Force and Motion

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Authors: Jeffrey Lang
Alpha Centaurians. It feels practically salacious somehow. Perhaps a Ferengi soul became lost and found its way into this somewhat ample frame after its last incarnation.”
    â€œThe majority of Ferengi don’t believe in reincarnation,” Sabih began. “Inasmuch as there can be said to be a major religion, it’s basically an extension of their nearly religious belief that the value of a life is measured in material gain. In fact—”
    â€œStop,” Finch said, snapping his fingers together like he was pinching Sabih’s lips together. Sabih ceased speaking. Finch never stopped staring at Nog. “One of the virtues of a liberal arts education,” he said, “is that one can drone on endlessly about so many topics. Wouldn’t you agree, Commander Nog?”
    â€œYou don’t have to call me Commander Nog,” Nog said, embarrassed. “Just Nog is fine. Or Commander.”
    â€œYou honor me, sir,” Finch said, sitting upright, his back straight. The front of his jacket pouched out a bit,bumped from the inside by his belly. “And, please, call me Anatoly.”
    â€œThis is lovely,” Chief O’Brien said, wiping away his foam mustache. The pint glass was one-quarter empty. “And you made it here?”
    â€œIndeed yes, Chief,” Finch said. “Only one of our wonders. A minor miracle. Would you care to hear about some of the major ones?”
    Nog looked down at his beverage, which was still foaming, though in a much more desultory fashion than a couple minutes earlier. He set it down on the tray and wiped his hands together, checking to see if he had splashed any liquid on himself. “Sure,” he said. “Why not? It’s not like we’re doing anything else right this moment.”

Chapter 5
    Ops Center
    Robert Hooke
    â€œM ost of my tenants are what I like to call free­thinkers ,” Finch said, running through his recitation more or less on autopilot. The holodisplay unit at the center of the main comm unit lit up on cue and images began to flicker into focus: first, the thoughtful faces of individuals clearly engaged in rigorous intellectual exercises. “Beings who discovered they didn’t fit neatly into the scientific or academic institutions of their homeworlds. Or, sadly, discovered that their talents, or their work, wasn’t valued.” A new set of images followed, these more abstract: complex data displays, mathematical and chemical formulas, engineering schematics. “Lab time is always an issue, even on worlds where they claim resources do not come between a researcher and his work. We understand each other here, do we not, Nog?” The Ferengi, who had been watching the display, turned slightly to meet Finch’s gaze. He nodded in a polite, but neutral, manner.
    Finch resumed his spiel. “Amongst my cohort are a Tellarite cyberneticist who is developing a means for telepathic communication with autonomous robots. Do not chuckle, Chief O’Brien. Consider the applications in deep-space engineering.” A brief video of a Tellarite, wearing an elaborate telepresence rig on his head and focusing his gaze meaningfully, twinkled past.
    â€œOne of our great successes—Doctor Nita Bharad of Earth—can be seen here with her greatest achievements.” The image of a small, dark-skinned woman with a round, cheerful face and bright eyes, materialized. Finch winced inwardly. Bharad was, by any objective measure, a successful and appealing researcher, with scores of highly cited papers to her credit, but she insisted that any promotion that included her also prominently feature Ginger and Honey. O’Brien and Nog reflexively smiled back at Bharad’s image when she appeared and then recoiled as the surreal visages of her “pets” dropped into the frame, multiple eyes glimmering, mandibles flexing.
    â€œWhat the hell? ” O’Brien exclaimed.
    â€œWait,”

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