Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [42]
Data spoke up. “Warp nine point nine five, to be precise.”
Both Wesley and the Gnalish looked at him. “You’re kidding,” said the ensign.
“I am not capable of humor,” replied the android. “As you know.” “I assume you’ve checked for quirks in the sensor systems,” remarked Simenon. “After all, we know only what they tell us.” “Checked and rechecked,” the chief engineer replied. “They’re working just fine.”
“So we’re sailing along at warp nine point nine five, and without even lifting a finger.” Wesley shook his head, disbelieving. “Curious,” agreed the Gnalish.
“Apparently,” Geordi told them, “we’ve gotten caught in some sort of subspace phenomenon. A slipstream, for lack of a more precise description. And it’s carrying us ahead against our will.” He paused, looking at the others. “I don’t have to tell you what this means.”
“We’ll be at Daa’Very in a matter of hours,” said Simenon. “And out into uncharted space in a few days.” “That’s exactly right,” the chief engineer said. “And from what I understand, there could be problems if Morgen’s late for the coronation ceremony—big problems. After all, not everyone on Daa’Very is thrilled to see him succeed to the throne, and they’d love an excuse for denying it to him. Which is why we left ourselves plenty of time to get him there.”
“Or so you thought,” added the Gnalish.
“Or so we thought,” Geordi echoed. “And even at warp factor nine point two—the maximum speed the Enterprise can sustain for any extended period of time-we’re going to be able to return to Federation space only one-fourth as fast as we’re leaving it. In other words,
every day out is going to mean four days back. So if we’re going to solve this problem, we’d better do it soon-before we find ourselves in the middle of a major interplanetary incident.”
“Or worse,” said Simenon. “We don’t know very much about subspace phenomena, gentlemen-but the ones we’ve observed seem to be quite variable. That means we may continue this way for a while-but it is more likely we will suddenly be released. Or carried along even faster. was He looked at Geordi in particular, his serpentine eyes slitted. “And then, of course, there is a fourth possibility.” The chief engineer nodded. “The nature of the anomaly could change altogether. We could suddenly find ourselves in a subspace whirlpool-or something even more violent.”
“The moral being to get the hell off this roller coast-er,” the Gnalish amplified. “Preferably, before it has a chance to do us in.”
Wesley straightened. “You can count on me,” he told Geordi. La Forge smiled. “I know I can, Ensign.”
Data had already pledged his best efforts. The chief engineer turned to Simenon. “And you, sir?”
The Gnalish’s mouth quirked, “What do you think?” For a brief moment, Geordi flashed back on a question the captain had asked of him up on the bridge, when nobody else was listening: “Commander … is it possible that this was accomplished by an act of sabotage? That we were somehow maneuvered into this slipstream you speak of?”
At the time, Geordi had said it was not possible. And he still believed that. No one-not even the best mind
the Federation-had a good enough grasp of subspace phenomena to use one in setting a trap.
But whoever the assassin was, that individual couldn’t have been too upset about running into the slipstream. It was a distraction-a complication that could only work to his or her advantage. And if the murderer was Simenon-a possibility the chief engineer had to consider, even if he found it unlikely-he would have every reason not to see their work proceed smoothly. “I think,” Geordi said at last, “that I’m glad to have you on my team.”
The Gnalish smiled. “Naturally.”
As the doors parted, Riker entered the apartment. Morgen was standing in the center of the foreroom, looking a little too much like a caged beast for the first officer’s taste. “I trust,” said the Daa’Vit, “that you’re not here just to check up on me. I could hardly have complied