Paramount = Q = omnipotent. No profit, only fun.
*********
This house is on fire! Kick off your boots, come and sit a spell. Listen to me worry, come and listen well. All you better best come and lean in boys. I don't dare raise my voice. I've been sitting here for the longest time reading all the warning and the danger signs. I don't have the gift of the prophesy, telling everybody how it's gonna be..... This house is on fire!
Natalie Merchant - This House Is On Fire - Motherland - www.nataliemerchant.com
********* A House Divided
Chapter One
*********
The wind howled outside the medical compound. Skeletons of bombed-out buildings silhouetted the slate gray ski. A thin lone figure skirted debris and picked her way toward the structure, one of the few that remained whole. Bright red strands of hair whipped at her face, and she made no attempt to tame them. Instead, she lowered her head and quickened her pace. Within moments she burst through the doors, into the reception area. She nodded perfunctorily to the two Starfleet lieutenants guarding the entrance.
The scene that greeted her was nothing like the bleak landscape outside. There were dozens of people in the large and bustling lobby, which had been hastily converted into a field triage and emergency medical center. Waving at the busy medics, she made her way directly to her office. She shared it with three other physicians, but it was rarely cramped. Each had daily shifts at two other facilities within the city, and they seldom overlapped in their rotations.
Beverly Crusher wearily sank into her lumpy chair and wished for the millionth time that month that she were back on the Enterprise. She leaned back and closed her eyes, if only for a moment. She did not want to admit it, but she was tired - dead on her feet. A month of 16-hour days with no breaks made for a grind. No, she thought, more like a vise. She felt the life squeezing out of her. She had not smiled in a week, and could not remember the last time she'd actually laughed. Surveying the room in front of her, it was not hard to understand why.
She had surprised herself the other day when she realized it was not the stream of injured children parading through the centers that broke her heart. Instead, it was the elderly. Not their frail, broken bodies, but their spirits. In their faces, she saw everything they had lost. In their lifetime, their home had turned from a paradise into a war zone. They had seen the society they cherished, their freedoms, their families, and their hope destroyed, piece by piece. At least the children had known nothing else. The dulled eyes of the elderly held a desperation and a sense of loss that cut her right down to the bone.
Originally settled by Terran pilgrims almost a hundred years previous, New Genesis was a planet that had once represented the best of Federation colonies. Over the last decades, it had become the center of steadily increasing controversy, as the border disputes between the Federation, Cardassians, and the Romulans grew ever more intense. Its strategic advantage growing year by year, the seat of Chair of the governing council on the planet became ever more coveted. One decade of divisive political debate was followed by a decade of war, until the planet was subjected to nearly annual military coups. Little of the spectacular landscape and architecture was left unscarred. At odd times Beverly had paused to speak with and listen to the stories told by some of her older patients, many of whom had come to Genesis with their parents, the original settlers. Hearing them describe their lives, she pictured how beautiful it would have been whenever she was out in the city, and it made the current desolation seem even more tragic.
A clanging from outside the office snapped her to attention, and she realized she'd been dozing. This early in the morning the center was still relatively calm, but she knew that she had less than an hour to catch up on all the bureaucratic crap that sat on her desk. After that, the volume in the clinic would demand all hands on deck. Sighing and picking up a padd, she remembered that they would be drilling today. As if the actual needs of the inhabitants weren't completely overwhelming, Starfleet demanded that they conduct random monthly disaster drills. Guerilla fighters plagued the interim Federation ruling council, and citizens and soldiers alike were in a state of constant and neurotic readiness. This drill would be her second, and she did not look forward to it. Lasting less than an hour, it took the rest of the day for the center to recover and resume "normal" operations. No medical complex had actually been hit yet, but if the resistance got desperate enough, Beverly doubted even humanitarian efforts would be safe.
Pushing aside the pile of reports that were already late, Crusher set to familiarizing herself with the protocols of the drill they were about to run. The last had been a simulation of an armed strike, with militants played by Starfleet officers storming the facility and taking hostages. Beverly shuddered as she remembered numbly following the standing orders clearly stating that Starfleet officers could, under no terms, negotiate with the guerillas. Her obedience meant that five of her staff were "killed." After the drill, the CO had commended her. She had promptly fled and spent half an hour heaving her lunch in the restroom adjacent to her office. Needless to say, she was not looking forward to the drill today, when they would be "bombed."
Crusher leaned forward and propped her elbows on the desk. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, and began massaging her temples with her thumbs. For a minute she listened to the hum of the bustle outside the door. Her fine auburn hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders and face. Over two months in the planet's overcast winter and without the ministrations of Mr. Mott, it had grown long and dark.
She jumped and her eyes shot open as a pair of strong hands gently grabbed her shoulders. Her smile was dazzling as a deep baritone rumbled behind her.
"Please - allow me, Doctor."
She slid down in her chair and leaned her head back until she met his gorgeous hazel eyes. "Jean-Luc Picard, I am so glad to see you that I don't think we have time to go into the things I would allow you right now."
"Doctor," he replied in a chastising tone. He bent down and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"Really, Captain." She sat up and clucked her tongue. "I meant that I would allow you to get me some coffee, breakfast, a reassignment, or, even better, a month's leave."
"We'll see about the coffee. But some things are even out of my hands." He began to move around the desk to sit down.
"I don't remember telling you to stop." Crusher's tone was all business.
"Aye, sir." Picard walked back around and resumed massaging her delicate shoulders.
Crusher sat back again and closed her eyes. She pondered that joy really was a matter of perspective. Another place in time, and this might simply be a break from a monotonous day on the Enterprise. Today, it was the very representation of heaven.
Realizing that Beverly was beginning to drift off, Picard stopped, and this time reached his seat on the other side of the desk. The haggard CMO groaned. "And I was just beginning to feel human again."
"Perhaps you should lower your expectations of this posting. I don't believe humanity is part of the job description." Picard's sentiment was merry, but his eyes were unaffected.
"My expectations for this post went out the window the day I arrived. I feel so guilty every time I think about it, but all I want is to get out of here." Her tone was desperate, almost pleading. It grated on Picard, and he could not stand to hear it from her.
He did not reply, but met her eyes. They gazed at each other for more than a minute, an entire conversation passing between them without words. It was an indulgence for Beverly, a rare chance to see such a familiar face and experience familiar emotions. She and Picard had begun a 'more intimate' relationship less than a month before Starfleet had shipped her off to New Genesis, where the success of the occupation was heading steadily downhill. It was the embodiment of all the two had feared when they began to see each other romantically. She was in constant danger, and ideologically they were at polar opposites about the way the Federation was handling the situation. They had agreed long ago not to discuss it. The physical distance was hard enough, and neither could stand adding psychological misery to the equation.
The physical compulsion between them had not subsided, but Beverly sorely missed the giddy emotions and joys of exploring a new love. It felt unfair that having waited so long and fearing so much, that they would be robbed now of all the rewards and triumphs of moving forward together. They had gone from butterflies to comfortable old shoes in a matter of months. Beverly could not help but pout.
"Now there's an expression I recognize. And the word 'no' has not even crossed my lips." Picard smiled.
"That is not fair Jean-Luc." Her expression was properly outraged, but within seconds became melancholy. "And so you feel appropriately guilty, I was just thinking about how much I miss you."
"I'm sorry Beverly." His tone was sincere, and he put his hand to his heart. For the first time since arriving, he took a moment to study her. Her complexion was always fair, but now she was pale. The dark circles under her deep-set eyes made them look hollow, and there was none of the usual sparkle in them. Delicate lines etched her face, and he was sure they had been almost invisible when she'd left. Though finer and somewhat dull, her hair was beautiful, and he could not wait to tell her how much he loved it when she let it grow, and stayed away from color treatments. It reminded him of the young woman he had first met some twenty five years ago. She looked nothing like that now, and Picard hated that as well. He hated what the Federation was doing on this planet, what it was doing to her, and to them.
"Well, there's nothing to be done, is there?" She exhaled through pursed lips, and shook herself imperceptibly. "Now - down to business. When did the Enterprise arrive? And, more importantly, when are you leaving?"
"Beverly - when was the last time you checked your mail?" He regarded her solemnly.
She grimaced. "Not in the last few days. Anything critical is delivered directly to me."
Picard opened his mouth to speak when a loud klaxon blared to life. It was followed by a recording. "A Federation standard drill will commence in five seconds. This is a drill, but all personnel are required to treat the situation as realistically as possible."
Picard gave Crusher a look of surprise.
"For god's sake, not now!" Crusher let out a yell of frustration. "I'm sorry Jean-Luc." She met his eyes. "Ready?"
"As ever." He had just finished speaking when the building went completely dark. The windows provided minimal light, barely enough to navigate. Holoemitters had been placed throughout the center to simulate fire, and smoke bombs were giving off a thick but harmless fog. The attending physician from the last shift had moved all critical patients to a wing that was unaffected by the drill.
Crusher and Picard ran from the office to find that the simulation was quite effective. Crusher headed to the admitting desk to coordinate personnel. Picard stood off to the side as Beverly shouted orders. Finishing with her staff, she abruptly turned to him. "Go there," she pointed at a darkened corridor, "and see what you can do about getting us some power." He nodded and set off. 'She'll make a great Captain,' he thought to himself. 'But then, that's why Starfleet sent her here in the first place, isn't it?' He arrived at his destination and set about helping two clueless medics to patch the generator.
An hour later the drill had wrapped up, and Beverly was busy setting her clinic back in order. Delivering final orders and finishing with a patient, she marched into her office.
"You could have warned me." Picard leaned against a far wall.
Crusher shot Picard a lethal gaze, and he chuckled. He noticed that her uniform had begun to hang on her.
He stood and stepped forward. "You're coming back to the ship tonite." The tone was one he reserved for orders given during battle - and it left no room for discussion.
Crusher read it all in Picard's voice and face. She had no energy to object, and she wouldn't have if she did. "You don't have to ask me twice."
"Now I'm really worried." Picard meant it humorously, but was only met with a wan smile. It was the final straw. Starfleet had taken many things from him, but it would not take the spunk from Beverly Crusher. She was clearly not up for it now, but they would discuss the situation tonite.
He stood and tugged his now dirty uniform. "I'll see you in my quarters at 1800."
Beverly laughed. "On at 0600, off at 2200. I'll be a little late."
"Oh no. Dr. Hargitay is on the way down from the ship. She'll shadow you until 17:30, at which time you will return to your housing, pack a bag, and beam up. You're relieved of duty for two days."
Secretly, Crusher felt like jumping up and down and clapping her hands. Instead she eyed him warily. "Only if, after that, Drs. Stewart and Topal are relieved and rotated out for leave as well upon my return."
It was a good deal, and he took it. "Agreed." He smiled again and turned for the door.
"Jean-Luc." Beverly met him at the door and closed it before he stepped out. She took his hand, and each broke out in goosebumps. Both had been involved before with fellow officers, and it was uncanny how one touch could be professional, and the same at another time connote something entirely different. The feel of Crusher's touch now was very personal. He turned back toward her, and was met with a gentle kiss. The hair on his neck stood on end. It would be a long wait for her shift to end.
She spoke quietly and gazed directly in his eyes. "Thank you."
He smiled, squeezed her hand, and then tapped his chest. "Enterprise, one to beam up."
They were still holding hands when he shimmered out of the office.
*********
"Counsellor, Commander, may I join you?" Data's polite and even tone broke into the casual conversation between Troi and Riker.
Riker broke into a wide smile, and Troi responded. "Of course Data. Will and I were just going to have dinner. Can you stay?"
"I would be delighted." Data sat and placed a napkin in his lap. A waiter appeared, and Data placed a small order. He was not required to eat, but found that it facilitated social interaction. "Have either of you spoken with Dr. Crusher?" Even before their arrival at New Genesis, the senior staff had been curious about the welfare of their friend.
"No, but I hear that the Captain managed to smuggle her onboard." Riker looked up over his drink as Troi elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"
Data attempted to smile, and he was getting quite good at it. Still comical, it no longer seemed painful. "I have been running an experiment, and am most anxious to speak with her about it."
Flying elbows aside, Riker could not help himself. "Why don't you ask Dr. Pulaski?" The crew had given up hope that Crusher's reassignment might be fleeting when they had learned of her replacement, Katherine Pulaski.
Now Data's face did seem pained. "I believe that the field of study is better suited to Dr. Crusher's talents."
Riker could not speak, and Deanna stepped in. "I see Data."
The trio sat quietly while the waiter placed their food.
Troi resumed the small talk. "How have you been, Data?"
"Fine counselor. How have you been?" After eight years on the Enterprise, he was doing quite well with small talk. He'd learned that to most people, polite conversation did not involve an extensive description detailing the answer to the question. Rather, a steady and polite "volley" of discussion was preferred.
Both Troi and Riker smiled at Data's truncated answer. Deanna's mouth was open to respond when their attention was drawn by an outburst from a table nearby.
"I don't care what 'humanitarian' arguments you may have. It's crazy to expect that the Cardassians would ever share power with anyone." A young command officer stared down his companions, threw down his napkin, and stalked off. It was the kind of scene that had grown increasingly common onboard. Riker looked grim as he turned back to his own table.
"It's getting worse." He rubbed his beard.
Troi looked equally bereft. "The tensions on the ship are running high. Being in orbit around Genesis has only made things worse. Half the crew believes the Federation never should have been involved in the first place, and the other half think we should double our personnel here and declare outright war on the Cardassians."
"I have not yet come to a conclusion regarding the situation. Have either of you?" Data look from Riker to Troi. The pair exchanged scowls and Will responded.
"We have - and we've agreed not to discuss it over dinner. Or any other meal, for that matter."
"I see. The nature of the topic is so highly controversial that you prefer to ignore it." Data seemed happy with his deduction.
Troi frowned. "That's not quite right Data." She paused, and the android looked up from his meal. "We don't ignore it." She looked at Will again. "We disagree on the matter. And neither of us is willing to change our opinion based on what the other has to say. So, in the interests of friendship, we're limiting our discussion."
"I see." Data looked skeptical of the explanation. It seemed very human in origin.
*********
Beverly Crusher moaned ecstatically. She had not been in a bath for two months, and nothing short of a Borg invasion would move her from her current position.
Dr. Hargitay had arrived planetside early, and picked up Crusher's responsibilities quickly. Beverly had taken the opportunity to return to the Enterprise ahead of schedule and spend some time relaxing before meeting Picard for dinner. Before the bath she'd napped for an hour, and had awoken more refreshed than she'd felt in a long time.
Unbidden, her mind wandered over the experiences of the past months. The first three weeks she'd spent almost entirely in the field, covered in mud, soaked in rain, eating rations and sleeping in 15 minute shifts. 'The closest thing to hell I hope I ever see,' she thought as she ducked her head under the hot water. Her muscles slowly began unwinding. She ran her hands quickly over her arms and legs, which had slimmed. They were wiry now. She was certainly stronger, but far from bulking up, she had dwindled down to raw, ropy muscle. Not attractive.
Coming up for air, she pulled her hair out of her face and glanced around. Her small quarters seemed opulent, and it was joyous to see her knick knacks adorning the shelves and walls. She'd taken a minute to look around upon return, happily picking up momentos she'd almost forgotten she'd owned. The past two months had seemed more like two years.
Sighing, she glanced at the chronometer on the counter and drew herself out of the bath. The towel she ran over her body was impossibly soft. She then donned her robe, which felt like a spun cloud. Never before would she have thought of life on the Enterprise as decadent. Beverly was humbled as she acknowledged the privilege she enjoyed on a daily basis as a Starfleet officer.
She dried her hair with a towel and let the air finish the job, leaving it hanging in soft, dark waves. Happily she noted that the bath had left her pale skin with a slight glow - it was undoubtedly thanking her for finally giving it some sort of attention. She slipped on a fuzzy black v-neck sweater, loose black trousers, and comfortable loafers. Applying only a smattering of eye shadow and a subtle touch of lipstick, she declared herself fit for public consumption. 'Speaking of consumption, I wonder what's for dinner,' she pondered idly as she walked out of her quarters. She was absolutely ravenous.
*********
"Vegetable stew!" Beverly almost started to cry. "Jean-Luc, thank you."
"I'd first considered something a bit more.... glamorous, but I remember you frequently mentioning how much you missed this." Picard smiled sheepishly.
"It's perfect." She favored him with a soft gaze, and his heart melted a little bit. He silently congratulated himself on the choice.
"Please - sit." Upon entering his quarters, she'd stood awkwardly. Twenty years of nervous tension had re-appeared between them. Picard now gestured to the table. "Far be it from me to stand in between you and dinner."
She glared at him. "I'm too hungry to even take the bait, Captain."
"Well now - that's more like the Beverly Crusher I know." He smiled openly, took his own seat and poured wine to accompany the meal.
Beverly eagerly finished a potato. She waved her spoon appreciatively in the direction of her bowl. "This is not replicated."
Picard finished his own bite and replied. "I made a special stop this morning at the galley. They were most accommodating."
"Captain Picard himself making a personal appearance - I can imagine they refused you nothing." Crusher smiled knowingly.
"Honestly Beverly." He shook his head. He'd really missed her needling him.
They chatted amiably, though Beverly spoke little of her assignment. Picard had fully updated her about the Enterprise's happenings and those of the senior staff. Apparently she'd had no time at all to keep up on correspondence.
Finally finished with the meal and the update, they retired to the couch and sat in friendly silence.
"It's a little odd to have you debriefing me on ship's gossip, Jean-Luc." Beverly grinned.
"I do not gossip, Doctor." Picard's expression was one of utter disdain.
Crusher laughed merrily and swatted his arm playfully. "Only an expression, Jean-Luc. I would never accuse you of something so untoward."
He smiled crookedly in acceptance and took it in stride. No one else on the ship would ever make a joke at his expense. His smile touched his eyes as he met hers and offered his hand. She took it.
"I've missed you, Beverly." The air between them crackled with memories of what had transpired between them that morning and in months previous. Both were anxious to reconnect, but neither were sure how to begin.
"Well. This is awkward." Beverly intertwined her fingers in his and brought their hands down to rest between them.
"Yes." Picard's eyes twinkled, and he leaned toward the Doctor, who met him halfway.
The couple promptly skipped past awkward and had set their sights on intimate when a chirrup and a disembodied voice filled the air.
"Doctor Hargitay to Doctor Crusher."
Beverly yelped in frustration and pounded a fist on the table. "This happens every time, Jean-Luc!" Indeed, ships business had more than frequently interrupted their "quality time." Even after a month of dating, they had never spent an entire night together, and Beverly was getting way more than a little antsy about "consummating" things.
She rose and moved to Picard's desk, touching the comm. "Crusher here."
"I'm sorry sir, but we've had a major disaster down here. The guerillas launched a coordinated attack at the west end of the city. Med. center three is completely destroyed, and we're overwhelmed with casualties." There was a loud din in the background, and the young doctor's voice was frantic.
Crusher's expression was grim, and her face pale. "All right Olivia." Crusher took a breath in and assumed an aura of command. "I'll be down to the surface with relief personnel in the next five minutes. You will return to the Enterprise and coordinate patient transports to the ship to alleviate the stress on the remaining centers."
"Aye sir." Hargitay's relief was evident.
"Olivia?"
"Yes sir?"
Crusher's voice was quiet. "I was supposed to be on rotation in med. center three tonite. Why weren't you there?"
Now Hargitay's voice became reverent. "Dr. Topal switched rotations with me. He offered to stay on over there because the load was heavy and he was more familiar with the center."
"I see." Crusher slumped. "All right Doctor. I'll be right down. Crusher out."
Picard had moved during the conversation and was standing near Beverly. He touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Beverly."
"I would have been in there, Jean-Luc. I should have been." Crusher felt extremely guilty. She'd been eating stew while one of her colleagues on the planet had been killed. But that wasn't even the half of it. She was ready to get down to the surface, but after that she wanted out. She gave Picard a plaintive look "God I don't want to go back there. I haven't run away from anything in my entire life, Jean-Luc. But I don't want to go back there."
Picard met her gaze with strength. He could hear Beverly's heart tearing apart. He stood taller, tugging at his uniform. "Beverly, there are people down there who need your help. You are the finest physician in this fleet, and your work will help to ease their suffering. You've been a remarkable officer for twenty years - this is what you signed up to do. Life in Starfleet is hard. But we are all here for each other. And we will all help you get through this." Picard spoke as a Captain now, and he recognized when one of his crew was loosing their will.
Crusher smiled wryly. "Thank you, Captain." She recognized the standard Starfleet pep talk when she heard it - she'd delivered enough of them herself. "Now I need to get out of here. But please tell me I can come back."
"You're welcome here anytime, Beverly." He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled.
Crusher pulled herself up and squared her shoulders. She touched Picard's jaw gently, and then flew out the door.
Picard smiled and shook his head before walking back over to the desk and activating the comm.
*********
Crusher had not changed before reaching the surface, but had discarded her sweater for scrubs hours ago. Her nana had given it to her years before, and it was the softest thing she owned. She was grateful for the decision she'd made as she looked down at her lab coat. It was covered in blood, as was the shirt beneath it. Grimacing, she peeled off another set of protective gloves and readjusted her pony tail. Her hair was stiff with blood as well. "Ugh." She kicked off her shoes and massaged her swollen feet, groaning.
She reclined in her chair in the dusty office in med center two and peered out the window at the sunrise. She'd stopped treating patients for a 10 minute break. With that thought she turned back toward the bustling triage center inside. The guerilla attack had been one of the largest to date, and hundreds of casualties had poured in, completely overwhelming their capacity. Luckily they'd been able to tap the Enterprise, who had sent down personnel and accepted the overflow. Still, she'd worked through the night and was completely exhausted. The load was beginning to dwindle but she still had several hours to go before she could break away for any significant period of time.
"And now we're down one primary physician." 'Just what are we going to do about that?' Crusher stood, rubbing at her lower back. "And I'm getting old." She took a moment to steel herself, and then stalked back into the fray, barking orders as she went.
She turned suddenly when she heard a crashing at the entrance. Panicking, she turned back toward the center to asses the situation. Not good. There were perhaps 10 Starfleet security personnel at various posts. She guessed that the 20 rebels currently standing in the doorway had already dispatched the 5 guards outside. Immediately, she bolted back to her office, where she kept a large hand-held phaser. It wasn't much, but it was something. On her way, she tapped her comm. badge. "Crusher to Peel. I need as many people down here as you've got, and I need them now. We're under attack."
"Acknowledged. Security teams on the way." The Enterprise's newest Chief of Security responded coolly.
Crusher heard phaser fire as she re-emerged. The Starfleet officers were doing well, but they were outnumbered two to one. Taking aim from the doorway, she began to fire, taking down two guerillas. She'd gotten their attention, and saw her terminal explode as she ducked behind her doorframe. Peering out she saw that there were now only 10 rebels left - and one Starfleet officer. 'Two if you count me.' Through the ruckus she could not account for any of her fellow medics. Now on one knee, she leaned out and clipped another attacker. Two more split off and headed toward her position. 'Uh-oh.'
Miraculously, she saw several blue columns shimmering into existence behind the approaching rebels. 'Good timing," thought Beverly.
She leaned out again, as the two guerillas advancing on her turned to see the Enterprise officers materializing. It was enough time for her to pick off one more. She retreated to the back of her office, behind her desk. The remaining rebel now ran toward her. Reaching her office, the man advanced on her and grabbed her arm. She swung a fist, but was met by a punch. Shaking it off, she dropped to the ground and swept at her attacker with her left leg. He toppled but maintained his hold. Crusher was shouting now, and could hear bootsteps approaching.
The man holding her grunted, and grabbed at a device on his arm. Thinking it was a bomb, Crusher tried to swat at him, to no use. She grabbed a fistful of his uniform as they shimmered out of the office in a twirl of red light.
Two security personnel ran in to Crusher's office and peered behind the desk. The Doctor and the rebel were gone. All that was left was Crusher's communicator, staring up at them accusatorily. They both looked at the other in silent acknowledgement. 'Peel's not going to be happy about this.'
*********
"They're in it deep down there, Admiral." Picard's voice was low, and rumbled through his ready room. He'd studied the guerrilla attack from the previous evening, and found the circumstances reprehensible. "Our personnel are outnumbered, and our defense capacity overwhelmed by the rebels. We're losing face here, Alaynna."
"I understand that, Captain." Nechayev drew her lips into a thin line. "The situation on New Genesis is a top priority for everyone in Starfleet and the Federation. We need you there, and we're sending in the Hera as well. She'll be dropping off peacekeeping forces, and Admiral Wolf is arriving to directly coordinate efforts on the ground."
"That's a step forward Admiral - but is it a step toward resolution? How long can Starfleet occupy this planet? The citizens of New Genesis want us out. They don't respect our governing council, and they're tired of being used as an interstellar pawn. These people need a lasting peace." Picard's expression was grim and his jaw set. He disapproved of the way the entire situation was being handled.
"Jean-Luc, this is a not your everyday border skirmish. We both know what control of New Genesis means to the Federation. There will be war on that planet as long as the Cardsassians continue to supply weapons to the rebels. And we cannot afford to lose control of the planet to them." Nechayev's brow grew animated as she spoke, and she rested both fists on her desk. She lowered her voice and leveled her gaze at Picard. "There's already talk of a Cardassian / Romulan alliance. After losing half our fleet to the Borg, the Federation / Klingon alliance is in no shape to take them on. I don't like it any more than you do - but we cannot give an inch."
Picard rubbed a hand at his brow and sat back. "Acknowledged Admiral. We'll do what we can. But we may soon find the situation out of our hands, despite our best efforts."
Nechayev continued to gaze sternly at Picard. "I have every faith in you and the Enterprise. If you can't get this done for us, Picard, then we are indeed in trouble." She paused emphatically. "Nechayev out."
As he signed off, Riker burst through his ready room doors. Picard looked up in surprise. "Can I help you, Number One?"
Riker stood tall, a dark cloud of anger hanging off his shoulders. "We've got a situation on the planet, sir."
*********
This house is on fire! Kick off your boots, come and sit a spell. Listen to me worry, come and listen well. All you better best come and lean in boys. I don't dare raise my voice. I've been sitting here for the longest time reading all the warning and the danger signs. I don't have the gift of the prophesy, telling everybody how it's gonna be..... This house is on fire!
Natalie Merchant - This House Is On Fire - Motherland - www.nataliemerchant.com
********* A House Divided
Chapter One
*********
The wind howled outside the medical compound. Skeletons of bombed-out buildings silhouetted the slate gray ski. A thin lone figure skirted debris and picked her way toward the structure, one of the few that remained whole. Bright red strands of hair whipped at her face, and she made no attempt to tame them. Instead, she lowered her head and quickened her pace. Within moments she burst through the doors, into the reception area. She nodded perfunctorily to the two Starfleet lieutenants guarding the entrance.
The scene that greeted her was nothing like the bleak landscape outside. There were dozens of people in the large and bustling lobby, which had been hastily converted into a field triage and emergency medical center. Waving at the busy medics, she made her way directly to her office. She shared it with three other physicians, but it was rarely cramped. Each had daily shifts at two other facilities within the city, and they seldom overlapped in their rotations.
Beverly Crusher wearily sank into her lumpy chair and wished for the millionth time that month that she were back on the Enterprise. She leaned back and closed her eyes, if only for a moment. She did not want to admit it, but she was tired - dead on her feet. A month of 16-hour days with no breaks made for a grind. No, she thought, more like a vise. She felt the life squeezing out of her. She had not smiled in a week, and could not remember the last time she'd actually laughed. Surveying the room in front of her, it was not hard to understand why.
She had surprised herself the other day when she realized it was not the stream of injured children parading through the centers that broke her heart. Instead, it was the elderly. Not their frail, broken bodies, but their spirits. In their faces, she saw everything they had lost. In their lifetime, their home had turned from a paradise into a war zone. They had seen the society they cherished, their freedoms, their families, and their hope destroyed, piece by piece. At least the children had known nothing else. The dulled eyes of the elderly held a desperation and a sense of loss that cut her right down to the bone.
Originally settled by Terran pilgrims almost a hundred years previous, New Genesis was a planet that had once represented the best of Federation colonies. Over the last decades, it had become the center of steadily increasing controversy, as the border disputes between the Federation, Cardassians, and the Romulans grew ever more intense. Its strategic advantage growing year by year, the seat of Chair of the governing council on the planet became ever more coveted. One decade of divisive political debate was followed by a decade of war, until the planet was subjected to nearly annual military coups. Little of the spectacular landscape and architecture was left unscarred. At odd times Beverly had paused to speak with and listen to the stories told by some of her older patients, many of whom had come to Genesis with their parents, the original settlers. Hearing them describe their lives, she pictured how beautiful it would have been whenever she was out in the city, and it made the current desolation seem even more tragic.
A clanging from outside the office snapped her to attention, and she realized she'd been dozing. This early in the morning the center was still relatively calm, but she knew that she had less than an hour to catch up on all the bureaucratic crap that sat on her desk. After that, the volume in the clinic would demand all hands on deck. Sighing and picking up a padd, she remembered that they would be drilling today. As if the actual needs of the inhabitants weren't completely overwhelming, Starfleet demanded that they conduct random monthly disaster drills. Guerilla fighters plagued the interim Federation ruling council, and citizens and soldiers alike were in a state of constant and neurotic readiness. This drill would be her second, and she did not look forward to it. Lasting less than an hour, it took the rest of the day for the center to recover and resume "normal" operations. No medical complex had actually been hit yet, but if the resistance got desperate enough, Beverly doubted even humanitarian efforts would be safe.
Pushing aside the pile of reports that were already late, Crusher set to familiarizing herself with the protocols of the drill they were about to run. The last had been a simulation of an armed strike, with militants played by Starfleet officers storming the facility and taking hostages. Beverly shuddered as she remembered numbly following the standing orders clearly stating that Starfleet officers could, under no terms, negotiate with the guerillas. Her obedience meant that five of her staff were "killed." After the drill, the CO had commended her. She had promptly fled and spent half an hour heaving her lunch in the restroom adjacent to her office. Needless to say, she was not looking forward to the drill today, when they would be "bombed."
Crusher leaned forward and propped her elbows on the desk. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, and began massaging her temples with her thumbs. For a minute she listened to the hum of the bustle outside the door. Her fine auburn hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders and face. Over two months in the planet's overcast winter and without the ministrations of Mr. Mott, it had grown long and dark.
She jumped and her eyes shot open as a pair of strong hands gently grabbed her shoulders. Her smile was dazzling as a deep baritone rumbled behind her.
"Please - allow me, Doctor."
She slid down in her chair and leaned her head back until she met his gorgeous hazel eyes. "Jean-Luc Picard, I am so glad to see you that I don't think we have time to go into the things I would allow you right now."
"Doctor," he replied in a chastising tone. He bent down and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"Really, Captain." She sat up and clucked her tongue. "I meant that I would allow you to get me some coffee, breakfast, a reassignment, or, even better, a month's leave."
"We'll see about the coffee. But some things are even out of my hands." He began to move around the desk to sit down.
"I don't remember telling you to stop." Crusher's tone was all business.
"Aye, sir." Picard walked back around and resumed massaging her delicate shoulders.
Crusher sat back again and closed her eyes. She pondered that joy really was a matter of perspective. Another place in time, and this might simply be a break from a monotonous day on the Enterprise. Today, it was the very representation of heaven.
Realizing that Beverly was beginning to drift off, Picard stopped, and this time reached his seat on the other side of the desk. The haggard CMO groaned. "And I was just beginning to feel human again."
"Perhaps you should lower your expectations of this posting. I don't believe humanity is part of the job description." Picard's sentiment was merry, but his eyes were unaffected.
"My expectations for this post went out the window the day I arrived. I feel so guilty every time I think about it, but all I want is to get out of here." Her tone was desperate, almost pleading. It grated on Picard, and he could not stand to hear it from her.
He did not reply, but met her eyes. They gazed at each other for more than a minute, an entire conversation passing between them without words. It was an indulgence for Beverly, a rare chance to see such a familiar face and experience familiar emotions. She and Picard had begun a 'more intimate' relationship less than a month before Starfleet had shipped her off to New Genesis, where the success of the occupation was heading steadily downhill. It was the embodiment of all the two had feared when they began to see each other romantically. She was in constant danger, and ideologically they were at polar opposites about the way the Federation was handling the situation. They had agreed long ago not to discuss it. The physical distance was hard enough, and neither could stand adding psychological misery to the equation.
The physical compulsion between them had not subsided, but Beverly sorely missed the giddy emotions and joys of exploring a new love. It felt unfair that having waited so long and fearing so much, that they would be robbed now of all the rewards and triumphs of moving forward together. They had gone from butterflies to comfortable old shoes in a matter of months. Beverly could not help but pout.
"Now there's an expression I recognize. And the word 'no' has not even crossed my lips." Picard smiled.
"That is not fair Jean-Luc." Her expression was properly outraged, but within seconds became melancholy. "And so you feel appropriately guilty, I was just thinking about how much I miss you."
"I'm sorry Beverly." His tone was sincere, and he put his hand to his heart. For the first time since arriving, he took a moment to study her. Her complexion was always fair, but now she was pale. The dark circles under her deep-set eyes made them look hollow, and there was none of the usual sparkle in them. Delicate lines etched her face, and he was sure they had been almost invisible when she'd left. Though finer and somewhat dull, her hair was beautiful, and he could not wait to tell her how much he loved it when she let it grow, and stayed away from color treatments. It reminded him of the young woman he had first met some twenty five years ago. She looked nothing like that now, and Picard hated that as well. He hated what the Federation was doing on this planet, what it was doing to her, and to them.
"Well, there's nothing to be done, is there?" She exhaled through pursed lips, and shook herself imperceptibly. "Now - down to business. When did the Enterprise arrive? And, more importantly, when are you leaving?"
"Beverly - when was the last time you checked your mail?" He regarded her solemnly.
She grimaced. "Not in the last few days. Anything critical is delivered directly to me."
Picard opened his mouth to speak when a loud klaxon blared to life. It was followed by a recording. "A Federation standard drill will commence in five seconds. This is a drill, but all personnel are required to treat the situation as realistically as possible."
Picard gave Crusher a look of surprise.
"For god's sake, not now!" Crusher let out a yell of frustration. "I'm sorry Jean-Luc." She met his eyes. "Ready?"
"As ever." He had just finished speaking when the building went completely dark. The windows provided minimal light, barely enough to navigate. Holoemitters had been placed throughout the center to simulate fire, and smoke bombs were giving off a thick but harmless fog. The attending physician from the last shift had moved all critical patients to a wing that was unaffected by the drill.
Crusher and Picard ran from the office to find that the simulation was quite effective. Crusher headed to the admitting desk to coordinate personnel. Picard stood off to the side as Beverly shouted orders. Finishing with her staff, she abruptly turned to him. "Go there," she pointed at a darkened corridor, "and see what you can do about getting us some power." He nodded and set off. 'She'll make a great Captain,' he thought to himself. 'But then, that's why Starfleet sent her here in the first place, isn't it?' He arrived at his destination and set about helping two clueless medics to patch the generator.
An hour later the drill had wrapped up, and Beverly was busy setting her clinic back in order. Delivering final orders and finishing with a patient, she marched into her office.
"You could have warned me." Picard leaned against a far wall.
Crusher shot Picard a lethal gaze, and he chuckled. He noticed that her uniform had begun to hang on her.
He stood and stepped forward. "You're coming back to the ship tonite." The tone was one he reserved for orders given during battle - and it left no room for discussion.
Crusher read it all in Picard's voice and face. She had no energy to object, and she wouldn't have if she did. "You don't have to ask me twice."
"Now I'm really worried." Picard meant it humorously, but was only met with a wan smile. It was the final straw. Starfleet had taken many things from him, but it would not take the spunk from Beverly Crusher. She was clearly not up for it now, but they would discuss the situation tonite.
He stood and tugged his now dirty uniform. "I'll see you in my quarters at 1800."
Beverly laughed. "On at 0600, off at 2200. I'll be a little late."
"Oh no. Dr. Hargitay is on the way down from the ship. She'll shadow you until 17:30, at which time you will return to your housing, pack a bag, and beam up. You're relieved of duty for two days."
Secretly, Crusher felt like jumping up and down and clapping her hands. Instead she eyed him warily. "Only if, after that, Drs. Stewart and Topal are relieved and rotated out for leave as well upon my return."
It was a good deal, and he took it. "Agreed." He smiled again and turned for the door.
"Jean-Luc." Beverly met him at the door and closed it before he stepped out. She took his hand, and each broke out in goosebumps. Both had been involved before with fellow officers, and it was uncanny how one touch could be professional, and the same at another time connote something entirely different. The feel of Crusher's touch now was very personal. He turned back toward her, and was met with a gentle kiss. The hair on his neck stood on end. It would be a long wait for her shift to end.
She spoke quietly and gazed directly in his eyes. "Thank you."
He smiled, squeezed her hand, and then tapped his chest. "Enterprise, one to beam up."
They were still holding hands when he shimmered out of the office.
*********
"Counsellor, Commander, may I join you?" Data's polite and even tone broke into the casual conversation between Troi and Riker.
Riker broke into a wide smile, and Troi responded. "Of course Data. Will and I were just going to have dinner. Can you stay?"
"I would be delighted." Data sat and placed a napkin in his lap. A waiter appeared, and Data placed a small order. He was not required to eat, but found that it facilitated social interaction. "Have either of you spoken with Dr. Crusher?" Even before their arrival at New Genesis, the senior staff had been curious about the welfare of their friend.
"No, but I hear that the Captain managed to smuggle her onboard." Riker looked up over his drink as Troi elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"
Data attempted to smile, and he was getting quite good at it. Still comical, it no longer seemed painful. "I have been running an experiment, and am most anxious to speak with her about it."
Flying elbows aside, Riker could not help himself. "Why don't you ask Dr. Pulaski?" The crew had given up hope that Crusher's reassignment might be fleeting when they had learned of her replacement, Katherine Pulaski.
Now Data's face did seem pained. "I believe that the field of study is better suited to Dr. Crusher's talents."
Riker could not speak, and Deanna stepped in. "I see Data."
The trio sat quietly while the waiter placed their food.
Troi resumed the small talk. "How have you been, Data?"
"Fine counselor. How have you been?" After eight years on the Enterprise, he was doing quite well with small talk. He'd learned that to most people, polite conversation did not involve an extensive description detailing the answer to the question. Rather, a steady and polite "volley" of discussion was preferred.
Both Troi and Riker smiled at Data's truncated answer. Deanna's mouth was open to respond when their attention was drawn by an outburst from a table nearby.
"I don't care what 'humanitarian' arguments you may have. It's crazy to expect that the Cardassians would ever share power with anyone." A young command officer stared down his companions, threw down his napkin, and stalked off. It was the kind of scene that had grown increasingly common onboard. Riker looked grim as he turned back to his own table.
"It's getting worse." He rubbed his beard.
Troi looked equally bereft. "The tensions on the ship are running high. Being in orbit around Genesis has only made things worse. Half the crew believes the Federation never should have been involved in the first place, and the other half think we should double our personnel here and declare outright war on the Cardassians."
"I have not yet come to a conclusion regarding the situation. Have either of you?" Data look from Riker to Troi. The pair exchanged scowls and Will responded.
"We have - and we've agreed not to discuss it over dinner. Or any other meal, for that matter."
"I see. The nature of the topic is so highly controversial that you prefer to ignore it." Data seemed happy with his deduction.
Troi frowned. "That's not quite right Data." She paused, and the android looked up from his meal. "We don't ignore it." She looked at Will again. "We disagree on the matter. And neither of us is willing to change our opinion based on what the other has to say. So, in the interests of friendship, we're limiting our discussion."
"I see." Data looked skeptical of the explanation. It seemed very human in origin.
*********
Beverly Crusher moaned ecstatically. She had not been in a bath for two months, and nothing short of a Borg invasion would move her from her current position.
Dr. Hargitay had arrived planetside early, and picked up Crusher's responsibilities quickly. Beverly had taken the opportunity to return to the Enterprise ahead of schedule and spend some time relaxing before meeting Picard for dinner. Before the bath she'd napped for an hour, and had awoken more refreshed than she'd felt in a long time.
Unbidden, her mind wandered over the experiences of the past months. The first three weeks she'd spent almost entirely in the field, covered in mud, soaked in rain, eating rations and sleeping in 15 minute shifts. 'The closest thing to hell I hope I ever see,' she thought as she ducked her head under the hot water. Her muscles slowly began unwinding. She ran her hands quickly over her arms and legs, which had slimmed. They were wiry now. She was certainly stronger, but far from bulking up, she had dwindled down to raw, ropy muscle. Not attractive.
Coming up for air, she pulled her hair out of her face and glanced around. Her small quarters seemed opulent, and it was joyous to see her knick knacks adorning the shelves and walls. She'd taken a minute to look around upon return, happily picking up momentos she'd almost forgotten she'd owned. The past two months had seemed more like two years.
Sighing, she glanced at the chronometer on the counter and drew herself out of the bath. The towel she ran over her body was impossibly soft. She then donned her robe, which felt like a spun cloud. Never before would she have thought of life on the Enterprise as decadent. Beverly was humbled as she acknowledged the privilege she enjoyed on a daily basis as a Starfleet officer.
She dried her hair with a towel and let the air finish the job, leaving it hanging in soft, dark waves. Happily she noted that the bath had left her pale skin with a slight glow - it was undoubtedly thanking her for finally giving it some sort of attention. She slipped on a fuzzy black v-neck sweater, loose black trousers, and comfortable loafers. Applying only a smattering of eye shadow and a subtle touch of lipstick, she declared herself fit for public consumption. 'Speaking of consumption, I wonder what's for dinner,' she pondered idly as she walked out of her quarters. She was absolutely ravenous.
*********
"Vegetable stew!" Beverly almost started to cry. "Jean-Luc, thank you."
"I'd first considered something a bit more.... glamorous, but I remember you frequently mentioning how much you missed this." Picard smiled sheepishly.
"It's perfect." She favored him with a soft gaze, and his heart melted a little bit. He silently congratulated himself on the choice.
"Please - sit." Upon entering his quarters, she'd stood awkwardly. Twenty years of nervous tension had re-appeared between them. Picard now gestured to the table. "Far be it from me to stand in between you and dinner."
She glared at him. "I'm too hungry to even take the bait, Captain."
"Well now - that's more like the Beverly Crusher I know." He smiled openly, took his own seat and poured wine to accompany the meal.
Beverly eagerly finished a potato. She waved her spoon appreciatively in the direction of her bowl. "This is not replicated."
Picard finished his own bite and replied. "I made a special stop this morning at the galley. They were most accommodating."
"Captain Picard himself making a personal appearance - I can imagine they refused you nothing." Crusher smiled knowingly.
"Honestly Beverly." He shook his head. He'd really missed her needling him.
They chatted amiably, though Beverly spoke little of her assignment. Picard had fully updated her about the Enterprise's happenings and those of the senior staff. Apparently she'd had no time at all to keep up on correspondence.
Finally finished with the meal and the update, they retired to the couch and sat in friendly silence.
"It's a little odd to have you debriefing me on ship's gossip, Jean-Luc." Beverly grinned.
"I do not gossip, Doctor." Picard's expression was one of utter disdain.
Crusher laughed merrily and swatted his arm playfully. "Only an expression, Jean-Luc. I would never accuse you of something so untoward."
He smiled crookedly in acceptance and took it in stride. No one else on the ship would ever make a joke at his expense. His smile touched his eyes as he met hers and offered his hand. She took it.
"I've missed you, Beverly." The air between them crackled with memories of what had transpired between them that morning and in months previous. Both were anxious to reconnect, but neither were sure how to begin.
"Well. This is awkward." Beverly intertwined her fingers in his and brought their hands down to rest between them.
"Yes." Picard's eyes twinkled, and he leaned toward the Doctor, who met him halfway.
The couple promptly skipped past awkward and had set their sights on intimate when a chirrup and a disembodied voice filled the air.
"Doctor Hargitay to Doctor Crusher."
Beverly yelped in frustration and pounded a fist on the table. "This happens every time, Jean-Luc!" Indeed, ships business had more than frequently interrupted their "quality time." Even after a month of dating, they had never spent an entire night together, and Beverly was getting way more than a little antsy about "consummating" things.
She rose and moved to Picard's desk, touching the comm. "Crusher here."
"I'm sorry sir, but we've had a major disaster down here. The guerillas launched a coordinated attack at the west end of the city. Med. center three is completely destroyed, and we're overwhelmed with casualties." There was a loud din in the background, and the young doctor's voice was frantic.
Crusher's expression was grim, and her face pale. "All right Olivia." Crusher took a breath in and assumed an aura of command. "I'll be down to the surface with relief personnel in the next five minutes. You will return to the Enterprise and coordinate patient transports to the ship to alleviate the stress on the remaining centers."
"Aye sir." Hargitay's relief was evident.
"Olivia?"
"Yes sir?"
Crusher's voice was quiet. "I was supposed to be on rotation in med. center three tonite. Why weren't you there?"
Now Hargitay's voice became reverent. "Dr. Topal switched rotations with me. He offered to stay on over there because the load was heavy and he was more familiar with the center."
"I see." Crusher slumped. "All right Doctor. I'll be right down. Crusher out."
Picard had moved during the conversation and was standing near Beverly. He touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Beverly."
"I would have been in there, Jean-Luc. I should have been." Crusher felt extremely guilty. She'd been eating stew while one of her colleagues on the planet had been killed. But that wasn't even the half of it. She was ready to get down to the surface, but after that she wanted out. She gave Picard a plaintive look "God I don't want to go back there. I haven't run away from anything in my entire life, Jean-Luc. But I don't want to go back there."
Picard met her gaze with strength. He could hear Beverly's heart tearing apart. He stood taller, tugging at his uniform. "Beverly, there are people down there who need your help. You are the finest physician in this fleet, and your work will help to ease their suffering. You've been a remarkable officer for twenty years - this is what you signed up to do. Life in Starfleet is hard. But we are all here for each other. And we will all help you get through this." Picard spoke as a Captain now, and he recognized when one of his crew was loosing their will.
Crusher smiled wryly. "Thank you, Captain." She recognized the standard Starfleet pep talk when she heard it - she'd delivered enough of them herself. "Now I need to get out of here. But please tell me I can come back."
"You're welcome here anytime, Beverly." He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled.
Crusher pulled herself up and squared her shoulders. She touched Picard's jaw gently, and then flew out the door.
Picard smiled and shook his head before walking back over to the desk and activating the comm.
*********
Crusher had not changed before reaching the surface, but had discarded her sweater for scrubs hours ago. Her nana had given it to her years before, and it was the softest thing she owned. She was grateful for the decision she'd made as she looked down at her lab coat. It was covered in blood, as was the shirt beneath it. Grimacing, she peeled off another set of protective gloves and readjusted her pony tail. Her hair was stiff with blood as well. "Ugh." She kicked off her shoes and massaged her swollen feet, groaning.
She reclined in her chair in the dusty office in med center two and peered out the window at the sunrise. She'd stopped treating patients for a 10 minute break. With that thought she turned back toward the bustling triage center inside. The guerilla attack had been one of the largest to date, and hundreds of casualties had poured in, completely overwhelming their capacity. Luckily they'd been able to tap the Enterprise, who had sent down personnel and accepted the overflow. Still, she'd worked through the night and was completely exhausted. The load was beginning to dwindle but she still had several hours to go before she could break away for any significant period of time.
"And now we're down one primary physician." 'Just what are we going to do about that?' Crusher stood, rubbing at her lower back. "And I'm getting old." She took a moment to steel herself, and then stalked back into the fray, barking orders as she went.
She turned suddenly when she heard a crashing at the entrance. Panicking, she turned back toward the center to asses the situation. Not good. There were perhaps 10 Starfleet security personnel at various posts. She guessed that the 20 rebels currently standing in the doorway had already dispatched the 5 guards outside. Immediately, she bolted back to her office, where she kept a large hand-held phaser. It wasn't much, but it was something. On her way, she tapped her comm. badge. "Crusher to Peel. I need as many people down here as you've got, and I need them now. We're under attack."
"Acknowledged. Security teams on the way." The Enterprise's newest Chief of Security responded coolly.
Crusher heard phaser fire as she re-emerged. The Starfleet officers were doing well, but they were outnumbered two to one. Taking aim from the doorway, she began to fire, taking down two guerillas. She'd gotten their attention, and saw her terminal explode as she ducked behind her doorframe. Peering out she saw that there were now only 10 rebels left - and one Starfleet officer. 'Two if you count me.' Through the ruckus she could not account for any of her fellow medics. Now on one knee, she leaned out and clipped another attacker. Two more split off and headed toward her position. 'Uh-oh.'
Miraculously, she saw several blue columns shimmering into existence behind the approaching rebels. 'Good timing," thought Beverly.
She leaned out again, as the two guerillas advancing on her turned to see the Enterprise officers materializing. It was enough time for her to pick off one more. She retreated to the back of her office, behind her desk. The remaining rebel now ran toward her. Reaching her office, the man advanced on her and grabbed her arm. She swung a fist, but was met by a punch. Shaking it off, she dropped to the ground and swept at her attacker with her left leg. He toppled but maintained his hold. Crusher was shouting now, and could hear bootsteps approaching.
The man holding her grunted, and grabbed at a device on his arm. Thinking it was a bomb, Crusher tried to swat at him, to no use. She grabbed a fistful of his uniform as they shimmered out of the office in a twirl of red light.
Two security personnel ran in to Crusher's office and peered behind the desk. The Doctor and the rebel were gone. All that was left was Crusher's communicator, staring up at them accusatorily. They both looked at the other in silent acknowledgement. 'Peel's not going to be happy about this.'
*********
"They're in it deep down there, Admiral." Picard's voice was low, and rumbled through his ready room. He'd studied the guerrilla attack from the previous evening, and found the circumstances reprehensible. "Our personnel are outnumbered, and our defense capacity overwhelmed by the rebels. We're losing face here, Alaynna."
"I understand that, Captain." Nechayev drew her lips into a thin line. "The situation on New Genesis is a top priority for everyone in Starfleet and the Federation. We need you there, and we're sending in the Hera as well. She'll be dropping off peacekeeping forces, and Admiral Wolf is arriving to directly coordinate efforts on the ground."
"That's a step forward Admiral - but is it a step toward resolution? How long can Starfleet occupy this planet? The citizens of New Genesis want us out. They don't respect our governing council, and they're tired of being used as an interstellar pawn. These people need a lasting peace." Picard's expression was grim and his jaw set. He disapproved of the way the entire situation was being handled.
"Jean-Luc, this is a not your everyday border skirmish. We both know what control of New Genesis means to the Federation. There will be war on that planet as long as the Cardsassians continue to supply weapons to the rebels. And we cannot afford to lose control of the planet to them." Nechayev's brow grew animated as she spoke, and she rested both fists on her desk. She lowered her voice and leveled her gaze at Picard. "There's already talk of a Cardassian / Romulan alliance. After losing half our fleet to the Borg, the Federation / Klingon alliance is in no shape to take them on. I don't like it any more than you do - but we cannot give an inch."
Picard rubbed a hand at his brow and sat back. "Acknowledged Admiral. We'll do what we can. But we may soon find the situation out of our hands, despite our best efforts."
Nechayev continued to gaze sternly at Picard. "I have every faith in you and the Enterprise. If you can't get this done for us, Picard, then we are indeed in trouble." She paused emphatically. "Nechayev out."
As he signed off, Riker burst through his ready room doors. Picard looked up in surprise. "Can I help you, Number One?"
Riker stood tall, a dark cloud of anger hanging off his shoulders. "We've got a situation on the planet, sir."