Star Trek The Next Generation®

by David A. McIntee

  “Hello, Geordi. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “This is great! Hey, sit down and have a—Oh, unless this is your place now?”

  “No, this isn’t my café. But I do know the Nausicaan who runs it.”

  “A Nausicaan runs this café?” Geordi had only noticed humans and a couple of Bajorans and Bolians among the staff. He looked around at the clean chromed décor and art. “It doesn’t look like a Nausicaan’s idea of a drinking establishment.”

  “He’s good people. Besides, Q’Hap won’t tolerate trouble on her station.”

  “You know her too?”

  “She’s good people. I like to know good people.” Guinan sat, and ordered an iced tea. “I wasn’t sure it was you, just from the back of your head, but when you were admiring that ship . . .”

  La Forge’s eyes narrowed. “That reminds me, how did you know I was thinking she was a beauty?”

  “Because you didn’t just think it. And the Vesta herself is a beauty, obviously.”

  “Oh . . .” He hadn’t even realized he had spoken out loud when he had seen the ship. “Sorry.” At least he now knew which ship it was.

  “You’re sorry for admiring a ship?”

  “For looking like a loon, talking to myself.”

  “It would have been obvious anyway; it was written on your face.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Guinan nodded. “Capital letters, three meters high. In neon.”

  “It is a beautiful design.” Geordi laughed. “Anyway, what are you doing at Starbase 410?”

  “The same thing you are.”

  “Well, I’m waiting—No . . . ?”

  She nodded, with that smug, cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “Waiting to join the Challenger.”

  “You never showed any interest in engineering before.”

  “I have a lot of interests. Sometimes I let them lapse, and then sometimes I pick them up again.”

  “So, you’re saying you do have, or did have, an interest in engineering?”

  “Not really,” she admitted with a grin. “My father was the one with the predilection for tinkering with electronics. But I do count some engineers among my friends, and maybe it’s time to give them some of my time.” Geordi could feel his ears start to burn slightly.

  “Besides,” she went on, “how was I supposed to resist the opportunity to spend some time on a Galaxy-class ship again?”

  Geordi froze in mid-reply. “Challenger’s Galaxy-class?”

  “Didn’t you know?”

  “There are so many ships . . .”

  “I know, it’s hard to keep track of them. I’m glad I don’t have to.”

  “But you want to spend some time on one.”

  “With some friends. And, this may sound a little weird, but it’s the closest thing I have to something that really feels like a home. In this part of the galaxy, anyway.”

  “No,” Geordi said firmly, “that doesn’t sound weird at all.”

  “I imagine you have pretty much the same feeling about it.”

  Geordi wasn’t sure whether he would or not. “I’m pretty used to the Enterprise-E now.” He looked at her, feeling a little guilty about using his cybernetic eyes to read her skin galvanity and temperature. He told himself he was just trying to judge whether she was being serious, not whether she was telling the truth.

  He stopped looking. It didn’t matter why she was going on the Challenger, just that there would be another familiar face on the mission. That it was a familiar face which also had a sympathetic ear on either side was oddly reassuring. Geordi raised his raktajino in a toast. “Well, here’s to Challenger, and her mission.”

  Guinan raised her iced tea. “Here’s to her engineers.”

  4

  When the call came through to La Forge that Challenger was arriving, he made for the observation lounge to watch the starship crawl majestically to its docking umbilical. The lounge was on the opposite side of the moon from Wexx itself, and looked out on both the buoys that guided suitable vessels into the underground docking bays, and the stubby gray towers that gave access to vessels too large to pass into the interior bays.

  A square-sectioned tower had been lit up for the arrival of the Challenger, and the docking umbilical and gangway corridor had been extended. Gravity waveguides built around the base of the tower were modifying the local gravity, which otherwise would have been around half Earth normal, so that the approaching ship could float safely above it.

  La Forge couldn’t see Guinan yet, but was willing to bet that she had more luggage to see to than his two hold-alls. Uncertain whether he felt nervous or excited, he wasn’t even sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that he couldn’t see Challenger yet. Either way, he was surprised. The ship should have dropped out of warp some distance out, and be making its final approach well below sublight.

  He was almost on the point of calling the starbase’s operations office to ask whether Challenger was delayed, when, suddenly, it was there, filling the observation windows.

  It was not crawling in majestically.

  La Forge’s heart leapt into his mouth as the six hundred and forty meter, four and a half million metric ton starship hurtled out of the darkness on an arc that surely must send it crashing through the orbital tether and down into the planet. With only seconds to go until impact, La Forge jumped to his feet, ready to lunge for an alarm button.

  As he did so, his heart triphammering all the way up to warp nine, the Challenger spun about her vertical axis, now hurtling sideways toward the docking tower. In the couple of instants it took La Forge to calculate where the impact would be, and how many people would die, the ship had somehow slowed to a near halt with full-impulse braking.

  An instant later, the ship’s main lock smoothly kissed the docking umbilical at a sedate ten centimeters per second. That was a letter-perfect textbook docking. La Forge took a shaking breath and forced his pulse and breathing back to normal. Off to one side, a hearty laugh filled the lounge. When La Forge looked, he saw the stolid form of Q’Hap applauding. Most of the other people in the lounge displayed an impressed mix of amazement and amusement. He had to admit himself, it had been a pretty good show, if insanely reckless.

  Now that the ship had settled into its place, La Forge could feel the grin spreading across his face at the sight of the Challenger. It definitely gave him a faint shiver of pleasure to be looking at a Galaxy-class ship again. True, it wasn’t the old Enterprise, but it was close enough to make him feel like he was stepping back into his own past.

  There were differences from the Enterprise-D, of course: the thermal and energy signatures his cybernetic eyes could pick up were running a little differently than he remembered the Enterprise doing. Even in the visible spectrum, the outermost plates on the hull were in a slightly different pattern. The registry number was different, NCC-71099. Despite all of this, La Forge could feel a lump forming in his throat. He had served on the Galaxy-class Enterprise too long not to be affected.

  He also still wondered whether, had it not been for his VISOR, the Enterprise-D might not have still existed. Maybe it would have been decommissioned with full honors, and sent to the Fleet Museum. Counselor Troi had told him there would be times when he would feel that way, and that he shouldn’t feel guilty, but knowing a fact and feeling an emotion were two very different things, and the first didn’t always control the second, no matter how much effort he put into it.

  “This one’s a beauty too,” Guinan said at his side. He hadn’t heard her approach, and indeed had rarely done so in Ten Forward back in the day. She seemed to have a talent for it. “Just like the old Enterprise.”

  “Yeah. Are you going aboard now?”

  “There’s no time like the present. Usually. My luggage is already being carried over, and I don’t want to let it out of my sight for too long.”

  “Luggage? Anything special?”

  She made a so-so gesture. “A few cases of single malt Scotch. Some Rekel
lian Kaspra—you get the idea.”

  “I get the idea,” he confirmed with a laugh. They continued to talk as they walked through a set of heavy metal doors into an authorized-personnel-only corridor, whose simple white walls funneled them toward a small lobby that faced the Challenger’s main airlock doors.

  Challenger’s doors were already open, and a smattering of people were moving in and out. “I guess I’d better go on forward,” she said, “and see how they’re unpacking things.”

  “I expect I’ll be in soon enough.” They exchanged grins, and then Guinan moved into the beige lobby of the Challenger’s airlock before rounding a corner. As La Forge followed, he saw her exchange a few words with a uniformed commander. Geordi paused where he was, thinking that he could at least report aboard formally before going to look for Scotty.

  When the commander was done talking to Guinan, he spotted La Forge and approached with a ready smile and an outstretched hand. He was slightly built, with short but rather spiky hair. Deep lines at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes belied his otherwise youthful features. “Commander La Forge?” he began in a northern English accent. “I’m Tyler Hunt, Challenger’s executive officer.” They shook hands.

  “Permission to come aboard?” Geordi asked.

  “Permission not only granted, but insisted upon. Hopefully your wait here was all right. We expected to arrive a little earlier.”

  “It was fine. It’s a pretty unusual starbase, but well run.”

  Hunt nodded. “That’s Klingon efficiency for you.”

  “When you arrived, I thought the ship was going to crash . . .”

  “Yes, I always think that too. Our helm is . . .” Hunt trailed off, looking as if he was casting around for the right word. “Well, you’ll see. Come on, let’s get you settled in your quarters. Captain Scott is eager to catch up with you.” They walked toward the nearest turbolift.

  “The feeling is definitely mutual. I haven’t seen Scotty since . . . Well, it’s been a couple of years.” La Forge paused in the corridor. The familiarity of the sand and pastel tones of the corridor ahead had struck him like a fist in the face. Memories of the Enterprise-D came flooding back, and swirled through his head in a mix of fondness and sadness. It was the strangest feeling Geordi had ever experienced, and it caught him and carried him along in a tumbling rush.

  The Galaxy-class was so much of him that he felt uncertain whether he was taking a step backward, into his own past. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad, and knew that he couldn’t not be either of them. He shook his head with a sigh. “Is something wrong?” Hunt asked.

  “No, I was just hit by my memories of the Enterprise-D. And when I say hit, I mean punched in the face.”

  “I know the feeling. Every time I go back to Manchester, it really freaks me out. Don’t worry, a trip to Nelson’s will put your mind at ease.”

  “Nelson’s what?” Did Hunt mean a planet?

  “Oh, the lounge. I think the Enterprise’s was called Ten Forward? What can I say? British captain and first officer, who else were we going to name it after? I think you’ll get on with our hostess.”

  “That I can guarantee. Guinan knows how to put people’s minds at ease.”

  “Ah, you already saw Guinan on the starbase? As I understand it, she’s in the process of making changes.” A turbolift arrived, and they entered.

  A thought struck La Forge. “One thing I didn’t get the chance to ask yet, Commander—”

  “We’re equal ranks, Commander. Call me Tyler.”

  “Geordi.”

  “Well, I’m glad we got that over with painlessly.”

  “Yeah.” La Forge laughed. “That’s actually kind of what I was about to ask about. It seems to me that the Challenger is fully staffed, and I assume you already have a chief engineer . . . Not that you really need one, with Scotty aboard, but . . .”

  “But someone has to look after things day-to-day. Yes, we have a chief engineer. The best in the fleet, present company excepted, of course.”

  “So exactly what’s my status here?”

  “Well,” Hunt said, “officially you’re being listed in the position of ops and second officer.”

  “You don’t have an ops officer or a second officer?”

  “Transporter Chief Carolan was about due to take that position on this tour, but when we knew you were coming, we kept the slot open so that there was a suitable position for your rank. In practice, though, we really want you as a mission specialist who’s had experience with historical vessels. And, I think, on some level Scotty just likes to recruit people whose work he admires.”

  “Doesn’t every captain?”

  “Pretty much.” They stopped at a door, and Hunt keyed it open. “These will be your quarters.”

  “Thanks,” La Forge said slowly, a little fuzzy because the room and its place in the saucer section was identical to the location of Data’s quarters on the Enterprise-D.

  Hunt noticed. “Another memory punch? You look a little . . .”

  “I’m okay. I guess I’ll get used to it soon enough.”

  “I’ll let the Captain know you’re here. He’s down in engineering, of course. Vol will probably be ready to strangle him by now—” Hunt’s combadge chirped. “Hunt here, go ahead.”

  “Commander,” a woman’s voice said, which sounded strangely familiar, though Geordi couldn’t quite place it. “I’m looking over the stasis storage installation and I think it’s usable, but we could use a spare. Do you think you could check with the starbase’s quartermaster about getting another one?”

  “Yeah, I can do that, Doc.” He signed off, and gave La Forge an apologetic look. “Looks like I have some more organizing to do. I hate to leave you in the lurch, but I’m assuming you know the way to main engineering.”

  “I think I can find my way, don’t worry.”

  “See you later.” Hunt raised his hand with a vague wave and trotted off, leaving La Forge in his new quarters. The sloping ceiling was familiar, as was the bathroom to his right and bedroom to his left. In Data’s old quarters, Geordi realized, the bathroom had been converted into an office, and there were no windows. Maybe it was his imagination, but the air smelled a little different too.

  “Everything old is new again,” he murmured to himself. La Forge wondered if the reverse would be true as well, when he returned to the Enterprise. If I return to the Enterprise, he thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. Second officer wasn’t usually a temp posting.

  He dumped his bags on the bed, but didn’t unpack yet. Maybe getting down to business would help him get in the right frame of mind.

  “Hand me that plasma inducer, then.” A familiar brogue carried across main engineering as La Forge walked in. Once again, he felt as if he was stepping back into his own memories. The master situation monitor screen on the forward wall was mostly the same as the Enterprise’s had been, and the warp core toward the aft section, though smaller than the one on a Sovereign-class, throbbed with just as much power.

  The flat, table-like master systems display console was absent. In its place, a sunken tank in the deck, and similar indentation in the ceiling above, confined a dazzling array of holographic displays and data in the air between them. La Forge couldn’t resist passing a hand through them, but quickly pulled back when they flashed. He didn’t want to start his first day on Montgomery Scott’s ship by setting off a cartload of alarms, or changing any vital settings.

  “Hand you?” another voice replied. It sounded coarse and tough, yet somehow artificial. “Are you just trying to be offensive?”

  “I can do that or not, lad, but I’d never just try.” If any of the ten or so people working in engineering thought there was anything odd about the exchange, they certainly didn’t show it, and neither voice sounded spiteful. La Forge got the impression that this was the banter of two old friends, and made a mental note to be careful not to over-react. He followed the voices, and the sounds of a working plasma inducer,
around to where the chief engineer’s office ought to be. Instead of a partitioned-off office there was a circle of free-standing consoles like some kind of high-tech Stonehenge. Most of them were partially dismantled, and circuits and optronic cabling were piled up in a way that managed to be disorganized without being completely random either.

  Standing in the midst of the technological jumble was a stout figure with neatly parted white hair, and rather sad eyes over a still fairly dark mustache. He was wearing a pocket-covered engineer’s vest over a white roll-neck, rather than a standard uniform-tunic: Starfleet’s oldest and longest-serving officer—that La Forge knew of—and certainly its oldest and longest-serving engineer.

  Montgomery Scott.

  A grin spread under Scotty’s mustache, and he hurried over, stuffing the plasma inducer in a pocket so that his hands were free to shake Geordi’s. “Commander La Forge! Welcome aboard, laddie.”

  “It’s good to be aboard, Scotty.”

  Scotty’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Ah, but ye miss the Enterprise already.”

  “Does it show?”

  “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been chief engineer on two Enterprises, and nothing else is quite the same. Ye’d be a heartless man if you were no’ just a little disappointed to be somewhere else.” He gave La Forge a look of mock-seriousness, and said, “Now, be honest with me, lad, leaving the Enterprise was like havin’ teeth pulled?”

  “Definitely,” Geordi agreed, “but seeing some familiar faces makes it a lot easier. And you know what they say, a change is as good as a rest.”

  “And they’re right about that. If retirement means a rest, then I have to say, retiring from Starfleet was the biggest mistake I ever made, except maybe for that time I bleached my hair blond, and I’m glad to have rectified it.”

  “Sounds like a pretty big mistake. But since you spent most of that retirement stuck in a transporter buffer, I guess you didn’t get too bored.” La Forge pointed upward. “I guess the hair liked its change better as well.”

  Scotty laughed. “Maybe I did give it some ideas.”