Choices
By Firinn
Jean-Luc Picard ruined my life.
But that's nothing new.
The stars streaked past at warp speed and reflected on the smooth surface of the PADD in my hands, but they didn't prevent me from reading the text. I'd read the message so many times I could recite it verbatim.
Yes, Jean-Luc had ruined my life once again.
Dr. Crusher
Chief Medical Officer
USS Enterprise-D
Doctor Crusher,
We are pleased to inform you that your research paper, Biota In Flux: The Successful Breeding of Xanthoria Elegans in the Vaccuum of Space, has been chosen by the Intergalactic Science Council as the recipient of this term's Mendellian Award for Distinguished Research.
The award ceremony will take place on Farnaxia Prime on Stardate 46492. As is the tradition with the Mendellian ADR, in addition to the presentation of the medallion you will also be accorded two weeks' access to the ISC's xenobotany research facility on Farnaxia.
Sincerely,
Dr. Ibn Rashin
President
Intergalactic Science Council
Farnaxia! The Mendellian was a great honour, but to be permitted to spend two weeks in the Alpha Quadrant's preeminent xenobotany facility—that's an opportunity that defies words. Any sane scientist would be piloting a shuttle at maximum warp toward his spot in history. I—apparently—am not sane as my little shuttle is travelling in the entirely wrong direction, bound for Starfleet's medical facility on Oraxes III.
Why? Two words: Jean-Luc Picard. Or is that three? Two and a half? Never mind. Regardless of how many words are in that man's name, I was missing out on a chance few scientists, and even fewer Starfleet scientists, ever receive—one no one in the history of the award has ever turned down. I'm the first. I'd love to blame him, I really would, but it's not his fault. Well, not completely.
If I were to blame him, I'd also have to blame myself, Starfleet, and the snot-nosed bureaucrat at Medical who had the audacity to question my professional judgment. My fingers ached with the need to throttle something as I thought about that anonymous twit. I vowed that when we arrived on Oraxes III, I was going to give him, or her, a piece of my mind. When I was a teenager Nana said I could slice fillets off an ox with my tongue, and I hoped my skills had not diminished with age.
Sighing, I placed the PADD on the console and turned my chair to face my travelling companion. He was sitting under one of the cabin lamps, legs crossed, a cup of tea at his elbow, reading. His world revolved around the words on the PADD in his hands. The crimson uniform looked good on him; he'd gained back most of the weight he'd lost on Celtris III, and his eyes no longer carried a slightly haunted look, but I still saw the damage that Cardassian bastard had done.
He scowled.
I love the little divot that forms above his nose when he draws his eyebrows together. I want to run my thumbs across his forehead and smooth away the tension, but that, of course, is beyond the boundaries of our relationship. "Why are you reading the memo again?"
He looked up as my voice intruded on his thoughts. God, those hazel eyes are beautiful. Almost twenty-five years after first spying them, they still make my stomach do somersaults. But he's my best friend. Friend, Beverly—friend. I'm not supposed to have such thoughts about my best friend. He opened his mouth to deny it, but his ears turned pink. He could never lie to me.
He sighed. "I want to understand it."
I snorted. "It seems pretty simple to me. Someone thinks you're not fit for command and they think I'm hiding that fact for you."
"Beverly," he leaned forward, "no one is accusing you of falsifying your medical reports."
The anger at the implied insult returned. "The hell they aren't! If they believed my entries regarding your mental and psychological health, they wouldn't be hauling you to Oraxes to run you through a bunch of tests like a lab rat."
"Beverly—"
"No, Jean-Luc." I didn't want to be placated. "You know I'm right. The only data Starfleet has is mine. If they trusted it, they wouldn't have sent the memo. They're questioning my professional judgment as much as your fitness for command."
"Your medical knowledge and professional comportment are beyond reproach." His eyes took on a steely glint. "I am appalled someone would attempt to tarnish your reputation to get at me."
I was stunned. I had my theories, but he'd never mentioned anything in the days leading up to the trip so I assumed I was alone in my cynicism. "You think there might be an ulterior motive behind this?"
He nodded. "I didn't want to say anything to arouse your suspicions, but it's the only thing I can think of. There is no way anyone at Medical would seriously consider questioning your judgment."
His faith in me was amazing. I lost count of the number of times I clung to his unwavering support. He believed in me. I believed in him. Regardless of the outcome for his own career, he would fight to defend my professional reputation. Now, with the possibility of unethical conduct on the part of the person ordering the tests out in the open, I had another reason to journey to Oraxes.
"If this really is a plot to oust you, the tests won't be fair."
"I know," he replied. He slid into the pilot's seat as the shuttle beeped, signaling our imminent drop out of warp speed. I turned my chair back to the console, fulfilling my role as co-pilot, entering the commands required to land the shuttle at the appropriate coordinates.
Oraxes III hung before us like a rotten lime. I'm sure it's a lovely planet, but the prospect of fighting for Jean-Luc's career as well as my reputation tinged the purple clouds with a putrescence I could almost smell.
To hell with Farnaxia, my best friend needs me. "I'm glad I came," I said quietly after he finished his conversation with the traffic control officer.
He glanced over and gave me a lopsided grin. "Me too."
As the shuttle descended through the atmosphere I smiled. Those bastards on the surface had no idea what they were about to encounter. I had Jean-Luc's back, and he had mine. My lips curled in a feral grin as I wondered if the facility would still be standing when we were through with it.