Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic (34 page)

La Forge rose from the center seat on the bridge as Scotty emerged from the turbolift for the first shift of the next day. Scotty beckoned to him, not stopping as he limped straight through and into the ready room. La Forge followed, and for once had the impression of how it must feel to be a Betazoid. There was a heavy cloud around them that couldn’t be seen, but he could feel it radiating off Scotty in waves and weighing down on his shoulders.

Scotty didn’t sit, but just waited for the doors to close behind them. “Geordi, we need to talk.”

“Is this about your resignation?” Everyone knew the regulations, and what they meant.

“Aye. And I won’t be beatin’ around the bush, I’ll just tell you straight out. I want you to take command of
Challenger.”

“Me?” La Forge held up his hands “But . . . I’m not really in
Challenger
’s chain of command. I’m just on attachment, and I’m happy as chief engineer—”

“Aye, and I don’t blame you. I’ve never been happier than when I was chief engineer on the
Enterprise,
and by that I mean the original 1701, with no bloody alphabet afterwards. But things always change, and if they don’t—if you don’t—you stagnate. And before ye know it ye’re goin’ backwards.”

“The Corps of Engineers, and
Challenger,
hardly seem like going backwards.”

“Exactly. I moved on from one ship and made a bigger
difference. And I might feel I was happiest before all that, but I certainly canna say I’ve been unhappy since.” He held up a hand to forestall the protest La Forge was about to vocalize. “I already contacted Starfleet, and they agree with my proposal to promote you to captain of
Challenger.”

“Leaving aside my position on the
Enterprise,
I only just came aboard a couple of weeks ago.”

“That’s no bar, especially considering the situation. You’re the finest engineer I’ve met in this century.”

“You probably just haven’t met enough of them.”

“There’s a practical issue as well. Ordinarily the first officer would step up to the plate, but of course Mister Hunt is . . .”

“Yes.”

“You’re second officer, which automatically makes you next in line anyway. Kat’s not a member of Starfleet, so she’s out. Leah’s a civilian, so she can’t take the center seat. Nog’s too good at tactical to take away from there . . . You get the idea.”

“I guess so,” La Forge heard himself say.

“Good.” Scotty forced a cheery grin. “Besides, how else was I going to get the excuse to get out of that center seat and back down to engineering where I belong?” He pulled the pips from his own collar. Three of them he pressed into La Forge’s hand, and the other he attached to his collar. This close, La Forge could see the tears in his eyes. “I stand relieved,” Scotty said quietly, “Captain La Forge.”

There were a few formalities to take care of, such as the transfer of authorization codes, but within five minutes, Scotty had returned to engineering as a civilian specialist, like Leah, and Geordi had called for Reg Barclay to come to the ready room.

“Reg, I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure, Geordi . . . I mean, Captain. Yes, sir.”

“It’s all right, Reg, I can’t believe it myself.” Geordi fingered the fourth pip on his collar as if it was an irritation. “I just wanted to talk to you about the position of first officer.”

“I don’t want it, sir.”

That,
Geordi thought,
at least made what I have had to say a little easier.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, the job of first officer really needs a good organizer, and I know I’ve got some . . . Well, whatever I am, I know I’m not a good organizer. And so I know I’m not right for that job.”

“Reg, seeing that we’ve known each other for so long, you might like to know that I did think about offering you the post . . .”

“Before deciding against it.” It wasn’t a question, and Reg didn’t look upset or disappointed. “It’s all right, sir. It’s not really my field.”

“Right. But I do need to shuffle the senior staff, and I do now need an ops officer and second officer, and that place is yours if you want it.”

“That sounds wonderful—I mean, thank you, sir.”

Geordi clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, Reg.”

“Chief Carolan.” La Forge was in transporter room three, where she was supervising repairs. “I know that my coming aboard kind of cheated you out of your promotion to ops and second officer. I’d like you to accept a promotion to lieutenant commander, and the position of first officer.”

“Sir, Lieutenant Nog is surely ahead of me.”

“Captain’s prerogative. Besides, Nog is just too damned good at tactical, and he’ll make a great chief engineer someday.”

“In that case, sir, it would be my honor.”

By the next day, everything was signed and sealed. Starfleet’s approvals had been entered into the ship’s logs. La Forge had risen early, and knew that this was the last time he’d see these quarters. By the time he was off duty again, the few possessions he had brought to the
Challenger
would have been moved to the captain’s quarters, his quarters.

Geordi looked at himself in the mirror. Objectively there wasn’t a lot of difference from when he went on duty yesterday, but his eyes were drawn straight to the fourth pip on his collar, and the collar itself was now command red instead of engineering gold.

It seemed almost like a blemish, and he toyed with the idea of wondering whether there was a malfunction in the circuitry of his eyes. Maybe the pip had been magnetized somehow and was affecting them, making them focus on it to the exclusion of all else.

He knew better. He didn’t need Ogawa to check out his eyes, or a counselor to tell him what his psyche was doing. He needed to show his face on the bridge. Walking to the turbolift, and riding it up to the bridge, he almost felt that he was riding the tumbril toward the guillotine.

He hesitated for a moment, feeling all eyes on him as he crossed the bridge. After a moment, he sat in the center seat. Leah was in the seat on his left, and Carolan on his right. Reg and Qat’qa looked over their shoulders at him, expectantly.

“Engineering, are we back up to full power?”

“Everything’s cushti,”
Vol’s voice replied.

“He means the warp core is ready for anything ye ask of it, Captain La Forge,”
Scotty added.

Geordi nodded. “Qat’qa . . . Set course for Starbase 410.”

Some weeks ago

S
ubcommander Saldis emerged from the elevator on the lowest level of his building’s underground offices. On the surface, the building was a simple ten-story office block for the civilian workers and assistants to the Senate, but below ground level were another twenty floors of offices and workspaces belonging to the Tal Shiar.

Like all intelligence services across the galaxy, the Tal Shiar was a bureaucracy that generated an immense amount of virtual paperwork, and it maintained several regional offices across Romulus itself, as well as on other Romulan worlds.

There were no interrogation cells or training facilities in the building where Saldis was based, but there were the offices of analysts, policy-makers, communications experts, and so on. Saldis had his own office on the fifth floor, but had been summoned down to one of the secure communication rooms. Here, the equipment was kept at precisely the correct temperature and humidity levels.

The technician who had called him was seated at a tightly curved console which controlled the recording telemetry from stealth probes in a range of star systems. She turned as Saldis approached, and made as if to stand. “Subcommander—”

“It’s all right.” Saldis gestured for her to remain seated. “You said there was a priority downlink?”

“Communication intercept from Earth to Ferenginar.” She brought up a view of the encoded data. “It has an automated flag for the attention of a qualified case officer on the Short-Change project, and you were the first available.” She
met his eye, and Saldis could see that she was glad that he had been the one chosen.

“Let’s see what we have.” He took the data crystal she offered, and returned to the elevator.

Back in his own shielded and soundproofed office on floor five, Saldis skimmed through the data on the crystal. Most of it was boring chatter between various Ferengi scheming against each other, but Saldis had a good eye and ear for more important phrases, and picked up the first heartbeat before the computer red flagged it for him.

“Rasmussen” was the word. Saldis knew it wasn’t a Ferengi name, and it took only a few moments to recognize it as fitting human naming conventions. Humans and Ferengi together was worth keeping an eye on.

Although it was the first red flag, it wasn’t actually surprising, as the project itself was devoted to monitoring human-Ferengi interactions without Starfleet or FCA boundaries. This Rasmussen’s name had come up several times, in connection with a known Ferengi criminal named Bok. Saldis had spent several days researching both individuals, and was intrigued by the fact that the human, Rasmussen, was from two centuries in the past. That Bok had served time in prison was less interesting, but his connections to the Ferengi underworld were worth looking at. If nothing else, the ability to know who to contact in that circle could prove valuable when trying to place intelligence-gathering assets in Ferengi territories.

As Saldis kept reading, his blood began to tingle, his instincts telling him that something unusual was happening. Unusual and of possible benefit to the Romulan Star Empire.

After a couple of hours of searching, he found the thing he knew was there. He had no idea what it would
be until he found it, but he had known it was there all the same.

“Time travel,” quickly followed by “return Rasmussen home. Home to the twenty-second century.”

The praetor had always had an office in the Tal Shiar headquarters, which was more an operational control room than an office for paperwork or holding audiences. It was ideal for briefings with the Empire’s security experts. Saldis, being an analyst rather than a policy-maker, had only been in a handful of briefings there—enough to be comfortable, and not let the praetor’s presence make him nervous.

Gell Kamemor’s personal security, however, did make him nervous. She had thus far treated the Tal Shiar well, and the rest of the services fairly, but one never knew when an overzealous bodyguard would misinterpret an innocent motion as the beginning of an assassination attempt. To avoid any such errors, Saldis carried his padd and data crystal in his hand, rather than risk reaching into a pocket in view of the pair of bodyguards.

The heads of several Tal Shiar directorates were also present, along with the chairman, a general, and an admiral. Saldis smiled at this; it proved to him that he was correct in suspecting that this set of signals was important, and that he was right to bring it to high-level attention.

“Subcommander,” Kamemor said by way of beginning the briefing. Her hair shimmered as she turned to him. “What do you have for us?”

“Signal interceptions between Earth and Ferenginar, and subsequently between both planets and a number of vessels. The signals were all routed through various proxies
and relay stations, but our systems were easily able to follow the communications.” He held up the data crystal and padd. “Copies of all the relevant signals are here, and I have also compiled a thorough analysis and report that summarizes the relevant details.”

Kamemor nodded, reaching out a hand. Saldis fancied he could see, or at least feel, the bodyguards tense as he passed the padd over to her. He then slid the crystal into a slot on the workstation before him, bringing up holographic displays in front of the other attendees. “What you’re looking at,” Saldis announced, “is a series of encrypted signals between criminals in both the Federation and the Ferengi Alliance. Most of them are related to matters of little interest to the security of the Empire. However, these”—he touched a control, and some lines being displayed turned from blue to yellow—“are of much greater interest.”

“Why?” the chairman asked softly. “Because of a human making inroads with the Shadow Treasurers?”

“No. Because of a human scientist from another century attempting to enlist the Shadow Treasurers’ aid in returning him home. Home, that is, to his time of origin.”

“Time travel?”

“It has been achieved several times, in different ways,” the head of the Technical Directorate pointed out. “None really repeatable.”

“It goes without saying,” the admiral added, “that a Federation ability to conduct a four-dimensional campaign would be a clear and present danger to the security of the Empire. And a Shadow Treasury ability to do likewise would be—”

“Even more of a threat,” Praetor Kamemor said. “Their services would be for sale.” Heads nodded around the room, Saldis’s included. “And your recommendations?”
She looked around at the other faces, her gaze staying away from Saldis.

“You invite us to suggest the military option,” the general said, “but only so you can tell us why not. Who would we use it against? The Federation? Only one man matters, and it’s easier to simply remove a man in the dark than to go to war for him.”

“Likewise,” the admiral agreed, “the Ferengi underworld is by definition a hidden society, not one the fleet can engage.”

“Well spoken,” the praetor said. “And yet we cannot allow this threat to go unchecked.” A chorus of nods circled the room.

“We need more data,” the technical director mused aloud. “More about where and how these criminals think they can gain such a power. We need to study them, track their movements, and monitor their communications more closely.”

“Exactly the recommendation Saldis has made.” Kamemor brandished the padd he had given her. “Excellent work, Subcommander. I’m afraid I must punish this good deed by giving you a taxing and dull duty. We shall arrange to send out cloaked probes to follow the progress of this criminal matter. You shall remain as case officer on the program, and report daily on everything that is discovered, no matter how apparently innocuous.”