Chapter 29
"Picard, I am very envious. If my own crew showed that much concern for my welfare, I might be able to finally sleep with both eyes closed." Commander Zatha grabbed a chair and moved it closer to Picard's bedside, sitting down gracefully.
Picard laughed. Having tangled with Zatha's crew recently, he did not doubt her statement, but he found it odd that such a leader did not inspire the kind of loyalty from her own people which she surely deserved. He found it even more bizarre that despite the circumstances he respected and even liked Zatha. "My crew has had plenty of reason to be concerned recently, I am afraid," said Picard. "As you are personally aware, I've had some difficulties of late," he said rubbing his forehead.
"Yes, Picard. Each time I see you, you appear more pathetic," she said.
He merely raised his eyebrows. "Well, I have you to blame for some of that. And yet, ironically, here I am recovering again, thanks to you. And so what is this information you have for me?"
Zatha grew serious. "I have thought long and hard about this Picard, and I believe that at this time, you are the only one I can trust; Andorian or Human."
"Really," said Picard. "I'm touched," he said cynically, but to some degree, he actually was touched. He shifted in his bed, to sit up straighter.
Zatha tilted her antennae at him. "Ever heard of Delta Vega?"
He squinted, trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. He shook his head. "Not that I recall," he said.
Her mouth curled into a small smile. "But surely you know what trilithium is…"
He frowned. "Of course I do. It's one of the most powerful ores native to the Alpha Quadrant. Also one of the most volatile, which is why its extraction and refinement is so highly regulated."
Zatha nodded. "Delta Vega is an icy planet just inside Vulcan space and it is not far from Andoria. It is also the remaining known source of trilithium in this sector. At one time, Andoria had a small amount of trilithium under one of our polar sheets. A shadowy mining operation extracted it all within the space of a solar year. At the time it was thought that an organized crime syndicate was to blame, but few paid very much attention."
Picard nodded. "But now you've learned something more."
"It wasn't until a few days ago, when we arrived near Vulcan, that I discovered a very problematic connection between Andoria suddenly running out of trilithium and our mission to Vulcan. Upon our arrival, I noted that our command ship, the Striker sent out probes to Delta Vega. General Thran commands the Striker, and he also happens to be the head of one of Andoria's wealthiest mining families. Putting these facts together, I believe Thran's search for more territory to be the primary reason we are now here at Vulcan."
Picard folded his arms over his chest. "There is only one reason trilithium is so sought after," he said slowly. "It's used almost exclusively for weapons production, and most of the weapons trilithium produces are illegal in the Federation."
"Right. This means that Thran is an arms dealer on the side," said Zatha. "Who knows what backward planets he has been selling his products to?"
"And so using Ra'Val's attack on the Andorian colonists was just an excuse to move in on Vulcan territory?" Picard sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, feeling a little dizzy, but stronger than before. And his leg felt much better. "Thran cannot be allowed to establish a foothold in Vulcan territory for his own gain. Commander, you are in the best position to expose him," he said.
Zatha smiled but shook her head. "No, Picard. You are. The question is when to expose him and who will you give this information to? If anyone," she added.
"Surely, with this information, you cannot in good conscience obey an order to attack Vulcan," said Picard dubiously.
She raised her chin. "I cannot say for certain what I will do at this point. The point is that the Andorian High Command, guided by General Thran is not interested in leaving Vulcan under any circumstances. Your Admiral Imhoff believes he can simply feed us Ra'Val and that we will leave the system. But it is now clear that some of my superiors are more consumed by a hunger for personal wealth than revenge."
"What do you mean 'feed' you Ra'Val?" Picard felt his face and neck heating up.
"Oh, you were not provided with that information?" Zatha chuckled. "Perhaps you and I have more in common than we previously thought. Both of our commanding officers like to keep secrets."
Picard sighed. Imhoff thought he knew best, always had. But letting the Andorians have Ra'Val? On whose authority? Picard ran his hand over his cheek and found stubble. He knew he must look like hell. Clearly he had let himself go in the past few days being locked up in his quarters. He looked up at Zatha as she stood up. "Why are you telling me all of this?"
Zatha looked down at him. "As I mentioned, Picard, I trust you. I think when events reach the point of no turning back, we will both be forced to make…unpopular decisions. And I do believe that you and I want the same things, Picard."
He reached out and gripped her hand tightly before they both let go. She smiled. "It is a good thing that you did not die. I am going to return to my ship, now Captain. Should we meet again under better circumstances, I will be pleased," she said and turned and left his quarters.
"I've been ordered back to the Horatio, Jean-Luc. Again…" said Walker. He and Crusher stood inside Picard's quarters after Zatha departed. Picard could tell Walker wanted to ask him what Zatha had said, but he didn't press. "By the way, Admiral Imhoff sends his wishes for your speedy recovery," he added with a wink.
"Oh, I'm sure," grumbled Picard. "Goodbye, for now, Walker. And thank you…for your assistance earlier."
Walker held his arms wide and grinned at Picard tauntingly. Before Picard could back up, Walker had grabbed him into a hug. After a few moments of Walker delighting himself by making Picard feel uncomfortable, Walker stood back and regarded him fondly. "So glad you are going to be alright, old friend," Walker said, clapping him on the shoulder. Then after kissing Beverly on the cheek lightly, he left. "Both of you be safe out there," he said, as the doors hissed shut.
"He loves you, you know," Beverly said, turning to look at him softly. "Just like Jack did." The look in her eyes conveyed so much that he had to strongly resist his usual inclination to retreat at the mention of Jack's name. Instead, he stood looking at her for a few moments. She looked down suddenly, "Jean-Luc, I can't tell you how guilty I feel that I didn't properly treat the poison. As much as I was angry at Commander Zatha, she's right; she did save your life."
He shook his head. "Beverly, you did your best with the knowledge you had. A lesser doctor- and there are many, might not have been able to save me as you did when I came in on that shuttle."
She smiled gratefully, but he could tell it was still eating at her. He knew she took tremendous pride in being a physician, even if she rarely said so. She began to pace a bit. "Being out in space is so completely different than being at Starfleet Medical where the resources are almost unlimited. I've just got to get used to it again, and more than anything, I've got to expect the unexpected."
"There is that," he agreed. "But I have no doubt that you will be up to the challenge, Beverly. You are a terrific doctor. You always have been."
Even in his darkened quarters, he could see that she was blushing. "Thank you," she said. They stood in silence for a few more moments before the intercom beeped its interruption.
"Riker to Captain Picard," drifted Riker's voice. He sounded irritated.
"Picard here."
"Sir, Admiral Imhoff has requested your presence at 1600 hours. He would like you to go to the conference room adjacent to the bridge."
Picard frowned. "What is this about, Commander?"
"I'm afraid I can't say, sir."
Picard shrugged. "Very well. Thank you, Mr. Riker."
When the channel was cut, Picard made a face and looked at Crusher. "Imhoff can't even lower himself in order to call me on the intercom," he said. "I wonder what he's got up his sleeve, now." He broke into a slow smile. "At least I'll get out of my damn living quarters for a few hours," he said.
Crusher looked at the clock. "You're not expected at this meeting for another three hours," said Crusher. "And you know what that means," she added.
He stared at her, not at all sure what she meant. Several spontaneous and, he reassured himself, unintentional, impure thoughts ran through his mind. "Huh?"
"You need to catch up on your sleep…," she said smiling at his apparent confusion.
"Doctor," he began to protest, but she put her hands on his chest and gently but firmly pushed him back towards his bed. Reluctantly, he sat down heavily and settled back against the pillows.
She pulled the covers up to his chin, and he averted his eyes, as a soft wisp of her hair brushed his cheek. He shut his eyes, as an image from his Ra'Val influenced dream came back to him in startling detail. "You know," he heard her say, and he opened his eyes to see she was now standing above him, arms crossed with a half-amused expression was planted on her face. "Commander Zatha is quite attractive," she said, as though she had been mulling this over for some time.
He just raised his eyebrows and stared at her silently.
She smiled. "No comment? Well, she certainly seems fond of you…."
Picard laughed uneasily. "Oh…I don't think so, Beverly. What a silly thing—"
"Trust me," said Crusher abruptly. "She's interested," she said with a knowing smile; but did he detect a trace of jealousy? Couldn't be, he told himself. But then a pleasant but odd thing occurred. Crusher leaned down toward him and ran her hand under his chin slowly. "And you need a shave," she said in a low, captivating voice. Still gripping his chin, she leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.
"You will be interested to know that Ra'Val, the one who admits to having murdered our villagers, has been captured and is on board the Enterprise. The Starfleet Admiral Imhoff asked me to pass along the suggestion that we take custody of Ra'Val in exchange for our withdrawal from Vulcan space."
"He insults us!" shouted Thran.
"General," said Zatha calmly. "Starfleet seems to be under the perception that the Andorian people have demanded revenge for the crimes Ra'Val perpetrated against our colonists. Is this perception incorrect?"
Thran hesitated. "No… we will have our vengeance yet," he said, but much less vehemently.
"But you do not want to take Ra'Val on board the Striker?" asked Zatha.
Thran's brush-like white eyebrows moved up and down. "Is he…safe?"
"If by 'safe' you mean not dangerous, General, I am afraid I do not know. He still lives, therefore it is likely he could recover and again be a menace."
Thran scoffed. "And why haven't they executed him?"
"I was told they don't do that sort of thing, General. It is not their style," she added knowingly.
"Style! Humph. They seem all-too-willing to unload a dangerous criminal," he said suspiciously. "I don't trust them."
"So what would you have me tell them, General?"
"Tell them…we will take their offer under consideration," he said dismissively.
"I already told them that sir."
"Then tell them again!" the General shouted. He seemed ready to cut the channel, which was certainly acceptable to Zatha when he fixed her with a menacing stare.
"Commander Zatha, I am told you have my nephew in jail onboard your ship."
"Lt. Hakka? Why yes, now that you mention it," Zatha replied as though she had forgotten she had placed her own first officer in the brig.
"For what reason?" demanded Thran.
"He has been regularly insolent, General. He questions my authority," she said.
Thran's antennae began to gyrate. "Enough games," he grunted. "Release him at once!" he ordered.
"Yes, General." Zatha bowed her head as the screen blinked out.
Picard stepped briskly onto the bridge, and for the first time in a few days, he felt as though he were in the right place. Beverly Crusher had been right; catching up on sleep had been just the thing, and he felt refreshed. But even more than imparting her sound advice, to his immense surprise she had kissed him. It hadn't been a chaste peck on the cheek or an awkward kiss on the lips either. He could feel that she had meant it. And it had been by far the best thing that had happened to him in…well, he could not remember.
He tried to tell himself to stop thinking about it, but the more he tried to suppress his thoughts, the more he grew distracted remembering her touch, her sweet complex smell, and the fullness of her lips…and the warmth and nearness of her body. Oh no, he could feel himself getting aroused. This was not like him. Was he being influenced by Ra'Val? Was Beverly being influenced by Ra'Val? Had she even intended to kiss him?
He talked silently to himself, trying to calm down and focus. Focus on what? He thought with irritation. He had no idea what he was headed for however, with this meeting he had been ordered to attend. He hoped the subject of the meeting would be how soon he would be returning to command, as his role as the ousted Captain was wearing thin. Imhoff. There, he'd found the cure for his arousal. Just think of Imhoff, and once you get into the meeting, you won't have a choice but to think of the bastard, because he will be right there in front of you.
Riker stood up as Picard walked down the ramp toward the command center. "Captain, it's good to see you up and around again, sir," he said with a big smile.
Picard nodded and stopped. "How are preparations coming along, Number One?"
"Very well, sir. We'll be ready for whatever comes our way. And good luck, Captain," said Riker as Picard stepped away into the conference room.
Admiral Imhoff sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him. Next to him sat his aide, the dark-haired man wearing a security uniform, who he'd seen in the cargo bay a few days before. Picard, who sat across from them at the long obsidian table, noted that the aide had no rank pips on his collar, and seemed completely unfamiliar. The man stared at Picard with a very serene yet unkind expression. Picard returned the man's stare with quiet confidence.
"We're just waiting for someone," said Imhoff, when he saw Picard shift in his chair impatiently. Imhoff looked down and continued staring with apparent interest at his datapad. All three men looked up, as the doors opened and Counselor Deanna Troi walked in.
"Gentlemen," she said by way of greeting and sat down next to Captain Picard. She could sense immediately that his level of discomfort, which was already considerable, was elevated to new heights when she walked in. It was the empath's equivalent of him screaming "no" in her face.
But outwardly, he only nodded curtly. "Counselor," he said, his face expressionless.
Imhoff stood up and gestured to Counselor Troi. "Counselor, thank you for coming. Please sit here," he said pulling out a chair next to him. Troi cringed inwardly, as she walked back around the table and sat down next to him. Imhoff was trying to present a united front, and clearly he wanted her to be a part of that front; the front opposing Captain Picard that is. Now all three of them faced Picard. Troi tried to put on her most neutral expression.
"Pardon me, sir, but what is this about?" asked Picard, who clearly saw the significance of his lone position on one side of the table.
"It's about your fitness for duty, Captain," said Imhoff fixing him with a stony gaze.
"With all due respect, sir, I have already passed the same fitness for duty tests administered to the rest of my crew following Ra'Val's attack on this ship. Everyone, save for me has been returned to duty. Now, I should like to know the reason why, Admiral," said Picard, his voice hard.
"Are you quite well, Captain? Doctor Crusher reported that you had a bit of a setback," said the man sitting next to Imhoff.
Troi felt a wave of anger pass through the room, emanating from Picard. "I'm sorry, I am afraid we haven't been introduced," he said, looking the man up and down as though he had just appeared in the room. Troi allowed herself a slight smile.
"This is Jackson," said Imhoff. "He is an investigator with Starfleet Intelligence."
Again, Troi felt a wave of something from Picard, probably best described as distrust.
Picard smiled coldly. "Ah. I see. I was wondering if the uniform you are wearing was just for show," he commented.
Imhoff's expression was disdainful. "To answer your earlier question, Picard, the reason why you have not been reinstated to command is that I have serious questions about your fitness for duty."
"Please ask them then—"
"You will NOT give me orders, Picard!" shouted Imhoff, leaping to his feet. Placing his palms flat on the table he stared down at Picard with barely contained rage. Picard glared back silently. "Now I am going to leave this room and return to my duties as Captain of this vessel, while you answer Jackson's questions. And under no circumstances are you to try to manipulate this inquiry to your own advantage, nor will you refuse to answer any question posed, or I will have you removed from this ship. Understood?"
"Understood. And Counselor Troi's role at this meeting?" prompted Picard, his eyes now completely aloof.
Imhoff smiled coldly. "She will be assessing your psychological fitness, of course," he snapped, and then exited the room.