Prologue - Part 1
"Permission to come aboard?"
The bright and cheerful voice sang out from the open hatch of the shuttle craft, less a request to enter the ship than it was an announcement of the speaker's arrival on board.
Jean-Luc Picard swiveled in the pilot's chair, grinning broadly at the newcomer, the voice - and the individual - more welcome than he would usually care to admit.
Today, however, he couldn't help but smile openly at her presence.
"Beverly!" he said happily, unabashed at revealing his delight in seeing her - then hastily swiveled back as an annoying chirp from the control board reminded him to pay attention to the pre-flight check he had been performing.
He touched a few controls, confirmed the boards settings then swiveled back to look at his old friend.
"I was afraid I was going to have to leave without you," he said, only half teasing.
"That," she said, dropping her gear bag on one of the seats, then making her way forward, "was not going to happen." Reaching the control panel, she leaned over him, planted a soft kiss on his cheek then sighed. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you, Jean-Luc," she murmured as she settled into the co-pilot's chair. "One more day at that conference, and they would have locked me up - and you would have had to come back to get me."
"Was it that boring?"
"I could have handled boring," she countered. "It was the moments of unwanted excitement that took their toll."
"Ah," he replied, understanding. "Professor Johannssen."
"It's the twenty-fifth century, Jean-Luc, not the fifth!" she growled. "What makes him think that he can grope any woman who passes him just because he finds her attractive? If I had had to put up with him for one more day, I'd be up on charges of assault - or worse."
His smiled instantly turned to a frown, and reflexively reached for her hand - only to pull it back quickly. While his consoling touch certainly wasn't in the same class as one of Johannssen's legendary attempts to molest a female co-worker, it was still inappropriate, he reminded himself. Checking the action, he looked at her. "He didn't try anything with you, did he?"
Beverly looked back at him, frowning. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself against a letch like Johannssen, Jean-Luc," she reminded him, a little sternly - the gentled her tone. "But thank you for being concerned. He did make a try on the first day," she admitted, "but that pressure point tactic you had me working on back on the Enterprise came in handy. I don't think he even realized what had happened," she added, smiling, her face brightening. "One minute he's reaching for my... arm," she demurred, "the next minute he was on the ground, with this rather astonished look on his face. I don't think he knew what hit him."
"I'm sorry you had to use it," Jean-Luc conceded. "Do you intend to press charges against him?"
"No," she said, "but I did write a note to the advisory board recommending that he either be offered counseling to address his issues, or not to be permitted in any situation where he's alone with a woman. Not that I'd think he'd force himself on someone - but there are a lot of first-year interns that pass through his virology lab; at that age, they can be vulnerable to the influence of an older, more mature man - especially when he is damned good looking," she added.
Picard raised a brow. "Oh?"
Beverly smiled back at him. "Oh," she agreed, laying her hand on his arm. "You should know, Jean-Luc. Half of the ensigns on the ship would do whatever you asked them to - if you ever asked them to do anything outside their assigned duties," she added.
"Which I wouldn't," he reminded her.
"I know," she countered, then leaned toward him, placing a second kiss on his cheek. "That's the other thing that makes you so attractive - your sense of honor." She rose from the chair. "I need to stow my gear before we take off," she explained. "If that bag starts rolling, I'm not sure the shuttle's inertial dampeners will be able to compensate." She made her way to the back and hefted the bag with a grunt.
"Shopping?" he asked lightly.
"Hardly," she countered as she opened a hatch, shoved the bag inside then secured the door . "Reports on the latest research on viral replication outside the host body," she said, returning to the chair. "Viruses change their replicative strategies almost as fast as we can determine what they are - and with every change, we have to shift our countermeasures in order to find them and destroy them before they start reproducing en masse. Every time we think we have them figured out, they find a new path," she sighed.
"You're talking as though the viruses were intelligent," he commented.
"They aren't - but they have survived as a life form far longer than most creatures - and they do it by adapting to the environment. It's not conscious, so it's not intelligence - but it's a survival mechanism that has kept them in existence longer than we have been," she replied. "The research that was presented at the forum was directed at addressing viral agents that have a faster reaction time to the newest viral strategies - although there hasn't been much success along those lines," she sighed. "Unfortunately, everyone had their own reasoning as to why - and everyone insisted on presenting those reasons - and presenting me with a copy of their reports for me to take back," she added wearily.
"Haven't your colleagues heard of subspace transmissions?" he quipped.
"They have – but someone at Starfleet Medical made a recommendation that all research data be submitted in hard copy as well as by transmission, to avoid the possibility of miscommunication of technical data due to subspace dropouts," she replied with a frustrated sigh.
Picard smiled. "I believe that 'someone' was you," he reminded her.
"It was," Beverly admitted. "Little did I know it would translate into my having to haul around a hundred padds," she complained. "Fortunately, hauling all of those back and forth to my hotel eliminated the need for my having to work out every day – not that I would have had time for it, or for shopping. What little shopping I did - and I assure you there was very little spare time for anything, let alone a shopping spree through San Francisco - was for the essentials."
"The essentials?" he pressed. "New shoes?"
"Actually," she replied haughtily, "I bought something for you."
He raised a brow in curiosity and in question. "Indeed."
"Indeed. A pound of Earl Grey. The real stuff," she added. "At least for a time you'll have a respite from the replicator version," she added.
His eyes widened slightly, impressed - and honored. Replicated tea was almost - almost - as good as the real thing - and thus, most people didn't bother with hunting out the source of the brew. For Beverly to have spent what little free time she had to have searched out - and found - the scented leaves was touching. Although, he added with a grin, it probably wasn't the only thing she had sought out.
"And for yourself?" he asked.
"For me?" she replied innocently, a hand raised to her chest in feigned protest. "My dear captain..."
"Sumatran? Or something else?"
She smiled, unable to maintain the pretense against the man who knew her better than anyone else alive. "Celebes Kallosi. After the wars there in the 21st century, most of the plantations were destroyed - but there's been a resurgence in interest in the restoring the heritage crops - so I called in a favor, transported over - speaking of which, we have got to spend a few days on the islands on our next holiday, Jean-Luc; the ocean was crystal clear and the weather perfect! -and," she continued without breaking the original thought, "found a pound of the beans for myself. It turns out that Paul - he's the resident botanist - has a fondness for Earl Grey, and has it brought in for his own enjoyment. We worked out a deal, and I got a pound of tea for you and a pound of beans for me."
Picard smiled his appreciation - then allowed himself a frown. "Should I ask what type of a deal you negotiated?"
"Nothing like that," she countered firmly. "I agreed to read one of his daughter's papers and review it for possible submission to the Federation science council."
"And...?"
"And what?"
"And how is the paper?"
She rolled her eyes. "I have no idea, Jean-Luc! I don't know about you, but I have spent the last two weeks running non-stop! I've barely had a chance to catch my breath - let alone read a report! I was hoping to get a chance to read it on the trip back to the Enterprise. If I wait until we get there, it's going to be weeks before I'm caught up with reports - providing that I survive Will's infamous New Year's Eve party," she added.
He smiled. "I could contact the Enterprise and tell them the rendezvous will be delayed - not long, but time enough to spare us both the party," he added.
"Will would just change course in order to make sure we show up. I think you instilled a little too much tenacity in your first officer," she added.
"It's hardly my fault that Will wants to have a good time - and wants everyone else to have one as well," Picard protested.
"Well, this year, I'm planning to show up just for a glass of champagne at midnight, then sneak back to my quarters while no one's looking," she confessed, not permitting herself the thought of catching a quick midnight kiss as well - at least not in ten Forward with everyone looking on - then gave him a suspicious look. "Unless, of course, you had the same thing in mind. We can't both disappear." Or rather we could, she added wordlessly, but that would only add to the already overloaded rumor mill that occupied the crew's off-hours. Having both been off-ship and on Earth at the same time would have already had started more than enough rumors - even though they had both been so busy we haven't even spoken by communicator for almost two weeks! she protested. Both of us disappearing as soon as we get back would only add fuel to a fire that was already burning far too brightly.
"We could if the ship's captain suffered a minor medical emergency," he offered. "You are, after all, my personal physician and therefore would have to attend to any injury I might suffer."
"What are you thinking? Cutting your hand on a broken champagne glass?"
He scoffed at the idea. "The son of a vintner cutting his hand on a wine glass? Unlikely. I was thinking something more believable - like a sprained ankle from my less-than-graceful attempts to lead the ship's CMO across the dance floor," he proposed.
"That's no better," Beverly replied. "You're a wonderful dancer," she said remembering the many times they had practiced together before an ambassadorial function - and, she thought with a smile, how most of those practices had lasted far longer than was necessary. His prowess on the dance floor, however, was a fact that he kept as well hidden as she kept her own dancing predilection. "But," she continued before he could protest, "I'm willing to play along with the premise - as long as you promise to take me dancing somewhere else after we get free."
He smiled. "Your assurances to the contrary aside, we'll probably wind up back in Sickbay - tending to your stepped-upon toes."
"That's my offer, Captain," she laughed. "Take it or leave it."
"In that case, I see I have no option," he sighed in mock resignation - as though the thought of another evening spent with Beverly were an undue burden. "That simply leaves the matter of where we should go."
"The holodeck?"
"I suspect it's already been reserved for the evening - and I presume the arboretum will be equally popular. In any case, we can hardly leave the party to go to Sickbay only to be seen somewhere else. My quarters?" he suggested.
His quarters, she mused. The two of them alone, together, with a glass of champagne, some soft music, some close dancing... perhaps that midnight kiss wouldn't be so unlikely after all, she told herself -and judging from the smile on Jean-Luc's face, she thought, perhaps he was thinking the same thing. "It's a date then," she agreed. "Now we just have to get back to the Enterprise early enough so I can unpack all those padds - and find something to wear," she continued. "I really didn't have a chance to do any shopping while I was at the conference.
"And speaking of conferences, how were your meetings?" she continued.
"Five days with the Admiralty discussing promotion protocols, three days reviewing admission requirement changes for the Academy, and all followed by a summit of the archaeological council," he sighed unhappily.
"I thought you were looking forward to the council meeting," she reminded him.
"I was - until Graber insisted on raising the issue of the removal of replicators as standard field issue, due to the possibility of their use to replicate - or destroy - artifacts in order to prove or disprove a given theory. K'vortmaka took it as a personal insult..."
"Knowing those two, I assume that is exactly what it was," she interjected.
"It was," he agreed, "but there are certain pretenses that have to be maintained or we'd never get anything accomplished, Beverly. Nonetheless, K'vortmaka took offense - and suddenly everyone was taking sides over the issue. It wasn't until Maripotha reminded them that without replicators they'd have to carry in their all their supplies as well as use full sanitation protocols to avoid biological contamination that they were able to calm down - but the remaining time was spent discussing encryption processes that would mark all created materials as being off-site products."
"In other words, they accomplished nothing," she concluded.
"Not one damned thing. If I had known that was going to happen, I would have joined you on your trip to your coffee plantation and talked you into an unplanned holiday," he informed her.
I might have talked you into something more as well, he added to himself.
"Next trip, Jean-Luc," she assured him. "Next trip to Earth - and I promise we'll both get away from meetings and conferences and just have a holiday."
"I'm going to hold you to that," he said.
She smiled back, knowing the game they both were playing - and wondering if, or when, either of them would admit that it was a game - or perhaps, admit that it wasn't.
"I presume our replicator is functioning - no encryption processes to worry about?" she asked. "I skipped breakfast."
"The replicator's working - but if lunch can wait a few minutes, I can get clearance for an early departure," he said. "Then I can put it on autopilot, and we can eat together. If you don't mind," he added hastily.
"My pleasure," she said, settling back into the co-pilot's chair. "What's the ETA with the Enterprise?"
"Twelve hours," he answered.
"Twelve hours?" she replied in astonishment.
He gave a rueful shrug. "Let's just say that a Starfleet captain who doesn't need a shuttle with warp speed capabilities doesn't get a shuttle with warp speed capabilities."
"More likely they just don't want someone stealing it while it's on auto-pilot returning to Earth," she said. "Rumor has it that there are Ferengi and Orion pirates hiding in the asteroid belt around Mars, helping themselves to any merchandise that may happen by them."
"So far it's just that - a rumor - but that hasn't stopped Starfleet from increasing security patrols. Even so, if it is the Ferengi, they're managing to get the ships out of the system without so much as a trace of the ships being left behind. Fortunately, this ship is not going to provoke any interest from a would-be pirate - but it is going to slow our return to the Enterprise."
"I suppose there's a good side to it," she tried optimistically. "We might not reach the Enterprise in time for Will's New Year's party," she said.
"It's not that slow, Doctor," Picard countered with a smile. "And we'll pick up some speed by performing a slingshot around the sun and meet the Enterprise halfway," he added.
Beverly frowned. "I'm not sure I'm happy about the idea of using the slingshot technique," she murmured.
"You don't trust my flying?" he teased.
"I don't trust the shields," she countered.
Picard grinned at her frown, knowing full well the memories that must have been racing through her mind. "Not to worry; we're not entering the coronasphere. No metaphysic shielding required this time - just a standard slingshot technique. It saves time and fuel..."
"And it lets you play with your ship," she sighed. "Oh well, I suppose you're entitled after two weeks of these conferences," she decided.
'Playing' indeed, he thought with a silent harrumph as Beverly took the co-pilot's seat - but the smile on his lips refused to fade away.