Star Trek - Relics. Part 6

Wearily, Scott dragged his hand across his face. "So am I," he said. "He was a good lad. A brave lad. They dinnae come any better."

After a beat, the taller man moved forward. "I'm Commander William Riker," he said. "First officer of the Starship Enterprise."

At the name, Scott felt something rise within him. A gladness that, just for a second or two, made him forget his sorrow.

"The Enterprise, eh? I should've known, lad. And I'll bet it was Kirk himself who hauled the old girl out of mothb.a.l.l.s to come looking for me."

He took Riker's hand and shook it vigorously, wondering just when Starfleet had started outfitting its officers in these tight suits. There was barely enough room in them to hide a wart.

"Captain Montgomery Scott. How long have I been missing?"

Riker looked at his companion. The man wearing the band just shrugged.

"Well," said the first officer, "this may come as something of a shock, sir, but it's been a good ..."

"Sir?"

The word had been spoken by someone with a deep voice. A very deep voice.

Scott, like the others, turned in response ... and found himself staring at a savage, bony-browed Klingon, the same kind of villain who'd tried to take his life time and again during his exploits under Jim Kirk.

A Klingon... not attacking them, not even spitting in rage at them. Just standing there as casual as you please.

And, impossible as it seemed, the b.l.o.o.d.y heathen was wearing the same kind of uniform as Commander Riker. Did that mean... could it possibly mean ... ?

But how could that be? It was one thing to sign a treaty with the barbarians ... but this! Scott felt himself getting light-headed.

Unlike the human, however, the Klingon seemed unperturbed. Turning to the first officer, he said "I have restored life support. The oxygen levels will return to normal shortly." Then, finally noticing the intensity with which Scott was scrutinizing him, Worf returned the stare.

"Captain Scott?"

He turned and saw Riker looking down at him. The man seemed ... sympathetic.

"Aye?" Scott got out.

"This is Lieutenant Worf," Riker told him.

"Lieutenant?" Scott muttered. He'd been hoping there was some other explanation.

Worf's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Yes. Lieutenant. "

Scott continued to stare at him ... until Riker moved to his side. Gently, the first officer said "Captain Scott... perhaps there are a few things we should talk about."

Scott turned to him, feeling very much up the stream without a paddle. "Aye, laddie. Perhaps more than a few."

It took a while for them to brief him on the truth. And a lot longer before he could even come close to accepting it.

My G.o.d, thought Scott. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five years...

Transporter Chief Miles...o...b..ien wasn't quite sure he'd heard right. "Would you repeat that, Commander?"

"Four to beam up," Riker confirmed.

O'Brien shrugged. Was this some kind of macabre joke? That transport vessel had crashed seventy-five years ago.

"Oh, well," he said out loud. "Mine is not to reason why."

Opening up the scope of his annular confinement beam, he focused it on the away team's communicator signals, confident that they would have placed their "mystery guest" in their midst. Then, satisfied that he had a good fix on them, he activated the emitter array.

A moment later, the group took shape on the platform in front of him. And sure enough, there were four of them-not just Riker, Worf and Geordi, but an older man with graying hair and a dark moustache. It wasn't until the three officers started descending from the platform that O'Brien realized the man's arm was in a makeshift sling.

But who was he? And what the devil was he doing on the Jenolen?

Ah, well, thought O'Brien. He supposed he'd find out about the mystery man soon enough. After all, news traveled quickly on the Enterprise.

When one beamed up to a starship like the Enterprise, it was customary to step down off the transporter platform as soon as one had materialized. There was simply no reason to linger there.

So when Geordi saw the familiar sight of Miles...o...b..ien behind the control console, he just naturally headed for the exit. It wasn't until he was halfway across the room that he realized they'd left their friend Captain Scott behind.

The man looked for all his advanced years like a kid in a new and unimagined candy shop, fascinated by everything he saw around him. After a moment or two, his gaze fastened itself on the overhead transporter elements.

Riker and Worf hadn't noticed that Scott wasn't with them. They were halfway to the door, and Riker was saying "We should probably get you to sickbay. Dr. Crusher will be able to ..."

Abruptly, he stopped and turned around. Scott was pointing up at something. He seemed to be counting. Riker's eyes met Geordi's; Geordi shrugged.

"Ye've changed the resonator array," said Scott in a barely audible voice. He wasn't addressing anyone, just thinking out loud. "Only three phase inverters."

Geordi saw the first officer turn to him. Riker was smiling. "Mr. La Forge, I think our guest is going to have a lot of engineering questions."

Geordi nodded in agreement. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll take care of him, sir."

Glancing at Scott one last time, Riker gestured for Worf to accompany him. Together, the two officers exited the transporter room. Meanwhile, Scott had moved off and was scrutinizing the bank of optical data chips set into the wall.

"Captain Scott... ?" Geordi ventured.

Suddenly, the older man's eyes-still focused on the machinery above him-took on an almost horrified cast. "Of all the ... what have ye done to the duotronic enhancers?"

"Those were replaced with isolinear chips about forty years ago," Geordi explained, as inoffensively as he could.

Scott looked at him. "Isolinear chips?"

The younger man nodded.

"Forty years ago, ye say?"

He nodded again. "That's right. It's a lot more efficient now."

Scott whistled. "Aye. I'm sure o' that."

Gesturing to the exit, Geordi said "Shall we?"

Still a little dazed, Scott replied "Sure. Why not?"

As they pa.s.sed the transporter console, O'Brien jerked a thumb in the newcomer's direction and raised his eyebrows in a question. But Geordi just smiled.

There was no explaining Scott's situation in a word or two. Maybe later, after the Jenolen's sole survivor had been tended to and made comfortable.

A moment later, they were in the corridor outside, headed in the direction of the nearest turbolift. Here too, Scott's eyes scanned everything in sight. He was consumed by curiosity-pretty much as Geordi would have been if he'd suddenly turned up on a twenty-fifth-century version of the Enterprise.

"You were saying," the younger man interjected, "that you were on your way to the Norpin Five colony when you had a warp engine failure."

"That's right," Scott confirmed. "We had an overload in one of the plasma transfer conduits. The captain brought us out of warp... we hit some gravimetric interference and then there it was, as big as life ..." Pointing to a raised portion of the bulkhead, he asked "Is that a conduit interface?"

Geordi nodded. "Yup. Uh, there it was... the Dyson Sphere, right?"

"Aye. It was amazing ... an actual Dyson Sphere. Can ye imagine the engineering skills needed to even design such a structure?"

But his attention wasn't on his recollections of the sphere. It was on a wall panel a couple of meters up ahead. Suddenly, he moved up to it and pulled the panel off its place in the bulkhead.

Geordi was a little concerned-uncertain that Scott knew what he was doing. But out of courtesy, he didn't make a move to stop him.

"Liquid state energy transfer," observed the older man. "No power lines at all. This looks like an optical data conduit."

"Uh, be careful there," warned Geordi. "That's no data conduit. It's an EPS power tap."

Gently wresting the panel from Scott, he replaced it on the wall. "Tell me more about the Dyson Sphere. What happened when you first approached it?"

Scott shrugged. Up ahead, the turbolift was coming into view.

"We began a standard survey of the surface, of course. We were just completing the initial orbital scan when our aft power coils suddenly exploded. We attempted to compensate with the ventral relays, but there wasn't enough time. The ship got caught in the sphere's gravity well... and down we went. We dropped like a b.l.o.o.d.y stone."

Geordi whistled softly. "It's a miracle the ship's superstructure survived a crash like that."

Scott's face clouded over. "It nearly didn't. Franklin and I were the only ones to survive the crash."

Geordi grunted, trying to imagine the man's feelings when he realized he was still alive-but that so many others had perished.

Swallowing, he asked another question. "What made you think of using the transporter's pattern buffer to stay alive?"

Scott shook his head. "Ye know what they say about necessity being the mother of invention. We didnae have enough supplies to wait for a rescue ... so I had to think of something."

"But locking it into a diagnostic cycle to keep the signal from degrading... and cross-connecting the phase inducers to provide a regenerative power source..." Geordi couldn't have concealed his admiration if he'd wanted to. "It's brilliant."

Scott sighed. "I'm afraid it was only fifty percent brilliant, lad. Ensign Franklin deserved better."

Noting the man's sadness, Geordi changed the subject-to something Scott could get excited about "I think you're going to like the twenty-fourth century, Captain Scott. We've made some pretty amazing advances in the last eighty years."

It worked. Scott seemed to perk up a bit as they entered the turbolift. Looking around the compartment, he nodded approvingly.

"Aye. From what I can see, ye've got a fine ship here, Mr. La Forge. A real beauty. In fact, I must admit to being a mite overwhelmed."

Geordi chuckled. "Wait until you see the holodeck!"

As the doors closed, Scott gave him a look of mingled surprise and curiosity. "The holodeck?" he wondered.

Chapter Four.

"SO WHAT DO YE THINK, La.s.s?" asked Scott.

Beverly Crusher, chief medical officer of the Starship Enterprise, looked down at her latest patient and shook her head.

"You're a treasure, Captain Scott. A real find. The only person ever to spend seventy-five years cycling around in a transporter and live to tell of it. Now hold still, will you?"

Sitting on a biobed in sickbay, Scott winced as the doctor examined his injured limb. "Easy for you to say," he told her. "Your arm hasn't been broken for the last seventy-five years. Ouch."

Chuckling at his quip, Crusher picked up her medical tricorder and ran it over Scott's arm-just as Geordi entered sickbay. She raised her head just long enough to smile at him and go back to her business.

"Hi, Doc," said the chief engineer. "Hi, Captain Scott. See? I told you I'd be right back."

"So ye did," agreed Scott.

The doctor consulted her readouts. "You've got a hairline fracture of the humerus," she said. Shutting off the device, she added "It'll ache for a few days, but after that it should be fine."

"Thank you," said Scott, smiling appreciatively. In his day, Crusher decided, he must have been something of a ladies' man. Even now, he had a disarming twinkle in his eye-one that might turn a woman's head if she wasn't careful.

As if to confirm her suspicions, Scott turned to Geordi and declared "Well, I'll say this for your Enterprise. The doctors are a fair sight prettier than what I was used to."

The remark was a little too obvious for Crusher's taste. Still and all, she couldn't help but smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she lied, depositing the tricorder into one of the pockets in her lab coat.

"I apologize if I was out of line," said Scott-suddenly a good deal more earnest. "But I cannae help it. A beautiful woman will loosen my tongue faster than a whole case of Saurian brandy."

That was no line, the doctor realized. That was a confession.

Before she could reply, however, the sickbay doors opened to admit another visitor. This time, it was the man in charge of the Enterprise.

"Captain Scott," said Geordi, as dutiful as ever, "this is Captain Picard."

Picard crossed the room and extended his hand to the newcomer, smiling broadly. "Jean-Luc Picard, Captain Scott. Welcome aboard."

Scott clasped the captain's hand as warmly as it was offered. "Thank ye, sir. Of all the ships that could have found me, I'm glad it was yers. But-if ye dinnae mind-call me Scotty."

Picard nodded. "Very well. How are you feeling... Scotty?"