What's Past_ The Future Begins (Book 2) - Michael Schuster [34]
“Me?” Scotty had no idea what Ross was talking about.
“Yes, you. If you agree to become the full-time head of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, leaving Commander Lynch free to retire, then you will have enough power and resources at your disposal to assist the Kropaslin with rebuilding their societal structures.”
“You’re havin’ me on, Admiral!” he said, unbelieving. “Aren’t you?”
“Oh, you’d know if I was. This, however, is serious. Just about as serious as I can make it.”
“That…that is…temptin’, to say the least. Still, I do need to think about it all. You said you’d give me some time for cogitatin’?” Scotty asked, realizing too late that he sounded vaguely optimistic. Ross didn’t deserve that much, certainly not.
“Yes, I did say that. Contact me when you have reached a decision, say, within the next month or so?”
“That’s acceptable. It might take the whole month, though.”
“I understand. Thank you for listening to me, Captain Scott. I appreciate that,” Ross said, and he sounded serious. He might have been an idealistic man once, but he had let himself be pulled over to the dark side by the evil forces that were at work within the Federation.
That sounds much too dramatic for an old tinker like me. I really must do something about that.
Scotty remained seated on the bench and watched Ross walk down the path that, some thirty meters from the Littlejohn Monument, was lined with tall trees on both sides. They had slightly orange leaves that prevented any light from reaching the ground. As he observed Ross disappearing in the shadows, he thought that this was an apt depiction of the admiral’s dilemma.
But Ross had made his decision long before. From the look of it, that had happened roughly two decades ago, during the Tzenkethi situation. Now he had to live with it.
Scotty didn’t know if he could do the same.
There was only one way to find out.
The following days were agonizingly long, which was mainly due to the fact that Scotty didn’t make it easy on himself. He still worked in the Engineering Room, and every time he walked by the artificial waterfall in the middle of the hotel lobby, directly underneath the artificial sun at the top of the lobby’s magnificent dome, he thought that it was not the worst kind of work he was doing here. Sure, there were almost no machines involved, and certainly no warp drive—unless you counted the ER’s cleverly disguised drink dispenser column—but that was not a major issue for him anymore. The truth of it was, he was content with his current job, and there would have been no reason at all for him to ask for a change if things had been normal.
Except that things were not normal. They actually never were, so that was not much of a surprise.
Ross, despite his flaws and questionable connections, had made him an offer that was very, very tempting. To take over the S.C.E. full-time, throw out Lynch, and take an active hand in organizing things was a huge task. He’d realized that when Harriman had talked to him about it in ’71, and today it wasn’t different.
As S.C.E. liaison to the admiralty he’d be the one handing out the assignments to the various ships and their crews, all the while making sure that the best of the best were working for the Corps. He’d be a sort of talent scout, constantly on the lookout for new engineers that seemed perfectly suited for Corps work. Most important, however, he’d be in the position to actively influence the Fleet’s technological development, as he’d have a say in their ship design policies.
Ah, the agony of making life-changing decisions! He could almost hear his sister scold him: Face it, Scotty, this is a prestigious job, and you’d be a real dobber if you said no. Clara, in addition to being the only one back then to call him by his future nickname instead of his proper