Author note: My first attempt at fanfic here, so reviews appreciated. Not
focused so much on plot as getting the feel of the characters and the
process.
Disclaimer: It's my understanding that there needs to be some sort of perfunctory acknowledgement that, like Q, Paramount is omnipotent, and I would never do anything to break the rules. So this is for fun and obsessed fans only.
Sabotage Chapter Four
*********
Picard had been on his way to sickbay with the medical team when the first blow rocked his ship. Now, he stood watching as casualties began streaming in. Without the two primary physicians available, the medical crew was doing its best to triage and treat victims. The EMH had been activated, and Data was also attempting to assist. Geordi had departed minutes ago for main engineering.
"Picard to bridge, report!"
"Sir!" The angry voice of Will Riker responded. "An unidentified vessel fired on us twice. We have been able to neutralize the threat, and are preparing to lock tractor beams. They have refused to answer hails."
"Fine. I will be on the bridge momentarily. Picard out."
He turned to leave, but at that moment was thrown to the floor by another shockwave. What the hell was going on? Chaos surrounded him as the pulsing emergency lights eerily illuminated medical personnel attempting to attend to injured patients, some of whom who were half-way thrown from biobeds, and some who had been pitched to the floor. He saw Beverly was one of the latter, moaning and being treated by a focused Alyssa Powell.
"Picard to Riker! Report, Commander!"
"Sir, the enemy ship has just exploded. They initiated a self-destruct sequence, and we were unable to retreat before recoil hit the Enterprise. There's heavy damage on the bridge, and all over the ship. Our shields were at minimum power by the time we were hit. There are hull breaches on several lower decks." Riker himself stood only a few feet away from a hole in the aft panel that partly exposed the ship's main observation lounge.
"I don't want any more surprises, Will. Begin scans immediately for any other vessels in the vicinity. Stay on red alert. Picard out."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Riker's voice was grim and tense. He didn't like surprises either.
"Picard to engineering - what's our status, Geordi?"
"Sir, we've sustained heavy damage. I can't even estimate time for repair. We're lucky the warp core was offline, captain, or we'd be history."
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Keep me apprised. Picard out."
With that he walked over to where Powell was attending to Crusher. Kneeling, he turned to the woman. "What's her condition, Lieutenant?" Concern flashed in his eyes. Crusher's jaw was at a horrible angle, distorting her slim features into a grotesque mask.
"She doesn't look it now, but she'll be fine sir." Powell smiled tersely and injected another hypospray into the Doctor's neck. "Before the attack, we found her tranquilized with the same compound in your bloodstream, with the broken jaw. We brought her to the main sickbay, but she was thrown from her bed during the fighting, and sustained a concussion and broken collarbone. We've got her stabilized, but we can't treat her until some of the more seriously wounded are cared for. Until we can properly set the broken bones she'll be sedated." Powell finished confidently, but turned a tender look toward Crusher. Her injuries had to have been quite painful.
Had Crusher been conscious, she would have concurred. Her head hurt, her jaw hurt, her arms, hell, every part of her body seemed to be filled with fire. Additionally, there was a dull, uncomfortable, and constant ache in her shoulders and back. Not only that but she was pissed-off at Picard and Dumonde. Her only happy moment came when Alyssa finally sedated her, and she drifted off into a disturbed rest.
Picard nodded at Powell silently, expression stoic, but eyes dark. Rising, he turned toward where Data stood with the EMH, supervising the medical team.
"Commander, report." He was beginning to sound like a broken record.
"Yes sir." Data's cool eyes surveyed the medical bay. "Some 100 casualties have been reported. An auxiliary treatment center has been established in cargo bay two, for less serious injuries. Those crewmembers who sustained injuries beyond medical intervention are in cargo bay one." Over the years, Data had begun to pick up on the fine art of the euphemism. "Without Dr. Crusher or other primary physicians, the medical team has been somewhat handicapped, but is responding well. I would say that the situation is, for the most part, under control."
"Very well, Data." Picard laid a hand on the android's shoulder. "Continue here for as long as you feel it necessary, and then proceed to engineering to assist Mr. LaForge."
"Aye, captain."
"Lieutenant Worf to Captain Picard. I have Lieutenant Dumonde secured in the brig. It seems she was somehow in league with the enemy vessel that attacked us. Immediately before they opened fire, she contacted them and ordered the attack."
Picard's brow furrowed, and squaring his shoulders, he tugged at his uniform. "Very well Mr. Worf. Stay there - I'll join you shortly." It was time to get to the bottom of all this.
*********
T'shar sat sullenly. She knew that since she was still alive, B'nar had not been successful. No matter. He would have destroyed the M'dar ship, after sending a final log to the homeworld. This mission might have failed, but the M'dar were not easily dissuaded. Hopefully she'd been able to destroy the Hepa III samples before the Federation had learned anything of substance. And, she had no doubt that her people would be able to make extensive use of the Enterprise specs she'd been able to transmit.
T'shar had laid in wait for years, closely monitoring Starfleet personnel, and infrequently contacted by the M'dar with updates on the plan to overthrow the Federation. When the opportunity arose, she had kidnapped and murdered a young medical officer, assuming her identity. She had been embedded with Starfleet for over a year when she was finally able to maneuver a post on the Enterprise. She contacted the M'dar, infiltrated the spacedock at Starbase 202, and initiated the final sequence of the plan. It had been so glorious.
She now sneered as Picard appeared in front of her cell. The Federation dogs would learn nothing.
Picard eyed her calmly, his expression stern. "Lieutenant Dumonde. Explain your actions immediately."
T'shar did not respond, did not even rise from her bunk. She only gazed forward, expression vacant.
"I repeat, Lieutenant, explain yourself. You are not in a strong position. You will be stripped of rank and expelled from Starfleet unless you start talking. Now."
She did not speak. She had no intention of revealing even her name. The M'dar plans could in no way be compromised. They would strike again.
Picard turned to Worf. "Continue interrogating her, Mr. Worf. I want answers. And get Counsellor Troi down here as well."
The Klingon growled, glaring at Dumonde. "Aye sir. Traitors are *without* honor. It will be my pleasure."
Tapping his comm., Picard stalked out of the brig. "Picard to senior staff. Report to the observation lounge in one hour. I want a complete status report." He stalked into the waiting lift, on his way to the bridge. Anyone walking by at that moment could only describe his demeanor as pissed-off.
*********
The six available senior staff sat around the conference table, with a view to the main bridge as well as the stars. A stasis field had been erected to soundproof the room, though the air was filled with a thick cloud of silence as they waited for Picard. Troi thought wearily of her recommendation for yet another short leave for the crew when the maimed ship returned to starbase. Riker reflected glumly on the past week's events. A mysterious engine problem, a saboteur, and heavy casualties. The captain was not going to be a fun man to deal with. Not to mention the empty seat at his right hand. He would want expect answers from his crew, and they'd better be ready with them. Riker almost felt badly for Dumonde. Almost. He sat up and turned as Picard entered and took his seat.
"Number One, report."
"Sir. We are working to recover any debris from the enemy ship that may give us a clue as to their identity and purpose. Our efforts to analyze what we've collected has been slow, as engineering has been tied up with making repairs. Security is assisting in the efforts"
He nodded to Worf and continued. "There are hull breaches on several decks that have been temporarily sealed. Main systems are off-line, but are expected to be restored in the next hour." He glanced again at Geordi, who nodded in confirmation. "Sickbay reports 117 injuries, 25 fatal." He ended his report, tone as dark as night.
Picard only nodded. "Mr. Worf."
"We have been unable to learn anything new from the Lieutenant. She remains. silent." Worf shifted in his chair, eyes narrow, his voice filled with disgust.
Troi chimed in. "She's certainly deceiving us about something, captain. She is arrogant, and seems defiant. I don't think she cares what happens to her."
Picard steepled his hands and sat for a moment, pensive.
Data looked tentatively around the table. "Captain, before we came under attack, Geordi and I made a breakthrough regarding the previous malfunction of the warp core."
Picard said nothing, but crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Geordi jumped into the conversation.
"Before she was attacked, Dr. Crusher downloaded the results of her research into the Hepa III plant samples to engineering. Seeing her research triggered a connection for me, and I figured out that the warp core had been seeded with some sort of bio-mechanical particles - organic nanites. Data and I were attempting to contact the Doc. When she didn't answer her hails, we suspected something was wrong."
Finally, it seemed they were getting somewhere. "Mr. Laforge," intoned the captain, "were you able to come up with a means to repair the core?"
"No sir, we believe that Dr. Crusher can get us on the right track, though." Geordi frowned.
Picard's expression was similar. Swiveling his chair as if to address Alyssa, he tapped his chest. "Picard to Powell. Lieutenant, what is the status of Dr. Crusher?" Subconsciously, Picard was relieved to be able to check in on Beverly.
"She's been treated and is resting, captain. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Lieutenant, when do you think Dr. Crusher will be able to speak with us?"
There was a moment's pause. "Well, sir, we may be able to safely revive her in an hour, but she won't be speaking with anyone for another day or two. Her jaw will be set during that time so it can heal properly."
Picard's eyebrows shot up, and subdued grins were visible around the table. The mood in the room lightened just a bit. Dr. Crusher speechless.. for two days?
"Thank you Alyssa. Picard out."
He turned a menacing eye on his staff, and the grins disappeared. "Mr. Data, Mr. LaForge, it appears that you will be going it alone."
"Sir, I believe that we will be able to derive what we need from Doctor Crusher's research. However, the solution may be delayed."
"Very well, Data. There's a Federation rescue vessel due here in a couple days. I want all available officers to take a four-hour rest period, immediately. Each rotation will then work 12 hour shifts, punctuated by subsequent four-hour rest periods until we are back online. Let's see if we can get our ship cleaned up and operational before the cavalry arrives, shall we?"
The captain's countenance left little doubt that this was not a request, but an order. His ship had been rendered helpless, and was badly beaten up - not to mention the fact that he'd personally been blindsided by an infiltrator, and lost crew members in the debacle. His pride had suffered a serious blow. The senior staff felt little better.
*********
Picard awoke from a dissatisfying sleep a few hours later, head still hurting from the drugs and stress of the previous night. He showered, dressed, and made his way to the bridge, where he and Will would manage repair operations throughout the day.
On his way, be made a detour to sickbay.
Entering, he immediately noticed that full power had been restored to the unit. All the beds were full, and some temporary beds filled available spaces. He spotted Crusher immediately, in a secluded corner. She seemed to be sleeping. He made his way to her bedside and smiled down. Her eyes were open. Normally crystalline and sharp, they were instead dark and cloudy. Her jaw had been set, and her expression was relaxed, but somehow troubling.
"I'm glad to see that you're all right, Doctor." He gently laid his hand over hers.
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes flashed and her hand moved slightly away. Picard was surprised.
"Not yet ready for visitors?"
Alyssa came over to help the struggling captain. "She's feisty, captain. She's got some medication on board that seems to ease her pain, but puts her in a foul mood." Alyssa laid a hand on her leg and favored Crusher with a firm, but not un-amused, look. She moved to the head of the bed, and gently eased it upward, putting Crusher in a relaxed sitting position. "If you're bold, we've got a terminal here for her. You can talk and she can write."
Picard weighed his options. Clearly, Beverly was in full Howard flush. Likely, she'd been briefed on the situation, and knew that Dumonde was responsible for her, and the ship's, current condition. Unwilling as he was to continue, Picard was emboldened by Beverly's prone state. What could she do, write him to death? Besides, he wanted to apologize.
"That would be fine Lieutenant. I'll let you know if I need anything further."
"Aye sir." Powell looked wary and positioned the terminal in front of Crusher, handing her a stylus. Then she retreated hastily.
"Doctor. I am glad to see you doing better. How are you feeling?"
Beverly tapped slowly and steadily on the panel. "Bad. Your fault, JL."
"Now, Beverly. You know this is not my fault. Please don't be angry with me. However, I am sorry for how this turned out."
Tap tap tap. "Not angry. Angry = more pain. Calm = less pain. Annoyed."
"Your jaw - it hurts too much to be angry?" She wrote nothing, but Picard read acknowledgement in her eyes. He knew his guess was on the mark. Since KesPryt, they had been not quite empathic. The implants had been completely removed, and the side effects had worn off. But it was almost as though they had left behind an echo. It probably had less to do with telepathy, and more with the understanding that came with knowing someone else's mind so intimately.
More tapping. "Head too. And - bored. Out, now."
Deep chuckles filled Picard's chest and escaped his mouth. Even in silence, Crusher's insistent voice filled his head. It must be driving her crazy to lay here and watch her staff bustle around, unable to even assist verbally. He wagered though, that the staff felt lucky she wasn't able to call the shots from the sideline. He also had a hunch several had been over to check on her routinely in the past hours, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.
"Well, I'll talk to Alyssa and see what we can do about that. I've got to get to the bridge, but I promise I'll be back soon. Try and get some sleep." This time he grasped her hand firmly and smiled. Nothing of her expression changed, but there was some merriment in her eyes, and her brow lifted slightly. Reasonable or not, he did feel a bit guilty about what happened with Dumonde, and Crusher's current state, which seemed to be exceedingly uncomfortable. Hopefully she'd be able to return to her quarters soon, where, if nothing else, she could enjoy a holo-movie or some music. He himself wouldn't mind keeping her company for a while.
********
Picard spent the rest of the morning on the bridge. Repairs were going well, and he understood that Data and Geordi were making significant progress manipulating the dormant DNA in the plant to act as an agent in the organic nanites that triggered entropy in their cellular structure. They had little to work with, as the only remaining data was that which Crusher had downloaded yesterday. The missing plant samples and decimated science stations had assured them there was a connection between Hepa III, Emma Dumonde, and their current problems. They anticipated a solution by the end of the day. Worf had had no such luck in the brig, but engineering and security teams were still working on the remnants of the destroyed vessel.
Picard glanced at the chronometer in his chair. 1300 hours. He was getting hungry, and he guessed his CMO was getting grouchy. He stood, tugging and smoothing his uniform.
"You have the bridge, number one." Picard made his way to the lift. "Sickbay."
Riker smiled. Out of friendship alone, he would visit Beverly later today. Troi had already been by, and no words were needed to report Crusher's condition and disposition to Riker. In fact, no words had even passed between Deanna and Beverly before a sour expression appeared on the empath's face. She lasted a total of two minutes before beating a hasty retreat. Riker thought Picard one of the bravest men in the galaxy as he headed off to sickbay. And that was pretty much the best match around for the likes of Beverly Crusher. He sighed inwardly and refocused his attention to ship's *official* business.
********
"She's sleeping now, Captain. We gave her an infusion of nutrients, and a mild sedative. She complained that the pain was too bad to let her sleep."
"Thank you, ensign. When will she be ready to be discharged?"
"I'm not sure sir, but soon. I'll ask Lieutenant Powell and let you know."
Picard nodded, and drew a chair up next to Beverly's bed. Then, impulsively, he stood again. Walking over to Powell, he indicated that he would return in an hour to take Crusher back to her quarters. With that, he left sickbay, made his way to the lift, and ultimately to Beverly's quarters.
Overriding the lock, he entered. While mostly a very neat person, Beverly's schedule had not left much time for order in the cabin. He walked through and gathered up discarded uniforms, placing them in the recycler. He bussed a couple of old teacups, one of which still held liquid. It seemed to be the remnants of the recipe he'd given Beverly previously for his "Aunt Adele's sleep aid." It touched him that she still so often used it to try and coax rest out of sleepless nights. He thought perhaps he might have been responsible for one or two. Sighing, he sat heavily on the couch.
He had not paused to ruminate on events of the past week, and as he did so, became less satisfied with his own behavior. Beverly was younger than he, but with a soul as old as any he'd known. Dumonde had been practically a child, and he felt a bit silly. In fact, lately he'd been feeling silly about several of his past relationships. All had clearly been entered into simply for the fact that he knew they'd fail. But he was always tempted by women that gave themselves freely. He admitted the temptation allowed him to ignore the fact that he had been lazy about his relationship with Beverly. It was one he knew would actually work, and he had been too content with his career and the status quo to make a go of it. Changing courses with Beverly would change his life, and it scared him. But what significant success was ever accomplished without significant work and investment behind it?
He knew Beverly's rebuff after KesPryt had not been serious, only an attempt to motivate him. While never speaking aloud, she'd conveyed her feelings to him tacitly throughout the years. Shadows of Jack had dissipated slowly as they'd served on the Enterprise, and truly, nothing stood between them now but inertia. Perhaps it was time for the unstoppable force to come to a truce with the immovable object. And, he'd always suspected there was a lot of heat under that cool exterior. It would be a shame to miss out. He wasn't ready to profess his undying love - but, he thought perhaps a change would suit him.
Picard stood. Replicating several bunches of fresh, bright flowers, he placed them around the cabin. None had a strong aroma, as he guessed that would aggravate the Doctor's headache. Instead, they all carried subtle hints of lavender and citrus. He stripped the bed and retrieved fresh sheets. Setting lights at 50%, he made his way back to sickbay.
********
"And how are we now, Doctor?" Picard grinned at Crusher, whose expression had not changed from this morning.
She tapped at her pad. "Out. Now."
His countenance fell, and he paused uncomfortably. "Yes, well, I've spoken to Lieutenant Powell, and she feels it advisable to keep you here at least another night for observation." He could not help the small jibe. Beverly Crusher unable to get a word in edgewise was not an opportunity to be lost.
Crusher's eyes danced, sparking. Her eyebrows raised.
Alyssa darted over immediately. "I said nothing of the sort, Doctor Crusher. You are free to go." Powell shot captain a pleading look, and he smiled.
"You are indeed, free Beverly. May I see you back to your quarters?" Crusher gave him a look that said 'not likely,' and slowly stood. It took her a moment to get her balance, and she wavered. Picard placed his arm around her. "Like it or not, Beverly, I think you need an escort." He said it quietly and with as much tenderness as possible. Crusher was probably feeling rather undignified, and the time for jokes had passed. She leaned against the bed while Picard gathered her padd, and they slowly made their way to the door.
Powell rolled her eyes at the retreating figures and breathed a sigh. That man was crazy. But then again, so was her boss. She'd wagered several times in the Starfleet betting pool about their marriage date, and one of her early predictions had sailed by. She still had quite a few days left, though, and she figured she might strike it rich. After all, it was one of the largest running pools in the quadrant. A fortune awaited anyone lucky enough to pick the actual date. But there were runner-up prizes for those who had selected a date in the same week, and the same month. She wasn't sure how Will Riker had kept the pool a secret from those two, but everyone else in Starfleet, and several Federation members, had been betting for years. There were whole planets that had pooled together to buy-in. Crossing her fingers, she moved to assist another patient.
********
If she could have smiled upon entering her quarters, she would have. She'd been annoyed with Jean-Luc earlier, but not truly angry. It had been extremely thoughtful of him to tidy up. From what she could remember, the place had been messy when she'd left, and certainly had not been as cheery or smelled as welcoming. He turned to take in her approval, and received a sparkling look from her azure eyes. It suited him fine.
"Would you like to lie down?" he asked.
She tapped at her padd. "Yes. Tired. Oww."
He smiled sympathetically, and steadied her as she made for the bedroom, where she found the bed turned down and freshly made. He'd felt a little awkward about doing something so intimate as changing her linens, but he calmed himself with the thought that any good friend would do the same.
She turned toward him again, her expression soft. He was, if nothing else, gallant. With Jean-Luc's assistance she eased into bed. He stuffed a few pillows at her back to keep her head and shoulders elevated, and sat down next to her.
"Can I get you anything?"
She shook her head slightly and very gently and looked toward her padd. Silently, he handed it to her.
She resumed tapping. "Tired. Meds. Read. Sleep." The walk from sickbay had just about wiped her out, and her head was throbbing.
Jean-Luc smiled, stood, and went to the living room to retrieve a hypo Powell had given him. He extended it to Beverly, who, instead of taking it, only inclined her neck. Taking the hint and a deep breath in, he gently placed it against the skin. It hissed quietly.
"What would you like to read?"
She tapped slowly for a minute. "You pick. You read."
"Well, as you know I am a busy man. But, it is a captain's duty to comfort the injured when the CMO is not available." He squeezed her hand and went to the living room, where he selected a novel. He called Riker, indicating that we would be back on the bridge in an hour, and headed back toward the bedroom. By the time he returned, Beverly looked rather drowsy. "Do you still want me to read? You look rather sleepy." He found himself hoping she'd say yes.
A slight nod and the look in her eyes encouraged him, and he sat down and opened the book. He'd only finished the first page before she was out like a light. He sat peacefully and contentedly for a few minutes more, before rising. He left a note on her padd indicating he'd be back around 1800 hours, and slipped out the door.
********
On the M'Dar homeworld, Chancellor H'rar angrily pounded his desk, jolting his secretary. Damn fools had ruined the mission. It had been a mistake to move while the Enterprise was so close to Hepa III. Undoubtedly, Starfleet would tie it all together, and move to restrict all access to the planet. Fortunately, the M'dar had been cloning and otherwise cultivating Hepa III flora for some time. But production was nowhere near what they had been harvesting. No matter. They would seed another planet, and they would try again. The M'dar was persistent, and determined. Now, they had learned from a field test, and they had the specs of the Enterprise in hand. Next time, they would not fail.
*********
All had practically returned to normal on board the Enterprise by the following morning. They were scheduled to rendezvous with the USS Cuyahoga in three hours for an escort back to starbase. Geordi was at least confident that they would be able to make it on their own power. Little had been learned still about the attack and the enemy vessel, and they would deposit the debris at starbase for further analysis by Starfleet. For now, Picard was content to put an end to the episode, and get the offending traitor off his ship. He had been down to the brig once more, and Dumonde had remained mute. Perhaps time in a penal colony would soften her up.
As he sat, Troi turned away from her quiet conversation with Will.
"Captain, I'd like to talk with you about crew plans for our docking time at the starbase."
"Counselor, the Enterprise is in need of serious repair. I'm guessing you're lobbying for shore leave, and I'm sorry but there simply isn't an opportunity." He was brusque and quite firm on the point. He was significantly less than happy about the outcome of their mission, and felt the crew would be better served with more discipline, rather than less. His personal lack of it had served to compromise security, and the well-being of the entire ship.
Troi could sense the captain's resolve, but was similarly set in her opinion. "Sir, I'm not asking for extended leave. But," at this she paused. It would be a sensitive issue for Picard, and she softened her tone, laying a hand on his forearm. "With such a large number of casualties, the crew is struggling to maintain morale. There isn't anyone who didn't lose a friend. It would be unhealthy to deny the crew time to deal with that." Her dark eyes were kind, but she was firm.
Picard sighed, stood, and turned to the counselor. "I'll take it under advisement. Number One, I'll be in my ready room." Crisply he turned and walked off the bridge.
Troi addressed no one in particular. "Overall, that went fairly well."
Hours later, a text-only ship wide announcement was circulated from the captain. "Upon reaching Starbase 202, crew of the Enterprise will be granted three days of shore leave, and will report immediately to stations at conclusion, ready for active duty."
*********
"Jean-Luc, it was the right thing to do. If I could have spoken, I would have ordered you to do it myself. You're just lucky that Deanna's such a softie." By the time they'd reached starbase, Beverly's jaw had healed, and she was making up for lost time. They'd been speaking of the leave during the short ride to the inn on the planet. Finding it charming on their last visit, the senior staff had resumed residence upon their return.
Picard was still angry over the entire affair on the ship, and had been withdrawn and grouchy. "Yes well, a good crew is strong and resilient. I don't see how this will inspire them to be on their toes when next we ship out."
"Jean-Luc, are you made at your crew, or are you mad at yourself?" Crusher asked without a hint of compassion, accompanied by a steely gaze. Picard would not ruin their leave wallowing in self-pity. It took time to heal after loosing so many people under command, but time off was a necessary step. She'd personally gone to his ready room and essentially dragged him physically off the ship.
Before he could answer, the transport arrived and they disembarked. Picard's face was stern and detached. Beverly's demeanor was indifferent. Troi was at the door to greet them, and internally rolled her eyes. These two could just about freeze over a pond when they really got going. But the day was clear, comfortably warm, and this time threatened no rain. She and Will had already planned for the senior staff to spend the afternoon at a nearby lake. If it took the whole Enterprise family, they'd loosen up the old battleaxes.
She beamed at them. "How was the transport?"
"Lovely." Beverly's tone dripped sarcasm, and Picard wordlessly moved beyond the two women into the main lodge.
Deanna took her friend by the arm, and grabbed her bag. "Beverly, I promise you will have a great time on leave. Now, go, freshen up, get the Captain, and meet me back down here in 10 minutes. Will and Geordi are already lakeside making lunch."
*********
The good food, casual atmosphere, delicate wine, and sunny day did indeed beat Crusher and Picard into submission. A warm breeze occasionally skimmed across the expansive lake, and the long, green grass on the bank swayed lazily. It felt almost sinful to stay angry, so they called a truce and sat hillside on a large blanket, watching as Geordi, Worf, Troi and Riker played beach volleyball nearby. Data sat in a canvas chair at the bank, refereeing. He seemed quite taken with the accompanying whistle.
Beverly turned resolutely to her companion. "Jean-Luc." It seemed to be all she could think to say.
His eyes twinkled. They both wanted to apologize, and neither wanted to be the first. He figured they could skip a step. "Beverly. Let's just skip the apologies and go right to making up." He meant it innocently, but her eyebrows arched and her mouth twitched. He could almost hear her smart retort, but she held back.
"Fine by me." They sat silently a bit longer.
Reminding himself of his internal dialog in Beverly's quarters days previous, Picard smiled and took her hand. Her shining auburn hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon, and danced in the sun and wind. Now grasping her hand tightly, he steeled himself. "Beverly." Now he was at a loss for words.
Sensing that the outcome of the moment balanced on a razor's edge, she remained silent, her expression open, and she hoped, inviting.
Her name rumbled in his chest again. "Beverly, would you care to join me for dinner tonite?" It was a familiar invitation, but the way it was delivered was not. Hesitancy in his tone indicated there would be something different about the evening. The warm undercurrent of affection was again replaced by awkwardness and intensity.
She did not answer immediately, but instead gazed intently at his hazel eyes. Jean-Luc held his breath, but was not at all uncertain what her answer would be. He breathed out, however, only when she at last spoke. "I would love to."
*********
END
*********
I want a girl
With uninterupted prosperity
Who uses a machete
To cut through red tape
With fingernails
That shine like justice
And a voice that is dark
Like tinted glass
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She is touring the facility
And picking up slack
- CAKE, "Short Skit / Long Jacket" Comfort Eagle - www.cakemusic.com
Disclaimer: It's my understanding that there needs to be some sort of perfunctory acknowledgement that, like Q, Paramount is omnipotent, and I would never do anything to break the rules. So this is for fun and obsessed fans only.
Sabotage Chapter Four
*********
Picard had been on his way to sickbay with the medical team when the first blow rocked his ship. Now, he stood watching as casualties began streaming in. Without the two primary physicians available, the medical crew was doing its best to triage and treat victims. The EMH had been activated, and Data was also attempting to assist. Geordi had departed minutes ago for main engineering.
"Picard to bridge, report!"
"Sir!" The angry voice of Will Riker responded. "An unidentified vessel fired on us twice. We have been able to neutralize the threat, and are preparing to lock tractor beams. They have refused to answer hails."
"Fine. I will be on the bridge momentarily. Picard out."
He turned to leave, but at that moment was thrown to the floor by another shockwave. What the hell was going on? Chaos surrounded him as the pulsing emergency lights eerily illuminated medical personnel attempting to attend to injured patients, some of whom who were half-way thrown from biobeds, and some who had been pitched to the floor. He saw Beverly was one of the latter, moaning and being treated by a focused Alyssa Powell.
"Picard to Riker! Report, Commander!"
"Sir, the enemy ship has just exploded. They initiated a self-destruct sequence, and we were unable to retreat before recoil hit the Enterprise. There's heavy damage on the bridge, and all over the ship. Our shields were at minimum power by the time we were hit. There are hull breaches on several lower decks." Riker himself stood only a few feet away from a hole in the aft panel that partly exposed the ship's main observation lounge.
"I don't want any more surprises, Will. Begin scans immediately for any other vessels in the vicinity. Stay on red alert. Picard out."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Riker's voice was grim and tense. He didn't like surprises either.
"Picard to engineering - what's our status, Geordi?"
"Sir, we've sustained heavy damage. I can't even estimate time for repair. We're lucky the warp core was offline, captain, or we'd be history."
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Keep me apprised. Picard out."
With that he walked over to where Powell was attending to Crusher. Kneeling, he turned to the woman. "What's her condition, Lieutenant?" Concern flashed in his eyes. Crusher's jaw was at a horrible angle, distorting her slim features into a grotesque mask.
"She doesn't look it now, but she'll be fine sir." Powell smiled tersely and injected another hypospray into the Doctor's neck. "Before the attack, we found her tranquilized with the same compound in your bloodstream, with the broken jaw. We brought her to the main sickbay, but she was thrown from her bed during the fighting, and sustained a concussion and broken collarbone. We've got her stabilized, but we can't treat her until some of the more seriously wounded are cared for. Until we can properly set the broken bones she'll be sedated." Powell finished confidently, but turned a tender look toward Crusher. Her injuries had to have been quite painful.
Had Crusher been conscious, she would have concurred. Her head hurt, her jaw hurt, her arms, hell, every part of her body seemed to be filled with fire. Additionally, there was a dull, uncomfortable, and constant ache in her shoulders and back. Not only that but she was pissed-off at Picard and Dumonde. Her only happy moment came when Alyssa finally sedated her, and she drifted off into a disturbed rest.
Picard nodded at Powell silently, expression stoic, but eyes dark. Rising, he turned toward where Data stood with the EMH, supervising the medical team.
"Commander, report." He was beginning to sound like a broken record.
"Yes sir." Data's cool eyes surveyed the medical bay. "Some 100 casualties have been reported. An auxiliary treatment center has been established in cargo bay two, for less serious injuries. Those crewmembers who sustained injuries beyond medical intervention are in cargo bay one." Over the years, Data had begun to pick up on the fine art of the euphemism. "Without Dr. Crusher or other primary physicians, the medical team has been somewhat handicapped, but is responding well. I would say that the situation is, for the most part, under control."
"Very well, Data." Picard laid a hand on the android's shoulder. "Continue here for as long as you feel it necessary, and then proceed to engineering to assist Mr. LaForge."
"Aye, captain."
"Lieutenant Worf to Captain Picard. I have Lieutenant Dumonde secured in the brig. It seems she was somehow in league with the enemy vessel that attacked us. Immediately before they opened fire, she contacted them and ordered the attack."
Picard's brow furrowed, and squaring his shoulders, he tugged at his uniform. "Very well Mr. Worf. Stay there - I'll join you shortly." It was time to get to the bottom of all this.
*********
T'shar sat sullenly. She knew that since she was still alive, B'nar had not been successful. No matter. He would have destroyed the M'dar ship, after sending a final log to the homeworld. This mission might have failed, but the M'dar were not easily dissuaded. Hopefully she'd been able to destroy the Hepa III samples before the Federation had learned anything of substance. And, she had no doubt that her people would be able to make extensive use of the Enterprise specs she'd been able to transmit.
T'shar had laid in wait for years, closely monitoring Starfleet personnel, and infrequently contacted by the M'dar with updates on the plan to overthrow the Federation. When the opportunity arose, she had kidnapped and murdered a young medical officer, assuming her identity. She had been embedded with Starfleet for over a year when she was finally able to maneuver a post on the Enterprise. She contacted the M'dar, infiltrated the spacedock at Starbase 202, and initiated the final sequence of the plan. It had been so glorious.
She now sneered as Picard appeared in front of her cell. The Federation dogs would learn nothing.
Picard eyed her calmly, his expression stern. "Lieutenant Dumonde. Explain your actions immediately."
T'shar did not respond, did not even rise from her bunk. She only gazed forward, expression vacant.
"I repeat, Lieutenant, explain yourself. You are not in a strong position. You will be stripped of rank and expelled from Starfleet unless you start talking. Now."
She did not speak. She had no intention of revealing even her name. The M'dar plans could in no way be compromised. They would strike again.
Picard turned to Worf. "Continue interrogating her, Mr. Worf. I want answers. And get Counsellor Troi down here as well."
The Klingon growled, glaring at Dumonde. "Aye sir. Traitors are *without* honor. It will be my pleasure."
Tapping his comm., Picard stalked out of the brig. "Picard to senior staff. Report to the observation lounge in one hour. I want a complete status report." He stalked into the waiting lift, on his way to the bridge. Anyone walking by at that moment could only describe his demeanor as pissed-off.
*********
The six available senior staff sat around the conference table, with a view to the main bridge as well as the stars. A stasis field had been erected to soundproof the room, though the air was filled with a thick cloud of silence as they waited for Picard. Troi thought wearily of her recommendation for yet another short leave for the crew when the maimed ship returned to starbase. Riker reflected glumly on the past week's events. A mysterious engine problem, a saboteur, and heavy casualties. The captain was not going to be a fun man to deal with. Not to mention the empty seat at his right hand. He would want expect answers from his crew, and they'd better be ready with them. Riker almost felt badly for Dumonde. Almost. He sat up and turned as Picard entered and took his seat.
"Number One, report."
"Sir. We are working to recover any debris from the enemy ship that may give us a clue as to their identity and purpose. Our efforts to analyze what we've collected has been slow, as engineering has been tied up with making repairs. Security is assisting in the efforts"
He nodded to Worf and continued. "There are hull breaches on several decks that have been temporarily sealed. Main systems are off-line, but are expected to be restored in the next hour." He glanced again at Geordi, who nodded in confirmation. "Sickbay reports 117 injuries, 25 fatal." He ended his report, tone as dark as night.
Picard only nodded. "Mr. Worf."
"We have been unable to learn anything new from the Lieutenant. She remains. silent." Worf shifted in his chair, eyes narrow, his voice filled with disgust.
Troi chimed in. "She's certainly deceiving us about something, captain. She is arrogant, and seems defiant. I don't think she cares what happens to her."
Picard steepled his hands and sat for a moment, pensive.
Data looked tentatively around the table. "Captain, before we came under attack, Geordi and I made a breakthrough regarding the previous malfunction of the warp core."
Picard said nothing, but crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Geordi jumped into the conversation.
"Before she was attacked, Dr. Crusher downloaded the results of her research into the Hepa III plant samples to engineering. Seeing her research triggered a connection for me, and I figured out that the warp core had been seeded with some sort of bio-mechanical particles - organic nanites. Data and I were attempting to contact the Doc. When she didn't answer her hails, we suspected something was wrong."
Finally, it seemed they were getting somewhere. "Mr. Laforge," intoned the captain, "were you able to come up with a means to repair the core?"
"No sir, we believe that Dr. Crusher can get us on the right track, though." Geordi frowned.
Picard's expression was similar. Swiveling his chair as if to address Alyssa, he tapped his chest. "Picard to Powell. Lieutenant, what is the status of Dr. Crusher?" Subconsciously, Picard was relieved to be able to check in on Beverly.
"She's been treated and is resting, captain. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Lieutenant, when do you think Dr. Crusher will be able to speak with us?"
There was a moment's pause. "Well, sir, we may be able to safely revive her in an hour, but she won't be speaking with anyone for another day or two. Her jaw will be set during that time so it can heal properly."
Picard's eyebrows shot up, and subdued grins were visible around the table. The mood in the room lightened just a bit. Dr. Crusher speechless.. for two days?
"Thank you Alyssa. Picard out."
He turned a menacing eye on his staff, and the grins disappeared. "Mr. Data, Mr. LaForge, it appears that you will be going it alone."
"Sir, I believe that we will be able to derive what we need from Doctor Crusher's research. However, the solution may be delayed."
"Very well, Data. There's a Federation rescue vessel due here in a couple days. I want all available officers to take a four-hour rest period, immediately. Each rotation will then work 12 hour shifts, punctuated by subsequent four-hour rest periods until we are back online. Let's see if we can get our ship cleaned up and operational before the cavalry arrives, shall we?"
The captain's countenance left little doubt that this was not a request, but an order. His ship had been rendered helpless, and was badly beaten up - not to mention the fact that he'd personally been blindsided by an infiltrator, and lost crew members in the debacle. His pride had suffered a serious blow. The senior staff felt little better.
*********
Picard awoke from a dissatisfying sleep a few hours later, head still hurting from the drugs and stress of the previous night. He showered, dressed, and made his way to the bridge, where he and Will would manage repair operations throughout the day.
On his way, be made a detour to sickbay.
Entering, he immediately noticed that full power had been restored to the unit. All the beds were full, and some temporary beds filled available spaces. He spotted Crusher immediately, in a secluded corner. She seemed to be sleeping. He made his way to her bedside and smiled down. Her eyes were open. Normally crystalline and sharp, they were instead dark and cloudy. Her jaw had been set, and her expression was relaxed, but somehow troubling.
"I'm glad to see that you're all right, Doctor." He gently laid his hand over hers.
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes flashed and her hand moved slightly away. Picard was surprised.
"Not yet ready for visitors?"
Alyssa came over to help the struggling captain. "She's feisty, captain. She's got some medication on board that seems to ease her pain, but puts her in a foul mood." Alyssa laid a hand on her leg and favored Crusher with a firm, but not un-amused, look. She moved to the head of the bed, and gently eased it upward, putting Crusher in a relaxed sitting position. "If you're bold, we've got a terminal here for her. You can talk and she can write."
Picard weighed his options. Clearly, Beverly was in full Howard flush. Likely, she'd been briefed on the situation, and knew that Dumonde was responsible for her, and the ship's, current condition. Unwilling as he was to continue, Picard was emboldened by Beverly's prone state. What could she do, write him to death? Besides, he wanted to apologize.
"That would be fine Lieutenant. I'll let you know if I need anything further."
"Aye sir." Powell looked wary and positioned the terminal in front of Crusher, handing her a stylus. Then she retreated hastily.
"Doctor. I am glad to see you doing better. How are you feeling?"
Beverly tapped slowly and steadily on the panel. "Bad. Your fault, JL."
"Now, Beverly. You know this is not my fault. Please don't be angry with me. However, I am sorry for how this turned out."
Tap tap tap. "Not angry. Angry = more pain. Calm = less pain. Annoyed."
"Your jaw - it hurts too much to be angry?" She wrote nothing, but Picard read acknowledgement in her eyes. He knew his guess was on the mark. Since KesPryt, they had been not quite empathic. The implants had been completely removed, and the side effects had worn off. But it was almost as though they had left behind an echo. It probably had less to do with telepathy, and more with the understanding that came with knowing someone else's mind so intimately.
More tapping. "Head too. And - bored. Out, now."
Deep chuckles filled Picard's chest and escaped his mouth. Even in silence, Crusher's insistent voice filled his head. It must be driving her crazy to lay here and watch her staff bustle around, unable to even assist verbally. He wagered though, that the staff felt lucky she wasn't able to call the shots from the sideline. He also had a hunch several had been over to check on her routinely in the past hours, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.
"Well, I'll talk to Alyssa and see what we can do about that. I've got to get to the bridge, but I promise I'll be back soon. Try and get some sleep." This time he grasped her hand firmly and smiled. Nothing of her expression changed, but there was some merriment in her eyes, and her brow lifted slightly. Reasonable or not, he did feel a bit guilty about what happened with Dumonde, and Crusher's current state, which seemed to be exceedingly uncomfortable. Hopefully she'd be able to return to her quarters soon, where, if nothing else, she could enjoy a holo-movie or some music. He himself wouldn't mind keeping her company for a while.
********
Picard spent the rest of the morning on the bridge. Repairs were going well, and he understood that Data and Geordi were making significant progress manipulating the dormant DNA in the plant to act as an agent in the organic nanites that triggered entropy in their cellular structure. They had little to work with, as the only remaining data was that which Crusher had downloaded yesterday. The missing plant samples and decimated science stations had assured them there was a connection between Hepa III, Emma Dumonde, and their current problems. They anticipated a solution by the end of the day. Worf had had no such luck in the brig, but engineering and security teams were still working on the remnants of the destroyed vessel.
Picard glanced at the chronometer in his chair. 1300 hours. He was getting hungry, and he guessed his CMO was getting grouchy. He stood, tugging and smoothing his uniform.
"You have the bridge, number one." Picard made his way to the lift. "Sickbay."
Riker smiled. Out of friendship alone, he would visit Beverly later today. Troi had already been by, and no words were needed to report Crusher's condition and disposition to Riker. In fact, no words had even passed between Deanna and Beverly before a sour expression appeared on the empath's face. She lasted a total of two minutes before beating a hasty retreat. Riker thought Picard one of the bravest men in the galaxy as he headed off to sickbay. And that was pretty much the best match around for the likes of Beverly Crusher. He sighed inwardly and refocused his attention to ship's *official* business.
********
"She's sleeping now, Captain. We gave her an infusion of nutrients, and a mild sedative. She complained that the pain was too bad to let her sleep."
"Thank you, ensign. When will she be ready to be discharged?"
"I'm not sure sir, but soon. I'll ask Lieutenant Powell and let you know."
Picard nodded, and drew a chair up next to Beverly's bed. Then, impulsively, he stood again. Walking over to Powell, he indicated that he would return in an hour to take Crusher back to her quarters. With that, he left sickbay, made his way to the lift, and ultimately to Beverly's quarters.
Overriding the lock, he entered. While mostly a very neat person, Beverly's schedule had not left much time for order in the cabin. He walked through and gathered up discarded uniforms, placing them in the recycler. He bussed a couple of old teacups, one of which still held liquid. It seemed to be the remnants of the recipe he'd given Beverly previously for his "Aunt Adele's sleep aid." It touched him that she still so often used it to try and coax rest out of sleepless nights. He thought perhaps he might have been responsible for one or two. Sighing, he sat heavily on the couch.
He had not paused to ruminate on events of the past week, and as he did so, became less satisfied with his own behavior. Beverly was younger than he, but with a soul as old as any he'd known. Dumonde had been practically a child, and he felt a bit silly. In fact, lately he'd been feeling silly about several of his past relationships. All had clearly been entered into simply for the fact that he knew they'd fail. But he was always tempted by women that gave themselves freely. He admitted the temptation allowed him to ignore the fact that he had been lazy about his relationship with Beverly. It was one he knew would actually work, and he had been too content with his career and the status quo to make a go of it. Changing courses with Beverly would change his life, and it scared him. But what significant success was ever accomplished without significant work and investment behind it?
He knew Beverly's rebuff after KesPryt had not been serious, only an attempt to motivate him. While never speaking aloud, she'd conveyed her feelings to him tacitly throughout the years. Shadows of Jack had dissipated slowly as they'd served on the Enterprise, and truly, nothing stood between them now but inertia. Perhaps it was time for the unstoppable force to come to a truce with the immovable object. And, he'd always suspected there was a lot of heat under that cool exterior. It would be a shame to miss out. He wasn't ready to profess his undying love - but, he thought perhaps a change would suit him.
Picard stood. Replicating several bunches of fresh, bright flowers, he placed them around the cabin. None had a strong aroma, as he guessed that would aggravate the Doctor's headache. Instead, they all carried subtle hints of lavender and citrus. He stripped the bed and retrieved fresh sheets. Setting lights at 50%, he made his way back to sickbay.
********
"And how are we now, Doctor?" Picard grinned at Crusher, whose expression had not changed from this morning.
She tapped at her pad. "Out. Now."
His countenance fell, and he paused uncomfortably. "Yes, well, I've spoken to Lieutenant Powell, and she feels it advisable to keep you here at least another night for observation." He could not help the small jibe. Beverly Crusher unable to get a word in edgewise was not an opportunity to be lost.
Crusher's eyes danced, sparking. Her eyebrows raised.
Alyssa darted over immediately. "I said nothing of the sort, Doctor Crusher. You are free to go." Powell shot captain a pleading look, and he smiled.
"You are indeed, free Beverly. May I see you back to your quarters?" Crusher gave him a look that said 'not likely,' and slowly stood. It took her a moment to get her balance, and she wavered. Picard placed his arm around her. "Like it or not, Beverly, I think you need an escort." He said it quietly and with as much tenderness as possible. Crusher was probably feeling rather undignified, and the time for jokes had passed. She leaned against the bed while Picard gathered her padd, and they slowly made their way to the door.
Powell rolled her eyes at the retreating figures and breathed a sigh. That man was crazy. But then again, so was her boss. She'd wagered several times in the Starfleet betting pool about their marriage date, and one of her early predictions had sailed by. She still had quite a few days left, though, and she figured she might strike it rich. After all, it was one of the largest running pools in the quadrant. A fortune awaited anyone lucky enough to pick the actual date. But there were runner-up prizes for those who had selected a date in the same week, and the same month. She wasn't sure how Will Riker had kept the pool a secret from those two, but everyone else in Starfleet, and several Federation members, had been betting for years. There were whole planets that had pooled together to buy-in. Crossing her fingers, she moved to assist another patient.
********
If she could have smiled upon entering her quarters, she would have. She'd been annoyed with Jean-Luc earlier, but not truly angry. It had been extremely thoughtful of him to tidy up. From what she could remember, the place had been messy when she'd left, and certainly had not been as cheery or smelled as welcoming. He turned to take in her approval, and received a sparkling look from her azure eyes. It suited him fine.
"Would you like to lie down?" he asked.
She tapped at her padd. "Yes. Tired. Oww."
He smiled sympathetically, and steadied her as she made for the bedroom, where she found the bed turned down and freshly made. He'd felt a little awkward about doing something so intimate as changing her linens, but he calmed himself with the thought that any good friend would do the same.
She turned toward him again, her expression soft. He was, if nothing else, gallant. With Jean-Luc's assistance she eased into bed. He stuffed a few pillows at her back to keep her head and shoulders elevated, and sat down next to her.
"Can I get you anything?"
She shook her head slightly and very gently and looked toward her padd. Silently, he handed it to her.
She resumed tapping. "Tired. Meds. Read. Sleep." The walk from sickbay had just about wiped her out, and her head was throbbing.
Jean-Luc smiled, stood, and went to the living room to retrieve a hypo Powell had given him. He extended it to Beverly, who, instead of taking it, only inclined her neck. Taking the hint and a deep breath in, he gently placed it against the skin. It hissed quietly.
"What would you like to read?"
She tapped slowly for a minute. "You pick. You read."
"Well, as you know I am a busy man. But, it is a captain's duty to comfort the injured when the CMO is not available." He squeezed her hand and went to the living room, where he selected a novel. He called Riker, indicating that we would be back on the bridge in an hour, and headed back toward the bedroom. By the time he returned, Beverly looked rather drowsy. "Do you still want me to read? You look rather sleepy." He found himself hoping she'd say yes.
A slight nod and the look in her eyes encouraged him, and he sat down and opened the book. He'd only finished the first page before she was out like a light. He sat peacefully and contentedly for a few minutes more, before rising. He left a note on her padd indicating he'd be back around 1800 hours, and slipped out the door.
********
On the M'Dar homeworld, Chancellor H'rar angrily pounded his desk, jolting his secretary. Damn fools had ruined the mission. It had been a mistake to move while the Enterprise was so close to Hepa III. Undoubtedly, Starfleet would tie it all together, and move to restrict all access to the planet. Fortunately, the M'dar had been cloning and otherwise cultivating Hepa III flora for some time. But production was nowhere near what they had been harvesting. No matter. They would seed another planet, and they would try again. The M'dar was persistent, and determined. Now, they had learned from a field test, and they had the specs of the Enterprise in hand. Next time, they would not fail.
*********
All had practically returned to normal on board the Enterprise by the following morning. They were scheduled to rendezvous with the USS Cuyahoga in three hours for an escort back to starbase. Geordi was at least confident that they would be able to make it on their own power. Little had been learned still about the attack and the enemy vessel, and they would deposit the debris at starbase for further analysis by Starfleet. For now, Picard was content to put an end to the episode, and get the offending traitor off his ship. He had been down to the brig once more, and Dumonde had remained mute. Perhaps time in a penal colony would soften her up.
As he sat, Troi turned away from her quiet conversation with Will.
"Captain, I'd like to talk with you about crew plans for our docking time at the starbase."
"Counselor, the Enterprise is in need of serious repair. I'm guessing you're lobbying for shore leave, and I'm sorry but there simply isn't an opportunity." He was brusque and quite firm on the point. He was significantly less than happy about the outcome of their mission, and felt the crew would be better served with more discipline, rather than less. His personal lack of it had served to compromise security, and the well-being of the entire ship.
Troi could sense the captain's resolve, but was similarly set in her opinion. "Sir, I'm not asking for extended leave. But," at this she paused. It would be a sensitive issue for Picard, and she softened her tone, laying a hand on his forearm. "With such a large number of casualties, the crew is struggling to maintain morale. There isn't anyone who didn't lose a friend. It would be unhealthy to deny the crew time to deal with that." Her dark eyes were kind, but she was firm.
Picard sighed, stood, and turned to the counselor. "I'll take it under advisement. Number One, I'll be in my ready room." Crisply he turned and walked off the bridge.
Troi addressed no one in particular. "Overall, that went fairly well."
Hours later, a text-only ship wide announcement was circulated from the captain. "Upon reaching Starbase 202, crew of the Enterprise will be granted three days of shore leave, and will report immediately to stations at conclusion, ready for active duty."
*********
"Jean-Luc, it was the right thing to do. If I could have spoken, I would have ordered you to do it myself. You're just lucky that Deanna's such a softie." By the time they'd reached starbase, Beverly's jaw had healed, and she was making up for lost time. They'd been speaking of the leave during the short ride to the inn on the planet. Finding it charming on their last visit, the senior staff had resumed residence upon their return.
Picard was still angry over the entire affair on the ship, and had been withdrawn and grouchy. "Yes well, a good crew is strong and resilient. I don't see how this will inspire them to be on their toes when next we ship out."
"Jean-Luc, are you made at your crew, or are you mad at yourself?" Crusher asked without a hint of compassion, accompanied by a steely gaze. Picard would not ruin their leave wallowing in self-pity. It took time to heal after loosing so many people under command, but time off was a necessary step. She'd personally gone to his ready room and essentially dragged him physically off the ship.
Before he could answer, the transport arrived and they disembarked. Picard's face was stern and detached. Beverly's demeanor was indifferent. Troi was at the door to greet them, and internally rolled her eyes. These two could just about freeze over a pond when they really got going. But the day was clear, comfortably warm, and this time threatened no rain. She and Will had already planned for the senior staff to spend the afternoon at a nearby lake. If it took the whole Enterprise family, they'd loosen up the old battleaxes.
She beamed at them. "How was the transport?"
"Lovely." Beverly's tone dripped sarcasm, and Picard wordlessly moved beyond the two women into the main lodge.
Deanna took her friend by the arm, and grabbed her bag. "Beverly, I promise you will have a great time on leave. Now, go, freshen up, get the Captain, and meet me back down here in 10 minutes. Will and Geordi are already lakeside making lunch."
*********
The good food, casual atmosphere, delicate wine, and sunny day did indeed beat Crusher and Picard into submission. A warm breeze occasionally skimmed across the expansive lake, and the long, green grass on the bank swayed lazily. It felt almost sinful to stay angry, so they called a truce and sat hillside on a large blanket, watching as Geordi, Worf, Troi and Riker played beach volleyball nearby. Data sat in a canvas chair at the bank, refereeing. He seemed quite taken with the accompanying whistle.
Beverly turned resolutely to her companion. "Jean-Luc." It seemed to be all she could think to say.
His eyes twinkled. They both wanted to apologize, and neither wanted to be the first. He figured they could skip a step. "Beverly. Let's just skip the apologies and go right to making up." He meant it innocently, but her eyebrows arched and her mouth twitched. He could almost hear her smart retort, but she held back.
"Fine by me." They sat silently a bit longer.
Reminding himself of his internal dialog in Beverly's quarters days previous, Picard smiled and took her hand. Her shining auburn hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon, and danced in the sun and wind. Now grasping her hand tightly, he steeled himself. "Beverly." Now he was at a loss for words.
Sensing that the outcome of the moment balanced on a razor's edge, she remained silent, her expression open, and she hoped, inviting.
Her name rumbled in his chest again. "Beverly, would you care to join me for dinner tonite?" It was a familiar invitation, but the way it was delivered was not. Hesitancy in his tone indicated there would be something different about the evening. The warm undercurrent of affection was again replaced by awkwardness and intensity.
She did not answer immediately, but instead gazed intently at his hazel eyes. Jean-Luc held his breath, but was not at all uncertain what her answer would be. He breathed out, however, only when she at last spoke. "I would love to."
*********
END
*********
I want a girl
With uninterupted prosperity
Who uses a machete
To cut through red tape
With fingernails
That shine like justice
And a voice that is dark
Like tinted glass
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She is touring the facility
And picking up slack
- CAKE, "Short Skit / Long Jacket" Comfort Eagle - www.cakemusic.com