Troubleshooting, page 8
“Now you’re just being wicked,” Nancy said with a smirk.
“He’s the one complaining about not being busy enough. He can make sure we didn’t miss anything, letting him feel like he’s done his job of keeping an eye on me,” Sonya said.
“He really can be a prig, can’t he?”
“Yeah, but a really smart and useful prig,” Sonya admitted. “Just don’t go repeating that.”
Nancy nodded in agreement and then pocketed her tricorder and climbed down to join her colleague on the deck. As she reached Sonya, the doors parted and Fesoan and Corsi, backed by Lauoc and Orna, arrived, phasers out and ready. Fesoan scanned the chamber quickly, found the women, and headed over. He seemed alert and ready to spring into action. She hated to disappoint him.
“No one’s here, but we have found something,” Sonya began. With a gesture, she beckoned the team to follow her. Quickly, she showed them the cylinders and explained what she thought they would do.
“Aren’t you going to take them down?” Fesoan asked.
“No,” Sonya said, receiving surprised looks from the security officers. “I have an idea and want your help.”
Fesoan’s antennae twitched a bit and he looked at her intently.
The door to the Consumables Storage master control room slid open and Sarjenka could see a figure enter. She didn’t like hiding, didn’t like being in the dark, not after those horrible experiences in her youth. Still, she remained still and could barely see the figure, a man, enter.
His presence activated the lighting and it went from near dark to daylight intensity as he settled in at the main chair and flipped on the diagnostics. His right hand was fidgeting with something, but she couldn’t see what it was, just the movement. The screens flashed from tank to tank until all eight showed they were in nominal condition. He ran his left hand through his hair and sat back, clearly perplexed.
It was at that moment that Kesh-Mara and Fesoan stepped from around a corner and confronted Ajit Ross at the controls. Ross, she saw, was maybe thirty years old and had a full head of jet-black hair and long sideburns. He was dressed in his duty uniform even though she knew he was off shift. The body was whippet lean, making him look taller than he probably was. There was a look of surprise, then defeat, in his eyes and his jaw slackened a bit but he said nothing.
“Why?” was all Kesh-Mara managed to say. She suspected he was controlling rage and frustration, but again, his features were hard to read.
Ross stood quietly.
“What was it you said caused this?” Kesh-Mara asked Sarjenka. She looked over her shoulder at Gold and Lense, who had been around the same corner as the station staff. Lense nodded, a look of pride in her eye, a look that confused Sarjenka.
“It’s called Munchausen syndrome, somewhat unique among humans,” she began. “The term is named after a figure from Earth’s past, someone who told larger-than-life stories, none of which were true. The disorder causes people to exaggerate behavioral problems or even fabricate them to call attention to themselves.
“I believe, in this case, Lieutenant Ross caused the station problems so he would receive attention by being the one to correct them. His service record certainly bears that out given the number of commendations received since the problems began. Prior to that, the record was fairly ordinary.”
“Ordinary,” Ross repeated and all eyes turned to him.
They waited and the silence seemed to goad him into continuing.
“Ordinary,” he repeated once more and then started talking, his voice a pleasant baritone filled with a growing amount of pain. “Imagine growing up a Ross, nephew to William Ross, hero of the Dominion War! Imagine the expectations heaped on the beloved nephew, the one who was like a son to Uncle Bill.
“I liked to tinker with things so I was pushed to join Starfleet, of course, and be one of the engineers to keep Uncle Bill’s fleet intact. My parents thought I’d be the next Daystrom; my uncle expected me to be the next Montgomery Scott. But you know what? I liked to tinker with things; I was pretty good, but not exceptional. I couldn’t fabricate something to rival a cold start to the warp engines. I was good, but I was ordinary and not a star. Not like Uncle Bill, who directed the fleet and kept us safe from the Dominion. I served my time, I fixed ships, and I did what I could. But any time I had leave and returned home, I saw the look in their eyes. They were proud of me but they expected a returning hero. And where was Uncle Bill? Out saving us! He never was in contact, as if I wasn’t special enough anymore for his attention.”
Spent, he paused and seemed to shut down. Lense and Sarjenka both took a step forward and a gesture from Fesoan stopped them. Everyone waited to see if there would be more.
When there wasn’t, he spoke next.
“Why the station? Why now?”
Ross looked at him and then at the other expectant faces around the room. Sarjenka saw the confusion in his eyes when he couldn’t register Gold or Lense or even her. He focused, instead, on Fesoan, not willing to look his commanding officer in the eye.
“I volunteered for this post because it was far from Earth and the offices of the great admiral. I could be my own man, and be recognized for the skills I do possess. I have great engineering skills!”
“You do, Lieutenant,” Kesh-Mara said sadly. “You do.”
“Will you make sure my family knows that?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve gotten so much better at fixing things these last few months, haven’t I?”
“The work has been exemplary,” the commander said.
He nodded toward Fesoan, who took Ross into custody. The rest stood awkwardly silent, uncertain of what to say to one another.
Finally, Gomez broke the moment by saying, “He is a good engineer. Took a lot of talent to stay hidden for so long. In fact, it took a doctor to find him, not an engineer.” With that, all eyes turned to Sarjenka, who didn’t move.
Gold asked, “Then what happened with the atmospheric units?”
“That, Captain, shows his limits as an engineer,” Conlon explained. “He got in over his head, complicated by the contractors, and it’s a good thing we were close enough to save the station.”
“Well, you saved the station,” Lense agreed. “Now we have to save the man.”
Nancy threw herself on the bunk, ready for a long nap. Things were back to normal and that was fine by her. Sure, she’d have liked some more time to poke around the station but now that the problem had been resolved, all she felt was tired.
She had yet to drift off when the doors opened and her roommate walked in. Shucking off her duty jacket, Sarjenka let it fall haphazardly on the chair and then looked in the mirror.
“I look terrible,” she muttered.
“We’re all tired, Sarj,” Nancy said sleepily.
“Are the missions always like this?”
Sarjenka sat at the edge of her bunk, looking across the narrow space to where Nancy rose off her pillow. The engineer knew sleep wasn’t coming until she once more reassured the Dreman. Maybe, she thought, if she could get her acclimated, then she could work on her housekeeping skills.
“Yup, the missions are always like this,” Nancy said. “Filled with the unexpected. Sometimes they go as planned but even so, someone comes up with something the rest of us didn’t expect. The S.C.E. team usually has to be nimble while the rest of us stay aboard and stay out of the way.”
“You don’t get off the ship much, then,” Sarjenka asked.
“No, not really. That’s usually fine, but I’ll tell you, that station is sweet. I’d love time to poke around without worrying about something blowing up.”
Sarjenka nodded in agreement.
“Look, Sarj, this is a process. It’s not something they really teach in the Academy, but everyone settles in to their ship’s routine. Some take to it immediately, like Poynter did when she got here. Others, like you I guess, need more time. There’re good people out there who want you to succeed.”
“Even Dr. Lense?”
“Okay, she has issues, but she’s always had issues. I’m certain she doesn’t want you to entirely fail. Just not outperform her is my guess. She still needs to feel valued, kinda like Ross.”
“Well, she’s a more gifted doctor than he was an engineer,” Sarjenka noted.
“True. Look, next time you’re free, go sit in the mess. Chat some people up. Bart Faulwell is terrific at making people feel welcome. He did it for Tev, and no one liked him at first.”
“Do they like him better now?”
“Some. He’s also learned how to get along, which helps. If he can do it, you can.”
Sarjenka sat there, lost in thought as Nancy finally drifted off to a much needed rest.
A few hours later, Sarjenka entered sickbay and found Lense seated at her desk, one hand absently rubbing her abdomen. She felt uncomfortable asking about such a private matter so avoided bringing it up. Instead, she poked her head into the examining room and saw no one around.
“Sarjenka,” Lense said, and to the Dreman, her voice sounded tentative, not something she was used to.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“The work you did on the station…” She trailed off, uncertain of the words to come and Sarjenka knew to remain silent and wait her out. She didn’t dare try and figure out if she was going to be praised for figuring things out or condemned for figuring things out ahead of Lense.
“The work you did…it was good work. You saw things about the pattern of behavior before the rest of us. You showed a better understanding of the human psyche than I did.”
“Even Tegor, their chief engineer, didn’t see anything off about his own subordinate,” she put in to be helpful.
“Because he’s trained to see parts, not people, damn it!” The explosive words caught Sarjenka by surprise but she decided to hold her ground, not flinch under the forthcoming onslaught. “I’m trained to see people and I missed it. How can I be effective at my job when I miss the obvious?”
“But it wasn’t so obvious—” Sarjenka began but was cut off.
“Not to Tegor or Kesh-Mara, but it should have been to me. How can Captain Gold look to me as his CMO when I miss what was clearly a medical problem? This case proved the wisdom of bringing you aboard and makes me seem an ineffective bundle of hormones.”
Sarjenka wanted to offer her calming words, but the look in Lense’s eyes warned her off. She suspected the very hormones she mentioned were bringing on the cry of anguish so concluded it was best to let the words blow by her. After waiting another tense moment or two, Lense was clearly done talking and was brooding. The da Vinci’s newest crewmember decided it was time to get to the lab and return to her pet research project.
But, as she walked out of the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that while she may get accepted by the crew if Conlon was right, she may never be accepted by her immediate superior.
“We’re about done here, sir,” Gomez told Gold when he entered the bridge.
“Are we now?”
“Station personnel have finished combing the replicator systems and no more sabotage has been detected. Ross is in custody and undergoing an extensive psychoanalytic evaluation. There’s nothing left to keep us.”
Gold nodded, took his command chair, and looked around the bridge. Everyone was where they should be and things felt as they should be. To him, this was good. He knew his crew, and he knew that while things weren’t perfect, they were not remotely close to getting out of hand as he just witnessed on the massive station.
“Incoming hail from Commander Kesh-Mara,” Shabalala said, interrupting his rumination. And it was getting to be a good one, too, he mused.
“On screen.”
Kesh-Mara, flanked by Fesoan and Tegor, was in the command station, their postures fairly relaxed. Good, Gold concluded, this wasn’t a new problem.
“I wanted to personally clear the da Vinci for undocking,” the commander said. “But I was hoping to offer your crew a day’s shore leave on the station. While many of your team crawled around the inner workings, none of you got to see what else we are capable of.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Gold said. “We will be expected to our next assignment shortly so I don’t know if that’s possible.” He was about to say more when he caught a gesture from Corsi, who had entered the bridge during the exchange. Curious, he asked the station commander to wait a moment and had the communication go to mute.
“What’s up, Corsi?”
“Sir, I’m not a doctor, but I do know that a day’s rest would be useful for one and all. I know my own team could use the break and I’d rather do it here and now so they’re in better shape for our next assignment.”
Gold mused for a moment and then cocked a grin and looked back at the security chief. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Lauoc and his old friend, does it?”
Corsi returned the grin but shook her head. “Don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Poppycock,” Gold said and then looked at Gomez and added, “That’s a technical term.”
Wong turned around to the captain and said, “Sir, I’ve checked. Were we delayed here for another twenty-four hours, we could still be at our next assignment if we travel at warp eight point two.”
“Impressive,” Gold said. “Let’s go live a little. Commander Kesh-Mara, it seems we do have time for a one-day stay, so we’ll happily take you up on your offer. Permission to begin sending my crew over in shifts?”
“Granted with my gratitude,” Kesh-Mara said as he half-bowed toward the screen.
As the image faded, the captain turned to Gomez and Corsi and said, “Make it work, have fun, and make sure you don’t leave the captain out of the rotation.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Gomez said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s nice to revisit old friends and that’s pretty much how I view the da Vinci crew. This may be my third time steering the ship, but I’ve been an avid reader and fan of the line, marveling at the situations my fellow scribes have concocted. I appreciate Keith R.A. DeCandido inviting me back on board.
A tip of the hat to Kevin Dilmore and Dayton Ward, the fine duo that kicked off the relaunch and helped give us a new status quo. The handoff proved smooth as we compared notes and eased our characters along.
Feedback is essential to becoming a better writer. My editor and my peers take me far, but I also want to thank the fans, especially those who post at PsiPhi.org and the TrekBBS.com, for their passion and opinions.
This was largely written under some distracting circumstances in early 2006 and I want to thank my incredibly patient wife, Deb, and my supportive, understanding son, Robbie, for helping me through this.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROBERT GREENBERGER has spent much of his adult life writing or editing material featuring the Star Trek universe. This includes an eight-year stint editing the Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation comic books for DC Comics, highlighted by the award-winning Debt of Honor graphic novel. He has been author or co-author on numerous Star Trek books since 1990. His most recent work is “The Landing Party,” a story that appears in Star Trek: Constellations, the fortieth anniversary anthology. Bob’s other writing includes more than a dozen nonfiction books for young adults and chronicling the adventures of Matt Daemon, Seeker of Obscure Supernaturals, in Weekly World News (where Greenberger currently serves as production manager) among other works. To learn more, check out his blog at www.bobgreenberger.com. A lifelong Mets fan, Bob makes his home in Connecticut with his wife, Deb.
ROBERT GREENBERGER, Troubleshooting
