Star Trek: The Next Generation: Fortune's Light by Michael Jan Friedman

Author:Michael Jan Friedman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671708368
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1991-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

From his vantage point in the first row, next to the Sunset dugout, Geordi looked around at the frozen ball park—the frozen fans, the frozen players, the frozen umpires and hot dog vendors and video cameramen. Even the frozen clouds in the sky.

“Data,” he said, “this is great. I mean, this is some program.”

“I cannot take credit for it,” the android responded. “As I indicated earlier, it was conceived by Commander Riker before he went planetside.”

Geordi leaned over the restraining wall and trained his gaze on the Sunset pitcher. “That’s the fellow who gave you trouble, eh?”

Data nodded. “That is indeed the fellow. I propose to have him repeat the pitch he threw to me—the one I popped up.”

“Popped up?”

“Propelled the ball in a more vertical than horizontal trajectory,” interpreted the android. It was rare for him to have to explain jargon to Geordi; the significance of the moment did not escape him. “It is not the desired result of a swing.”

The chief engineer of the Enterprise nodded. “Gotcha. Okay, let’s take our positions and get a gander at this—what did you call it?”

“Curveball,” said Data. “Hook. Uncle Charlie. Number Two . . .”

Geordi held up his hands to signify surrender. “All right already. Whatever it’s called, let’s see it.”

The android entered the batter’s box, spread his feet, and held his bat aloft. “Ready?” he called to Geordi.

“Ready,” came the answer.

“Computer—resume program.”

All at once, everything came back to life. The crowd yelled and cheered, the players in the field went into their crouches, and the clouds started crawling across the blue heavens.

As before, the Sunset pitcher set himself, rocked back, and fired the ball. Data just stood there. After all, he’d already had his chance to hit this pitch. The replay was just for purposes of demonstration.

Once again, the ball seemed to come in slower than it should have. And now that he wasn’t distracted by the motion of his swing, Data noticed something else: just before it reached home plate, the ball appeared to dip—rather precipitously.

“Ball two,” ruled the umpire.

“Stop program,” commanded the android.

The program stopped. A flock of geese, on a diagonal path high above the diamond, stuck to the sky.

Data turned to Geordi. “Was that of any help?”

His friend still seemed to be eyeing the pitch, though the ball was now frozen in the catcher’s glove. After a moment or two Geordi climbed over the wall and trotted out onto the field.

“I want to see it again,” he said, “from closer up. Also the pitch that preceded it—the one you said was faster.”

Data issued the required instructions, and the computer complied. As Geordi looked on, the holodeck reenacted both of the pitches that Data had seen in his unproductive at-bat.

Geordi harrumphed, stroking his chin. “I think we’ve got two issues here,” he announced. “The first one has more to do with you than with the ball.”

“Me?” said the android.

“Yup. With all that whirling and twirling, you expect that pitcher to be throwing the ball as hard as he can.

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