"Ensign Riley, knock it off and put your bracelet back on."
Justine immediately looked guilty and strapped the android converter back around her wrist. The laughing group of ensigns dispersed at Geordi's disapproving tone.
Recently, Justine had discovered that the genetic anomaly that sometimes gave her seizures also allowed her to make the warp coil sing at different pitches, if she rested her fingers against the bulwarks. Justine had been in the middle of a rather off-key version of "The Old Man Went to Risa" when Geordi interrupted her.
"Have you finished the negative power coupling analysis?" Geordi asked.
"No sir," Justine ducked her head to hide her blush.
"Then let's spend more time with the potentiostat and less time with the space chanteys. I want that report before you leave, all right, Ensign?"
"Sir, yes sir," she said softly, and turned to go about her work without looking up. Geordi swallowed. He hated chastising the ensigns, but a starship needed discipline. He made his way back to the dilithium chamber to complete his own analysis. He opened the cradle chamber and began scanning the backup crystals.
No need to write Justine up for an infraction, he thought, as he ran his tricorder over the crystals. She was almost always on task, and the same silliness that caused her to play with the warp coils gave her an easy rapport with the rest of the crew. Just yesterday, she'd managed to get Barkley to smile with her spot-on impression of air in the vacuum seal – "Mwaugh mwuagh mwuagh..." Geordi chuckled, in spite of himself.
His tricorder chimed. All done. He saved the data and strolled back to his office, humming "The Old Man," under his breath without realizing.
Geordi's office was sparse, but familiar and friendly, and he tossed his tricorder down casually before easing into his chair and leaning back with a sigh.
Ensign Riley arrived a few moments later, bearing a data screen. "Lieutenant, do you have a moment?"
"Of course."
"I can't make sense of this coupling analysis," she handed him the screen, shaking her head in annoyance. Her dark brown curls swung back and forth in their ponytail, and Geordi caught himself staring, staring at her easy curls, at the spackling of freckles across her nose, at the set of tiny, frustrated lips. He tore his gaze away from her face, grateful for the VISOR that kept his line of vision to himself. He scanned the data screen.
"It's the coolant system – it's gone offline." Geordi pointed at the screen. "See here, this dip at 76 degrees?"
Justine leaned over to see, and she was close enough that Geordi could smell her perfume, or maybe it was shampoo. Vanilla. He pulled back and handed the viewscreen back to Justine. "Just divert a little more power to the coolant and we'll be back in business."
Justine broke into a smile. "Thanks." She turned to leave. Geordi watched her go.
That night, Geordi dreamt of Justine. He woke up the following morning, sweating and embarrassed, Justine's voice ringing in his ears. The dream had been vivid, and highly inappropriate for a commanding officer. Geordi cringed as he realized he'd have to face Justine today. He threw aside the bedclothes, hoping a cool shower before work would help.
It didn't. Geordi managed to avoid Ensign Riley, but he couldn't help catching glimpses of her throughout the day, and it was enough to make him slightly sick with embarrassment. He looked forward to the end of the day, when engineering would quiet down, when he could be by himself and the hum of the warp coil. No distractions.
Justine was at her terminal, talking to Barkley, her lips in their characteristic thin lines, her hands curled in front of her, animatedly. Barkley said something to her, and she chirruped back, and Barkley laughed and punched her lightly on the shoulder. Justine guffawed and turned back to her terminal.
Geordi looked away. No distractions.
Night fell – or at least, as much as night could fall on the Enterprise. The ensigns were the first to go, heading out in groups of three or four to Ten Forward. Then the officers with families, and finally even the Barkley types were gone, off to the holodecks or the mess hall or the quiet comfort of private quarters.
Geordi's footsteps echoed, and he took a deep breath. This is when he liked the engine room best, when it vibrated with sound and shook with a quiet emptiness. It felt so abandoned that Geordi was shocked to turn the corner and find Justine. She was crouched down beside an open panel, one hand on her tricorder, the other hand slowly rotating the coolant system intake valve.
"Ensign, what are you still doing here?" Geordi's voice rang more accusatory than he meant it to be.
"Can't align this properly." Justine dropped her tricorder with an exasperated snort and rocked back on her heels. She looked up at Geordi's scowl and lost her confidence. "I mean, eh, sir, lieutenant."
Geordi had to smile and her awkward attempt at rank. "Drop the formalities. Let's take a look." He dropped down beside her. "Show me what you've got so far."
"I've been following the standard protocol for alignment, but then, when I release the drive shaft…" She did, and the coolant system immediately whined and ground to a halt.
Geordi could feel his brows knit together beneath the visor. "Does that every time?"
"Every time."
Two hours later, the coolant system still a mess, Geordi sat back with a sigh. "I don't understand it either, Ensign."
Justine put her chin in her hand and blew a raspberry. "Well, if Mr. Engineering himself doesn't understand it, that makes me feel better." She nudged Geordi with her shoulder, playfully.
Geordi felt a lump rise in his throat. She grinned right at him, close enough to touch. To kiss? He searched her eyes, trying to read emotion, or intention, but all through his blind eyes.
The computer chirruped, shocking Geordi out of his reverie. "Transporter room to Ensign Riley."
Justine stiffened and tapped her comlink. "Riley here."
"You mother has just arrived in Transporter Room 3."
"My… mother?"
"Yes, your mother."
"I'll be right there." Justine looked at her watch and her face blanched white. "It's twenty one hundred hours!"
"You… weren't expecting your mother?"
"No!" Justine stood, distracted. "Oh, God, do you think something happened?"
Geordi stood as well. "I'll come with you."
Justine reached out and gripped his upper arm. "Thank you," she breathed. "Can we go now?"
"Of course."
Justine's face lost more and more of its color as their footsteps thudded rapidly through the hallways. She didn't say another word, but pulled at her fingers in a highly uncharacteristic gesture.
The doors to the transporter room hissed open and Justine stopped short, glancing around the room, brows knit together.
There were two people stepping off the transporter pad – a heavyset woman with white hair in tight, short mohawk, and a long, lanky man in a gray suit with a thick gray suitcase.
Justine turned to the transporter operator. "You said my mother was here?"
"I am," the woman said, with a smirk. "Hello, Justine."
Justine shook her head. "You're not my mother. There's been some mistake."
"Mmm, yes, I thought there might be some difficultly," the woman said. "Mr. Eel, if you please."
The gray man unsnapped his suitcase and leveled a phaser at Justine.
"Down!" Geordi yelled, toppling Justine. The phaser sizzled above them and Justine shrieked.
"Security to transporter three!" Geordi shouted, shielding Justine. "Security to transporter room three!"