Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [42]
Inside, they walked down a short flight of stairs to the main floor of sensor controls. Picard could see that the stairs extended down even farther—like the other buildings on the outpost, the bulk of the space was underground. The captain knew those lower floors held the matter-antimatter reactor that powered the sensor array.
The control center was a bustle of activity, with perhaps two dozen people working, in, under, and around various control panels—some of which were still being assembled.
No one seemed to pay them any attention as Dr. Santos led Picard through the maze of people and equipment. She stopped to ask a lieutenant where Hronsky was, and the young man shot the captain a quick, nervous glance before pointing to a two-meter-high catwalk at the back of the room.
Picard and the doctor made their way to the back of the room, where she started up the ladder to the catwalk, gesturing for the captain to follow. Up top, a husky man wearing a lieutenant commander’s braids was giving instructions to two others. Santos approached the man and entered the conversation with a quick “Excuse me, Michael.”
The lieutenant commander stopped the conversation with an uplifted hand. He favored the doctor with a harried smile beneath his dark, bushy brows.
“Yes, Julia?”
She indicated Picard. “Michael Hronsky, I would like you to meet our new guest, Captain Dixon Hill.”
The man turned his attention to the captain. For a moment, Hronsky’s face registered genuine surprise. “Captain Hill,” he muttered.
“Michael, what’s going on here? You and your men seem to be going full tilt,” Santos noted.
Hronsky kept his eyes on Picard as he responded, “Uh, Julia … could I have a word with you in private?”
Before the doctor could respond, the man addressed Picard directly. “Captain Hill, I’m sorry, but I need to speak with the doctor alone. One of my men will escort you outside.”
An ensign who was standing beside Hronsky gestured for the captain to return back down the ladder. On the ground, the same ensign led Picard back through the control room—and then waited with him in uncomfortable silence until Santos emerged.
Her face was blank, which the captain now recognized as a sign that she was upset. As she got closer, he saw the subtle frown lines at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Dixon. Apparently, the engineering staff is very busy. Perhaps we could see this part of the outpost at a later date.”
She didn’t say anything else on the subject, but she didn’t need to. Hronsky’s expression had told Picard everything he needed to know. He regarded the newcomer as Lieutenant Harold had at first: as a possibly dangerous intruder. Undoubtedly, Commodore Travers had spoken to him already.
What’s more, the captain couldn’t muster any indignation at the suspicion he was facing. He was a bloody intruder, wasn’t he? One who was as dangerous to the Federation as the Gorn strike force that was probably already amassing outside the system.
What troubled Picard was the near-feverish activity inside the sensor-array control room. He didn’t think the engineering crew looked like a team working ahead toward a two-week deadline, and that raised a number of questions.
Picard and the doctor walked back to the residence area in silence. She showed him to his door, 11-H, and pointed out Lieutenant Harold’s temporary quarters next door.
“If there’s anything you need,” said Santos, “you can ask your computer terminal, Dixon. Or call Lieutenant Harold. Or call me.”
The captain smiled. “Thank you. But I think, for now, I will just rest.” Actually, with luck, he would be able to secure some supplies from the kitchen and then investigate the outpost stores on the lower level of the residence area. “Good-bye, Julia. Thank you for the tour.”
All unintentionally, he had called her by her first name. The doctor seemed pleased by it.
“There’s more tomorrow, if you feel up to it,” she told him.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Picard assured her. As she turned to leave, he entered his quarters and shut the door behind