The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [66]
“Am I interrupting something important?” came a voice from the doorway to her office.
“Not at all, Geordi.” She waved away the bewildered nurse and studied the chief engineer as he walked closer. La Forge showed no obvious signs of illness; except for an unusually somber expression, he appeared to be in good health. “What can I do for you?”
“This isn’t a medical matter, Doctor.
I just dropped by to see if you were coming to the poker game tonight.”
Crusher winced with the sudden realization that this was the source of her bad mood. Odd how she had managed to avoid this self-knowledge all morning.
Geordi must have seen her reaction, because he sighed and said, “Look, I’m really sorry about the last few days. We all know it wasn’t your fault we missed the championship, and I’d really feel bad if you stopped playing poker just because we’ve been acting like jerks.”
“Thank you, Geordi,” she said with a growing smile. “As it happens, I have plans for this evening, but it was very nice to be asked.”
“Next time?”
“Definitely.”
“Great.” Her assurance seemed to ease his conscience, because he walked out of the office with a much lighter step.
As the last tatters of her melancholy evaporated, Crusher shoved aside the temptation to break her dinner date with the captain so she could attend the poker game after all. Her vindication could wait until another time. Besides, she hadn’t seen much of Picard lately and …
She happened to glance down at her desk, a desk covered with the mountains of work that she had taken on, work she no longer had the slightest interest in doing.
Suddenly the pleasures of this evening lay too far in the future to even contemplate.
Data heard the sound of heavy footsteps marching down the curving bridge ramp. There was only one member of the crew who could overcome the shock-absorbent qualities of the deck carpet.
“Your duty shift is over … sir.”
Data looked up from the captain’s chair that he had occupied since Riker’s departure from the bridge. The ship’s security chief towered above him. “Thank you, Lieutenant Worf. I was just waiting for the captain.”
Worf glanced over his shoulder at the closed doors of the ready room. “He is busy.”
“Yes, it appears he is preoccupied and has forgotten our appointment. Perhaps I should remind—” The Klingon’s bony forehead gathered a new set of furrows. “One who holds the Pagrashtak should not be disturbed for trivial matters … sir.” He shifted his broad body ever so slightly to block Data’s view of the door. “The captain would be annoyed by an interruption.”
“Then my concerns can wait,” decided the android. Despite the belligerent delivery, Worf’s assessment of the situation was probably quite accurate.
“As most senior officer present, do you wish to retain command of the bridge?”
“No.” Data rose from the captain’s chair.
“I will be heavily involved in computer research on the aft deck. The conn is yours.”
This answer seemed to mollify the Klingon— his glower softened into a frown—yet Data was aware that Worf was still watching him as he proceeded up the ramp to the back of the bridge. It occurred to the android that Worf could be a bit overzealous in the execution of his duties, especially where Captain Picard’s welfare was concerned. No doubt these were admirable qualities in the chief of security, yet if Data were capable of emotion he would probably find them extremely irritating at times.
Taking a seat at an empty science console, Data changed its display option to a high-speed scan mode and quickly set to work.
During the last hour of his duty shift, he had prepared a contingency plan just in case he was delayed from working directly with the Heart. In the absence of new test results, he would proceed under the assumption that the anomalous data he had gathered was correct, and he would conduct a search for similar contradictory findings in both archaeological and geological data bases.
He began by requesting a listing of all instances in which variations in both dating and material composition