5.
For the second time in a fortnight, Scotty stood in the Chief Engineer's office, though this time he was confident that he had carried out his orders to the letter, frustrating as that had been. He waited impatiently while Commander Marsh checked his own notes against the padd that Scotty had handed him, and tried not to fidget. At last, Marsh grunted with what might have been approval, looked up, and nodded.
"I do believe you're starting to get the message, Scott," he said, "Now, about those recommendations you gave me..." He slotted a data-tape into the padd, keyed it in and handed the padd back to Scotty. "These are the ones I've approved. Any questions?"
Scotty scrolled quickly down the list, noting with dismay that some of his most innovative suggestions had been crossed through. It took an effort to fight down the urge to ask why, but Marsh's tone had implied that he didn't expect any comeback, so he told himself that the Chief Engineer had to know best, bit down on his initial response and simply said: "No sir, no questions."
"Very well..." The comm whistle sounded, and Marsh broke off to answer it.
"I have a channel open to SCE Headquarters, sir, as you requested," Scotty heard the communications officer announce.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Hold for two minutes." Marsh's attention returned to Scott as he closed the connection, and Scotty hoped he might explain why he'd asked Lieutenant Wilson to contact the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. But instead, Marsh pointed at the data padd again. "We'll be at Sigma-Alpha Seven in four hours, Ensign. I'm not expecting you to begin work on any of that before shore leave starts. Once we're under way again, I'll assign Technicians Woodrow and Garibaldi to your work detail. I know you've had some command training, let's see you use it."
Scotty's heart sank at the thought of having to entrust some of his precious upgrades to a couple of technicians. Not that they weren't perfectly competent technicians, it was just that he knew damn well he could do the work faster on his own. As for the shore leave... ordinarily, Scotty would have been perfectly happy to skip it and start in on the work right away, but not this time.
He and Heather had plans for Sigma-Alpha Seven - or, as it was known colloquially, Water World. So for the second time in two minutes, he bit back a protest, acknowledged Marsh's order, and heaved a sigh of relief as he left the office.
Marsh watched him go, wondering whether he'd ever been that young and that keen. Thumbing the comm switch, he asked Wilson to open the channel to the SCE, and leaned forward in his chair as the viewscreen changed to show Commodore Tom Vlasyuk's bearded features.
"Good to see you, sir," said Marsh.
Vlasyuk waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Drop the formalities, Jeff, we go back too far. What can I do for you?"
Marsh keyed a switch to send a stream of data through to the other man. "Tom, I've got this genius kid on my crew who's come up with all sorts of ideas for improvements. I've approved all the ones I understand, but to be honest - " he shook his head, knowing what Vlasyuk's reaction would be to his next phrase " - the stuff I'm sending you now is out of my league. I'm hoping you've got somebody there who can make sense of it, tell me whether it's safe to implement."
As he'd anticipated, there was a shout of laughter from Vlasyuk. "Never thought I'd hear you admit that anything was out of your league, Jeff! This genius kid got a name?"
"Scott," said Marsh, "Ensign Montgomery Scott. And if he doesn't get himself killed first, he'll likely end up doing my job - and yours."
The view-screen in the transporter room showed the planet they were orbiting - blue water, white clouds, and thousands of tiny green islands scattered around the equator like a belt of emeralds.
"Wow. No wonder they call it Water World," said Stevens, nudging Scotty as they stood waiting their turn to beam down. "So who is she anyway?"
"Who?" Scotty looked round as though the question might have been addressed to someone else.
"C'mon! The girl you're going with. And don't tell me there isn't anyone, 'cos I know how often you've slept in your own bed the past couple weeks." Stevens dropped his kitbag at his feet and folded his arms. "Besides which, we've got 72 hours down there, and you don't even have a kitbag."
Scotty shrugged. "The vid said they provide everything," he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant enough.
"Yeah - everything except clothes," said Stevens.
"I must have missed that bit," Scotty deadpanned, "Oh well, I'll just have to make do."
Stevens snorted. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. Me, I'm going to make for the main island, see if I can find me a nice local girl."
The group ahead of them beamed away, and Stevens led the way as they took their places on the transporter pads. Scotty could see Heather waiting in the next group, and gave her a wave. "Have fun, Heather!" he called, as though they were still just friends.
"You too!" she called, giving him a wave as the transporter started to hum.
A few seconds later, he was stepping off the planet-side platform into a carpeted lobby. There was a large sign hanging from the ceiling which rotated a message in six different languages: 'Reception: Welcome to Water World', and Scotty followed the rest of the group across to the line of desks, where they would put in their requests for onward travel. The planet's islands had hundreds of thousands of private coves along their shores and, although Starfleet didn't get the pick of them, even the 'standard' accommodations were in stunning locations. And for a small ship like the Churchill, there were enough coves for the entire crew to have one each if they chose to.
Scotty picked out a Reception desk a little away from the other crew, stated his name and rank for the retina-scan register, and murmured, "I'll be traveling with Ensign Heather Weiss. I think she's just beaming in now."
"Certainly, sir." The clerk pushed a couple of keys and said: "Luggage?"
"None."
The clerk - an Arcturan, Scotty guessed - didn't even blink. "You're aware, sir, that we don't provide..."
"Clothes. Aye. I got that. Thanks."
The Arcturan pressed another key, and a data-tape slid out of a slot at the front of the desk. "Destination is encoded on the tape, sir, the onward beam-out chamber is to your left, you may travel as soon as your companion has completed her registration process. Please remember to use the sunscreen hypos provided each morning. Further information and instructions can be found on the computer at your Beach Lodge. Have a nice stay."