What's Past_ The Future Begins (Book 2) - Michael Schuster [17]
Hrmph. Not much of an accomplishment. Even the thickest admiral would have seen that Lieutenant Borosh and Commander Gomez were the best of the best. It didn’t take a genius to realize that. Okay, so Borosh had a bit of a popularity handicap there with his transparent skull, but he certainly made up for it with his engineering talent. And Sonya Gomez was simply brilliant. Her Academy paper about subspace accelerators had impressed Scotty very much—still did—which was the reason why he’d recommended her for the post of S.C.E. team leader on the…what was the ship’s name again? He only knew the former leader had been a Vulcan. Killed in the war, in a Cardassian attack.
“There are four other senior posts to fill. I’ll send you the files of the people we think would be ideal for their respective jobs.”
Remind me again why I let myself be talked into this? It still feels like I’m part of the Fleet, even though my brain tells me I am not. But there he was, helping Ross and the soon-to-be-replaced (though not by him) Lynch, choosing candidates for leading S.C.E. positions. This went far beyond gratitude to Ross for steering him to Risa—that debt was long since paid. How stupid am I? Didn’t I promise myself never to work for these people again?
But some part of him had never really left Starfleet, not even after last year’s incident. Some part believed that the organization he’d been a member of for more than half a century was still the same, always looking for something to explore, not exploit. Back when his parents had convinced him to undergo command training even though he had always known he wanted to be an engineer, he’d thought that Starfleet was interested only in acquiring as much knowledge as possible, be it technological, social, medical, or something else. As it turned out, he’d been wrong.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
“I ask you to consider this latest offer. Maybe next time we can talk face-to-face without me having to leave a message for you. That way, you’d get to voice your concerns, and I can provide you with answers to any questions you might have. Good-bye, Captain Scott.”
Next time, Ross had said. Yes, it did feel as if he were still serving in the Fleet. He’d originally thought that agreeing to help find some S.C.E. candidates would satisfy the top brass on Earth. Once again, he immediately got the proof that he knew better how to deal with machines than people.
The screen changed, and Ross’s visage disappeared. The list of received messages returned, reminding Scotty of the calls the admiral had made in the weeks past. It had all started on a Tarnday about two months ago. Scotty had just finished his work on the El Dorado computer system when the computer announced that Starfleet Headquarters was asking him to call Ross back at his convenience.
Scotty had assumed it had been to see how he was enjoying Risa after he recommended him for the job of fixing the weather system.
As it turned out, there was an ulterior motive: Ross wanted him back in the Fleet.
That was never going to happen. But kindhearted man that he was, Scotty offered to help Ross out by finding fresh blood for the S.C.E., the one Starfleet institution that he still trusted implicitly. Ever since his first close contact with it—then a ragtag group of dirty engineers on a decommissioned starship—he’d felt sympathetic to its cause: solving technology-related problems, wherever they might occur.
Now, however, he was content with his work at the El Dorado. His job consisted of standing at the entrance of the Engineering Room and waiting for prospective patrons. If they decided to enter the establishment, he was to approach them, shake hands and do some small-talk. Pretty straightforward, really—and just what he wanted to do at this stage in his life. Certainly there was better work available for an ex-Starfleet officer, especially one of Scotty’s status, but he wasn’t doing it for the money; that had been understood both by Scotty and Quincy at the beginning