What's Past_ The Future Begins (Book 2) - Michael Schuster [35]
Ah, the hell with it. He could think about it all later today, when his job was done. Indeed, today was a busy day at the Engineering Room. He’d shaken many hands and tentacles already, downed many drinks—in company, of course.
From the corner of his eye he saw the main doors open and two humanoid females enter. Promising the Hekaran in front of him to drop by later for a short talk, he started to walk toward the pair. They looked remarkably like mother and daughter, but he’d learned early enough that appearances were deceiving. They could just as easily be two lovers, or two friends. And besides, what looked like a female person didn’t always have to be a female person.
And the older of them looked rather familiar. He approached them swiftly, all the while concentrating on the face of the woman, trying to remember the person she reminded him of.
“Welcome to the Engineerin’ Room, on behalf of the management of the El Dorado. I’m—” he began, but had to stop himself because now he realized who the woman was.
It couldn’t be.
It simply couldn’t be.
She looked just like Christine Chapel, except that she didn’t. Her hair was different, and she was a bit younger than Christine had been the last time he’d seen her—the last picture of her in her Starfleet file, to be exact. It had to be a remarkable coincidence, finding somebody who looked so much like her, even if that was just as unlikely as having her really be here.
The younger of the pair, a thin lass with a round face and dark-brown hair, watched him closely, he noticed.
Get hold of yourself, Scotty!
“You are…?” she asked, offering him an encouraging smile.
“Scott. Montgomery Scott.” It was impossible for him not to study the face of the woman who was and was not her. “Christine?” he whispered before he could stop himself. The moment the word left his lips he felt the blood rush to his cheeks, caused by shame about the foolishness of actually thinking that this woman here was the real Christine Chapel, late of the Enterprise. Losh, his face must look like a port formation light! He suddenly felt as stupid as he had when he’d just been liberated from transporter stasis and he’d asked his rescuers if Kirk himself had managed to devise a means of saving him.
The young’un looked from him to the other one and back to him. “Who?” she asked, obviously not comprehending. Not that he could blame her.
“You have me confused with someone else, I’m afraid,” the older woman said kindly. “My name is Morgan, Morgan Primus. This is my daughter, Robin. She’s with Starfleet.”
Of course. Yet another young soul to be corrupted by the machinations of the Powers That Be. “So was I,” Scotty admitted, letting his tone slightly indicate just how happy he was he’d left.
Despite her name, this Morgan looked and even sounded so much like Christine, it was uncanny. Ignoring the still increasing redness of his face, he admitted as much. “The hair is different, but…you could be her twin.”
Morgan stared at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Just like that, she brought him down onto the hard, cold floor of reality. For a moment there he’d thought there was a chance, unlikely though it had been, to catch up on old times, asking her how her life had been after she’d left the Enterprise.
It was not to be. She might have looked like her, but she was an entirely different person.
Realizing he was being a little rude, Scotty did his best to explain his mistake and then introduce himself again. Robin was a little skeptical of his claim to be the Montgomery Scott, given his “well-preserved” state, and suggested he was a clone.
“No, no…the original item,” he said, smiling at her while attempting a quick bow. “Perhaps you ladies would allow me to buy you a drink.” Social drinking, that was the key. After all, who knew? Perhaps there was a way to make him forget not only Nechayev, but Ross as well. He certainly wouldn’t regret it one single second if he never heard of Starfleet ever again.