"Are you in or out?"
The chief engineer paused, scrutinizing the situation no less than he had scrutinized the transporter malfunction just hours ago. His hand was good. Very good, in fact. The best he'd drawn in a month of games. And yet.
"Geordi?"
"Gimme a minute, Commander." Oh, why not. "Yeah. Let me see."
The second officer of the Federation's flagship flipped his hidden cards deliberately, one at and then another, and then another. And he smiled.
Geordi slouched back in his chair and sighed. "Does he ever lose?"
"I have calculated that on a typical night of poker, with at least three games completed, Commander Riker wins an average of 1.234798-"
"It was rhetorical, Data."
"My apologies, Geordi."
"No problem, Data."
"I, for one, am through with this crowd. Besides, I've got morning watch on the bridge." Dr. Crusher stood and stretched. "Not my favorite shift." With that comment, she rose to leave.
The senior staff bid the doctor fair dreams.
"Another hand?" Commander Riker asked, a small grin playing across his face.
"No, thanks." Geordi was quick.
"I believe it would be in my best interest to refrain from playing any longer." Data articulated, his positronic mind quick to calculate the odds of redeeming any of his losses. They were not good by any theory he used.
"Worf?"
"No, sir."
"Deanna?"
"Another time, perhaps, Commander."
The senior officers briefly discussed the day's events, and the conversation turned to the impending visit to Deep Space Five for a refit.
"I've heard Deep Space Five has great holosuites." Troi commented.
"We have a holodeck on the Enterprise," Geordi pointed out.
"Still, it's good to get away from the daily routine."
It was the ship's counselor's job to monitor ship's morale. It didn't take an empath to know that no one was happy about sidetracking from the tense Dominion situation for a bridge refit. The bridge they had now seemed to function adequtely. Troi herself found it to be a fairly irrelevant task, but it wasn't her place to question Starfleet's officers.
The conversation dragged for a few minutes. Eventually the crowd waned to nothingness as the various officers returned to their duties. Commander Riker made an attempt at organizing his quarters, but gave up. He couldn't help grinning as he recalled the night's game. "Clean sweep," he thought.
The well-lit bridge worked like the honed exploration tool it was. It was filled with junior officers, now, late in the night shift. The command seats stood empty, and the center of the activity was on the science stations and the sensors. This region of space had been combed by so many starships that the odds of finding anything of interest were low, but with the threat of war on everyone's minds, the stations were manned more cautiously than usual. Fresh-faced ensigns manned the con and ops positions, and a wizened lieutenant with months more experience oversaw them. The ship was at it's best during the day shift, but the night shift held something more. Today's legends had served the night shift as ensigns, and been the wizened lieutenant. These young officers were the future of Starfleet. The future looked bright.
The Enterprise, NCC 1701-D, was the pride of Starfleet. From her advanced technology to her spacious command chairs, she was truly a ship of the line. The real asset, what made her the pride of the 'fleet, was her crew. Only the best has the opportunity to serve on her. She had, of course, young ensigns, but they were the ensigns who had minds like force fields and the personalities to advance quickly. Her crew was from top to bottom the best. The best command officers, the best scientists, the best helmsmen, the best doctors, the best barber, the best bartender. All the Enterprise's were legends. She was a tribute to her name.
Captain Picard had always been the best. The best captain, the best runner, the best child. The best archeologist. Archeology was what really held his attention this late. He was off duty, but remained in his ready room. He preferred it over his quarters, really. It was better for studying. And if he would lose a good ten minutes going back to his quarters and transferring all of his data and artifacts there. He just couldn't be bothered. "Fascinating..." Obaque III really was. Although there was no multicellular life on the planet now, there was evidence of a thriving steel-age society just two thousand years ago. Approximately that time, life on the planet disappeared. It had been there one day, and gone not a month later. Everything died, plants, animals, much of the bacteria. Intact artifacts were left behind, though. This would seem to rule out natural disaster as a cause of destruction, at least on a small scale, but Picard was trying to work through atmospheric-
His comm badge beeped and a nervous lieutenant's voice spoke. "Incoming message from Admiral Nechayev, Starfleet Command."
"Patch it through, lieutenant." Picard would not have been happy to have the mystery interrupted by anyone, let alone Admiral Nechayev. Unfortunately, the mystery of Obaque III would have to wait.
"Aye, sir," the lieutenant replied. He was a good officer, Picard mused. Maybe he was lacking a slight bit of confidence, and in turn initiative, but he had intelligence and instincts. Experience would help him.
"Captain." The admiral's stiff features jumped across the screen and momentarily startled him. He recovered quickly.
"Admiral." Picard and Nechayev had never wasted much time on the pleasantries.
"We have a situation."
"Can you give me more information?"
The admiral flashed her annoyance at the purposeful interruption and continued. "The Crazy Horse intercepted a Ferengi transport trying to cross into Federation space, unauthorized, three days ago. While running standard scans for stolen goods, they picked up two human life signs. To be concise, the Crazy Horse determined that the humans were prisoners. Apparently the Ferengi were using them as... slaves. I want the Enterprise there."
"Surely the Crazy Horse can handle any of the-"
"That's an order, Captain. The need for the Enterprise to be present is twofold. One will become apparent when I transfer the prisoner's files to you. The second is logistics. The prisoners need to be taken to Deep Space 5 for recovery, and the Enterprise needs a bridge refit. The Crazy Horse has pressing issues."
Picard stiffened at the offhand remark. He was used to his ship being the most important ship with the most important issues. People transporting was not among important issues. Not now, with the Dominion threat.
"Transmitting personnel files and mission details now. Nechayev out."
"Aye, sir." the captain replied, but Nechayev had cut the transmission. The mission briefing was rolling across his screen now. Nothing much of interest. Intercept the Crazy Horse, pick up the passengers, report to Deep Space 5 for bridge refit, find out how the Ferengi got a hold of Federation prisoners. He accessed the files of the two humans.
Picard was surprised. The Ferengi had abused these prisoners. It was uncharacteristic. Ferengi weren't fond of taking prisoners, and when they did, they rarely punished them. It lowered their resale value. The medical data on the prisoners was classified. That frustrated Picard. He'd ask Beverly to prepare sickbay. He doubted if the Ferengi had seriously harmed them. He hoped they hadn't.
The first prisoner was a human male, mid thirties, former second officer of the cargo ship Tiny Traveler. His photo showed him to be a small, jovial, dark-eyed, dark-skinned, dark-haired man with an easy smile and cheery eyes. There was a chance that the Ferengi hadn't taken that away from him. It would be helpful if they hadn't.
The second prisoner took him aback. A human female, four or five years old, only one picture available, taken when the child was merely two or three. The holo revealed a dark haired, twinkling blue eyed child with a familiar smile playing across her face.
He sucked in a breath. It was uncanny. He flipped back to the written profile to be sure. It was there, why had he missed it? He had just been glancing through it then, of course. Now he understood why the Enterprise was needed. He acted quickly.
"Lieutenant McCullum, set course 3902 mark 71, engage, warp 4."
"Aye, sir. ETA in twenty-seven hours, twelve minutes."
"Thank you, lieutenant. Picard out."
He frowned. It would be illogical to put the task off, of course. They only had twenty-seven hours. Still, Will Riker was Picard's friend, as well as first officer. Picard hated to be the bearer of bad news. If it was bad news. They didn't know. It would be news, at least.
"Picard to Riker. Report to my ready room."
The chief engineer paused, scrutinizing the situation no less than he had scrutinized the transporter malfunction just hours ago. His hand was good. Very good, in fact. The best he'd drawn in a month of games. And yet.
"Geordi?"
"Gimme a minute, Commander." Oh, why not. "Yeah. Let me see."
The second officer of the Federation's flagship flipped his hidden cards deliberately, one at and then another, and then another. And he smiled.
Geordi slouched back in his chair and sighed. "Does he ever lose?"
"I have calculated that on a typical night of poker, with at least three games completed, Commander Riker wins an average of 1.234798-"
"It was rhetorical, Data."
"My apologies, Geordi."
"No problem, Data."
"I, for one, am through with this crowd. Besides, I've got morning watch on the bridge." Dr. Crusher stood and stretched. "Not my favorite shift." With that comment, she rose to leave.
The senior staff bid the doctor fair dreams.
"Another hand?" Commander Riker asked, a small grin playing across his face.
"No, thanks." Geordi was quick.
"I believe it would be in my best interest to refrain from playing any longer." Data articulated, his positronic mind quick to calculate the odds of redeeming any of his losses. They were not good by any theory he used.
"Worf?"
"No, sir."
"Deanna?"
"Another time, perhaps, Commander."
The senior officers briefly discussed the day's events, and the conversation turned to the impending visit to Deep Space Five for a refit.
"I've heard Deep Space Five has great holosuites." Troi commented.
"We have a holodeck on the Enterprise," Geordi pointed out.
"Still, it's good to get away from the daily routine."
It was the ship's counselor's job to monitor ship's morale. It didn't take an empath to know that no one was happy about sidetracking from the tense Dominion situation for a bridge refit. The bridge they had now seemed to function adequtely. Troi herself found it to be a fairly irrelevant task, but it wasn't her place to question Starfleet's officers.
The conversation dragged for a few minutes. Eventually the crowd waned to nothingness as the various officers returned to their duties. Commander Riker made an attempt at organizing his quarters, but gave up. He couldn't help grinning as he recalled the night's game. "Clean sweep," he thought.
The well-lit bridge worked like the honed exploration tool it was. It was filled with junior officers, now, late in the night shift. The command seats stood empty, and the center of the activity was on the science stations and the sensors. This region of space had been combed by so many starships that the odds of finding anything of interest were low, but with the threat of war on everyone's minds, the stations were manned more cautiously than usual. Fresh-faced ensigns manned the con and ops positions, and a wizened lieutenant with months more experience oversaw them. The ship was at it's best during the day shift, but the night shift held something more. Today's legends had served the night shift as ensigns, and been the wizened lieutenant. These young officers were the future of Starfleet. The future looked bright.
The Enterprise, NCC 1701-D, was the pride of Starfleet. From her advanced technology to her spacious command chairs, she was truly a ship of the line. The real asset, what made her the pride of the 'fleet, was her crew. Only the best has the opportunity to serve on her. She had, of course, young ensigns, but they were the ensigns who had minds like force fields and the personalities to advance quickly. Her crew was from top to bottom the best. The best command officers, the best scientists, the best helmsmen, the best doctors, the best barber, the best bartender. All the Enterprise's were legends. She was a tribute to her name.
Captain Picard had always been the best. The best captain, the best runner, the best child. The best archeologist. Archeology was what really held his attention this late. He was off duty, but remained in his ready room. He preferred it over his quarters, really. It was better for studying. And if he would lose a good ten minutes going back to his quarters and transferring all of his data and artifacts there. He just couldn't be bothered. "Fascinating..." Obaque III really was. Although there was no multicellular life on the planet now, there was evidence of a thriving steel-age society just two thousand years ago. Approximately that time, life on the planet disappeared. It had been there one day, and gone not a month later. Everything died, plants, animals, much of the bacteria. Intact artifacts were left behind, though. This would seem to rule out natural disaster as a cause of destruction, at least on a small scale, but Picard was trying to work through atmospheric-
His comm badge beeped and a nervous lieutenant's voice spoke. "Incoming message from Admiral Nechayev, Starfleet Command."
"Patch it through, lieutenant." Picard would not have been happy to have the mystery interrupted by anyone, let alone Admiral Nechayev. Unfortunately, the mystery of Obaque III would have to wait.
"Aye, sir," the lieutenant replied. He was a good officer, Picard mused. Maybe he was lacking a slight bit of confidence, and in turn initiative, but he had intelligence and instincts. Experience would help him.
"Captain." The admiral's stiff features jumped across the screen and momentarily startled him. He recovered quickly.
"Admiral." Picard and Nechayev had never wasted much time on the pleasantries.
"We have a situation."
"Can you give me more information?"
The admiral flashed her annoyance at the purposeful interruption and continued. "The Crazy Horse intercepted a Ferengi transport trying to cross into Federation space, unauthorized, three days ago. While running standard scans for stolen goods, they picked up two human life signs. To be concise, the Crazy Horse determined that the humans were prisoners. Apparently the Ferengi were using them as... slaves. I want the Enterprise there."
"Surely the Crazy Horse can handle any of the-"
"That's an order, Captain. The need for the Enterprise to be present is twofold. One will become apparent when I transfer the prisoner's files to you. The second is logistics. The prisoners need to be taken to Deep Space 5 for recovery, and the Enterprise needs a bridge refit. The Crazy Horse has pressing issues."
Picard stiffened at the offhand remark. He was used to his ship being the most important ship with the most important issues. People transporting was not among important issues. Not now, with the Dominion threat.
"Transmitting personnel files and mission details now. Nechayev out."
"Aye, sir." the captain replied, but Nechayev had cut the transmission. The mission briefing was rolling across his screen now. Nothing much of interest. Intercept the Crazy Horse, pick up the passengers, report to Deep Space 5 for bridge refit, find out how the Ferengi got a hold of Federation prisoners. He accessed the files of the two humans.
Picard was surprised. The Ferengi had abused these prisoners. It was uncharacteristic. Ferengi weren't fond of taking prisoners, and when they did, they rarely punished them. It lowered their resale value. The medical data on the prisoners was classified. That frustrated Picard. He'd ask Beverly to prepare sickbay. He doubted if the Ferengi had seriously harmed them. He hoped they hadn't.
The first prisoner was a human male, mid thirties, former second officer of the cargo ship Tiny Traveler. His photo showed him to be a small, jovial, dark-eyed, dark-skinned, dark-haired man with an easy smile and cheery eyes. There was a chance that the Ferengi hadn't taken that away from him. It would be helpful if they hadn't.
The second prisoner took him aback. A human female, four or five years old, only one picture available, taken when the child was merely two or three. The holo revealed a dark haired, twinkling blue eyed child with a familiar smile playing across her face.
He sucked in a breath. It was uncanny. He flipped back to the written profile to be sure. It was there, why had he missed it? He had just been glancing through it then, of course. Now he understood why the Enterprise was needed. He acted quickly.
"Lieutenant McCullum, set course 3902 mark 71, engage, warp 4."
"Aye, sir. ETA in twenty-seven hours, twelve minutes."
"Thank you, lieutenant. Picard out."
He frowned. It would be illogical to put the task off, of course. They only had twenty-seven hours. Still, Will Riker was Picard's friend, as well as first officer. Picard hated to be the bearer of bad news. If it was bad news. They didn't know. It would be news, at least.
"Picard to Riker. Report to my ready room."