Part 5 (1/2)
Zorn's a.s.sistant escorted Riker into the groppler's office. Zorn was waiting behind a huge, elegant desk of unusual configuration. Its drawers seemed to fit into the highly polished wood with an almost organic grace and beauty of line. The rest of the furniture-the desk chair, the side tables, the occasional chairs, even a graceful cabinet-were of different shapes but made of the same burgundy-toned wood. A beautiful selection of Earth fruit stood in a silver bowl on the desk.
The administrator rose and extended his left hand to Riker. They had met when the initial group of personnel in transit to the Enterprise beamed down to Farpoint. Apparently, the fine points of shaking hands had eluded Zorn, and he had gotten the procedure confused. Mumbling apologies when Riker automatically held out his right hand, Zorn switched hands and managed to get his fingers and thumb in the right position to execute the courtesy.
”I came as soon as I could, Groppler,” Riker said, settling into a chair opposite Zorn.
”Thank you.” Zorn sat down and pushed some translucent message tabs around his desk. ”Your vessel Enterprise is overdue.”
Riker flicked a look at the wall chronometer behind Zorn. ”By an hour and forty minutes.”
”Ah. Yes. That was the scheduled arrival time. This is unusual, is it not? I had understood Starfleet s.h.i.+ps had the reputation for unusual punctuality. Especially this Enterprise of yours.”
”That's right. If nothing interferes.”
”Of course.” Zorn nodded and hesitated. ”But what could possibly interfere with a stars.h.i.+p?”
”You'd be surprised,” Riker said quietly. ” 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'”
”Ah. I am afraid I do not understand.”
Riker studied the Bandi administrator thoughtfully. Zorn was a product of his planet-bound heritage.
The Bandi had detected the initial contact team in their midst almost immediately and had subsequently shown an instantaneous grasp of stars.h.i.+p travel and communication and the fact of the Federation's presence. Yet the concept of the dangers inherent in s.p.a.ce travel seemed to elude them as completely as the ritual of handshaking.
”It doesn't matter,” Riker said. ”A good many things can put a stars.h.i.+p behind schedule.”
”Yes.” Zorn smiled pleasantly. ”But I trust we have made your waiting comfortable?”
”I would say luxurious.” Riker watched as the administrator shrugged it away as if it were of no moment. ”Would it seem ungrateful if I ask for some information?”
”As you wish.”
”I find it interesting that in the midst of your ancient culture you've managed to build a completely modern trilurium and duraplast staging station. The energy supply to your fabrication facilities must be as abundant as I've heard.”
Zorn smiled enthusiastically, his teeth flas.h.i.+ng whitely in his gray face. ”Geothermal energy is the one great blessing of this planet. I will have all the details of our energy source sent to your quarters.”
”Thank you.” Zorn was so unforthcoming with that information, Riker was sure whatever he provided would be next to useless. ”But it still seems incredible that you've built this huge station so rapidly and so... so perfectly suited to our-to Starfleet's needs.”
Zorn delicately scooted the bowl of fruit across the desk toward Riker. ”Would you care for something, Commander? I am told these fruits are considered an Earth delicacy.”
”Well, if there's an apple there... .” Riker glanced over the selection. He saw grapes, oranges, bananas, pears, peaches, tangerines, strawberries... but no apple. ”I guess not,” he said, disappointed.
”I am sorry, Commander.”
”It doesn't matter. What I was saying was-” He glanced past Zorn to the credenza behind the desk and stared. ”Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned.” Zorn turned his head to follow Riker's gaze. There was a second bowl of fruit there, and a gleaming red apple surmounted the pile.
”Ah. Yes. There was another selection here. Please help yourself.”
Riker rose and moved around Zorn's desk to pick up and examine the almost glowing red apple. ”I swear I didn't notice this.” He sniffed it, and the sweet aroma that filled his nostrils instantly reminded him of the apple tree that had grown in his family's back yard when he was a boy.
”Does your failure to notice it make it unwelcome?”
Riker shook his head. ”Not at all, Groppler.”
Zorn smiled confidently. ”I trust it will be the same with Farpoint Station, Commander. A few easily answered questions about it won't make Starfleet appreciate it less.”
Riker eyed Zorn thoughtfully. Too smooth an answer, he thought. Too glib. He took a bite of the apple, its tangy tartness arousing his tastebuds as he chewed it. Zorn waited for a reply, and Riker took his time before he finally said, ”I'm sure it won't, sir.” He held up the apple and smiled.
”This is delicious. Thank you.” He turned toward the door and tossed a final line over his shoulder.
”Good morning, Groppler Zorn.”
Zorn boosted himself out of his chair as the door closed behind Riker. He turned around and hissed angrily at the empty room.
”You have been told not to do that. Why can't you understand? It will arouse their suspicions. ...”
He folded his arms firmly. ”.. . and if that happens, we will have to punish you. We will, I promise you!”
Hughes had discovered the soda fountain tucked in a corner of the vast shopping area of the station.
Geordi LaForge loved it. It was an exact duplication of the most traditional soda fountain he had ever seen. The marble-topped counter; the taps for soda water and syrup; the covered bins for ice cream cartons; dishes of nuts, cherries, chocolate and candy sprinkles; the high stools on the opposite side of the counter-every detail was correct.
The two young officers sat at the counter enjoying the ambiance. LaForge noticed that the ceiling fans that swished the air around were beautiful reproductions of early 20th Century wooden-bladed fans. The counterman, wearing striped s.h.i.+rt and white pants and a white fore-and-aft cap, handed Hughes a sundae that LaForge considered pretty plain. A thick cone of vanilla ice cream decked in a coat of fudge syrup and capped with a crown of frothy whipped cream sat in a lacy silver sundae dish.
Hughes grinned happily at LaForge. ”I've been waiting for one of these. The Hood just doesn't have a good ice cream maker. It always tastes synthetic.” He dipped into the concoction, savored it, and his eyes closed as he murmured in delight. ”Oh, my... .”
”What?”
”It's just like the ice cream my grandma used to make on the farm. Try some?”
”Nah.” LaForge tilted his head, dreaming... remembering. ”n.o.body could make what I'd really like to have.” The counterman watched him, listening intently. ”There was only one place-in my home town-that ever made a chocolate sundae with peanut b.u.t.ter fudge syrup and a mound of blue whipped cream and a cherry on top.” He shook his head and sighed softly. G.o.d, those were good.
”What was the significance of the blue whipped cream?” Hughes asked.
LaForge grinned at him cheerfully. ”Who knows? That's just how they had to be. Last time I had one was before I left for the Academy my first year-”
The counterman reached out and gently placed before him a chocolate sundae in a traditional tulip gla.s.s, the ice cream topped with peanut b.u.t.ter fudge syrup, a satisfyingly high mound of blue whipped cream, and a bright red maraschino cherry on top. LaForge studied it thoughtfully for a long moment, then he picked up the spoon and tasted a big mouthful.
Hughes watched curiously. ”Is it-”
”Perfect,” LaForge sighed. ”Just like magic.” Then, realizing what he'd said, he looked at Hughes.
Hughes stared back. Just like magic.
”I think we ought to talk to Commander Riker,” LaForge said.
”Right,” Hughes said, standing.
”Hold it,” LaForge said, clamping a hand on Hughes' shoulder. ”After I finish this.”
The mall foyer was a dazzling construction of trilurium and gla.s.s, light and airy and decorated with tastefully arranged cl.u.s.ters of trees, shrubs and flowers, some of them Earth plants and others of alien origin. A number of Starfleet officers pa.s.sed to and from the mall area through the foyer. Most of them were visitors from the Hood, Riker knew, down for the opportunity to look around the station. All personnel transferring to the Enterprise had been given transit quarters on Farpoint Station.