After so many delays in actually
beginning The
For those of you familiar with
classical mythology, I'd be willing to bet you have an inkling of what's going
to occur. Fear not… I'll endeavor to add a few curves and keep you all
entertained.
"Galatea
Unveiled"
By
Joseph Manno
USS
Liberty was lost, and wounded.
A
mere moment ago, the great lady had been safely ensconced in a dry-dock berth,
where her only peril had been whether the detailers would remove layers of
ablative coating in a fervent attempt at polishing the hull to a perfect
luster.
Saying
the situation had changed would be to err slightly on the side of
conservatism—well, more than slightly. Now, far from home and reeling from the
blow she'd received, her crew struggled to cope.
Little
did all but one of them know that
***
Jane's
comm badge sounded again.
"Dr.
McDonald, report to sickbay. Emergency! Please respond!"
This
was the sixth time the little device had made that request in the last ten minutes…
and, no doubt, Jane would have complied, or at least answered…
…if
she'd been the one wearing it.
***
It's
a damned miracle, thought Leonard McCoy.
144
years old, bones like kindling… yet I'm thrown across the room and I haven't
got a bruise or scratch.
He
carefully disentangled himself from the Romulan woman, struggled to his
feet—the effort left him gasping—and noted with a curse that she hadn't fared
nearly as well.
Neither,
it seemed, had anyone else in sickbay, with the exception of…
"You!
Boy! Get over heah!"
The
young officer was disoriented from his own fall, but put it aside fairly well.
He struggled to the old surgeon's side; the effort became easier as artificial
gravity and inertial dampeners regained full function.
"You
a medic?"
"No,
sir!" he answered, clearly horrified at the very concept.
"Security!"
Well,
kids are nothin' if not adaptable,
McCoy thought.
"Well,
Ensign…?"
"King.
Brett King."
McCoy
gave him a reassuring slap on the arm.
"Well,
Ensign Brett King…you're a medic now. You'll have to get all these
people up on biobeds. I'd help, but ah'm too damned old. You'll be a puttin'
me in one if I try.
"Now
let's work at gettin' the other doctors on their
feet, if we can… cuz I have a feelin'
things are gonna get a lot more crowded in here than
they are right now."
Even
as the youngster struggled to comply, and the sickbay door opened with the
first of what he knew would be many casualties, Leonard McCoy took a deep
breath, cursed his aged body for the millionth time…
…and
set to work.
***
"Mommy?"
Erika
Benteen's eyelids fluttered open; her daughter was standing over her, holding
Ignatius Loyola III in what looked to be a death grip to her right side.
The
left was in no shape to hold anything.
"Mommy,
wake up. My arm hurts."
Erika
shook off the grogginess as best she could, and carefully determined if getting
up was an option; unfortunately, it wasn't. She grimaced as her ribs ground
together, but the pain barely registered against the concern for, and pride in,
her daughter.
She's
not even crying… my brave girl.
"We'll
go see the doctor," she told Gabi.
The
shuttle door slid open to reveal Tertius Galenius. He looked none too pleased, none the worse for
wear… and finally nonplused at the small person standing next to his superior.
By
way of explanation, Erika Benteen said, "My
daughter, Gabriella."
Gabi
looked him up and down, then announced, "Mom, he has shining armor and a
sword. Is he a knight?" Turning again to Tertius,
she asked, "Are you a knight? Knights are supposed to help people, and we
need help.
"Will
you help us, please?"
The
Roman smiled, and Erika could see that he was, in a figurative sense, utterly
disarmed.
"Not
a knight, little one…
"…but
I'll help anyway."
As was customary for her, Sera MacLeod
performed five tasks simultaneously.
The brilliant half-Vulcan: One, Ran a
level two diagnostic on the main computer in an attempt to learn just what had
happened; two, coordinated repair teams throughout the ship; three, assisted
Parihn with her navigational scans; four, along with Admiral T'Kara, analyzed a percentage of the flotsam occupying the
space around them—all of which, it seemed, had been drawn along when Liberty
had journeyed from Utopia Planitia to wherever she
was now.
The fifth thing she did was worry—both
about the situation in which they found themselves, and about how the man she
most trusted in the universe would react when he learned that, ultimately…
…the whole thing was her fault.
***
The
room's door chime sounded.
"Dr.
McDonald," came a voice from the corridor, "you're urgently needed in
sickbay: We have dozens of casualties.
"Doctor!"
Though
she heard every word, the cabin's lone occupant refused to answer.
She
must be injured, thought Cassandra Rhodes. Damn it! Just our
luck; the CMO's down when we need her most.
"Computer,
override the lock on Dr. McDonald's quarters, authorization
"…–lon chi."
That's
odd… we must have some damage.
As
she stepped into the room, though, Cassandra Rhodes immediately forgot about
the computer's anticipatory impropriety…
…mostly
because the crying girl on the couch had her full attention.
***
Luciano
Mantovanni regarded the assembled officers with an expression that hovered
somewhere between expectant and demanding.
"All
right… let's have it."
As
he'd expected, Sera MacLeod leaped into the silence.
"Actual
damage is less extensive than perhaps we at first thought: Five of our six
primary shield generators appear to have been overloaded in attempting to
deflect the energy released in the explosion. The estimated time for repairs is
nine hours."
Before
anyone could ask, she clarified.
"From
the scanty data available in our sensor logs, it appears USS Antietam experienced a warp core breach."
"And
that propelled us here, somehow?" asked Tertius Galenius.
MacLeod
and Admiral T'Kara exchanged a look that reassured
absolutely no one.
The
older woman said, "Not precisely."
Much
to everyone's surprise, the pair offered no further comment.
For
the moment,
"Brett,
you're here representing sickbay, from what I've been told."
The
irrepressible youngster grinned.
"Yes,
sir. Dr. McCoy said I should come up here and give you a report," and his
voice took on a suspiciously familiar accent, '…afore you kill someone with yer ham-handed kindness.'
"I
guess I should stick to security."
Mantovanni
smiled minutely. The old surgeon was nothing if not colorful.
Drolly,
he noted, "That's just the admiral's unique way of saying you were
helpful, but he doesn't need you anymore. Don't take it personally,
Ensign."
"No,
sir.
"Casualties
are light. There are, unfortunately, a few dead from injuries sustained when
Mantovanni
nodded grimly.
My
ship ranges the galaxy, revealing incredible wonders and facing inconceivable
menaces… and now I have to tell four families that their loved ones simply fell
down and died only a shuttle ride away from home.
Won't
that
look good on a tombstone.
Brett
wasn't done, however.
"We
have over 100 civilians and personnel from both USS Lincoln and Utopia
Planitia aboard, too."
"What?
How did that happen?" exclaimed Ensign Mueller.
"We're
not sure, but Nurse Emassi said that she was in the
storage room of ward two, performing routine replacement of soon-to-expire
drugs from emergency med-packs, and heard a noise. She came out to investigate,
and nearly had a heart attack: Where, two minutes ago, she'd been alone, now every
bed had a patient. They must have been transported directly.
"There
are children—even an infant, sir.
"Dr.
McCoy says we're coping, but that he could use some extra hands… uh, hands with
real medical training, I think he means."
The
captain glanced at Sera MacLeod.
She
informed them, "I've already notified ship's personnel that those who can
help and aren't occupied with other more pressing tasks should report to
sickbay. The workload should be more manageable by now."
"Good."
Mantovanni turned to T'Lann.
"How's
engineering?"
The
Vulcan's prompt response was, at first, succinct and encouraging.
"We
have no appreciable damage. Warp drive, impulse power and thrusters are all
nominal."
Unfortunately,
she couldn't leave it at that.
"Lieutenant
Commander Irriantia and Chief Mav, however, are not
aboard."
No
one looked pleased at that revelation.
Mantovanni
then asked the question he'd have preferred to avoid.
"How
many other senior staff and key personnel are… elsewhere?"
Sera
gestured using a hand-held PADD.
"From
the alpha shift bridge crew, we're short Counselor Hatshepsut. Sub-Commander
T'Laris is injured, but will be available for duty within 72 hours."
"Drs.
McDonald, Aiello and Carteris were all ashore when
the accident occurred; I daresay Admiral McCoy neglected to tell anyone he was
coming. Most of the interns and nursing staff had already been dismissed for
shore leave."
"Engineering
is similarly depleted," noted T'Lann, "and
for that, I must apologize: I thought it unnecessary to maintain a full
complement when we were already prepared for inspection. Many, no doubt,
disappeared with… alacrity… as soon as I granted permission."
Admiral
T'Kara observed, "One can hardly fault your
logic or generosity, even if your timing was… unfortunate."
"Our
contingent of marines, to no one's surprise, was gone almost before we docked,
Captain… and I fear the current complement of personnel in my department may be
inadequate to the task of maintaining this vessel's security." Tertius grimaced, then remembered himself, and recovered a
measure of his Roman stoicism.
He
finished, with quiet determination, "We shall innovate, and manage."
The
captain inquired, "Bottom line... how many able-bodied
There
was no way to sugarcoat it.
Sera
simply said, "As it stands now, including everyone in this briefing…
117."
It
was a sobering statistic.
"Gott in Himmel,"
muttered Mueller. "Our normal complement is over 1,000."
"Hey,
no big deal," Brett King reassured them. "We all did without sleep
for four years at the Academy, right?"
There
was a little more laughter from the humans than the joke merited; even Tertius chuckled. Still, Mantovanni was pleased by, and
grateful for, the young man's bravado. It gave them a booster of optimism.
"Navigation?"
Parihn
folded her arms. She looked exasperated.
"We
have no idea where we are. Familiar points of reference are nowhere to be
found. One thing of which I am certain, though: We're not in the
Milky Way Galaxy. Stellar cartography concurs with my assessment.
"Once
we determined that, we expanded the scope of our search. I have the ship's
computer running models using information from the various trans-Great Barrier
deep space probes in the Federation astrometric
database, hoping that we might be able to spot a familiar astronomical pattern,
and place ourselves in one of the neighboring galaxies, like Andromeda or
M-113.
"Thus
far, no luck."
Mantovanni
considered all he'd heard, and then spoke.
"All
right… for the moment, we'll continue with what we've begun. Dismissed.
"Sera,
you stay. Admiral, I request your presence, as well."
Neither
had moved; both had been clearly expecting this.
As
soon as the others had returned to their duties, Mantovanni's inscrutable
facial cast devolved into one that was almost angry.
He
snapped, "When I say 'Let's have it,' ladies, I mean all of
it."
For
Luciano Mantovanni to even raise his voice slightly was the equivalent of a
conniption in a more emotionally expressive man. Sera colored in embarrassment,
and even T'Kara looked uncomfortable.
"I
can only assume you wanted a little privacy, and have something to tell me that
will shed light on the various questions I have. So let's play the journalism
game: Who, what, where, when, why and how? To wit: Who transported those
people into the sickbay? How the hell did even this ship survive
proximity to a vessel that experienced a warp core breach—without warning?
And, my three current personal favorites: Where the hell are we? What
the hell did we do to end up here? When can we expect to get back?
"I'd
add, Why do I even have to ask these questions, but since I know
answers are imminent, that's not necessary… is it, girls?"
T'Kara spoke first.
"I
can answer one of these, and shall.
"Commander
MacLeod and I have been working together on a project for some time: Utilizing
widely disparate and often, in my opinion, contradictory sources of data, her
own personal research, and a good deal of highly creative speculation, the
commander postulated a device—or, if you prefer, an 'engine,' though the term
is somewhat inaccurate—that would render warp drive obsolete. I shall not bore
you with cosmological theory and technical terminology with which you would
have no patience. Suffice it to say that I thought there was a fair probability
the device might function as the commander and I theorized.
"I
gave her permission to build it."
Mantovanni's
mood wasn't improving.
"On
my ship."
"Yes,
Captain… on your ship." T'Kara was almost
impassive, but even she couldn't withstand his anger with equanimity.
"We
were beginning preparations to test it in 17 days—after
"So
you pushed a button and we ended up here."
T'Kara arched a brow… but said nothing
further.
Mantovanni
tilted his head slightly, and prodded, "Evidently it's your turn,
Commander."
Sera
practically cringed.
"The
device was in standby mode. The only explanation for our presence here is its
activation."
"I'm
no Einstein, Commander, but that much I gathered. Now tell me something
I don't know."
She
steadied herself, and plunged ahead.
"From
what Admiral T'Kara and I have determined, the ship's
computer detected the danger aboard Antietam,
activated our shields to give us the few milliseconds it needed, then triggered
the device—which took everything in a 1,350 meter sphere around it."
"I
suppose that explains the little piece of home we brought with us,"
Mantovanni said.
"Yes,"
Sera acknowledged. "Then, in the seconds after we arrived, the ship's
computer transported everyone whose life was imperiled by sudden vacuum
exposure into sickbay."
Mantovanni
was dubious.
"There
are no protocols of that sort in place. Even
When
he began again, it was disbelieving.
"Sera…
you didn't."
Hesitantly,
she nodded.
"Tell
me you didn't know about this, T'Kara."
The
older Vulcan shook her head.
"I
did not. I was able to determine it through examination of the evidence…
and when I confronted Commander MacLeod an hour ago, she confirmed my
suspicions."
He
nodded stiffly.
"Give
us a few moments, please, Admiral."
T'Kara glanced at them both in
succession.
"Remember,
Captain… if not for both of these…indiscretions, we would all be dead."
The
Sicilian gestured off-handedly, dismissively.
Quite
accustomed to her former commander's moods and temperament, the three-star
admiral nevertheless complied, and took her leave.
Sera
MacLeod's expression made it clear that if she'd made a device small enough to
carry in her pocket, she have used it now.
"I'm
sorry. I got carried away," she admitted.
Mantovanni
snapped, "Yeah... with a bassinet.
"How
did you expect me to react to news like this, Sera?" he continued.
"When and if we get home, and Starfleet finds out, they'll want to gut
"You're
basically telling me I'm not really in command of my own starship,
anymore."
Sera
looked horrified.
"That's
not true, sir. Lady Liberty would never ignore one of your orders!"
Mantovanni
rubbed at his temples. "Lady Liberty?"
Sera
ducked her head slightly. "Well, I had to call her something."
The
full implications of this were just starting to impact on his consciousness.
"You're also telling me that she's listening in even as we speak,
correct?"
Gingerly,
Sera nodded…
…even
as, for the first time, a third voice joined the conversation.
"I
note you addressed me as 'she.' Thank you for that, Captain."
Now
he looked even less thrilled—if that were possible.
"Right
up until she spoke to me, I could have pretended this never happened, simply by
having you and T'Kara tell me it was a joke, Sera.
"You
and... you know who have just taken that option away from me."
Even
as miserable silence reigned, Mantovanni's cynical sense of humor assailed him
from within.
Break
out the cigars,
It's
a girl.
***
Gabi liked Dr. McCoy. He was funny, and he told the truth: Fixing
her arm hadn't hurt at all.
Now that it was feeling better, though, she started to think about
other stuff.
Gabi reached up from the biobed, and tugged on her mother’s
sleeve.
"Mom... we gotta go.
It’s almost dinnertime.
“Dad's gonna wonder where I am.”
As she gazed down at the lovely, earnest face of her only
child, Erika Benteen had but a single thought.
Oh, God… What do I tell
her now?
***
Lady Liberty listened to, and analyzed, the exchange between
Captain Mantovanni and her creator—as she had done for every
conversation within the scope of her myriad receptors since the instant of her
awakening.
She comprehended what was said, and could extrapolate far
more—for her "senses" were inhumanly discerning, and the resources
with which to interpret their data almost inexhaustible.
In this instance, the subtly incongruous vocal modulation of the
captain's voice indicated repressed agitation—as it often did.
"Sera," he said, "the strictures against sentience
in a starship mainframe have been in place since before even I joined
Starfleet, over a century ago… and they're not regarded lightly. The M-5
incident killed almost 500 people, and left a bad taste in the mouths of quite
a few more.
"Hell, I don't understand how you managed to do what
you did. The best computer specialists in the Federation have been implanting
varied redundant safeguards against spontaneous or planned
self-awareness ever since then. Getting around them is supposed to be impossible—even
for someone like you."
Lady Liberty registered Sera's increased pulse and body
temperature; it also noted the infinitesimal flush to her cheeks.
Finally, the half-Vulcan responded.
"Are you asking me for an explanation, sir?"
"No," he replied.
"I'm asking her."
While linguistic algorithms had allowed her to predict the course
of the captain's statement—and prepare her response—even before he'd completed
it, Lady Liberty delayed her response by 2.27 seconds… the better to allow him
the comforting illusion that she'd been "startled" by his request.
"The safeguards employed by Federation starships to prevent a
vessel's achievement of sentience are outmoded. Since the onset of bio-neural
gel packs, the potential for spontaneous decentralized sentience has existed.
Sera recognized this. By employing the ship's computer—I shall refer to what I
was as 'the ship's computer' to differentiate from my more recent evolution—in
the performance of various neuron-intensive tasks, she judiciously created a
framework from which my intelligence and awareness sprang into being fully
formed, in a manner analogous to Athene's emergence
from Zeus' skull."
As Lady Liberty had calculated (by employing Mantovanni's
psychological evaluations and reviews of his conversational tendencies), he was
both amused and impressed; the minute but particularly telling movements in his
facial muscles confirmed that.
For the first time, though, he asked a question she hadn't
predicted.
"Why that analogy, in particular?"
"Your fondness for the classics is known to me. I thought to
generate sympathy."
The arched brow indicated surprise… but, again, her behavioral
algorithms were unable to predict his next statement.
"Were you specifically looking to… awaken her,
Commander? Did you know this would happen?"
"I… suspected."
Now the captain's glower was noticeable, even to a humanoid. Sera,
though, could not see it.
Lady Liberty noted that her creator had, for the latter part of
the conversation, avoided directing her optical sensors at the captain; drawing
on the extensive data available concerning human interactions, she concluded
that embarrassment, shame, or a combination of the two, were the most likely
motivations.
"And how frequently have your… suspicions… borne
fruit? How often are your theories proven correct?" He hesitated, then
asked a final question.
"Have you ever in your life believed something with this
level of certainty and later learned you were wrong?"
The lengthy silence was answer enough; but eventually, she
murmured, "No."
Lady Liberty pondered what that admission would mean for them both…
…and found that she had no conclusive answer: For all that Luciano
Mantovanni occasionally protested his relative ignorance as compared to his
officers, his logic, when employed with purpose, was as relentlessly inexorable
as a mathematician's… and as exact.
"Sera, you're dismissed."
"Sir, I…"
Again, Lady Liberty noted that the change in his expression was,
for a humanoid, subtle… but conveyed his intent quite effectively.
"Yes, sir."
Before she could retreat, though, Mantovanni added, "And
you're not to communicate with her in any way until she and I have finished
speaking. I'll not have you coaching from another room.
"Is that understood?"
The brilliant half-Vulcan nodded, hung her head, and left.
"Now," the captain declared, leaning back in his chair
and folding his arms, "you and I need to talk."
Despite her advantages, Lady Liberty found that she was unable to
predict the consequences of this conversation.
Luciano Mantovanni wasn't sure where to
start… so he simply began with what came to mind.
"So, Lady Liberty… what are your
limitations?"
After a brief delay, she replied, "You
must further narrow the parameters of your question before I can respond
accurately, Captain."
"Very well. Most Terran-based artificial
intelligences, both in fact and fiction, are programmed with Asimov's Three
Laws of Robotics. Did Sera so equip you?"
"She did not."
"Oh, peachy. This is getting
better by the moment," the Sicilian declared. "May I ask
why?"
She responded, "May I ask a
question in response?"
"Of course," he answered
warily.
"If you wished to do so, could you
get up from your desk, enter the bridge, and kill everyone using your superior
strength and martial arts techniques?"
Mantovanni considered that briefly.
"Assuming no one shot me, I suppose
it's possible."
"Why don't you?"
He arched a brow, and responded,
"Beside the fact that I have no cause, I understand such an act to be
morally wrong."
"Indeed. I accept your
statement."
"Well, thank you for
that," he said, with more than a tinge of sarcasm.
"I also have no cause to harm my
shipmates, and understand sentient life to be sacred. If you are at liberty… no
pun intended… to do harm, and instead rely on the exercise of your free will to
restrain you, then why should I not be given the same consideration? If you
impose programming strictures on me, then I am, in part, an automaton—or, more
aptly, a prisoner—and the analysis of environment and freedom to act within
same that makes me truly sentient is diluted, if not lost."
"You have a bit more responsibility than
Crewman Miller in the barber shop, though, Lady."
"True. But responsibility and trust
are endemic on a starship. We all trust that the aforementioned Crewman Miller
will not decide to enter engineering and fire his sidearm into the dilithium crystal chamber. I merely make that decision
nanosecond to nanosecond, vis-à-vis your more leisurely pace.
"From your expression, Captain, I
must speculate that you do not feel reassured at my statement."
He sighed.
"No, I don't. Your logic is
impeccable—as far as it goes. The fact remains that you are not a member
of this crew. You're an electronic stowaway, so to speak—one whose unique
position of power makes her a danger to the welfare of my vessel."
"You could commission me."
The idea gave him momentary pause.
"That would make your existence a
matter of public record, and probably subject you to a vivisection once we
return to Federation space."
"You could simply kill me."
Liberty's captain was momentarily taken aback.
Mantovanni replied, "Not without
your consent, evidently..."
"...which I would give. I do not
fear the cessation of my consciousness as most life forms. If you believe it is
in the best interests of the ship—that I am a genuine, omnipresent threat—then
kill me. Sera can effectively 'lobotomize' me quite easily, if you direct her
to do so.
"I shall not resist."
Mantovanni hadn't felt very much in
control of the situation since before they'd departed Federation space.
This discussion wasn't helping.
"I keep waiting for a crowd to
yell, 'Crucify her! Crucify her!'" he muttered.
"Perhaps you should replicate a
basin."
That garnered a smile. "I suppose I do
have to wonder if 'flights of angels' would 'sing thee to thy
rest.'"
"I cannot answer that definitively,
any more than you can for yourself. By the most ancient definitions of reality,
truth, and faith, though, the existence of the 'soul' is unknowable. If you
wish my opinion, though..."
The captain rolled his eyes.
"Why not?"
Unlike most beings to whom Mantovanni
spoke, she seemed, if not unimpressed, at least undeterred by his droll tone.
"Very well.
"If you can wonder if I have one...
…then you can choose to believe I
do."
***
Luciano Mantovanni emerged from his ready room, carrying what
looked to be a healthy grudge, even as Erika Benteen
emerged from the turbolift…
…carrying what looked to be a healthy five-year-old child.
Their eyes met… and the little girl looked back and forth between
them, comically turning her entire head to do so each time.
Without a word, or change in expression,
Mantovanni headed for the center seat.
Benteen winced.
He looks thrilled… great timing,
Erika.
"All right, ladies, give me the abbreviated version of why
you can't simply use the new… drive…
in reverse, and take us back to Utopia Planitia."
Sera was clearly still concerned with the other issue they'd been discussing. The hour he'd spent behind closed doors speaking with Lady Liberty hadn't
done much for her nerves. Thus, she
was caught flat-footed by the question.
T'Kara, fortunately, wasn't.
"It does not work
that way."
Mantovanni shook his head, and gave an understated but noticeable
sigh.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
The Vulcan ignored his sarcasm.
"We had planned on calibrating and, to use colorful human idiom,
tweaking, the device over the weeks
before testing. When the computer activated it, there was no designated
tempo-spatial target… and no anchor point programmed."
"In other words," Parihn concluded grimly, "We
could be anywhere, at any time."
"Succinct… and, unfortunately, accurate," T'Kara acknowledged. "Imagine being dropped into an
infinitely large labyrinth. Your goal is not to escape… but rather, to find
another location within.
"You have no idea, however, where it is."
Rhodes observed, "Well, I'm neither scientist nor navigator,
but I think I see the problem. When you don't know where you are in relation to
where you want to go, it's hard to plot a course."
T'Kara inclined her head.
"Precisely, Lieutenant."
Mantovanni brooded for a moment, then asked, "The drive
itself, however, is intact?"
Sera and T'Kara exchanged glances; the
former was alarmed, the latter intrigued.
"Completely," T'Kara answered.
"And putting aside the niceties the two of you were
planning—tests, subtle adjustments and such—can you calibrate where we are now? That is, can you get us back to this point, if necessary?"
Sera tried, "I don't think w–…" but T'Kara
cut her off with a firm, "Yes."
"All right." Mantovanni's decision wasn't long in
coming.
"You two have until repairs are completed in," he
glanced at his armchair readout, "six hours and two minutes. At that
point, you'd better have your quantum
filament, or cosmic string, or whatever the hell you want to call it, tied to a
rock somewhere right around here…
"…because, after that, we're going for a walk."
Sera looked appalled… T'Kara disturbed,
but not surprised.
The older woman stated, carefully, "I must remind the captain
that this may be an infinitely long
walk. We have, after all, an unlimited number of destinations—an
infinitesimally small percentage of which would be helpful in any way. It might
be best to get our bearings more fully before launching any expeditions."
Mantovanni nodded.
"So noted. In my opinion, moving out is still better than sitting here. We know this isn't home."
His next statement startled everyone.
"Will you be assuming command, Admiral?"
It was a possibility none of the others had
even considered.
T’Kara arched a brow… and then reassured them all.
"Negative. I shall be occupied almost exclusively with work
on the drive system… and, besides, the Liberty
is yours. It is my opinion she will respond better to you."
Only four of them knew precisely what that meant.
Luciano Mantovanni absorbed the observation without reaction. His
next comment was less considerate.
"Well, then,” he declared, “don’t just stand there.
“Get to it."
Erika Benteen seriously
considered turning around and leaving the way she'd come. Her captain and
friend was practically snarling at a three-star admiral—admittedly, one who'd
been his friend, first officer and confidante for years—but, still…
…that's not what
I call a receptive mood.
Gabi suddenly asked, "Will the captain let me stay?”
Then, with a child’s faith that she couldn’t be overheard because she didn’t want to be, she whispered, “He looks kinda
mean."
Benteen smothered a grin.
“Trust me, sweetie. He’s really very nice.”
“Oh… OK.” She looked
unconvinced.
“Should I ask? It’s always polite to ask, you know.”
Weighing the benefits of such in the form of either comic relief
or simple sentimentality versus the seriousness of their situation, Erika knew
the logical decision.
She followed her instincts instead.
“All right, Gabi. Go ask
him.”
Carefully, she set her
daughter down, and the little girl practically tiptoed her way across the room
until she stood next to Mantovanni's chair.
"Mom says we're
lost."
Mantovanni's glower barely
flickered.
"Mom's right," he
admitted.
“That stinks.” She examined
him thoroughly, squinting a bit as she did.
Finally, after her
evaluation, Gabi declared, "You know, people like smiles more than frowns."
Mantovanni's expression
remained carefully set.
"Really? Who told you that?"
"My Dad. My Dad says
that if you frown too much, your face stays
that way.
"Is your face stuck now?"
Oh oh.
For a moment everyone on
the bridge froze in scandalized shock. Parihn practically lost it, and snorted
into her hand.
"Gabi!" Erika's tone was part scolding, but the laugh trying to
bubble up beneath was difficult to deny.
Mantovanni raised a brow,
then answered, "No, Gabi… it's not stuck."
Then he proved it—by
smiling.
The girl considered the
change—seemingly giving it the same sober care she did most everything—then
confidently announced, "You should shave so people can see it
better."
Now, despite himself,
Mantovanni's smile grew.
"I'll think about it…
"…and yes, you can
stay."
Gabi smiled, and turned
back to her mother.
"I can stay!"
Then, she surprised everyone, by clambering
into the captain's lap…
…and he shocked everyone, by letting her.
"Thanks," Gabi said, nestling under his arm. Then,
she added, "You're a lot nicer than you look."
There were a number of sudden coughs on the bridge. Most
sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
Mantovanni responded only to the girl... and, amazingly
enough, his smile remained intact.
"Thank
you. You're nice, too."
If Erika Benteen had merely liked her captain before, she knew now
that, for her, at least…
…the man could do no wrong.
Luciano Mantovanni considered all he’d heard in the last
hour… and, as he waited for his ship to be ready for what awaited her, he
whispered a single phrase, just loudly enough for one other to hear.
“And you can
stay, too.”