"Straight to the homeworld?" Soleta raised an eyebrow. "Do you expect trouble with achieving that rather incendiary destination?"
"Expect it? No. Anticipate it? Always."
She nodded, an ever-so-brief smile playing on her lips and then quickly hidden by long practice, as she exited the ready room. When she was gone, Shelby folded her arms and half-sat on the edge of Calhoun's desk. "May I ask how you think Admiral Jellico will react to this development? He was the one who originally forbade Si Cwan from joining the mission."
"I imagine that he will be quite angry."
"And out of a sense of morbid curiosity, was this anticipated reaction part of your motivation in allowing Si Cwan to remain?"
"A part? Yes. A major part? No. The good admiral caused me grief in the past, and I certainly don't mind tossing some aggravation his way. But if I didn't think Si Cwan could be useful on this voyage, I wouldn't have allowed him on the ship just to annoy Jellico. That's simply . . ." He paused and then, for lack of a better word, he said, ". . . a bonus."
Si Cwan surveyed his quarters with a critical eye. Soleta and Zak Kebron stood just inside the doorway. After what seemed an infinity of consideration, Si Cwan turned to them and said, "I assume your captain did not give me diplomatic quarters because he did not wish to aggrandize my sense of selfimportance."
"He didn't phrase it quite that way, but that is essentially correct."
Si Cwan nodded a moment, and then he looked at Kebron. "I would like a moment's privacy with Soleta." Kebron's gaze flickered between the two of them with suspicion. "Kebron, you'll have to leave me on my own sooner or later," Si Cwan reminded him. "Unless you were planning to make guarding me your life's work."
"It's my life," Kebron replied.
"We'll be fine, Zak," said Soleta, placing a reassuring hand on Kebron's arm. Kebron leaned slightly forward and Si Cwan realized that that was how Kebron nodded, since his neck wasn't the most maneuverable. The Brikar stepped back out of the room and the door closed.
"You and Kebron seem to share a certain familiarity with one another."
"We studied together at Starfleet Academy."
"And study was all you did?"
"No. We also saved one another's lives on occasion. You see the world rather oddly, Si Cwan. May I ask why you wished to speak privately?"
"I," and he cleared his throat. "I wanted to thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome."
"I hope I did not force you to compromise yourself in any way."
"It's a bit late now to be concerned about that," Soleta told him.
"That's valid enough, I suppose. Still I," and for a second time he cleared his throat. "I would like to think that perhaps the two of us could be ... friends."
"Yes . . . I am sure you would like to think that." And she turned and left him alone in his quarters.
BURGOYNE
VIII.
BURGOYNE 172 PROWLEDEngineering in a manner evocative of a cheetah. The Excaliburhad only been out of drydock for a little over twenty-four hours, and Burgoyne had already established a reputation for perfection that kept hish engineering staff on their collective toes. Burgoyne stopped by the antimatter regulators and studied the readouts carefully. "Torelli!" s/he called. "Torelli, get your butt down here and bring the rest of you along for the ride!"
Engineer's Mate Torelli seemed to materialize almost by magic at Burgoyne's side.
"Yes, shir," said Torelli. "
I thought I gave you instructions that would improve the energy flow by five percent, and I asked for them to be implemented immediately."
"Yes, shir."
"Did you implement them?"
"Yes, shir."
"Then may I ask why I'm only seeing an improvement of three percent?"
"I don't know, shir."
"Then I suggest you find out." At that moment, Burgoyne's comm badge beeped. S/he tapped it and said, "Chief Engineer Burgoyne here."
"Chief, this is Maxwell down in sickbay. Dr. Selar would like a word with you."
"Can it wait?"
"It's been waiting for a while, shir. She was most emphatic." Maxwell sounded just a touch nervous.
"In other words, we're definitely in the realm of not taking no for an answer, correct?"
"A fair assessment, shir."
Burgoyne sighed. S/he'd been expecting this, really. S/he'd had hish head buried down in Engineering, overseeing every aspect of the refit. Burgoyne would have preferred another two weeks to complete the refit to hish satisfaction, but Starfleet had seemed bound and determined to get them out into space. It was Starfleet's call to make, of course, but Burgoyne couldn't say that s/he was happy about it.
And now the doctor, whom Burgoyne had barely had a chance to take note of in passing, wanted to see hir about some damned thing or other.
"On my way," said Burgoyne, who then glanced up at Torelli and said, "Be sure that's attended to by the time I get back."
"Yes, shir."
"By the way . . . first thing I'd do is make sure that the problem isn't in the readings rather than in the actual tech. If an object measures a meter long, and the meter stick is wrong, then that doesn't make the object a meter, now, does it."
"No, shir."
"Get on that, then," said Burgoyne. "And don't disappoint me. I don't take well to it. Last person who disappointed me, I ripped their throat out with my teeth."
"You certainly like to joke, Chief," Torelli said.
"That's true, Torelli, I do," Burgoyne agreed. S/he headed for the door and paused there only long enough to say, "Of course, that doesn't mean I was joking just now." And s/he flashed hish sharp canines and walked out.
Soleta and Zak Kebron stepped out onto the bridge to find that all attention was on navigator Mark McHenry.
He was leaning back in his chair, eyes half-closed. He didn't seem to be breathing. Lefler was staring at him, as was Shelby. Calhoun was just emerging from his ready room and he looked to see where everyone else's attention was. He blinked in mild surprise. "Is he dead?" he inquired in a low voice.
"We're trying to determine that," said Lefler.
Shelby looked extremely steamed, but then Calhoun waggled his finger to his senior officers, indicating that they should convene in his office. Within moments Robin Lefler found herself alone on the bridge, staring in wonderment at the apparently insensate astronavigator.
Calhoun, for his part, was wondering if he was ever going to get the hell out of his ready room and onto the bridge. Just to be different, he leaned on the armrest of his couch as Shelby said impatiently, "This is insane. We can't have a navigator who falls asleep at his station . . . if that's what he's doing . . ."
"He's not asleep," Soleta told Shelby with authority. "He's just thinking. He's very focused."
"Thinking?''Shelby couldn't believe it. She looked to Calhoun as if she needed verification for what she was hearing. "Captain, it's absurd . . . !"