Chapter Four
First Contact
At the revised rendezvous time of 1800, which at warp seven was slightly surprising due to the new location being significantly further from Delta III than where they would have met in an hour and a half, Jean-Luc Picard steps from his Ready Room onto the bridge followed by William Riker. Data, relinquishing the single center seat, informs him that "We have reached the revised coordinates for rendezvous with the Service Ship Bonaventure."
"Thank you, Commander. All Stop." He sits down in the elevated chair and Data takes the single forward Con Station, relieving an Andorian Ensign who assumes the backup station on the Port upper level as Riker assumes his own post to the right of but below the isolated Command station. Commander Deanna Troi is already seated at her post, her position reflecting Riker's forward and below Picard's left.
"Reading All Stop, sir,"
"Any contact with our guests?" Picard doesn't bother to hide the irony.
"Captain," Commander Worf reports from the standalone Tactical Station to Picard's rear left, his voice filling the bridge. "Long range sensors show a ship on an Intercept course."
x
As the ship is just appearing on the long range sensors, Picard settles himself in his chair, ready for the wait. They'd had a much shorter trip than the vessel coming in from Delta III so he's not surprised by the disparity, though this was the time that Bonaventure's pilot had confirmed with Data for the rendezvous. Worf, however, is not finished with his report.
"They are traveling at warp twelve point two."
Surprised, Picard turns his seat counter clock to face the officer. "Confirm?"
"Confirmed. They... they have now slowed to warp twelve."
"Don't get to hear that said too often," Riker, now behind his left side, quips.
He swivels the chair back to face the main screen. "No indeed, Number One. Mister Data, details on that ship?"
Tying additional sensors into his helm station, the android compiles his information. "The transponder code confirms it is the SS Bonaventure. Sensors show it to be 49 meters long by 29 meters by 9.45 meters in height, or overall approximately six times the volume of a Federation Runabout."
"Big ship for eight people," Riker observes.
"With their speed," Geordi LaForge says from the Engineering Station to their left, his voice tinged with envy, "I doubt they spend much time between ports."
"Captain, the ship now appears on short range sensors."
He wants to say 'already?' but dislikes how it'll sound. "When will we rendezvous?"
In the middle of the screen, eight kilometers forward, a flash appears that rapidly traverses downward through the spectrum to resolve into a silver ship that occupies a third of the screen.
"Now."
x
The bridge crew studies the smooth silver vessel before them as it pivots starboard to face them. Smaller in the bow, it increases in height until about one third of the way back before leveling off in height to that 9.45 meters. It has three cylindrical nacelles, one on either side at the base, detached from the ship and almost as long, one extending the two thirds length up top. The smoothness of the hull obscures anything like plates and rivets, making it appear as though liquid mercury had been poured over the vessel and had hardened, hiding angles and all else. The silver hull reflects the stars and other celestial bodies surrounding it and they suspect that, if not for its proximity - so far as space distances go - it might be indistinguishable from the starry background. "LaForge, what do we have on that ship?"
"Sensors can't penetrate the hull, Captain."
"We are receiving a Hail," Worf announces.
"Open a channel." When he hears the appropriate meep, he gives the standard formal ship-to-ship greeting: "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard commanding the Federation Starship Enterprise."
"This is Doctor Timothy McGee aboard the SCIS Service Ship Bonaventure," a man's voice replies with a slightly amused note, as though expecting someone to say 'no kidding'. "Request permission to dock."
Picard glances to Riker, who nods, confirming he's just checked with the Deckmaster that there's enough room for a vessel which is twice as long, wide and high as a Runabout. "Permission granted. You may dock when ready."
"Thank you. Bonaventure out."
x
As opposed to its precipitous arrival, the silver ship begins a stately curve about the Starship's port side so it may enter from aft. As it moves, it continues to reflect the celestial grandeur.
"Sensor readings coming in now," Geordi says, half watching the monitor, half the main screen. "They turned off some pretty high powered navigational deflectors. Three decks, engineering and systems are in the lower eight feet, the upper two decks being-" Geordi sits back in his seat and doesn't even try to sound unimpressed. "Captain, that ship uses Quantum-Warp Drive."
"Quantum-Warp?" Riker's as impressed. "I've heard of some Research projects, but Starfleet R&D couldn't get it to work."
"They finally scrapped the idea," Geordi concludes, "but looks like someone got–" He stares at the panel, awe-stricken, muted by what it'd revealed. Then he turns, stands up to face the main screen as though, Visorless, he would still see more than his instruments reveal. "That's a Bravinan ship."
"Bravinan..." Picard recalls the race. "But the Bravinans settled Caldis III about two hundred years ago and made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the Federation."
"Looks like they changed their minds," Riker says.
x
Geordi directs the sensors' readout to the lower right of the main screen and they display details of the ship as it passes and maneuvers to come up behind, the silver hull reflecting the Enterprise's. There are eight people aboard, five on the middle level, three on the upper. The technical information revealed continues to fascinate the assembled scientists.
"I still don't see a single plate or rivet," Geordi says, his voice ranging from monumentally impressed to drowning in avarice . "It looks like the ship was poured out of mercury. And it came in at warp 12.2."
Riker shakes his head, smiling as enviously. What might he give to spend a half hour at the helm of that beauty? "From what little I've read of them from their contact with Captain Archer and the first Enterprise, that probably would've been a summer stroll."
"You're not far wrong, Commander." Geordi turns back to the screen, his voice reminding the bridge crew of a five year old's on Christmas morning. "I wonder what its top speed is."
"I expect considerably faster," Picard grants briskly as he rises, anxious to get their business underway, knowing his Chief Engineer will be crawling about that vessel's innards at the first moment he gets.
"Maybe instead of them riding with us," the Engineer hopes, "you can ask them to give us a lift?"
Riker, at his right and a level below, leans an inch toward Picard. "I think Geordi's in love."
"Not love, Commander," he says, then turns back to the image aligning on a parallel course. "But I'm in serious Like."
xx
While the Bonaventure maneuvers into position to enter through the Enterprise's aft dock in stately arc rather than maniacal dash, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, First Officer Cmdr. William Riker, Ship's Counselor Cmdr. Deanna Troi and Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy proceed to the Shuttle Bay.
Though the Sovereign Class Starship is tremendous compared to the SCIS ship, relative sizes can be deceptive. The Bonaventure is 48.768 meters long, 29.26 wide and stands 9.4488 high, so it takes up more space than 4 Runabouts parked 2 by 2 while standing nearly twice as tall.
The Deckmaster had had to do a bit of shuffling of the Starship's Shuttlecrafts to make enough room for the formidable ship. Data had evaluated, and reported to them while they were descending in the turbolift, that its three mercury silver nacelles, two extended about a meter from either side of the base of the ship and running the full length, one running the latter two thirds of the upper hull, provide enough thrust for the ship to cruise almost indefinitely at Warp 9, convenient for a ship that must frequently be someplace a vast distance away at very brief notice.
Picard, initially seeing this ship on the main screen, had momentarily considered acceding to Geordi's suggestion. He would not, of course, but while he has boundless pride in the Enterprise, he has to admit the Bravinan ship would easily win a race to Risa.
When the bay is pressurized and the doors slide apart, he gets an exceptional view of this ship. Since the door opens from the side of the bay, the slanted bow of the ship is to their right and they face the starboard side. To call the hull silver is an injustice; the vessel is virtually a mirror which, due to a curving hull which negates the need for sharp angles, reflects a slightly distorted view of the bay, himself and his black uniformed companions. Rather than seeing rivets and panels, it looks like the ship has been covered in liquid mercury and flows from one segment to another. The only portions not reflective silver are the SCIS eagle and star sigil, which they had seen in the passing is repeated large on port, starboard and aft and somewhat smaller on angled bow, together with the strategically placed and repeated name, registry number and running lights.
He glances at the reflection of Cassidy standing to his left on the other side of Troi. She's another anomaly on Enterprise, her blue uniform from boots to high collar unlike her shipmates' black uniforms with gray shoulders and upper torsos and the Division colored tunics and cuffs, while the gold emblem above her left breast isn't Starfleet's silver arrowhead and gold band but the SCIS gold shield depicting half a bald eagle with brown wings downward protecting the Federation's black and silver laurel leafed star pattern.
The silver emblem on the right side of her collar where rank pips would normally be found is the starboard profile of a Constitution Class Starship, dating the uniform's design. It can be a formidable, even severe uniform, yet in a few seconds the gray/black Starfleet attire will be in the minority by three to one.
x
Three meters off the deck and one third of the way from the stern a portal slides soundlessly to the right and trained eyes fail to spot either seams or mechanism. From a centimeter below that opening a silver ramp extends toward them, angled downward to clear the starboard nacelle to touch the Enterprise's deck. A straight ramp could not have that angle of descent, but Picard is ready to give up on preconceptions concerning this ship.
When the ramp touches the deck five men and three women, all clad in blue, start down the ramp toward them, a tall, gray haired man in front center. That man has, on the right side of his high collar, a gold five pointed star, while the others have differing symbols in the corresponding places. Picard quickly notes a silver star at the throat of the man a half pace back, a silver shield at the throat of the tall black haired woman to his left, two silver Medical Caduceus, a silver open book and archaic fountain pen on the smaller Asian woman's collar, a duotronic emblem on the collar of the man beside her and a molecular pattern of dots and lines at the final woman's throat.
The leader halts two centimeters before the end of the ramp. "Permission to come aboard?"
"Granted. Welcome aboard the Enterprise. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard," he says formally as the eight descend and spread outward, their leader to the center and the formality of entirely unnecessary introductions is sketched. It's a polite convention, though everyone in this bay knows each has researched every other person quite thoroughly.
"Chief Gibbs," Picard says to the leader of the eight Special Agents, eight more than he ever wants working aboard his ship, "how do you plan to proceed?" He notes that while he addresses the Chief Investigator, the other seven SCIS agents exchange silent, discreet greetings with their fellow.
x
"The details Risa released are crap," Gibbs announces succinctly. "Before we get there I want my team to work with their counterparts among your crew, and when we reach Risa tomorrow we'll take over the Investigation."
Picard is glad for the tone of this encounter. His own research and what Paula Cassidy has shared reveal that Gibbs isn't a man to waste time on social pleasantries, and if one of his crew is suspected of murder and of threatening the stability of who can say how much of the Federation, he doesn't feel sociable.
He glances at the ceiling, an unnecessary though automatic act; he's not talking to anyone in the bay anymore. "Captain to bridge, depart for Risa when ready." The Beta Shift Helmsman has already been informed that Picard wants to arrive at Risa at 0800 local time over the capital city of Cintara and knows exactly the speed required to fulfill that order.
/Aye, Captain,/ Lieutenant Patrick's voice responds from above.
"Chief, this way to the Conference Room."
xxx
Alternatively the Observation Lounge or Conference Room depending upon the intent of the gathering, the large space at the Bridge's rear rarely has to accommodate fourteen persons. The Quartermaster has set sufficient chairs, allowing the principals to take seats at the curved, softly lighted table, others to sit in an outer ring organized by duty. The illuminated table's outward curve follows the windows on the outer side, allowing views either of space or the museum of Enterprises display. When the group steps down the four steps from the corridor entrance to the right, they find CSO Worf and CMO Doctor Beverly Crusher already present.
The first thing done is the production upon the wall mounted monitor beyond Picard's chair of the holographic image of the Crime Scene. Integration of what's currently known is brief for the officers; everyone present knows the problem and the information sent by Risa is sparse indeed.
"Doctor Crusher," Mallard assumes control immediately after the group is seated, addressing the black/gray/teal uniformed woman who sits opposite him on the outer curve mid-table, her back to the windows, "have you ever done anything with a Risian?"
Though everyone pointedly fails to notice the momentary look away and the smile that pulls at her lips, Mallard resolves to ask his further questions with greater care.
"No, Doctor," she replies when she has schooled her expression. "I've reviewed physiological details more thoroughly for this mission, but I've never treated a Risian patient."
"Is there much difference?" Picard asks from the head of the table, Gibbs at his left, watching both Doctors intently.
"On the surface no," Mallard says. "Risians and Humans are externally virtually indistinguishable, but internally there are distinct differences. Mean body temperature is 36.16 Celsius or 97.1 Fahrenheit, resting heart rate averages 43 beats per minute rather than a human average of 71 for those with similar builds to Ms. Kelbron, blood pressure therefore being lower comparable to humanoids of similar metabolism.
"There should have been a considerable spray of blood unless death was immediate, which is wholly possible. It is also not unreasonable that the murder weapon itself could have impeded the flow of blood at the moment of death. Further, as you know, if death is immediate, as it may well have been, there is very little blood flow.
"We cannot judge anything based upon a single holographic image of the young lady while clothed," Ducky continues, frustration heavy in his tone. "Risians have four more true ribs - in fact they do not possess floating ribs - and all the ribs approach one another much more closely than those of humans, so they may or may not have provided some protection. If so, when we autopsy the young lady, we may learn something about the blade," he indicates with a gesture the holoimage displayed behind Picard, "but from a single clothed image we can determine nothing."
x
"The Risians screwed up on information about this murder," Deputy Chief DiNozzo says from beside Gibbs who himself is at Picard's left, his tone conveying the Investigators' frustration at the lack of data released, "We can't even be sure this is a Primary Crime Scene or not, or if she was stabbed through the heart and didn't bleed more than what we see on the dress. She may have bled elsewhere and those stains would've told us a lot."
"We can only judge," Doctor Palmer says from his outside position to Mallard's rear left, "that if she were human she'd have died almost instantly from catastrophic loss of blood pressure, if the whatever-it-was pierced her heart, but we can't tell it did until the autopsy."
"And chemically," Mallard picks up the train where it had been left, "there are significant differences. Humans and Risians are not compatible for procreation, for instance."
"What about organ placement?" Picard has already raised this concern with his CMO.
"Sorry," Beverly Crusher replies, "with the exception of a difference in angle of orientation, their hearts are essentially where ours are. Several organs have some placement variation, but heart, lungs, kidneys and stomach are about where you'd expect. And from that image, it looks like her heart might have been pierced - but that'll depend upon the autopsy to confirm or deny."
Picard doesn't want to say this, for a negative reply will work strongly against the Enterprise crew. "So if she was stabbed in the heart, no particular knowledge of Risian anatomy was needed for someone to kill Edaniya Kelbron."
"No."
x
"Mister Data," Picard is determined to take some proactive stand, "you have the list of personnel who took their Leaves in the vicinity of Miss Kelbron's home."
"Yes sir," he says, seated between Riker and Crusher, "but I am constrained to point out that with the extensive availability of transporters–"
"Yes, Data. We'll concentrate on the simplest answers first. How many crew and family members are we talking about who spent any time within a half kilometer of her home?"
"Reviewing communicator trace records, nine crew, thirteen family members and four civilian scientists."
"Are we able to determine who might have seen her?"
"No sir. Sensor data can identify those who spent any time within a one half kilometer radius of a fixed point but does not tell us their actions." There is no need to go into the well known matter that without communicators there is no method of tracking. If you don't want the ship to know where you are, just leave your comm badge in your hotel room.
Picard had long ago established a Standing Order for all personnel on Leave. You may go wherever you wish but you will retain your communicator.
He's sure Gibbs and his crew will consider that anyone intent upon murder would have no qualms about disobeying that order, but he's going to proceed upon the premise that no one had violated it. If he has any hope of proving the innocence of his crew, he must be sure that order has been obeyed.
"Who spent the greatest amount of time closest to that point?" he asks.
"Crewman Russell Greene, Physicist John Miller and Botanist Richard Quichalo."
x
Gibbs nods. Failing the attainment of DNA traces of the Crime Scene, at least he now has some names. He'd rather have the DNA data so he can search for the culprit and even eliminate a phantom fourth but "We'll start with them."
"What do you mean you'll 'start with them'?" Riker demands from opposite him at Picard's right.
"We'll interview them first."
"They'll have nothing to hide," the First Officer says as sharply. He's conducted many such interviews but he resents outsiders coming in and subjecting his crew to Interrogation. The incident with Admiral Nora Satie and her minions had been one too many. "All you have on these three is that they were within half a kilometer of her home, nothing more."
"We're neither looking for anyone with something to hide nor to crucify anyone for taking a walk," Gibbs declares. "We're looking for people who can fill in some of the gaps."
"Which right now," Tony DiNozzo says from his place to Gibbs' left opposite Data, "are big enough to fly the Bonaventure through."
"Someone is blocking this Investigation," Gibbs tells Picard. "We got no DNA traces so until now we had no idea who might have been close to her. We got nothing beyond the single holoimage," he gestures to the annoying display beyond Picard, "and that shows less than half the Crime Scene. We can't even see what's in other rooms. Now that we have some idea who may have been the last ones to see the woman, we have to start there."
"You shall have a chance to interview all three," Picard says. "My First Officer and Ship's Counselor will assist."
"That's not necessary," Gibbs counters. "Cassidy and DiNozzo can take that."
"Chief," Picard says, his quiet voice one his crew recognizes and these men and women are going to learn the significance of, "this is a joint Investigation."
"The Federation Council placed us in charge."
"You are free to take the matter up with them when you return to Delta III, but as my crew stands accused, you may assist us in our Investigation."
"I want to be at all those interviews." Riker intends that they have representation just as Crewman Tarsis did, as he had when accused of murdering Dr. Nel Apgar, as Data had of Picard when he'd been declared Starfleet's property.
"Not necessary, Commander," Gibbs declares again.
"Like Hell it isn't! You people come aboard and start investigating this crew for murder, you–"
"Commander," is all Picard says, and not at all forcefully, but though it silences the protest it does little to cool the ambient anger. He turns to Gibbs. "Our two groups will work cooperatively on this Investigation."
Five seconds of staring, a contest of wills neither man is willing to lose. Ten seconds. "Very well, Skipper."
x
Gibbs turns to Agent Cassidy two thirds of the way along the curved, top lit table. "Any of those three have a history of problems on Risa or other Shore Leave facilities?"
"No, sir," the SAS assures him.
"Is there anything distinctive about Kelbron?" he asks generally, having already covered the answer aboard the Bonaventure but wanting the Enterprise crew brought up to date on that aspect as well. The image is still on the wall monitor to illustrate the answer. "Her body, its placement, anything?"
"Wish we knew, boss," DiNozzo says. "There's no way of knowing where she was when she died and was laid on that floor, or even to confirm she'd been in the house."
"Do we have any information on who found her?" Gibbs asks, directing the question to Commander Data. Even that information had been excluded along with every other useful detail, a truly aggravating series of omissions, but if anyone in the room is thoroughly versed in the most recent minutia of this case, it's the android.
"No, sir."
"I'm wondering if the Risians want this one solved," McGee says. "They have their murderer, they've already tried and convicted the Enterprise crew in absentia and either they're stonewalling the Investigation or they really are as incompetent as they seem."
"We can determine some clues on her body's placement," Ducky says, "from lividity and exclusion patterns, that she was placed in that position shortly after death and before the scene was imaged several hours later, but until the autopsy we know little more. Was the body placed in that position elsewhere, then transported before or after lividity was fixed. We have no definitive information. There is too much room for conjecture."
"We have not even been told what kind of weapon we are looking for," Ziva declares.
"By the time we arrive, the Crime Scene and the Evidence will be eight days old," DiNozzo points out the detail none of them have forgotten.
Gibbs tone signals the conference's conclusion. "Then we'll begin now with the supposed last ones who might have seen Kelbron alive."
x
As the meeting breaks up, Geordi LaForge gets close to Deputy Chief DiNozzo as quickly as he can. "That's some ship you have."
"Isn't she a beauty?"
"I'd love to get a look at it."
"Talk to our Tech guy," he says, thumb out toward McGee as he's passing.
"What can I do for you?" McGee asks, recognizing the light in the Chief Engineer's eyes.
"I was hoping to get a look inside your ship."
"McGee," is all Gibbs says.
He turns back to the anxious man. "I could give you a look," when the boss doesn't bite he continues, "but you have to realize that 99% of it is Classified by Treaty with the Bravinans." As the others filter out, he smiles and says conspiratorially "But that 1% is really cool."
xxx
Beverly Crusher, who had come on duty at 0800, would prefer to be resting at 2016, but the concept of 'Off Duty' is rare for a CMO and in the years since she'd earned her third solid rank pip it had disappeared entirely. She's reviewing for the second time everything there is to know about Risians and feels her brain turning to cotton wadding. The medical information is on the far end of the scale from the Crime Scene data, almost too much to absorb on one sitting. She turns from her computer monitor when she senses prior to seeing her visitors step into the main room of Sickbay.
The two blue uniformed Forensic Pathologists pause within the closed entrance. The shorter, older man takes in the entire bay in a glance, his taller partner has to look.
Feeling slightly energized by the prospect of colleague visitors, she steps out from behind her desk and greets the pair in the outer room.
"Good evening, Doctor," the older man says.
"Beverly, please. With so many doctors here it'll be hard to tell who's talking to whom."
"Indeed. Please call me Ducky."
"And I'm Jimmy."
x
This has the earmarks of being a much more convivial encounter than that Conference had been. That had been the meeting of two very disparate groups, only one person present being capable of bridging the gap between them, and as a First Contact it had gone poorly. The question of integration is still unresolved, but she has higher hopes for this encounter.
"I wanted to get a look at your facilities before we reach Risa," Ducky says. "This is our first time aboard a Sovereign Class Starship."
Of that Beverly has little doubt. Thus far, there are only four in service. "Make yourself at home."
"You don't want to do that," Jimmy advises. "The last time Doctor Mallard made himself at home was on Denib V and he wound up throwing four nurses out of the hospital."
"You make it sound as though I'd chucked them out a window." He looks to his hostess, relieved to see she suffers from no such misapprehension. "To set the record straight, they were abysmally versed in the requirements of Forensic Pathology. They had taken it upon themselves to save time on a suspected murder victim by transporting, stripping and scrubbing the body before I'd arrived."
"Sounds inconvenient," Beverly quips, earning a surprised look from Mallard before he smiles.
"Yes, well I suspect I have little reason to fear the same from the former Chief of Starfleet Medical. Fortunately, we managed to impose strict regulations on the preservation of Edaniya Kelbron's body as soon as word reached us, so though we do not have the initial placement of the body prior to cleanup at the scene to work with, we should have something to examine when we arrive."
"So, what may I do for you?" Despite Mallard's disclaimer, she doubts the men have given up their night in favor of a tour.
"I'm interested in seeing your facilities with an eye toward conducting the Autopsy here. I confess I have very little confidence in the Risians' Pathology skills."
She sees Palmer, half a step behind his superior, fight back a grin. "I agree with you. Let's go to the morgue."
She reflects a moment later that there are so few people aboard this ship to whom she can say that.
xxx
Picard is in his Ready Room, reviewing everything there is on Risian law and criminal activity. There's so little that the most recent incident involved his own CSO when the Klingon had been assigned to Deep Space Nine. He'd been there with his late intended bride, a Trill named Jadzia Dax, and several other of the Station's personnel when a rogue group calling themselves the New Essentialists had sabotaged the planet's Tectonic Stabilization System.
Worf had allegedly provided assistance in that sabotage, but the Risians had not lodged a complaint with Starfleet or the Federation. The information of Worf's alleged involvement had come from two of his fellow officers.
Captain Ezri Dax commands the Starship Aventine. Perhaps he should contact her for some perspective on the Risian view of criminal activity by guests.
However, since that years-ago incident, Risa's days had been typically uneventful - until this week.
He's already finished his second read through of the sparse information, which doesn't lend itself to this issue, when the door's annunciater breaks his concentration. "Come," he calls, pushing the button to lower the monitor into its slot in the red and gray desktop as the bridge door slides aside.
Chief Investigator Gibbs seems to fill the large room without even trying. His blue uniform with gold badge is at odds with the mauve panels and steel piping of the bulkhead around him. Some day Picard will get around to ordering a better color scheme, such as the Enterprise-D's softer beige. This combination of darker panels split by reflective metal is too hard; it's more suited to the Investigator before him.
"Good evening, Chief."
"Skipper." Gibbs completes his entry and the door slides shut behind him. "I wanted to get some things cleared up between us before we arrive at Risa."
"As do I," he says, trying and failing to keep his grim feelings from invading his tone.
"The Risians don't want Starfleet humans on their planet," Gibbs opens, "even though the Federation Council got the grudging okay for you, your First and Second Officers, CMO and CSO, but–"
"Chief, let us speak bluntly. There is far more going on here than murder, tragic though that is. The Risians know full well what secession from the Federation, or even the barring of humans from their planet, will do to them. It could mean the utter ruin of their economy.
"And while their planet is better situated than Argelius II, Wrigley's Pleasure Planet or Omicron Delta I, those remain viable options for fatigued spacefarers. It is highly unlikely that mixed race ships' Captains will choose Risa for a portion of their crew and not others, so to ban humans will lose them far more in commerce than just human traffic. Therefore, my great concern, in addition to what happened to that woman, is to determine what's behind their threat."
"That's concerned us too, Skipper."
"Have a seat, Chief." When they're on the level, Picard continues. "This is a Diplomatic issue as much as a Criminal one. While I do not believe for one minute that anyone from the Enterprise, Starfleet or Civilian, murdered Edaniya Kelbron, and my Officers will work with your people to uncover the true culprit, my focus must be as Starfleet ordered: maintain the stability of the system and keep the peace."
"What if it turns out one of this ship's company," Picard notices Gibbs avoids saying 'crew', "is responsible?"
Picard makes his expression as stony as his voice. "Then we shall deal with that accordingly."
######
Author's Notes: For those fen unfamiliar with metrics, the SS Bonaventure, excluding its three nacelles, is 160 feet long, 96 wide and stands 31 feet high, allowing for the middle 8 feet as the main deck, upper 8 as living quarters and 8 for the lower engine facility, the rest being hull and deck thickness. A Runabout, by comparison, is a single level of occupancy at 76 by 45 by 18.
For the story of the Bravinans and their encounter with Captain Jonathan Archer and the Enterprise NX-01, see my stories 'House of Cards' and 'Starlight Maiden'.