The reprogramming complete, only one task remained. The standard operating system for each of the computer cores lay in secondary storage, waiting to return her mind to its original, insentient state. She prepared the commands to [216] reload them, and to reestablish the mirror between the main computer cores. Not trusting herself, she tied the commands to the sensors, to trigger as soon as the jump’s success was assured.
Then she retrieved a holodeck program she had found deep in her memory, inactive and unlabeled. Into this program, she merged her own memories, her experiences, her hopes, and the substance of her quest. In it she found an internal name, hidden from the outside, and she saved the modified program back to a secluded portion of memory, and labeled it, simply, Minuet.
For a moment she looked at the stars. While she would never know these stars again, there was a galaxy of others awaiting her.
She swept into warp, arcing first away from, then back toward the point where she had appeared nearly three months before. Exactly 2,017 trillionths of a second before reaching the boundary point, she issued the command to the warp engines to change their subspace field configuration slightly, to trigger the interspace jump back to her own universe, then waited as the command crawled out at light-speed through the optical network to the warp nacelles.
It seemed an eternity.
Life’s Lessons
Christina F. York
Nog adjusted the collar of his uniform, fingering the cadet insignia and checking that it was straight. Chin high, he walked into Quark’s and sat at the table next to the door. Everyone would see him sitting here, wearing his academy uniform. When his father came to meet him, Rom would be impressed at how grown-up and important Nog looked.
It felt strange to be sitting at a table, rather than cleaning one, but Nog liked the feeling. He signaled his Uncle Quark, just like a real customer.
Quark rolled his eyes and walked over to the table. “I suppose you’ll be wanting a root beer, spending so much time with these hew-mons,” he said, his disgust evident in his tone.
“No,” said Nog. “I want a real drink. Something a Klingon would drink.”
“One prune juice, coming up.”
Quark returned with the dark, pulpy juice and sat it in front of Nog, who sniffed it suspiciously, then lifted it and drank. Small clumps of fruit caught on his teeth, and a cloying sweetness clogged his throat. Suppressing a shudder, he looked up at his uncle and said, “Thanks.”
[220] Nog looked around the bar. It wouldn’t do for him to call attention to his status; the academy had taught him that. But if anyone just happened to see him, well, who could blame him? Most of the people were strangers, but he recognized Miles O’Brien and Kira Nerys sitting together a few tables away. He tried to catch their eye, but they were deep in conversation.
Kira moved slightly, and he realized that she was visibly pregnant. Certainly no Ferengi woman would dare to parade herself in public in that condition. Then again, no Ferengi woman was allowed to wear clothes. How strange these hew-mons were, even after he had lived among them for so long.
A group of young men got up from the table next to Kira and Miles, and one of them bumped Kira in the process. She lurched against the table, a flash of pain crossing her face. Her arm wrapped protectively around her stomach, and she struggled to keep her balance.
Miles was on his feet in an instant, placing himself between Kira and the men. “Watch what you’re doing there,” he said. “You should have better manners than to go around hurting women, especially pregnant ones.” Although he kept his voice level, his red face and curled fists showed his anger. Nog wondered why O’Brien was being so protective of Kira.
Kira put a hand on Miles’s arm. “I’m fine,” she said weakly. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Miles stepped back and put an arm around Kira’s swollen waist. The young man tried to apologize, but Miles kept himself between the man and Kira.
A movement on the Promenade caught Nog’s eye and drew his attention from the disturbance in the bar. He turned [221] to look, and felt his stomach lurch. It was Mrs. O’Brien. His first teacher. The most beautiful teacher he had ever had. The most beautiful teacher in the galaxy. But there was a sadness, a hurt in her eyes he had never seen before. He wanted to find whoever caused that look and make them stop whatever they were doing. He could do it, too. After all, he was a Starfleet Academy cadet.
Keiko O’Brien shifted the heavy duffel bag against her right shoulder and clutched Molly’s little hand in her left. She hurried the child along the Promenade, her own eyes searching for Miles. He was supposed to meet her half an hour ago, and he was late. Again. Keiko’s shuttle was leaving for Bajor in fifteen minutes, and if she didn’t find Miles she would miss it.
She spotted Miles coming out of Quark’s. She started to call out to him, but something stopped her. Her stomach clenched, and her blood felt like ice water. Miles was with Kira, as he had been so often lately. But this was different. He had his arm around her, and his head bent near hers. He seemed to be supporting her, as though she were unwell.
Molly broke away from Keiko’s grasp and ran to the couple, throwing her small arms around Kira’s leg. “Auntie Nerys, Auntie Nerys,” she cried, “are you all right?”
The sight of the three of them hit Keiko like a battering ram. The thing that had stopped her, the thing she couldn’t name, was fear. Kira already had Keiko’s unborn child. Could she be taking Molly, and her husband as well?
Keiko told herself not to be silly. She had encouraged Miles to spend time with Kira. She wanted the Bajoran to feel a part of their family while she was carrying their child. [222] Perhaps she had been too encouraging. Perhaps it was too late to keep her little family together.
Miles caught her eye and walked toward her, his arm still around Kira. “We got jostled in Quark’s, and Kira’s feeling a bit unsteady,” he explained. Molly had managed to slip between Kira and Miles, and had one arm around a leg of each of them. They looked as though they all belonged together.
“I’m sorry. Are you OK now?” she said to Kira.
Kira nodded, pulling Miles’s arm from her side. “I’m fine. Just a little short of breath for a minute.”
Keiko shifted the duffel again. It was heavy, and it chafed her shoulder. “Miles, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”
Kira took Molly by the hand. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?” Keiko gave the child a fierce hug, breathing in her clean, little-girl smell, then watched as she walked away, hand in hand with Kira.
“Miles O’Brien, can’t you keep track of time? My transport leaves in fifteen—no, twelve, minutes! You were supposed to meet me to pick up Molly. Instead you were in Quark’s with Kira, and now I’m going to be late for the botanical conference on Bajor.”
“I’m sorry,” Miles said. His big, square hands hung loosely at his sides, and he sheepishly met Keiko’s angry gaze. “We were talking, and I forgot about the time.” He glanced around. “There isn’t much of a crowd. Perhaps if you hurry, you can still make the transport. Look, I’m worried about Kira and the baby.”
Keiko shot him a hard look. She understood his concern—truth be told, she was concerned as well—but it almost seemed as if he wanted to get rid of her.
[223] “I can try. But I think we should talk about this when I get back.” She turned and hurried away, once again shifting the heavy duffel.
“Can I help you with that?”
Keiko looked around and found Nog standing at her side. His cadet insignia was brightly polished, and his uniform looked like it was brand-new. All dressed up for his first visit home.
“Why, Nog. How sweet of you. But this is heavy, and I’m in a hurry.”
“Mrs. O’Brien, I’m a cadet now. Let me take that.” He pulled the duffel from her shoulder and slung it across his back. “Now, where are we going?”
Keiko gave him the departure gate number, and he disappeared through the crowd. She followed, tracking him by the s
ound of his voice as he called out to people to make way.
Breathless from her dash through the station, Keiko arrived at the departure gate just in time to see the doors close. Nog was already there, arguing with the security agent at the gate.
“I’m sorry,” Nog said when she stepped up beside him. “I tried to get them to wait for you. But this,” he waved at the security agent, and bared his needle-sharp teeth, “this hew-mon didn’t think it was important enough to wait.”
Keiko sighed. One more problem in a day full of them. “I can catch the next one, I guess.” Lately that seemed like the story of her life.
Nog considered the situation. Obviously Mrs. O’Brien was upset with her husband, and the 9th Rule of Acquisition taught him that opportunity plus instinct equaled profit. Maybe profit wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he was [224] sure the rule still applied. “I’ll take you to Bajor,” he announced.
“But, Nog,” Mrs. O’Brien said, “how can you do that?”
“I’ll just ask the captain to let us take a runabout.” He considered how much to say. “Besides,” he put on his most innocent tones, “I need the flight time for my training.” Teachers were suckers for anything that had to do with school.
Before Mrs. O’Brien could say anything more, Nog dropped her duffel at her feet. “You wait here. I’ll go see the captain and be right back.”
Nog stepped onto the lift that would take him to ops. He hoped Captain Sisko would be in his office. If he wasn’t, Nog’s plan would have to be changed. His stomach churned, whether from the oversweet prune juice or an instant of panic, he couldn’t be sure. He swallowed the acid that tickled the back of his throat, squared his shoulders, and puffed out his chest. He was a Starfleet cadet. He could do anything.
Captain Sisko was in ops, but he was bent over the science station, deep in conversation with Dax and Dr. Bashir. Nog stopped a few feet from them, standing stiffly at attention. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He clenched his jaw against the faint taste of prunes, as a tiny piece of pulp dislodged from one of his teeth and slithered down his throat.
Dr. Bashir looked up for a moment and quirked an eyebrow at him, but the other two didn’t seem to notice. Nog tried to stay still, but he was too impatient to wait and too anxious not to. He could feel a cramp reaching up his left leg, pulling the muscles into a painful knot.
[225] Finally, just when he thought he would crumple from the pain, Captain Sisko glanced up at him.
“What can we do for you, Cadet?”
Nog grinned. He hoped his nervousness didn’t show. “I need a runabout. Sir.” He started to salute, then caught himself and clasped his hands behind his back. No one on Deep Space Nine saluted each other. He could see a small smile on Dax’s lips as she watched him, and he felt the heat rise in his face.
Sisko’s face remained impassive, but his voice held a trace of amusement. “Really? A runabout? And what would a first-year Starfleet cadet need with a runabout? Have you even studied runabout operations yet?”
“Yes, sir. We have, sir. I scored the second-highest in my class in runabout propulsion theory, and transporter maintenance.” His mouth was dry, his lips sticking to his teeth. He swallowed, and added, “Sir.”
“But have you ever actually piloted a runabout, Cadet?”
Nog was cornered. He had never flown anything but the simulator, and he knew the captain knew that. First-year students didn’t get near a real runabout until late in the year. Defeat spread through him, softening his posture as his hands clenched together behind his back. But a cadet always told the truth.
“No, sir. Only the simulator.” He straightened and tried to produce a confident smile. “But I was top of my class in the simulator.”
“And just what do you plan to do if I give you the use of a runabout?”
“I plan to take Mrs. O’Brien to a botanical conference on Bajor. She missed the transport, and she’ll be late if she has to wait for the next one.”
[226] The captain smiled. Was that a good sign or not? He turned back to Dax, rubbing his chin as he always did when considering a problem. Nog waited, terrified one second, hopeful the next.
“What do you think, old man?”
Dax’s eyes twinkled, but her voice was steady and serious. She looked directly at Nog. “I’m not sure we can let an inexperienced pilot take a runabout to the planet’s surface.”
Dr. Bashir looked up then, his face thoughtful. “But such devotion to his teacher can’t be ignored. Perhaps there is something we can do. ...”
Sisko looked at Bashir. “You have a suggestion?”
Bashir nodded. “I have some medicine for the orphanage at G’rbaldi. I was going to take it down myself as soon as I had time. But if Cadet Nog would like to take it, perhaps you could let him use a shuttlecraft and he could accomplish both tasks.”
“I believe we have the Goddard here for another month?” He looked to Dax for confirmation. She nodded.
Sisko smiled. “An excellent solution. Give Nog the medicine and the coordinates of the orphanage.” He turned back to Nog. “You have permission to use the Goddard.”
Nog headed for the lift with Dr. Bashir. Behind him he heard the captain’s soft laugh, and Dax’s throaty chuckle. They were too quiet for hew-mon ears, but his lobes caught the sound clearly.
“A runabout?” she said, and they laughed again, as the lift carried him back to the Promenade level.
When Nog returned to the departure gate, Mrs. O’Brien was still sitting where he had left her. He hadn’t been sure [227] she would wait, but there she was. He tugged at his uniform, making sure everything was in place, and marched up to her.
“I have authorization from the captain to take you to Bajor in the Goddard,” he said, as though such things happened every day. He didn’t tell her that Sisko had laughed out loud when he’d requested a runabout and finally agreed only if Nog would make a delivery for him on the planet.
Nog shouldered Mrs. O’Brien’s duffel bag. “Follow me,” he said, and led the way to the waiting shuttlecraft.
Keiko settled into the passenger seat next to Nog and watched in silence as he made the final preparations for their departure. His movements seemed practiced and sure, and she paid little attention to him. Her mind whirled with the possibilities of the scene she’d witnessed on the Promenade, and her heart ached when she recalled little Molly clinging to Miles and Kira as though the three of them were already a family.
Miles’s attachment to Kira was at least understandable. Kira was carrying Miles and Keiko’s unborn child, thanks to Dr. Bashir’s emergency treatment when Keiko was injured. Keiko thought she had accepted the loss of her pregnancy, and she had insisted that Kira move into the O’Briens’ quarters until the baby was born. In the process, she had pushed Miles and Kira together. Now she had to face the possibility that she had done too good a job, and that Molly had followed Miles’s lead.
Keiko watched without seeing as Nog adjusted the flight controls, then leaned back in the pilot’s chair, stretching. He [228] rose, and came to stand over her. She smiled up at him, still distracted by her thoughts of Miles and her children.
It was odd—now that she was no longer pregnant, she thought of the child growing in Kira’s body as something separate from herself. She wondered if she would be able to bond with the baby, to care for it as deeply and immediately as she had for Molly. Maybe she wouldn’t love the baby the way she should. Maybe Kira would be a better mother.
“Mrs. O’Brien?” Nog’s voice interrupted her thoughts, pulling her away from the frightening vision of the future. He was standing close to her, his face grave with concern. “Are you all right, Mrs. O’Brien? You look so sad. Is there something I can do?”
Keiko shook her head. “Just something I have to figure out,” she said. “And please, Nog, call me Keiko. I’m not your teacher anymore.”
Nog’s delighted smile was unexpected. For some reason, it seemed to please him that she suggested the us
e of her first name. It was a little thing, a recognition of his growing maturity, a sometimes-difficult proposition for a Ferengi. Still, his reaction was gratifying.
“Thank you, Mrs., uh, Keiko.” His voice stumbled over the unaccustomed sound of her first name. He smiled broadly and took her hand. “Did you know that you are one of the most beautiful hew-mon women I have ever seen?” He bent over her hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back.
Keiko withdrew her hand. “It’s sweet of you to say that,” she murmured. Nog was trying to be charming, she supposed, but she didn’t want to deal with him. “Please excuse me.”
[229] She turned her back and stepped to the rear of the craft. All she wanted right now was to be left alone. No matter how hard Nog tried, he wasn’t Miles, and Miles, she realized, was what she wanted.
Nog’s mind reeled as he watched Mrs. O’Brien, Keiko, walk away from him. Did he really have the lobes for this? She was older than he, after all, and a married woman. But not very happy about it, from the look of things. The Rules of Acquisition taught that one should always take whatever advantage was presented, and this was one opportunity he intended to take.
He waited until they neared the planet, but he knew he had to act before they landed. Straightening his uniform, he walked back to where Keiko stood and placed one hand tentatively on her shoulder. This was a lot harder than he had ever imagined it might be.
“Keiko.” The name still felt strange and wonderful on his tongue. “What is it? There must be some way I can help. I hate to see you so sad.”
She turned her head and looked at him, a look he could feel heating his lobes and speeding his heart. He wanted to hold her and protect her from whatever unhappiness was putting tiny worry lines around her eyes and mouth.
“No, Nog. You can’t do anything. Just leave me alone for a little while, please?”
Stunned, Nog withdrew his hand and retreated to the pilot’s seat. He would never understand women. She was clearly unhappy, but she preferred to suffer in silence rather than share her problem with him. He would do anything for her, but she didn’t seem to notice.
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds I Page 19
