Twenty years ago, Temple IV was little more than an uninhabited ball of rock, situated in a distant corner of the Tri Omicron system, not far from the Romulan Neutral Zone. It had gone virtually unnoticed by the Romulans because it had nothing of value to offer. Temple IV was just a barren, grey, dust bowl of a planet: air barely breathable, no vegetation, continuous cloud coverage, but very little rain. It was just the sort of place on which the Federation loved to establish little out of the way scientific research stations, and then send their best ship in the fleet to deliver supplies. Granted, highly classified supplies, but a milk run all the same.
Temple IV was, in reality, a chemical power research lab, but for all intents and purposes, it presented itself as a simple Federation mining colony. A portion of the small population were miners, the other portion Federation and Starfleet scientists. Despite the occasional starship that came and went, the Romulans still seemed uninterested in this particular piece of rock.
As the Enterprise established orbit around Temple IV, Jean-Luc Picard stood alone in the observation lounge, staring out the viewports. At that moment, he was not particularly interested in Temple IV himself. He had not slept much in the past three days, and had spent most of his off duty time re-reading one of his favorite William Shakespeare plays, A Winter's Tale. When he had slept, the dreams were still there. Not as dark as before, not as foreboding, but none-the-less confusing. Even more so. They seemed to merge with the characters from A Winter's Tale, and the lifeless statue of Hermione would fade into the image of Clarissa's face.
Clarissa Trent.
There had been a time when Jean-Luc Picard had planned a life with Clarissa Trent. Fifteen years ago, he'd been in love with two things: the Stargazer and Clarissa. She was a Federation physicist on board, and Picard had fallen unashamedly, irrevocably in love. They'd even talked of marriage. But then Clarissa had abruptly requested a transfer to a research project on Tau Kappa. She'd given him no warning, no explanation. In fact, they'd spoken very little in the remaining three weeks they were together. A transport ship arrived from Starbase 16, and Picard never saw Clarissa Trent again. Except in his dreams.
The former captain of the Stargazer, the present captain of the Enterprise, was not a man who dwelled in the past. He was an explorer, and tomorrow and the far reaches of space demanded his attention. And so, he went on with his life. In the years that followed, he thought about Clarissa, and even kept up with her career for a while. But the Stargazer literally went where no one had gone before, and Picard was soon forced to leave Clarissa Trent behind.
Jean-Luc Picard had not thought this much about Clarissa in years. Standing there, in the observation lounge, looking out at the stars, he told himself it was just a phase, that in a few days the dreams would cease, and his images of Clarissa would settle back into the recesses of him memory. At least, he hoped they would. For that is where they belonged.
Picard didn't hear the door to the lounge slide open, but he heard it close. He turned. "Ah, Number One."
"Captain." Riker walked over and joined him at the viewport, the expansive vista drawing his gaze. "Lost in thought?"
"Yes," Picard admitted. "I suppose I'd make an easy target."
"Not at all, sir," Riker assured him.
The captain smiled and continued to stare at the stars.
"We've established contact with the base command office," Riker continued.
Picard looked over at him. "Schaeffer Featherstone?"
"You know him?"
"Oh, yes." The captain moved to the head of the conference table. "Schaeffer and I go way back. Further back than I care to remember." He reached over and pushed a button on the table, and the viewscreen on the wall behind him flickered into life. He turned and found himself face to face with a dark haired man in a Starfleet command uniform.
"Jean-Luc," the man addressed him, "it's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, Schaeffer. It's been a long time. I'd heard rumors that you were a base commander out this way."
"It keeps the family in one place," Featherstone laughed, but it was almost a forced laughter.
"How are Margaret and the boys?" Picard inquired.
"Fine, just fine," he answered quickly. "And you?"
"Can't complain. You know me; I'm at home as long as I'm going somewhere."
Featherstone didn't respond to his answer, and Picard was surprised. It was part of an old joke between the two of them. Surely he hadn't forgotten.
"We have those supplies for you," Picard continued. "All ready to beam down if you're ready to receive them."
Featherstone hesitated with his reply.
"Schaeffer?"
"Yes, yes. We're ready for them, Jean-Luc. Would you... would you be able to beam down to my office. I'd very much like to see you in person after all these years."
It was a perfectly normal request. One that Picard would probably have proposed himself, but... there was something in Schaeffer Featherstone's voice and manner that disturbed him. It was an abrupt quality that he'd never observed in him before.
Picard glanced over at Riker. There was something Featherstone wasn't telling them. Riker nodded an affirmative to the captain's unspoken question.
"Of course, I'll beam down, Schaeffer," Picard replied, "along with my first officer, Commander Riker."
"Very good, Jean-Luc. Let's say in an hour, after I get those supplies taken care of."
"In an hour then. Enterprise out."
The screen went dark. Picard sank into the chair he was standing next to. Riker sat down beside him. "Comments, Number One?"
"He seems nervous."
"Yes, he does." Picard leaned back in his chair and ran a hand across the back of his neck.
"You know him, sir. Is he normally a nervous person?" Riker asked.
A slow grin broke across the captain's face. "I've known Schaeffer Featherstone to be many things, but nervous was never one of them." Picard paused, allowing himself a moment to reminisce before going on. "I think there is something he wants to tell me. Something he feels he must tell me in person."
"What do you think it is?"
Picard sighed. "I have no idea. But I think we can count on one thing."
"And what is that?"
"Whatever news Schaeffer has for me, it's probably not good."
"Perhaps we'd better take Worf with us," Riker proposed. "If there's trouble down there-"
Picard held up his hand. "No. There may be trouble on Temple Four, but I don't think we'll be in any immediate danger." He could tell by the look in Riker's eyes that his first officer was about to register a protest. "Will, I know what you are about to say."
"Captain, I don't think you should..." Riker stopped. They'd had this conversation many times, and before it turned into an argument that he knew he would lose, he conceded.
Picard smiled. "You're learning," he said.
"Yes," Riker nodded. "I'm learning."
Picard was silent for a moment. "We'll have Worf standing by, ready to beam down if we need him."
~vVv~
During the next hour, Chief O'Brien oversaw the transfer of supplies to Temple IV. Will Riker, along with Data, spent the time reviewing the computer's information on the planet. And Jean-Luc Picard found himself in Sickbay once again. This time in Beverly Crusher's office.
"Stop looking at me like that," he hissed under his breath.
Doctor Crusher sat propped on the edge of her desk. Picard sat in a chair opposite her.
"Looking at you like what?" she inquired, her gaze focused steadily on the captain.
He shook his head. "I will not go out there and lie on one of those biobeds just so you can examine me."
Crusher held her hands out in front of her in an innocent gesture. "Did I suggest you should?"
Picard grimaced. "The expression on your face speaks volumes, Doctor. After all, you did demand that I come down here."
"Demand?" she exclaimed.
He sighed. "I'm sorry. Perhaps demand was too... too harsh a word."
Crusher stood and walked around to her desk chair. She sat, and took a few minutes to study Picard. He was a handsome man, with strong, chiseled features, and a lean, muscular body. Not nearly as tall as his first officer, but equally imposing. If not more so.
"Actually, Jean-Luc, you've just passed my examination. You're definitely back to normal."
Picard laughed. "As lovable as always, umm?"
Crusher smiled. She did love him, but now was not the time to discuss their tenuous relationship. "I wouldn't necessarily say lovable. But I would say hard-headed."
"Good thing that I am," Picard agreed with her assessment. "Otherwise, I might not be here."
"Don't worry; I think it will take more than a turbolift malfunction to do you in."
"Let's hope so."
Picard gazed at her, glad that she was here. The year she'd spent at Starfleet Medical had seemed interminably long, but she was home now, where she belonged. And their friendship was beginning to grow into something more, something... That's why I've been dreaming of Clarissa. The thought hit him hard, and yet it made sense. He'd loved Clarissa Trent, deeply. And now... Am I in love with Beverly? Was he? There was no denying that he cared for her a great deal. Perhaps he should tell her about Clarissa. No... no. They were just finding their way, and right now the relationship didn't need another old lover. Picard winced slightly. They were having enough trouble dealing with the memory of Jack Crusher.
"Jean-Luc?"
Picard blinked. "Yes?"
"Where were you?" Crusher asked. "You seemed to be out in space... No pun intended."
He ran his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes. "Just thinking," he answered.
"You look tired."
Picard eyed the doctor fiercely. "I thought I already passed your examination."
"That was the first one. Your head is fine. Now let's worry about the rest of you." She hesitated. "You haven't been sleeping much have you?"
"Do I look that bad?" he queried.
"Just tired."
Everyone was so damned concerned lately. But he decided that placating her would be easier than arguing. "Don't worry, Beverly," he reassured. "I'm nowhere near exhaustion."
"I said tired, not exhausted. But that's where you're headed."
Picard didn't respond. Crusher continued to stare at him, the concern evident in her eyes. "I can give you something to help you sleep."
"No," he said simply, and then he took time to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. "There is something I neglected to tell you the other day."
"Pray tell?"
"I find that I too often fail to express gratitude where gratitude is due. Especially in medical situations," he added uneasily. "And so, Doctor, thank you for your expertise, and your concern. I appreciate it."
"It's just my job," she said softly.
Picard smiled. "And you do it very well."
~vVv~
Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker materialized in a corridor just outside Schaeffer Featherstone's office. There was no one in sight.
"Well," Riker remarked, looking up and down the utilitarian beige passageway, "they didn't exactly roll out the brass band to greet us, did they?"
Picard nodded in agreement and stepped towards the closest door. It opened. They walked in and found themselves in what appeared to be an outer office. There was another door in front of them, and a small desk situated to one side of it. The room was empty.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Riker whispered.
Picard turned and glared at him. "I think you can speak up, Commander. This isn't a library." His tone was unnaturally harsh.
"Yes, sir," Riker responded quickly, and somewhat formally.
Picard sighed. "Sorry, Number One. I guess I'm just a little bit on edge."
Riker accepted his apology with an easy shrug and motioned toward a low sofa on the opposite side of the room. "Apparently, this is the waiting room. Perhaps we should sit down and wait."
"Waiting has never been my strong suit," Picard admitted, stepping toward the inner door. It didn't open. Just then, however, the outer door did.
An Andorian ensign hurried in, her head slightly bent. "Captain Picard, Commander Riker. I am Ensign Elev. I am sorry no one was here to greet you." Her voice was soft and lisping. "Commander Featherstone will be with you shortly... if you don't mind waiting?"
Picard smiled half-heartedly. "Of course, we will wait."
He and Riker settled themselves on the edge of the sofa, and the ensign sat at her desk. She began working intently at her computer console. Picard eyed Riker wearily. He did not like to wait. It bothered him. But what bothered him more was the fact that he was having to wait in the first place.
Schaeffer Featherstone had always been punctual.
~vVv~