Chapter 4: Wonders

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"This is twice today that you've come into my lounge, Tim," said Guinan, looking up to him kindly. "Troubled?"

Tim took a seat at the bar, and gratefully accepted the soft drink she put in front of him. "I'm not really sure, Guinan. I'm just…lost."

It was now five weeks since the NCIS team had come on board the Enterprise. After Tim's first few days of being mesmerized by the food machine in the wall, he'd roused himself to leave the quarters he shared with Tony to see what else the ship had to offer. His explorations took him all over the ship.

"I'm not sure I follow, Tim."

"Well, every time I think I'm figuring something out, some device, I discover a new level of complexity. And then I have to stop and figure that out."

Guinan shook her head, but caught his eye to show that she wasn't disappointed in him; just, perhaps, his methods. Tony had told her pretty much the same thing: Tim could discover some "ordinary" (by 24th century standards) thing and be caught up in it for hours. "Do you think maybe you're spending too much time with the technology, Tim?"

"I just want to understand it. Guinan, you've told me you've lived for centuries. Do you ever want to stop learning?"

"Stop learning? No. But what I study is people and culture. You worship created things."

That was a little harsh, but maybe necessary. Tim winced. "I can't understand how things work unless I understand the basis on which they were built." He would have added more had not Commander Riker come in then and beckoned Guinan away for some urgent conversation. Tim sighed. No one understood what he was going through.

When he had first realized his perplexed state, shortly after their arrival on the ship, he'd likened it to a man from the time of the Industrial Revolution being dropped in the early 21st century. How to explain how an airplane flies? First you'd probably have to explain to him the aerodynamic forces of lift, thrust, weight and drag. Thrust might be the hardest to comprehend, for it would require something able to go faster than the man had ever seen. You could show him a spinning propeller as illustration of this, but then you'd have to explain what made the propeller go. Even the fuel would be different from anything the Industrial Revolution man would know. He might be eager to learn, but there would be so, so many baby steps to go through. One might have to start with the Wright brothers' early planes, but it would be a long, long explanation to go from there to today's jets.

And as Tim imagined himself to be that Industrial Revolution man, he soon learned he was off target; greatly. His grandfather, born in 1919, had spoken of the marvels of his lifetime, going from those early plane days to sending probes to Mars. It was an enormous leap in development in less than 100 years. But the Enterprise, here in the 24th century—compared to Tim's knowledge of the 21st century, the tech was so advanced that he might as well be viewing it from the 1500s.

There were no easy answers; no "ah ha!" moments. Every time he thought and hoped he'd find one, the basis for it was found to be in layers and layers of tech that he didn't understand. He could peel apart the layers to learn how it worked, in the way that you could explain to his day's schoolchildren how lift, thrust, weight and drag made an airplane fly…but it was so time-consuming.

Without much effort he'd figured out how the computer in the quarters he shared with Tony worked. Since no one expected a starship crew to need to know modern tech basics, it took some digging to find reference materials, but they were there. He lost a lot of time going back to his quarters to look up something he didn't understand until Lt. Cmdr. Data loaned him a small computer unit about the size of a cell phone that he could carry around.

Data was an interesting person. At first Tim felt a little ill at ease around the android, but Data was patient and helpful, and Tim found him to be a good resource, when Data wasn't busy (which seemed to be seldom). But there were limitations. Data had no emotions, and could only comprehend, in general terms, Tim's frustration. After a while Tim stopped asking Data for help. Data couldn't give him what he needed. Even Tim wasn't sure what he needed.

Tim voiced a little of his feelings to his teammates, at their bi-weekly dinners. He knew that they understood him, but could they understand his feelings here? Not entirely, it seemed. Tony was not science-oriented; he was willing to accept tech on face value. Tell him what it could do for him, and he'd be satisfied. Gibbs was the same way, although his grumblings increased the less user-friendly something was. Ziva was sympathetic, although she didn't comprehend what was driving Tim.

To his teammates, it probably looking like he was learning just for the sake of learning. But that wasn't it, or even the largest part of it. There was amazing beauty in the weave, the structure of it all, as in Nature's magical pattern, the spiral. How did a sunflower know how to grow that way? How did a minute sea creature know to form a sea shell in the same pattern? The sheer wonder of what he was learning here sometimes brought him to the verge of tears. How triumphant are our kingdoms, he thought. How magnificent the pebbles out of which they are built. At times his heart raced with the joy of new frontiers he was crossing.

One day Capt. Picard invited Tim to his ready room. Picard had done this several times before (and Tim knew he'd done the same with Tim's teammates); at first seeming quietly amused by Tim's awe of the ship, and then gradually impressed with his quest for knowledge. "How long do you think it would take for you to feel informed and comfortable here on the Enterprise, Tim?"

Tim was startled by the question, but tried to answer. "I don't know, Captain. Yesterday I thought I had the ventilation system figured out. Then I discovered the coolant chemicals were not what I thought they'd be. I had to stop and research that."

Picard smiled. "Nonetheless, I expect you've learned a lot. Data tells me you have a brilliant mind, by human standards." At Tim's slightly embarrassed look, Picard changed the subject. "You have no duties here, Tim. I would hope you're allowing yourself some time away from all your learning; some time for fun."

"Um…well…"

"What do you like for sport, Tim? Back in 2008?"

"Uh…well, I was never really the athletic type. I keep fit because my job requires it, but for competitive sports, I was always a wash-out."

"Nonsense! Everyone can be good at something. Have you ever tried the sport of kings?"

Tim thought hard. "World domination?" he finally came up with.

Picard laughed, a full belly laugh. "No, no, my lad. Fencing! The sport of a gentleman. My favorite pastime."

"Oh!" Uh-oh. "I did have to take that, as a gym elective, in college. I was terrible at it." The memory made Tim pale.

"You probably did not have a good instructor. I'll wager that your job experience, including your 'keeping fit', as you say, has put you in better balance now than you were in college. Come; let us go a few rounds, and you can see if you like it better now."

The ship's gymnasium had a separate fencing room. With reluctance, Tim donned the fencing jacket, plastron and cup; knickers, gloves, socks and mask. Picard retrieved his own épée and found one for Tim. After warm-up exercises, the fighting began, although Picard frequently stopped to give Tim tips. "You're left-handed, Tim. When you're facing a right-handed person such as myself, your goal should be to strike at the Prime quadrant if I'm going for the Quarte."

It made sense. "Yes…I think I get it now."

Nonetheless, Tim lost, as was to be expected. But he came away with a small amount of exhilaration; more than he'd ever had while fencing at MIT. He readily agreed when Picard invited him to fence again a week hence. It would almost be fun.

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Back to his exploration. Tim tried, early on, to make a list of everything different and new, but abandoned that quickly. There was so much. Elements discovered after 2008; new fuels created, newly-understood principles of physics and chemistry…and he hadn't started looking into what wonders of biology had been discovered. There wouldn't be enough time. Eight weeks was not long enough; not at all.

He smiled back at the crew who smiled at him, sitting for hours in front of a device. He didn't find favor with the head of the engine room, who didn't like him hanging around and so chased him out. He felt both giddy at his discoveries and deflated by his wrong guesses. More time was spent in 10-Forward, and he now waved away the soft drinks in favor of wine. "I need a little something to relax," he explained to Guinan. "I've been studying hard."

"Relaxation should be pleasant," she remarked, while giving him a glass of White Zinfandel. "Most people drink synthehol to smooth off the edges of things they'd prefer to forget."

"You don't think I'm having a good time?"

"Oh, I think you're having a tremendous time. Now, what are you going to do with all this knowledge you're accumulating?"

He studied the glass of wine. "Good question…"

- - - - -

Gibbs startled at the door chime. He didn't get many visitors in his quarters. "Come in."

It was Picard. "Forgive the late-night visit, Jethro. Something has come up."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and offered him a seat.

"You know that we're three days away from earth. And your home."

"Yes," said Gibbs, unable to repress a grin. "And you say you can drop us off at the time you picked us up?"

"Yes, but to allow a margin of error, we'll make it five minutes later. I'm afraid your criminal will not be caught by you, but rest assured, we will deal with him in this time. But that's not what I'm here about; not exactly."

"Well?"

"Jethro—one of your team has requested to stay on with the Enterprise, and to join Star Fleet. I've approved their request."

Gibbs felt ice flow over his body. "Who?" he rasped.

Picard shook his head slightly. "That news should come from them. I'll see that they talk to you, as soon as possible."

Picard exited, leaving Gibbs feeling breathless.