Force and Motion by Jeffrey Lang Page B

and took Maxwell’s hand. “Heard about me? From whom?” Maxwell glanced meaningfully at the chief and thenshrugged as if to say Who else? Nog laughed, confused but delighted.
    â€œWell, I have to talk about something when I write,” O’Brien said.
    â€œI take it Doctor Finch has been keeping you entertained while you waited?”
    â€œI guess that’s a word for it,” the chief said. “Good beer, anyway.”
    â€œNo room for another one?” Maxwell asked.
    â€œI didn’t say that.”
    â€œThen come with me. I know someplace we can go and get caught up. Unless you had something else you needed me to do, Doctor Finch?”
    Finch waved him off. “As we both know, Ben, you know more about what needs to be done around here than I. If you’re going to take Chief O’Brien with you, perhaps you’d like to chat a bit more, Commander Nog?”
    â€œOh,” Nog said. “Uh, sure. I guess.” He had thought he was going to accompany O’Brien and Maxwell, but suddenly he became aware that he might not be welcome at just that moment. It made him wonder again, Why am I here?
    â€œI’ll come find you, Commander,” the chief said. “Just a bit of a chin wag first. Talking about people you don’t know and wouldn’t care about.”
    â€œSure,” Nog said, as graciously as he knew how. “Not a problem. Have a good time.”
    O’Brien and Maxwell departed immediately in a cloud of bonhomie and chatter. Two old friends, reunited, they spoke in their mutual language. Nog felt deflated and a little trapped, like he was a small child who hadjust been dropped off at a dreaded relative’s house for an unknown length of time.
    â€œPerhaps,” Finch said, drawing nearer, his face wreathed in purple light reflected from the liquid in the tank, “you’d like to hear more about the Mother?”
    â€œSure. That would be . . . great.” Nog’s mind raced, but he didn’t feel as if any gears were catching. An image of friendly faceted eyes popped into his head. “Or maybe we can go see the giant spiders?”

Chapter 7
    Twenty Years Earlier
    Benjamin Sisko’s Quarters
    Deep Space 9
    â€œW hat’s the worst day you ever had?” Jake asked.
    â€œWhat?” Nog said, surprised by the question. The two of them had been lounging in Jake’s living room, Nog in the big easy chair and Jake sprawled on the couch, each of them with their padd propped up on their knees, neither of them talking or really paying attention to the other.
    â€œI said, ‘What’s the worst day you ever had?’ ” Jake repeated.
    Nog turned to look over at Jake, just to be sure he was asking a serious question. Hew-mons, he knew, had a tendency to harass each other, sometimes out of boredom, as a sort of test that Nog didn’t really understand, but nothing about Jake’s expression or demeanor indicated he was teasing. “I don’t know,” Nog replied. “I’d have to think about that. Why do you ask?”
    â€œIt came up in school today. Mrs. O’Brien told us a story about when she was a girl, when her family went to a park on a picnic.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWhere what?” Jake asked, confused.
    â€œWhere was the park?” Nog replied. “If you’re going to tell a story, set the scene.”
    â€œOh. Sorry. In Japan, I guess. She grew up in Japan. Do you know—”
    â€œI know where Japan is,” Nog said. “Okay, Mrs. O’Brien was telling you all . . .”
    â€œNot all of us,” Jake said. “Just the older kids. She breaks us up into groups sometimes, by age. And we’d been reading this short story called ‘A Perfect Day for Bananafish.’ Have you ever heard of it?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, it’s old. Like, from the twentieth century. It’s about this guy who was