Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [20]
“Impressive?” suggested Geordi.
“Disappointing, was finished Simenon. He regarded the Enterprise’s chief engineer. “It doesn’t look a whole lot different from the engine core on the Stargazer. Bigger, sure. But when you come down to it, a warp drive is still a warp drive.”
Geordi took a second look at his engine room—comthe heart and soul of the ship, as far as he was concerned. “I guess,” he said, “that depends on your point of view.”
Just then, the turbolift doors slid apart and spewed out a familiar figure. Wesley crossed the deck as quickly as he could without actually running and came to a halt in front of the two engineers. “You’re out of breath, Ensign,” observed Simenon. “I’m … late … sir,” explained Wesley. He turned to Geordi. “Sorry. Commander Data … asked me to make a course change … at the last minute and-was The engineering chief put a reassuring hand on
Wesley’s shoulder. “That’s all right,” he said. “I’m notified about such things, remember? Besides, Professor Simenon just arrived himself.”
The Gnalish looked at Wesley askance. “You’re not in a hurry to meet me, are you?” He leered at Geordi. “Now, that would be a refreshing change-a young person actually hurrying to bask in my presence.”
“Actually,” said the chief engineer, “Ensign Crusher here was excited about meeting you. Weren’t you, Wes?” Wesley nodded. “I have an interest in warp engineer-+,” he said, having finally caught his breath. “And with all the work you’ve done in that field…”
Simenon dismissed the idea with a wave of his scaly hand. “Nothing at all, compared to those who went before me. My real talent was hands-on engineering.” He indicated Geordi with a tilt of his head. “What this young man does. What I used to do,” he sighed. The ensign smiled tentatively. He looked at the Gnalish. “You’re kidding, sir-right? I mean, half the advances in the last ten years …”
Simenon snorted. “Overrated, I tell you.” He turned to Geordi. “Listen to me, Commander La Forge, and listen well. Someday you’re going to be faced with a choice like I had-a “promotion,” they call it. For the good of the service.” He poked a finger in Geordi’s chest. “Don’t do it. Manacle yourself to a monitor. Stow away. Name of Scaraf-steal a ship if you have to. You hear me?” Geordi smiled. “I hear you. But somehow I don’t think it’s quite as bad as you make it out to be.” Simenon frowned. “No. You wouldn’t, I suppose. Not until you’ve been there.” He turned to Wesley. “And you-what do you really want from me?”
The ensign looked helpless for a moment. Then Simenon put him out of his misery. “You needn’t explain,” he said. “Even an old cog like myself can figure it out.” He seemed to inspect Wesley with fresh interest. “Crusher. As in Jack Crusher. Your father, I gather?” The young man nodded. “Yessir.”
“You want to meet someone who served with him-yes? To learn a little more about him?”
Wesley nodded again. “Not that I’m not fascinated by your work,” he amended quickly, “because I am. But I guess that’s not all I’m interested in.”
The Gnalish snorted again. “I’d be surprised,” he confessed, “if it were any other way.” He eyed the ensign. “Then again, I may not be the best person to ask. Certainly, I served with your father-but he was closer with some of the others. Captain Picard, for instance. And Vigo-though he can’t help you much, having perished in that nasty business at Maxia Zeta.” He paused to think for a moment. “Of course, there’s Ben Zoma—comhe was your father’s immediate superior. Cadwallader, I recall, used to trade research mono-graphs with him. And he seemed to joke a lot with Pug Joseph …”
A resigned sort of look had come over Wesley’s face. Geordi empathized with the young man’s disappointment. Apparently, he’d really been looking forward to this opportunity to pump Simenon for some information.
The Gnalish must have noticed the look too, however. Because he stopped dead in his tracks and did an about-face. “On the other hand,” he said, “I do remember a few things about your father. In fact, a particular