Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
He turned and saw Crusher standing behind him. “I know, Doctor. I know.” Reluctantly, he retreated from the barrier. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “I could let her know you were asking for her.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he told her.
As they walked back toward the center of sickbay, Crusher looked up at the first officer. “There’s no need for worry,” she said. “Actually, our patient is doing quite well.”
He nodded. “That’s good to hear, Doctor.”
But he would continue to worry-and not just about Cadwallader. There were the rest of the Stargazer-survivors to consider as well….
Data sat in engineering, going over computation after computation in his positronic brain. He had been engaged in this activity ever since Geordi had sent everyone on the crisis team to bed. “No sense in killing ourselves,” the chief engineer had said. “We’ll be able to think a little straighter in the morning.” Simenon had agreed. Wesley too, though reluctantly. But Data needed no sleep. So when Geordi and the others left for their quarters, he remained. And hours later he was still there’. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten very far. There were too many variables in his equations, too many unknowns. If only he had a better understanding of subspace dynamics … “Pardon me.”
The android turned at the sound and saw Dr. Crreyhorse standing behind him. The man shrugged his large shoulders. “I guess everybody’s called it quits for the evening.” “On the contrary,” Data responded, swiveling around in his seat. “I am still here. Therefore, not everybody has called it quits.” Greyhorse’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “Right you are, Commander. Your logic is impeccable.” He looked around. “But everyone else has called it quits—yes?”
“That is true,” Data replied.
The doctor pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. “Too bad. I was hoping to lend a hand.”
“In what way?” the android asked, curious now. Greyhorse shrugged again. “You know. With this damned slipstream problem we’ve run into. I come from a long line of engineers, and I’ve had some training in the field myself. I just thought that I might be of service.”
“I see,” Data said. “I apologize. I did not know of your engineering background.”
“It’s all right. No one does, really.”
“Are you familiar with the problem?” the android asked. “Not exactly.” Greyhorse chuckled dryly. “Or to be more blunt about it, hardly at all. I just know that we’re caught up in a subspace phenomenon that’s affecting our velocity.”
Data nodded. “Allow me to give you a more detailed picture.” And for the next half hour, that’s just what he did. For the doctor’s part, he listened intently, interrupting only once or twice when he needed something explained in greater detail. Toward the end of the briefing, he didn’t interrupt at all-a fact which Data took as a token of Greyhorse’s increasing understanding. As it turned out, he was right.
As soon as Data was finished, the man began to rattle off suggestions. Good ones too. But they had all been suggested—and rejected-already. And of course, Data was forced to say so. After a while Greyhorse’s enthusi-asm began to wind down; he began to run dry of ideas. “Lord,” he said, “I guess I was right to go into
medicine after all. I wouldn’t have made a very good engineer.” “On the contrary,” the android told him, “your suggestions were quite good. The fact that they were made already is a tribute to your ability, not a condemnation of it.” He saw Greyhorse’s expression take on new life. “Remember, Doctor, three of the finest engineering minds in the Federation could not do any better.” The man looked at him. “Three? Who are you exclud-+, Data-not yourself, I trust?”
“I do not consider myself highly skilled in the area of engineering,” the android explained. “A good engineer, as I have been told time and again, is one part knowledge and two parts intuition. I certainly qualify in terms