Star Trek: The Next Generation: Stargazer: Oblivion by Michael Jan Friedman

Author:Michael Jan Friedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2003-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“S O WHAT’S YOUR IDEA?” Guinan asked her companion.

Picard, who was sitting next to her in an obscure corner of the bazaar, had a serious fire in his eyes. But then, he seemed to believe that he had come up with the lead they needed.

“Demmix had a medication,” he said. “He always carried it with him. Something for stress.”

“You said he was the nervous type,” Guinan recalled.

Picard nodded. “To say the least. And in a Zartani, stress is a much more serious condition than in, for instance, a human. It can even be fatal.”

Guinan hadn’t been aware of that. But then, she hadn’t had occasion to speak with many Zartani.

“This medication,” said Picard, “had to be made fresh all the time. After a couple of days, it would have lost its potency. I left orders to have some waiting for Demmix on my ship, but—”

“But thanks to that bomb,” she noted, “he’s not on your ship. And if he’s feeling as stressed as we think he is—”

“He’ll need to obtain some medication,” said Picard, picking up the thread. “The question is—”

“Where would he find it?” Guinan smiled to herself. “I know just the place. It’s not far from here, either.”

“Then let’s go,” said her companion.

He got to his feet and extended his hand to her. As she took it, she imagined that she could feel a current of energy running through him—a current of optimism that she hadn’t felt in the longest time.

Like a drowning woman, she clung to Picard for as long as she could. Then she was on her feet and she no longer had an excuse to do so.

“It’s this way,” she said, barely able to catch her breath. And she started in the direction of the exit.

* * *

Phigus Simenon didn’t often have to discipline the crewmen who reported to him in engineering. By the time they arrived in his section, they usually knew how he felt about the importance of their individual contributions.

But every once in a while, there was an exception. In fact, he was looking at one.

What really annoyed the Gnalish was that the slacker in question wasn’t a newcomer to engineering. He had worked a rotation under Simenon before—twice, actually, if memory served. And both those times, he had acquitted himself well.

But he wasn’t doing that this time. For some reason, he was screwing up royally.

Waddling over to the workstation where Ensign Nikolas was sitting, Simenon peered over the man’s shoulder. He could see Nikolas’s monitor screen, where a brightly colored graphic was tracking the efficiency of the ship’s recently upgraded power-distribution system.

“Well,” said the chief engineer, “we now know ever so intimately how the EPS grid is working on Deck Six. But to get some idea of how it’s working on all the other decks, you might want to call up some additional data.” He tapped a key on the workstation’s board. “Like so.”

Nikolas kept his eyes on the screen. “Sorry, sir.”

“Unless, of course,” said Simenon, “there’s some reason you were focusing on Deck Six to the exclusion of all the others.

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