Eruption
[summary]
Deanna Troi finds the crew of the Enterprise-E breaking up – with several officers moving on to new jobs. Geordi LaForge is offered a new position on an advanced new vessel.
[full story]
The past few years had brought many changes aboard the Enterprise.
First, Lieutenant Commander Worf had left and been assigned as Chief of Tactical Operations on Deep Space Nine. Then the Enterprise-D had crashed, and the senior staff had been moved to a new Enterprise-E. Oh, how Troi wished she could be on Deep Space Nine – where all the real action in the war happened. And she could see Worf, as a friend. Riker was there, too; he was undergoing reconstructive surgery thanks to several battle wounds. But he was more than a friend.
During the last skirmish with the Jem'Hadar, servants of the Dominion, the valiant flagship had taken many hits – and the Dominion had taken many lives. Among those lives was Lieutenant Prang, the Enterprise's tactical officer, and Lieutenant Geroni, the chief of security. As a result of these deaths, temporary Fleet Captain Picard had gone into a state of depression, and, except for battle, had rarely left his quarters. Troi had asked, begged, and even pleaded that he come to counseling sessions. Finally, she and Crusher had pulled authority on him ("Doctors' orders!"), but even then the French captain had barely spoken at the appointments. For the time being, Commander Troi had given up on Picard.
Several changes in duties had also sifted around the crew. Lieutenant Commander LaForge had received a promotion – a common event in times of war – to Commander. Data had also been spread among several departments, assisting in security, tactical, and scientific duties all at once. As a result, Commander Troi had been made Acting First Officer. Another officer had also joined the senior staff. Lieutenant Commander Killisari was the senior logistics and personnel officer for the Fourth Fleet, and had been responsible for moving Commander Crusher to the Intrepid-class Kassath for a few weeks, where she "could be put to better use." The Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer was now Lieutenant Reese.
That is how Commander Troi found herself in the Captain's chair, looking at a radically different bridge crew on a radically different bridge. Directly in front of her, Commander Killisari was looking over Data's shoulder at operations. A Bolian pilot whose name Troi didn't know was at the conn. The officers off to either side were also unfamiliar. Behind her, Nurse Ogawa had taken the medical station, and Geordi had an engineering station. At least there were some of the same people.
Killisari returned to the counselor's chair. On Killisari's first day on the bridge, Troi had refused to let her sit in the First Officer's chair. "That's Commander Riker's seat, or sometimes, Commander Crusher's," she had said, indignantly. "You will sit in the counselor's chair." Now, Troi didn't even look at Killisari.
Data spoke up. "Commander Killisari, I have a proposed distribution plan for the remaining officers of the Okara."
Killisari walked back over to Data's station. She glanced over the plan. "Hmmm… no, less officers on the Enterprise. Move some to the Kassath."
Troi spoke up. "I'd like to see the plan." She, too, walked over to Data's station, looking over his other shoulder. "Commander, there are more than enough officers on the Kassath. Surely, the Enterprise could have a few more medical…"
Killisari cut her off. "Commander, the Enterprise has a sufficient medical staff already. They would be more useful aboard other ships."
"Sufficient?" came the reply. Already, Troi knew that Killisari had more authority on the matter than she did. But she continued anyway. "We've got twenty-three patients who are recovering from injuries in sickbay. Meanwhile, we have fifteen medical officers on a two-shift rotation, with other duties to tend to also!"
"With all due respect, Commander, all orders regarding personnel come directly from Admiral Benson. You don't have the authority—"
"Alright," huffed Troi. "I will speak to the admiral himself." She sat back down, crossed her legs, and pursed her lips. She realized she was being immature, but she didn't care at the moment. Commander Killisari sat back down, too. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she managed to suppress it.
When the shifts changed several minutes later, Troi went straight to the holodeck, ready to relax in her favorite holo-program. She found a table in her simulation of a twenty-first century pub in New York City.
After a moment, a handsome waiter brought her an aluminum can labeled, "Pepsi-21" and a glass of ice. This newfound drink – cola – had quickly captured Troi's taste buds, and she was planning to program it into the replicator.
Troi carefully pulled up the lever and popped open the soda. She quickly poured it into the glass and took a quick sip, savoring the carbonation. That was definitely her favorite part of the soda. The carbonation. Or, as some of the holodeck characters might have called it, the fizz.
* * *
Commander Worf was unhappy. He had heard of the changes aboard the Enterprise, and they were almost as devastating as what had happened to him. It seemed like the entire world of Deep Space Nine was changing quickly. He mourned for his wife, Jadzia Dax. Worf also did not look forward to meeting the new Dax – he had heard she was to arrive at the station soon.
Worf was also worried about Captain Sisko. He had sunk into a depression because of Dax's death. Right now, Sisko was on prolonged leave on Earth with Jake and his father. Colonel Kira ruled the station, but the days seemed empty without Worf's wife and his Captain.
So he was almost happy to find that Will Riker was visiting Deep Space Nine.
Worf made his way to the infirmary, which was right off the main promenade. Julian Bashir stopped him. "Doctor, I… request permission to visit a patient of yours…."
Bashir smiled. "I was wondering when you'd stop by. Commander Riker is in bed twenty-eight." He pointed towards the main section of the infirmary.
Worf made his way toward his old friend. "Commander."
"Worf! Long time no see," said Riker. A boyish grin spread across his face. "I was wondering when you'd be here."
"Doctor Bashir said the same thing," said Worf. He kicked himself mentally for not having anything better to say.
"Well, how's everything going? I'm sorry to hear about your wife… what was her name?"
"Jadzia. Jadzia Dax."
"Oh," said Riker quietly.
Worf struggled to fill the awkward void in the conversation. "How is life aboard the Enterprise these days?"
"Oh, well, I guess it's been going not so good! Lieutenant Prang – our new, er, old tactical officer was killed in an attack."
"I am sorry to hear that. What about Captain Picard and Deanna?"
"Deanna's doing fine…" Riker paused. "She tells me Captain Picard is depressed."
"Depressed?" asked Worf.
"Yeah… its really taking a toll on the crew. Deanna has even pulled authority on him, but… She tells me he hasn't left his quarters since they left starbase." Riker sighed. "Worf, you have no idea what it's like to have a depressed Captain."
Worf thought of his own Captain Sisko. Yes I do, he thought.
* * *
The senior staff meeting that day was held in the Enterprise's observatory as usual. But Geordi LaForge thought it might have been a totally different room, without the same faces around the table. Next to him, at the head of the table sat Commander Troi. Across from LaForge sat Commander Data. Beside him sat Lieutenant Commander Killisari, and across from her, Doctor Reese.
"Are there any other issues that need discussion?" asked Troi, preparing to wrap the meeting up. "If not, I can prepare this report for Captain Picard."
LaForge waited a moment to make sure that nobody else had an announcement or comment. When nobody spoke up, LaForge stood beside his chair.
"Yes, Commander?"
The chief engineer took a deep breath. "I've been offered a promotion…"
Data could not hide his mechanical surprise. "Commander," he said in his unique voice, "Am I to understand that this will be your second promotion in three weeks?"
"Sort of. It's not a promotion in rank… It's of position." Troi stared in disbelief. Geordi continued. "Admiral Benson wants me to command the U.S.S. Adamant."
Troi and Data looked at LaForge in disbelief. Reese gave the chief engineer his congratulations. Commander Killisari showed no reaction. Finally, Troi asked, "Are you going to take the position?"
"I… don't know. I wanted to talk to you all."
Data spoke up. "The Adamant is a Defiant-class ship. You have the opportunity to command one of the most advanced ships in Starfleet. Commander Worf has also had this chance. He took it, and I believe his career has benefited from it."
Troi could read LaForge's feelings, not only telepathically, but also on his face. "Geordi, the question is whether you want the job."
"I don't really know…"
"How long do you have to decide?" asked Killisari.
"Admiral Benson gave me three days," said LaForge.
He started to say something else, but he was stopped by the blaring alarm. Over the ships comm system, Lieutenant Mitchell's voice could be heard: "Battle stations."
On the Enterprise bridge, Fleet Captain Picard barked out orders, efficiently but lacking the emotion that usually came with battle. Troi watched him with interest.
A report came in from engineering. "Warp field degrading."
Picard replied, "Divert power from auxiliary."
Another report, this time from a science officer: "Astrometric sensors losing power."
"Divert all power from Astrometrics to tactical sensors and targeting scanners."
Reports came in, and orders came out. Like a machine, thought Troi.
After the Jem'Hadar ships retreated – a rare but welcome outcome during the Dominion War – Picard left Mitchell in command of the bridge. Geordi LaForge and Deanna Troi followed him into the turbo lift.
"What is it?"
"We were hoping to talk to you about something," said Geordi.
"Go on," said Picard as they stopped at on deck six and stepped out into the corridor.
"I've been offered a new position."
"I wasn't aware of that," said Picard. Geordi was surprised. He had expected congratulations from the captain who had seen him through several promotions already.
"It's on the U.S.S. Adamant. A Defiant-class ship."
"Are you going to take it?"
"I was going to ask your advice, Captain," said Geordi.
"Commander, do you have any longtime goals?"
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, sir."
"Do you want to captain the a big ship like the Enterprise? Or maybe be a Starfleet bigwig?"
"Well, maybe captain a Galaxy-class starship. But I wouldn't want to be an Admiral, sir."
Picard replied, "You won't get there by staying here."
* * *
Commander Troi waited impatiently at the door. She rang the chime a second time.
"What is it?"
Well, at least she had gotten him to talk. "It's Deanna."
A moment later, the doors opened and Deanna was greeted with a grumpy "Good evening". Fleet Captain Picard stood there in his uniform. "What do you want?"
"Just giving you the status report," said Troi. She handed Picard a padd.
Picard read various figures. "Warp core efficiency at 80%… shield repairs completed… Diagnostic lab still under repairs…"
"Skip to Data's reports," said Troi.
Picard moved down the list. "Science efficiency rating of 75%, several labs still under repairs; engineering at 84%, impulse engines repaired; support systems at 100%; security and tactical departments efficiency rating at—"
Troi finished his sentence. "40%."
"Commander Riker can handle it when he gets back."
"Captain, do you know why those departments have hit such a slump?" Picard was silent. "We don't have a real chief tactical officer, or a chief of security."
"I said Commander Riker could handle it, Counselor."
Troi persisted. "Permission to speak freely." Picard nodded, then stared out the window. "Captain, these departments need leadership. And this ship needs leadership. And the fleet needs leadership."
"We have admirals, Counselor," said Picard. "That's what they're for – they lead the fleet. I have a ship, and where I give orders from is none of your concern."
"You weren't promoted to Captain – Fleet Captain, that is – to get an extra pip and a higher pay-grade, Jean-Luc."
Picard frowned. "Dismissed."
* * *
Doctor Bashir had finally finished treating Commander Riker. Now, Worf, Will Riker, Kira Nerys, and Julian Bashir stood at the docking pylon, where a runabout was now docked. Riker would be shuttled to a nearby starbase, where Commander Data would have a runabout ready to take him to the Enterprise.
"It was good to see you again, Commander," said Worf.
"You too," replied Riker.
"Maybe next time you break a leg, you can return to Deep Space Nine."
Humor? thought Riker. That Dax must have been quite a woman – Worf had not been the humorous type last time he and Riker had met. "Maybe. I'd certainly be glad to see Colonel Kira and Doctor Bashir again," he added pleasantly.
Kira's Bajoran combadge chirped. O'Brien's voice played through: "Colonel, Doctor, please report to ops immediately. We have a minor emergency…" She silently thanked O'Brien for having been prompt about pulling her out of the good-bye.
"Acknowledged." She turned to Riker. "Please excuse me. Have a safe trip, Commander." Riker smiled.
"I'd better get going," said Riker. "It was good to see you, Worf." The Klingon nodded.
With nothing else to say, Riker stepped through the door and proceeded towards his waiting shuttle. Worf silently wondered whether he'd like to be on that shuttle, heading back towards the Enterprise.
* * *
Six days later, Data returned with Commander Riker to find LaForge with his bags packed.
Now, Data and LaForge remained in the shuttle bay. LaForge had already bid good-bye to Troi and Riker. Even Picard had emerged from his quarters to wish him good luck.
"Geordi," began Data, "I am curious as to what this will do to our friendship. It will certainly be difficult to maintain it when we are not serving on the same ship."
LaForge nodded. "It'll be hard."
"Then is our friendship ended?"
LaForge looked at his comrade. "I hope not. Just because we won't see each other often doesn't mean we can't be friends…"
Data cut him off. "It will be very difficult. Nevertheless, we must try."
"Yeah…"
"Good-bye, Geordi."
"Bye, Data…"
The awkward good-bye left a strange feeling in Geordi as the shuttle doors closed and he began his journey to the Adamant.
* * *
When Deanna Troi returned to the holodeck pub, she found Commander Killisari at Troi's usual table. To tired to protest, Troi plopped down next to Killisari. "I see you've found my holodeck program." Killisari nodded.
The waiter came over, and asked the two women what they wanted. Troi ordered a Pepsi, but Killisari took water.
"You really should try the cola," suggested Troi.
"No… carbonation doesn't agree with my stomach." Killisari picked up the aluminum can and studied the label. "There's a lot of sugar in this thing."
"It makes it taste better," said Troi.
"It's bad for you." Killisari set the can of soda back on the table in front of Troi. "Computer, access musical database." The computer confirmed the access, and Killisari continued. "Play something from the classical period – maybe some Haydn."
As the computer's sound system mimicked an orchestra, Troi asked, "Hadyn?"
"I like Haydn."
"This isn't a ballroom. This is a pub from the twenty-first century."
"I find the music soothing. It's not disordered or frenzy, like this rock and roll stuff that they play here."
"You like order, don't you? Even if it doesn't agree with the surroundings."
"What are you talking about?"
"You move people around, even though they'll perform differently in different environments. You move people around, but they don't fit there."
Killisari said, "You're mad about me moving Crusher to the Kassath…"
Troi replied, "Right. You know she'd rather be – and she'd do better – here on the Enterprise."
"This isn't up for discussion, Commander." Killisari left the table.
Troi sighed, and popped open her drink. To her surprise, soda fizzed up and flowed onto the table. It must have been accidentally shaken up. Seconds later, the wild, frenzied carbonation subsided and revealed the black surface of the soda. Suddenly she had an idea. "Computer, end program."
* * *
The door chimed. Picard woke up from his nap with a start. He sat in the chair for a minute before the chime repeated. "Who is it?" He was greeted with Commander Troi's voice. "Come in."
The counselor stepped in to the dark quarters, and said, "I thought you might like the latest news from the Cardassian border." Before Picard could interrupt, she rattled off several statistics: "Sixteen ships lost near Chin'toka, a Klingon task force nearly eradicated near Pl'asa, and two Federation colonies overridden."
This wasn't all the news – in fact, it was just the bad news. But Troi had checked the communications logs, and had noticed that Picard had not read the news in weeks.
Picard muttered something that was barely audible. "What did you say," inquired Troi.
"Nothing."
"No, what did you say?"
"Nothing!"
Troi spoke louder. "What did you say Captain?"
"I said, damn! Damn the Dominion and the Jem'Hadar and this whole war! I'm tired of it!" Picard was practically yelling, and Troi wondered how soundproof the bulkheads were. He paused, and became much quieter. "I hate this whole war. It makes me sick. It's sad, it's unfair, it's…"
"Depressing," said Troi. Picard realized what she had tricked him into.
"I want you to show up for counseling sessions. Just once a week or so. But I want you to show up."
"No, I won't."
"You've already set the counseling in motion. Name your time and place."
Picard decided to concede. "Wednesdays, four hundred hours, my quarters. No, wait, I've spent enough time here…"
"I know a certain twenty-first century pub we can visit," suggested Troi.
Picard smiled. "Thank-you, Deanna."
No,
I haven't forgotten about Geordi or Beverly. I'm working on a story right now about Geordi LaForge and am still
planning for Crusher's story.
