Crusher pushed the badly synthesized potato mash around his plate. He was seriously thinking about contacting his mother. And he wanted a drink.
He had gone to great lengths to arrange a ship's delegation to the 'Basics' conference at Daystrom Foundation, but he had ended up being the only person who wanted to leave the USS Salamis on a furlough. Then he had arrived in Barcelona and been even more disappointed. Everyone here was so boring.
"Can we sit here?" a cheerful voice said from behind.
He was about to pick up the tray and indicate that he was ready to leave when he noticed that the woman speaking to him was particularly attractive and that her companion was equally and almost identically notable.
"No problem. I only got started, but take a seat. I won't be any trouble." He pointed to the bench opposite him and let the frown disappear from his face. "Can I ask, are you two young ladies related?"
They giggled as they sat opposite and exchanged a look that showed they had been asked this on many occasions.
"Jenn says we're obviously twins. But people still ask. I say that no two people are ever identical." They laughed politely and started to eat thin looking crackers. He noted that they were wearing plain white uniforms with no distinguishing marks, apart from a thin black diamond on each shoulder.
Crusher forced some of the potato mash into his mouth, then quickly chewed it down as he attempted to talk. "I could tell you a story about that. But I think it's classified."
"Really?" asked the one known as Jenn. She leaned forward and smiled. "Tell us as much as you can."
"He's only kidding, Jenn", said the sister without meeting his gaze. "It's called conversation." She put another frail wafer in her mouth and let it melt on her tongue.
"My sister is very sceptical about everything. It's called cynicism. Right, Fran?"
Wesley leaned forward in mock conspiracy. "Oh. It's true," he said. "But a lot of those missions are classified."
"You work off-world?" asked Jenn. "What station? Not Jupiter? I heard Jupiter Station was the pits. Good thing they're closing it down. I'd fire a couple of those quantum torpedoes into it and say 'so long'." She covered her mouth to cover an evil little laugh. Her sister sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I was on a ship," Crusher replied. "Starfleet." He tried to play it cool. He liked the idea of impressing these two beautiful sisters in as subtle a way as possible. "The USS Enterprise."
"No way," said Fran glancing sideways.
"Yes. I wasn't one of the ordinary crew, though. More of an adviser."
Jenn frowned and wiped crumbs from her lower lip. "Wasn't that Kirk's ship? You don't look old enough." Her gaze seemed to analyze Crusher like a military tricorder.
Fran sighed. "Don't be stupid, Jenn. There's been more than one Enterprise."
"Don't talk to me like that, Fran. I know. I'm just starting at the beginning. But I'm sure I heard Kirk came back to life. He was trapped in some sort of space phenomenon."
Fran slapped her sister's arm in disgust. "You read the wrong news stories, Jenn. Kirk would be well over a hundred by now. I don't even think the Vulcan is still alive."
"Oh Spock? He's still alive," Crusher interjected. Both sisters turned to scowl at him. "I heard he went back to Romulus."
"No, he was a Vulcan," Jenn corrected. "Why would he go to Romulus? They hate everyone there. Even each other."
Crusher resisted the urge to explain in detail how much of a know-it-all he really was. He shrugged and attempted to spear some more mash. "Just what I heard," he mumbled.
"Jenn can show you her collection of conspiracy articles later," said Fran. "She needs to focus on lunch and then get back to the heuristics." She patted the back of her sister's hand. "Iterative collapse can be such a bore." Jenn's shoulders sagged.
"Ah. Division by zero. Use the Noon Side Step." Crusher pointed his fork at Jenn without looking up.
Both sisters went quiet. Crusher ate his food then felt a little worried. He looked up. Both were frowning at each other.
"Noon's work leads you astray," sighed Jenn. "Brilliant but largely discredited."
Fran leaned forward tapping the table with a cracker. "Totally discredited. A bully and a eugenic bio-fascist." She seemed more intense than before.
Crusher had to laugh. He spluttered a little and wiped a tiny morsel of mash from his top lip. "Where'd you learn that?" he laughed. He met Fran's angry look and nodded. "Online chatroom? Underground pamphleteers?"
"There's no need to laugh," Fran replied firmly. "Maybe you need to keep up on the literature yourself? Hundreds of journal citations and most commentators will put Noon's work in a box with Schrödinger's cat. Out of sight. And probably dead."
Crusher chuckled. He could see that Jenn was used to this discussion, had probably given up on it long ago. "What does that even mean?" he laughed. "Droll words. And Schrödinger's cat was most definitely not dead."
"I'm more of a reptile person," said Jenn quietly. She wiped her hands together and arranged her plate and napkin as if to leave.
"Noon started in illegal genetic experiments and moved backwards into robotics," said Fran. "We gave up on androids centuries ago." She too arranged the remains of her dish as if to go. She looked sideways to her sister with a "let's go" expression.
Crusher felt a little panicked. He had met two actual people with a spark of personality. And they were pretty too. "Listen," he said. "Maybe we got off to a bad start there. Why don't we meet up after the poster session? I know a bit about Noon's later work." Fran and Jenn stood politely, ready to leave. Other delegates were beginning to stream away. "It…" He struggled for the word. Then it came to him clearly. "It... redeems a lot of his earlier mistakes."