"The injustice! We're locked up in this cage while those vermin roam free. Your highest tribe leaders will hear of this effrontery!"
Tasha let out an audible sigh through pursed lips. At least she knew why Badar N'D'D was head delegate – he sure could talk.
"Sir, you do not know that the Selay party is free to move about the ship. And I will not confirm or deny your accusation." Tasha eradicated any sign of gloating as she addressed the indignant alien. "I am here to inform you that we are orbiting Parliament, and officials will arrive shortly to escort you from the ship."
"When they do, these walls will ring with the infamy of your unjust treatment. I have never-" The hiss of the outer door cut off the chief delegate's rant.
Tasha took a deep breath, alone for the moment in the empty corridor. "Politicians," she muttered, and stalked off to the turbolift.
Will sat in the captain's chair, staring ahead without seeing the green and white planet that filled the viewscreen. The response from Starfleet HQ to his report had been noncommittal – the Enterprise's adventure with a powerful, invasive entity, their touch-and-go flirtation with mutiny, and the two deaths aboard were all written off as hazards of deep-space exploration. The captain's resignation was dismissed, as it had been tendered fraudulently by another being. Picard himself was still confined to sickbay, and Will had nearly recovered his confidence and good humor, though he was still experiencing moments like this one, when the contemplation of "what if" took his mind far away. He was not generally a contemplative man, but the experience had been too affecting to ignore. What if they had left the captain behind? What if he'd had the gumption to abandon his leader against Deanna's recommendation? He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was a waste of time to worry about what might have been.
"Bridge to Sickbay. We're ready."
Beverly held the probe over Jean-Luc's heart, her eyes trained on the tricorder readout. "You're not completely healed. I'm not ready to let you go."
Jean-Luc gave her his steadiest, most authoritative look. "I will not be held back from delivering the sendoff those rogues deserve. They've run amuck on my ship long enough. I will not have them leave and spread rumors that the Enterprise was their personal playground for their petty, childish squabbles."
"Yes, that's very mature," Beverly replied with a perfectly straight face.
The affronted look dropped somewhat, as Jean-Luc lowered the jut of his cleft chin. "There was a murder on my ship, Doctor. It cannot be borne."
"Of course not." She replaced the probe in the tricorder with a click and gestured with the instrument. "One trip to the transporter room, and then I expect you to come straight back here."
"Yes, Doctor."
"Thank you, Captain." Beverly gave him a small smile. "Enjoy your tirade."
He neglected to reply before passing through the sickbay door.
Data and Geordi were surrounded by rapidly changing scenery: a busy London street, cacophonous with the cries of hawkers and the clop of horses' hooves, a bachelor's library jammed to the vaulted ceiling with books, knickknacks and curiosities, which transformed instantly into an elegant lady's front parlor. The environments appeared and dissolved at a rate that would have dizzied any normal-sighted person; neither Geordi nor Data seemed the least perturbed by the display.
"Run the characters down for me one more time, Data. I want to make sure I've got them straight."
Data did not pause in typing into the handheld controller, and a vast opera hall appeared. "You will play Dr. Watson, of course, and I, the great Sherlock Holmes. The tall, Herculean King of Bohemia will be played by Cdr. Riker. That leaves Godfrey Norton, the lawyer, and Irene Adler, the bewitching prima donna, along with various and sundry shabby London street people."
"I don't know." The scenery changed to the carved wooden interior of an Anglican church. "I don't think Worf is going to be thrilled to play a lawyer."
"And Lt. Yar has expressed doubts about playing The Woman, Irene."
"Maybe you should pick another story, Data." The android's wounded puppy look made Geordi instantly backpedal. "I mean, it sounds great from everything you've told me . . ."
"I can program scenarios for any story in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's oeuvre, of course. I have no need for sleep, and ample time after my next duty shift."
Geordi detected a touch of martyrdom in the android's tone. "C'mon, Data. That's not necessary. I'm sure we can make it work." He looked up at the black roof of the hansom cab that suddenly appeared above them. "Still, are you sure you can't change the lawyer into a cop?"
Picard strode down the hall of deck 12, satisfied with the blistering speech he'd given to the departing delegate parties. It had doubled his satisfaction to deliver it twice. The Anticans and Selay had a Corvan gilvos' chance in Gre'thor of joining the Federation after their circus sideshow of violence and prejudice.
"Glad to see you up and about, sir." The counselor's voice surprised him from behind. He slowed as she fell into step beside him.
"Only briefly, I fear. The CMO hasn't released me."
"I know. I was coming to sickbay to check on you."
Picard stopped and stared down the dark-eyed counselor.
"Captain, I'm not going to ask you again to submit to hypnosis," Deanna said with conciliation.
Jean-Luc allowed the faintest beginnings of a smile.
"I have to admit, I wasn't coming to see you in an official capacity at all," she went on. Deanna lifted a hand as if to touch him, but gently let it fall back to her side. "We came very close to losing you. I just wanted to know that you're all right."
Jean-Luc's genuine smile was answered by Deanna's. They turned and continued shoulder-to-shoulder down the hall.
AN: I'm baaa-aaaack! Did you miss me?