Titan, Book One Page 4

  “Whew!” Bralik said, a sour look on her face. Then again, maybe that was an entirely normal expression for a Ferengi.

  “Doctor Bralik,” Pazlar said. “May I ask what you’re doing in my quarters?”

  Bralik pivoted to look down at Pazlar, her eyes wide and her sharp, uneven teeth bared. “Oh. Sorry. Chief Engineer Ledrah invited me to tag along.”

  Pazlar grabbed a handhold and pushed herself smoothly upward, trying to keep the look of puzzlement off of her face. “Why exactly did Ledrah invite a geologist to inspect the retrofit of my quarters?”

  Scratching one of her ears—Pazlar wasn’t certain, but it seemed to her that male Ferengi had far larger ears than did the females—Bralik seemed nonplussed by the question. “Probably because I used to work at the micro-g Karcinko mining facility back in the Ferengi Alliance. I got used to these kinds of long, vertical spaces there. Most of the ones down the mines had a lot more grak floating about, though.”

  “You were a miner there?” Grasping another handhold, Pazlar oriented herself alongside Bralik. The diminutive Ferengi woman did indeed seem to handle herself very well in low g, a knack that even some seasoned Starfleet veterans never acquired. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d always thought that those sorts of jobs were off-limits for Ferengi women.”

  Bralik snorted. “A lot has changed during the last few years, thanks to Zek and Rom. On the other hand, some people are still stuck in the past. Take the mining trade, for instance. Once I helped the senior engineer work out the flaws in his construction plans for the Karcinko facility, he dumped me for a more bountifully figured chava. My reputation was already ruined, so I decided to stay on at the facility rather than slink back home.”

  “So you went there as a mining engineer?”

  Bralik chortled again. “No. I went there as the senior engineer’s property. Wasn’t even allowed to wear clothes. But I picked up my interest in geology there, and started studying it on the sly.” She paused for a breath. “I’m older than I look, you know.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Pazlar said, confused.

  “I mean, I’m not some genius child prodigy geologist. I’ve paid my dues. After that horrible accidental cave-in that killed the senior engineer and his chava, I went to other mining facilities to study, and eventually went out-system. This is all before all of Zek’s reforms, you understand. Ferengi females almost never went off on their own back then.”

  “Ah,” Pazlar said, nodding. Why is she telling me all this? She pointed up to the third level of her narrow, silo-shaped quarters. “Is Nidani up there?”

  “Yeah,” Bralik said, pushing herself upward. “Come on. I think she’s up there patching up a Jefferies tube that runs behind the bulkhead right past your sleepsack.”

  Pazlar glided up after her. She wasn’t surprised there was still work to be done. Her living space was, as far as she knew, the only vertically oriented crew quarters ever built into a Federation starship. She supposed that “built” was probably the wrong term; Ledrah and her staff had actually retrofitted a narrow space spanning three decks in order to fashion living quarters suitable for an Elaysian.

  “Hey, Ledrah!” Bralik bleated loudly, her voice echoing up and down the shaft. Pazlar made a mental note to apply some sound-dampening fabric or foam to the walls.

  A familiar face emerged from an open access hatch. Ledrah looked harried, gripping a tool of some sort between her teeth. Her shock of bluish hair was matted with sweat; it would have been free-floating except that the Tiburon had it clipped to one of her large, seashell ears.

  Ledrah mumbled something, releasing the tool from her mouth as she did so. It drifted forward and down in a lazy ellipse, but before the clearly micro-g-unaccustomed engineer could snatch it, Pazlar had already done so.

  “Thanks,” Ledrah said. “Sorry it’s still such a mess in here. I’d hoped we’d be farther along on the reconstruction by now.” She lowered her voice slightly, gesturing with one hand up to the fourth—and highest—level. “I’m starting to think having Paolo and Koasa on the job might be more trouble than it’s worth. If I’m not having to redo something they’ve done wrong, they’re arguing about which way to do it right the first time.”

  “But they’re handsome,” Pazlar said, smiling. “And they’re twins.”

  Ledrah carefully extricated herself from the Jefferies tube hatch, laughing. “You’re right. And they aren’t anywhere as bad as I make them out to be.” She cautiously kept one hand on the rail, to steady herself in the micro-g environment.

  “My understanding among your type is that hostility often masks attraction,” Bralik said, her toothy smile showing. “Better be careful. They’re junior officers.”

  With a mock scowl, Ledrah waggled a mottled, salmon-colored finger at the Ferengi. “You just watch yourself there. I know some of your secrets, too!”

  As Bralik put her hands up, as if to protest her innocence, Melora spoke up. “I really appreciate all the work you’re putting into the place, Commander.”

  “Well, it is a challenge, but it’s about time we tried something new,” Ledrah said. She looked around guiltily and dropped her voice. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Ra-Havreii’s basic design, mind you. It’s just nice to see a few of my own ideas integrated into this ship, too.”

  “I’ve never met a chief engineer yet who didn’t want to make the ship she’s serving on her own,” Pazlar said.

  Engineers. She thought for a moment of Reginald Barclay, the shy man with whom she had shared a brief romance while serving aboard the Enterprise. She understood that in the time since then, he had been an active part of Project Pathfinder, which was instrumental in bringing the lost starship U.S.S. Voyager back to Earth. She hadn’t spoken to Reg in years, and wasn’t certain even now whether she was avoiding him, or vice versa. Or if their protracted mutual silence was mere happenstance.

  Perhaps once she was fully settled aboard Titan, with a mission or two under her belt, she would make the time to contact him.

  “Hellooooo,” a pair of heavily accented voices called from above them, in unison. Ensigns Paolo and Koasa Rossini came swimming down toward them, pulling along a cart of tools between them.

  “Ooooh, your favorite junior officers are here,” Bralik said, not quite quietly enough.

  Ledrah flushed a bright pink, particularly along the vertical ridge of tiny horns that bisected her forehead, then lobbed the small instrument in her hand straight at Bralik.

  Pazlar stifled a laugh as the object bonked the Ferengi woman directly between the twin lobes of her cranium, then ricocheted off into the room’s lower levels.

  I think I’m going to like this crew, she thought. For once, I’m not the only outsider who has to adapt. We’re all going to have to adapt to each other.

  Nurse Alyssa Ogawa watched the rhythmic, repetitive motions of Xin Ra-Havreii’s long, wispy white mustachios. She found the effect almost hypnotic.

  He’s trembling, she realized with no small amount of surprise. Why is he so nervous?

  “How long did you say this had been bothering you, Commander?” Ogawa asked.

  Idly playing with the pips on the collar of his standard Starfleet duty uniform, Dr. Ra-Havreii swayed unsteadily toward one of the biobeds and reclined heavily on it. He assayed a laugh, but its apparent breeziness was belied by a subtle deepening of his slightly rusty complexion. “It comes and goes. I can usually cope with it, but it’s flared up since I came aboard. One of my stomachs seems to have remained behind at the Utopia ground station.”

  Ogawa reflected on how ironic it was that a designer of starships had such wobbly space legs.

  Offering him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she said, “Then let’s see what we can do about that. Short of sending a search party down to look for that missing stomach, that is.”

  He returned a pale reflection of Ogawa’s smile as she walked to an interface console, where she checked the pharmacological database
for broad-spectrum antinausea agents that were compatible with Efrosian physiology. Selecting one, she retrieved the proper vial and a hypospray from one of sickbay’s equipment shelves and returned to her patient.

  She touched it to the commander’s neck and released the drug into his system.

  “Feeling better?” she asked after a moment.

  He nodded tentatively, his long, shimmering white hair undulating with the motion like some undersea reef-creature as he sat up slowly on the biobed. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m most grateful.”

  “Happy to help. You still need to see one of the doctors, though,” she cautioned. “I recommend doing it as soon as possible.”

  Ra-Havreii nodded again, hand to abdomen as he breathed.

  “I take it you don’t make it out of the lab very often,” Ogawa said.

  Ra-Havreii seemed to hesitate before answering. “Not for several years. Nearly four decades of theoretical engineering for the Skunkworks seldom required that I leave Mars.”

  “The Skunkworks?” Ogawa said, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice as she repeated the odd word.

  “A nickname among us engineers for Utopia Planitia. Apparently it’s an homage to an organization with a similar function from Earth’s history.” Ra-Havreii’s elaborate eyebrows drew together. “I’m surprised you’re unfamiliar with the term.”

  Ogawa smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any Terran who knows every obscure detail of our history. Surely not every Efrosian knows his own that well.”

  That seemed to take the commander aback. “Forgive me, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I have a bad habit of imposing my own cultural norms on my associates. I meant no offense.”

  “None taken,” Ogawa assured him. “But does that mean Efrosians generally do having a working knowledge of those kinds of details?”

  “It’s culturally mandated,” Ra-Havreii revealed. “You may be aware that my world is in the final stages of a prolonged ice age. My people evolved in the forests of the temperate band straddling Efros Delta’s equator. Because of the difficult conditions there, our road to technological advancement was longer than it was for many other humanoid civilizations. As a result, we developed a highly structured and fiercely observed oral tradition to pass information from one generation to the next. Such practices are still observed, even though there is no longer a practical need for it.”

  Ogawa was intrigued. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Doctor, it sounds like a very problematic and imprecise way to convey and preserve information.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Ra-Havreii said with a soft laugh. “Abstract knowledge, after all, may be stored and communicated in any number of ways. Meaning is a different matter altogether. Our oral tradition has allowed us to preserve not only very ancient knowledge, but, where relevant, its emotional context. We’ve found that to be a powerful advantage when it comes to learning and, more importantly, to understanding.

  “You must understand also that the idea of a written language had not yet occurred to my kind when all this was taking hold. Our oral tradition evolved out of necessity, not by choice. To this day, our method of data storage is aural, not optical. Our libraries have more in common with symphonic archives than they do with, say, this ship’s databases. Rather than utilizing visual symbolism, we’ve created tonal vocabularies for history, science, philosophy, even mathematics. Similarly, our spoken language includes a range of vocalizations, imperceptible to most other species, that may contain many layers of subtext.”

  “Music,” Ogawa realized. “Your entire culture is music-based. I’ve heard of such things, but the species that evolve along those lines are always aquatic. Never those that evolve on land. That’s fascinating.”

  Ra-Havreii seemed delighted by her amazement. “We’ve come to understand that we’re unusual in this regard,” he admitted, “but it has served my kind well.”

  Ogawa wanted to ask more—she craved to, in fact—but at that moment the main sickbay door hissed open, drawing her attention toward the sound. She smiled as Commander Troi entered.

  Then Ogawa’s eyes widened as she focused on the large, sharp-toothed reptiloid who accompanied Titan’s diplomatic officer.

  She quickly recovered herself. “Dr. Ree, I presume?” Ogawa said, smiling broadly.

  Ree righted his head, blinked his opaque inner set of eyelids, then the transparent outer ones. His wide mouth pulled back in an approximation of either a grin, or a look of predatory hunger. “Unless you have another Pahkwathahn on your medical staff, that must be me.” His clawed feet barely clicked against the floor as he stepped forward and extended one arm toward Ogawa. “You must be my indispensable chief nurse, Lieutenant Ogawa.”

  She grasped his hand and shook it, struck at once by the smoothness of his scaly skin and the gentleness of his touch. “At your service, Doctor. A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our working together.”

  “As do I, Nurse.” Ree’s head suddenly swerved to face Ra-Havreii, who flinched slightly at the motion. “And who have we here?”

  “Doctor Shenti Yisec Eres Ree,” Troi said, “may I present Doctor Xin Ra-Havreii of Utopia Planitia.”

  “Ah, one of Starfleet’s shipwrights,” Ree said, then peered at Ra-Havreii more closely. “You seem a bit waxen for one of your species, Commander. What seems to be the matter?”

  “Nothing serious,” Ra-Havreii said. “Just an upset stomach.”

  “Chronic?”

  The engineer looked surprised. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Let me guess: replicated levithi nuts.”

  Ra-Havreii shrugged, embarrassed. “I’ve been waiting on a shipment of the real thing from Efros, but I don’t expect it to arrive before Titan leaves the Sol System.”

  “You’ll be with us awhile, then?”

  Ra-Havreii glanced briefly at Troi, who nodded ever so slightly. “That was my intention, at least until Titan stops over at Starbase 185.”

  “A ten-day voyage, assuming there are no complications, not to commence for another two weeks,” Ree said. “That’s an unacceptable amount of time to go without health-sustaining nutrients that are obtainable only from foodstuffs native to your homeworld, Commander.”

  “I’ve managed through similar periods in the past,” Ra-Havreii said. “The most difficult part is the nausea, but Nurse Ogawa has been very helpful in that regard.”

  Ogawa took that as her cue to tell Ree, “I’ve administered two cc’s of peratheline, Doctor.”

  “An efficacious choice,” Ree said. “But while peratheline will alleviate the symptoms, it will not address the underlying problem.” Ree picked up a nearby padd and deftly tapped it with the tips of his blunted claws.

  “I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but really, I can tough it out,” Ra-Havreii said. “Besides, the replicated nuts—”

  “Are unfit for Efrosian consumption,” Ree finished. “Not that the dieticians who program Starfleet replicators don’t try hard, but there are certain complex organic molecules the technology still has trouble with, the unique essential oils in levithi nuts being a prime example.” Ree finished tapping the padd and handed the device to Ra-Havreii. “This should take care of the problem.”

  The commander looked at the padd. “I don’t understand. Who is Chief Moreno?”

  “One of the engineers aboard the Seyetik. We got to know each other quite well during the voyage from Deep Space 7. Quite an amiable fellow, and if I may say, an absolute fiend for Efrosian levithi nuts. He boasted having four containers in one of the ship’s cargo bays. Since the Seyetik has put in to Utopia for upgrades that should extend well beyond Titan’s departure, I expect Chief Moreno may be amenable to cutting a deal whereby he takes possession of your expected shipment in exchange for a good portion of his present supply.”

  Impressed, Ogawa exchanged a look with Troi, who winked at her. Ra-Havreii seemed speechless. “Doctor Ree…I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite w
elcome, Commander. Now, off you go.”

  Ra-Havreii thanked Ogawa one more time, then left sickbay with Troi to pursue whatever was next on each of their no doubt busy itineraries, leaving the main sickbay area empty except for Ogawa and her newly arrived superior officer.

  “Now then, Nurse, do you happen to know whether my medical supplies have been brought aboard?” Ree asked in his raspy, sibilant voice.

  Ogawa nodded. “The quartermaster received your materials late yesterday. I’ve already arranged to have most of them transferred to sickbay, and they should be here by day’s end. As you requested, a portion of the arboretum has been set aside for your pharmacological plants, but I strongly recommend you supervise any retrofitting yourself.”

  “You anticipate problems?”

  Ogawa hesitated. “I took the liberty of reviewing the list of plants and the environmental modifications you specified,” she admitted, “and let’s just say I suspect the complexity of your proposed greenhouse and the precision with which it’ll need to be balanced will present the engineers with a few new and potentially unwelcome challenges.”

  Ree’s laugh sounded like an overturned rain stick. “Nurse Ogawa, that has to be the most gently worded critique of my complete unreasonableness that I’ve ever heard. I rather think I’m going to like it here.”

  Ogawa beamed. “Please, Doctor, call me Alyssa.”

  “Very well, Alyssa,” he said, pronouncing the name with a lengthy hiss. “And you may call me Ree. Now, while I await the arrival of my personal effects, I should like to begin scheduling the crew physicals to ensure that the reports will be complete and filed before we launch. I understand we have eighteen civilians on board, is that correct?”

  “Soon to be nineteen,” Ogawa said, thinking of Ensign Bolaji, a shuttle pilot now in the middle of her second trimester of pregnancy. “But yes, that’s correct.”