Chapter 3
Beverly Crusher's eyebrows shot up in surprised amusement. "Twenty-two kids?" She sipped her coffee and then laughed into the cup. "How many of them are teenagers I wonder? Because one is enough," she assured Troi.
"I will take your word for it Beverly," Deanna said, sipping something that smelled like hot chocolate, but didn't taste quiet right. She would have to work on these replicator programs.
"Finally, someone who is willing to address me by my first name! Thank you for that," Beverly said, and clinked her coffee cup into the side of Troi's mug of hot chocolate.
"Cheers, to being on a first name basis," Deanna said.
Beverly smiled and her eyes took on an impish expression. "Deanna, I would have really loved to have seen the look on the Captain's face when you told him about that."
"It was certainly something to behold," Troi admitted. "He is still largely a mystery to me," she said, growing slightly more serious.
"Ha," Beverly said, getting up from her desk and placing the empty cup in a nearby recycler.
Troi held out her open palms. "That's it? For as long as you have known Captain Picard, I would think you would have some more insight into his personality, Beverly."
Crusher sat back down slowly, and Deanna actually felt the sensation of the emotional wall going up. Beverly gave her a weak smile. "Yes, you would think so, wouldn't you?"
"Riker to Captain Picard."
Picard shifted in his command chair, surprised to hear from his second in command so soon. Riker and his team had only been down on Trana IV for about an hour. He tapped the armrest on his chair. "Picard here, go ahead."
"Sir, we've found the remnants of a small abandoned village."
Picard stood up swiftly. "That planet was not supposed to be inhabited," he said sharply.
"Nevertheless sir…."
Picard turned to Data at ops. "Data, why didn't our sensors pick up any technology or evidence of a city before beam down? And no life signs?"
"Sir, it is possible that the technology in the village is so basic that our sensors did not recognize it as evidence of a collective dwelling. Additionally, Commander Riker did say that the village was abandoned. It may be that there are no longer any inhabitants. However, even if there were minimal life signs, our sensors could have missed them."
"Commander, have you been seen?" Picard asked, addressing Riker again.
"No sir, none of the inhabitants or former inhabitants are present. Data's right, the buildings here, well the dwellings seem to be made of the same material as the soil here. Some kind of clay huts, which are very low to the ground. No wonder our sensors missed them."
Picard ran his palms over his head. "And no people…."
Riker hesitated. "No sir. But…there does appear to be some organic material at various spots around us on the ground. Could be blood, sir. It's dried but impossible to tell just how old it is, Captain."
At that moment, Picard considered calling the entire away team back up to the ship, but something made him ask, "Did you locate any Andurine deposits?"
"Yes sir, there appears to be a large hilly area about 500 meters away that Dr. Francis believes looks promising."
Picard nodded, still thinking quickly. "Proceed with caution. If you see any sign of sentient life, take cover, and beam back to the ship, ensuring as best you can that you are not seen. Understood?"
"Aye sir," was Riker's reply before the connection cut out.
"Captain," said Data turning from his station. "If Commander Riker has in fact found a large mineral deposit of Andurine, it could be masking life signs even down on the planet. As you know, sir, Andurine has been used to produce cloaking technology."
Picard scratched his chin. "Yes I know, Data, thank you." He tapped his communicator. "Picard to Doctor Crusher."
"Crusher here."
"Doctor, there has been a development on the planet's surface and we require your expertise. Please meet me in transporter three in five minutes."
"On my way."
"Mr. Data, you have the bridge. Mr. LaForge," Picard added walking slightly forward to address the young man at the helm.
"Yes sir?" Lt. Geordi LaForge perked up slightly but knew better than to look away from his post. They were all in a sort of probationary period, and LaForge, who had been bouncing between various positions, including the helm was feeling highly insecure lately.
"Lieutenant, I want you to coordinate our transport out from the helm. I need someone I can trust at these controls."
"Yes sir," Geordi replied professionally.
Picard paused at the turbo lift. For a moment, he considered bringing Worf along, but quickly decided against it. Additional parties beaming down only increased the possibility of his crew being noticed by the inhabitants. And if Worf went along, Picard knew he ran the risk of exposing a fledgling civilization to not one but two alien cultures.
So he stepped into the turbo lift alone. "Mr. Worf, please relieve Mr. Data at ops," Picard said as the door closed.
"Did you hear that Data?" Geordi said with a grin as the lift doors swished shut. "He trusts me."
As Worf took Data's seat, the Klingon sat down and addressed Geordi without looking away from his control panel. "It will make it that much more unfortunate for you if you disappoint the Captain," he warned in a low voice.
Geordi turned his head quickly to fix Worf with a confident smile. "Hey, I know what I'm doing—don't worry about it," he insisted.
"It is not I who should be worried," Worf said seriously as Geordi's smile faded quickly.
Picard stalked through the corridors of his ship entirely lost in his own ruminations, and oblivious to the crew members who nervously moved out of his way.
Damn it. It was problematic enough that he would have to justify sending Crusher to a non-Federation planet simply because Riker had discovered evidence of dead or injured persons in the abandoned village. Of course, yes he was concerned that someone in that village might be dying and felt a duty to help them. Of course, there were more important things than scouring a planet for its natural resources. But the Enterprise hadn't been ordered there on a mission of aid, and in fact until a few minutes ago, he hadn't known there would be anyone to aid.
Picard knew that if he were to follow regulations as dictated by his superiors, he was expected to continue the survey as long as it could be done without interacting with or being noticed by the pre-warp inhabitants. The Prime Directive required that Starfleet personnel not interfere with less developed species, so as to avoid disturbing their technological and social progress. But because the mineral ore the away team had been charged with locating was so important to Starfleet Picard knew the potential violation of the Prime Directive was secondary to those considerations. However, he also knew that if someone was gravely wounded down in that village, Doctor Crusher could provide aid to the individual without his or her becoming aware of their identities, and thus Captain Picard would still be acting within the confines of the Directive.
The truth was it wasn't the potential violation of the Prime Directive that was truly bothering him. It was his inability to remain objective when it came to her. It was completely and utterly inappropriate, but his instinct to protect Beverly Crusher had overridden his command sense; and this was a problem. If he could not set aside his feelings, not that he was quite sure what the hell these feelings meant this arrangement would simply never work. He would not be able to serve with her on this ship.
He could hardly say her name inside his own mind without a mix of feelings and emotions that had been buried for years before she reappeared in his life and on his ship just weeks ago. And he knew it was his problem, not hers to correct. He was a decisive man, and wanted to retain the appearance of being so, which is part of the reason he would not change his mind about beaming down. Riker no doubt, would make his objections known. Even as he continued to criticize himself internally he could almost hear his father's voice from all those years ago.
The sun passed over his face and he smiled as the warmth soaked into him despite the chilly autumn air.
"Where is he?"
Jean-Luc's eyes snapped open at the sound of his father's baritone voice booming from inside the house.
"He's in the garden again," was his mother's reply.
"What is he doing out there, Yvette? He's left his brother to do all the work in the fields."
"Maurice, you know your son," his mother reasoned with his father. "Jean-Luc is just busy planning his future again."
"His future! Without giving a damn about the rest of his family!"
"Oh, Maurice not this again," his mother gently chided his father.
Jean-Luc had managed to scramble to his feet in time to face his father as the man stormed out of the house. Jean-Luc hurriedly kicked at the sand with his shoe, trying to cover the area he had absently been drawing on.
His father poked him in the chest with his callused index finger. "Loafing about—basking in the sun while your brother does all of the harvesting, I see."
Jean-Luc lifted his chin. "No sir."
"No sir? Watch your tone, Jean… what are you doing back here boy? Daydreaming about girls, no doubt. There will be time for that later. Until then, you'll work until I tell you to stop."
Eleven year old Jean-Luc made a sour face. "I don't dream about girls, Papa," he insisted.
"Hmm," grunted his father, bending down to stare into the sand, where the outline of his drawing still lay in the sand. "Even worse than girls. Starships again," he grumbled.
"I was going to go back to the vines soon enough, sir," said Jean-Luc.
"Soon enough? Everything is always on your time, boy, expecting the rest of us to take your lead." His father placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "The grapes won't harvest themselves, Jean-Luc."
"Actually they will, Papa, they have robotics for that now."
"You and your damn technology!" His father shouted suddenly, shaking him by the shoulder. He stared his son in the eye. "You'll never have better than what we have here, do you understand me?"
Jean-Luc felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but said nothing, staring at the ground. His father gripped his shoulder and he knew it was meant to instill strength in him. But he didn't feel strong, he felt misunderstood. "Are you crying? Emotion will get you nowhere. Do you think they take crying boys in Starfleet?"
Jean-Luc shook his head no, and when he finally looked up to meet his father's gaze his own eyes were clear.
Picard blinked away the memory as he neared the transporter room. He hadn't thought about those moments for years. It seemed that he had forever been molding himself into the person his father had expected him to be even after he had left home for Starfleet and caused a rift in the family many years before. A rift that he had never bothered to try and heal.
And yet despite his father's stern warning all those years ago, here he was letting his emotions lead him. It was inexcusable. Later on he would be able to justify his decision by any number of well-reasoned excuses, but the reality was that he simply did not want to send her down to that planet alone. He couldn't have sent Worf or a security officer down with her for protection. Because the reality was that if anything happened to her, it would be his fault, his responsibility. And so something very personal had driven him to go down himself. There was no doubt about it; he would have to get his feelings in line. After this away mission, things would change. He rearranged his facial expression to be as neutral as possible as he stepped into transporter room three.