some bend and some fall apart. Sooner or later, you find out what you are. And he thought caves were a good place to find out what you were made of.”
For a moment, Geordi was taken aback. This was not the Reginald Barclay he knew, shy and unsteady. The lieutenant was opening up about his personal life for the first time since they had met.
“Did he ever tell you what you were, Reg?”
Barclay stopped for a moment and turned in the tunnel to look at Geordi directly. He seemed to be considering the question. “Yes, sir. He said I was an unsaturated hydrocarbon polymer resin.”
“But that’s … rubber?” Geordi replied, dumb-founded.
The other man nodded. “That’s right.”
“Your grandfather had a strange sense of humor,” La Forge remarked.
“Yes,” Barclay said, his face a mask. “Funny,