Chapter 18

"But, Doctor, I am in the middle of a meeting...you cannot simply-"

"I'm on my way to see you right now, Captain."

"Counselor Troi is with me," he said quickly. Good Lord, I sound like a teenager, warning her that my parents are home. Steady yourself, Jean-Luc.

"Wonderful, I would love to hear Troi's opinion on this as well. Crusher out."

Damn. Picard cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. He examined the back of his hand for a few moments before Troi's all too perceptive gaze made him look up.

"Is something troubling you about Doctor Crusher's call, Captain?" Troi observed carefully after a moment. His reaction although silent was difficult and one she had now come to anticipate. He's frustrated by my ability to read him so soon after we have begun working together. And he wants almost desperately to maintain a stable sense of professional decorum when it comes to Beverly; both externally and internally. And he's wondering if he should engage with me by answering this question, or deflect.

Picard now sat with his hands clasped tightly in front of him on the desk. If she can read my thoughts, really what the hell is the point in trying to hide them? "Counselor, I am sure you are as familiar with my service record as I am with yours."

Deanna smiled serenely. "Yes, Captain. You have spent over half of your life on Starfleet vessels of one type or another. And I-"

"And you," interrupted Picard, "have very little experience serving on board starships. Not counting the three weeks you have spent serving on board the Enterprise," he said.

Deanna blinked. His tone was calm yet blunt. Not entirely certain what he was getting at she responded evenly. "Correct, captain. In fact my only previous postings were in diplomatic settings, on Betazed and most recently on Earth. My commanding officers were certainly not seasoned starship captains...but they were pleased with my performance."

"Yes...as I mentioned, I have reviewed your service record," he said mildly. "You are aware that the counselor position as a senior officer is a pilot program for the new Galaxy class ships, counselor."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Then you would agree that the success of this program depends largely on the two of us working well together...given that this ship will serve as the example for all others in this and many other areas."

She smiled inwardly. Despite his discomfort at working so closely with a ship's counselor, he doesn't want this program to fail. Whether he actually believes in its usefulness, or simply does not want to feel a sense of personal failure, remains to be seen.

"Yes sir," she said. But you still conveniently haven't answered my question, she thought. "Captain, when I suggested that you seemed bothered by Beverly's call, I was only using my skills...doing my job. I assure you, I was not reading your mind."

"Counselor, you have read my service record, and so you probably have the misapprehension that I am somehow a scarred and burdened individual, unaccustomed to sharing his feelings, and who is subconsciously waiting to open up to the right counselor."

"And that couldn't be further from the truth?" She asked calmly.

His face stiffened. "My record is public, and my actions, as one would always hope, usually speak for themselves. However... I would ask you to understand that everything else which I am thinking or feeling is private, until I decide to express it publicly-or I decide not to, as the case may be."

"I see," said Deanna maintaining her serene smile. He cannot possibly believe that we can serve together without ever telling me how he feels. Surely his mental well being is part of my professional concern, and yet he has no problem informing me that his intention is to shut me out. By setting almost immovable ground rules, he has unintentionally set us both up to fail. "Captain, I think it is important for us to begin from a place of honesty..."

Picard was so surprised by that that he almost laughed out loud. "Counselor...are you suggesting that I am trying to deceive you, because I am not interested in expressing my thoughts to you?"

"You still haven't answered my question from five minutes ago, Captain...about Doctor Crusher."

Picard scowled, and then he pushed himself up from his desk, walking away from the table. Abruptly he turned around. "I've known Beverly Crusher for many years." And yet I still hardly know her. Perhaps Jack was all we truly had in common, he thought. "She would have come up to interrupt our meeting even had I ordered her not to."

Deanna shook her head. "But you didn't order her not to, sir. Why?"

He looked directly at her. "If she's coming to talk to me, it must be important," he admitted.

"Captain, are you honestly telling me that you intend to do nothing about this situation?" Beverly Crusher was never more adamant and intense than when she wanted the opportunity to take action herself, but was prevented from doing so. She pressed her palm on the edge of his desk, on the verge, he imagined, of pounding her fist. "That is unacceptable!"

Picard spread his hands wide. "What would you have me do, Doctor? Violate the Prime Directive again? If the situation is no longer tenable on board the Enterprise, we will find a new location for the Tranan people;after the negotiations have concluded."

"But Rolani said they were punishing that man...you saw what happened down on Trana IV. He simply has a different opinion than the majority-or Rolani. And if you ask me, she's starting to sound like a fanatic with this religious nonsense about you."

Picard raised his eyebrows, still looking up at her from his desk. "I see... so you no longer find a religion centered around me to be amusing?"

"That's not-"

"Beverly," Troi interjected calmly, and Crusher shifted her gaze away from Picard. "You mentioned before that you wanted to hear my opinion." Beverly's expression softened a bit and she smiled, sitting down next to Troi. Picard watched with mild irritation at the shift.

"Beverly, I understand your concerns, but you did not actually see this man being punished?"

"No, because as I mentioned, they had him hidden away in some holodeck cave. I have no idea what they're doing to him."

"Exactly," said Troi. "We have no idea what punishment even means to the Tranan people. Perhaps it is not violent or oppressive."

Beverly stared disbelievingly at Troi. "You've seen the injuries they sustained from the Brethren-beings they clearly fear and hold out to be superior to themselves. If their system of punishment is patterned after the treatment they've received from the Brethren, it can't be good."

"Now you're making assumptions doctor," said Picard.

"Which are based on my observations and the facts known to us."

He nodded. He didn't disagree with her, but again knew he was limited in his authority to control or even more subtly influence the Tranans. "Perhaps Rolani is not the model of leadership, according to Federation standards. The fact is, unless the Tranans are somehow presenting a threat to my crew, I cannot simply interject myself into their culture and overrule them."

"They already think you're a god..."

Picard laughed sharply. "I'm not going to entertain that train of thought any further, doctor. Let's not compound one problem by engaging with the Tranans in their fanaticism as you yourself have called it."

"Then what do we do?"

"Nothing. If you actually witness this individual being punished, doctor then you may bring me your account, and we shall reconsider the point of keeping the Tranans on board at all."

"You could come and see for yourself, captain..."

Picard leaned toward her. "Doctor, I am in the middle of important negotiations with the Ciapathians-"

She crossed her arms. "Perhaps you could convince them to stay out of my sick bay then," she said.

Picard glanced at Troi and then leaned forward again now truly confused. "What?"

Beverly lifted her chin. "A thoroughly obnoxious individual named Doctor Petral came into main sick bay this morning; in fact he was there before I arrived."

Picard got up from his desk slowly and paced over to the narrow view port. He turned back to look at Beverly. "Please go on," he prompted her.

"He appears to be fascinated by human beings, although he didn't have anything particularly positive to say about us. And then he started asking me all of these personal questions." She shifted in her seat, suddenly regretting raising the subject at all.

Deanna started to rise from her seat. "Perhaps I should go now," she suggested quietly.

"No, no," Picard said a little too hurriedly. "Please stay, Counselor," he said waving her back into her seat. Then he seemed to realize he had spoken too quickly. He turned to Beverly. "Of course, if..."

By the gods, he's actually showing some sensitivity, thought Troi as she returned to her seat.

"Yes, thank you," said Beverly quietly. "I would prefer if Deanna stayed." She cleared her throat awkwardly, and folded her hands in her lap. Beverly was unsure why she was having the reaction she was to Petral's visit, but there it was nevertheless.

Beverly was clearly disturbed by whatever had occurred, and it wrenched at his insides in a way he never would have expected. Picard crossed his arms and tried to adopt a softer tone, which he was certain was unsuccessful. "Please continue, doctor."

"After he left, actually after I asked him to leave, I found out that he had interrogated my staff about the same things..." She took a deep breath. "Dr. Petral made it clear that he is fascinated by human sexuality, even going so far as to say he was 'stimulated' by it. He asked me whether I was sexually mature, and if I would demonstrate."

Picard's eyes widened slightly and then he looked down at the deck. He honestly hoped Troi would inject something helpful into the one-way conversation.

"Demonstrate what?" Deanna asked.

Beverly gave her new friend a subtle but meaningful look. "Oh," said Deanna.

Beverly rubbed her arms, as though chilled. "There was something very disturbing about the whole thing. He was...repulsive. I know it sounds extreme, but that's how it felt to me. Petral seemed to be studying me...at least it felt that way..." She trailed off and looked across the room.

Picard walked away from the view port and sat down again. "Doctor," he said quietly, his brow knitted together with concern. "I regret that this happened to you, but I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I can assure you that proper steps will be taken to ensure he stays away from sick bay for the remainder of this mission."

Beverly caught his gaze. Was he angry? If so, he was under complete control...of course he was. "Thank you, sir."

He leaned back. "Please consult with Counselor Troi as needed and the counselor will also speak with your staff as appropriate."

Beverly nodded and rose from her seat. She turned around again when she reached the doors, her hands clasped in front of her. She caught his gaze again, but her words would not come. She wanted to say something else, but whatever it was was buried with a long held emotion. So instead she exited the ready room without another word.

"Picard to Lieutenant Yar."

"Yes sir?"

"Please escort Premier Fon to my ready room."

Deanna strategically shifted her seating position to prepare for the negotiations. Meanwhile the Captain remained totally silent while she watched him carefully. He is furious.

Just a few more minutes passed before Premier Fon entered the room escorted by Yar.

Yar stood by the door stiffly awaiting her next instruction. Picard nodded toward her. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Please have a security detail posted outside of all sick bays. Everyone seeking to enter must be a staff member or seeking medical care. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Yar replied curtly. She wondered briefly what had happened in sick bay to warrant an increased security presence, but she wasn't one to question the captain's judgment, nor was she one to stand around wondering.

"Dismissed."

Premier Fon watched the lithe young woman exit the room before turning back to Picard and Troi. "Why the changed venue, Captain Picard? I was prepared to meet in conference room one, not here," he said looking around him with generalized disdain.

"Change of plans, Premier," said Picard. "My apologies for any inconvenience caused." He stood briefly and gestured for Fon to sit down.

Fon glanced at Troi and then Picard who were seated on either side of him. Troi took in his elegant but arrogant posture. "Captain, I recommend that we start from where we left off yesterday."

Picard raised his hand with polite control. "Actually Premier, we've some preliminary business to get out of the way first."

Fon blinked in surprise. "Proceed then."

The captain leaned forward intensely, but kept his voice even. "What exactly is Doctor Petral' s purpose for accompanying you to these negotiations? Thus far his role has been unclear."

Deanna didn't need to see Fon flinch slightly in order to sense the sudden whisp of fear that traveled through his psyche. "Petral is our people's preeminent scientist. He was therefore given the honor of accompanying me in order to...observe human culture."

"To observe us...I see, so he serves absolutely no diplomatic role."

"One could say that," admitted Fon.

"Well, I am saying it," said Picard. "The fact is, Premier, Doctor Petral, whatever his motives, went to our ship's main sick bay unannounced...and more importantly, uninvited. He then proceeded to interrogate my crew in an attempt to elicit private information, which he has no business discussing with them."

Fon turned a lighter shade of pink. "Why was I not notified?" He demanded.

"No one was notified...least of all me. We're here to make a meaningful political connection between our two cultures, Premier. Doctor Petral' s activities this morning were highly offensive and counterproductive to that end."

Premier Fon shook his hand over the desktop in what appeared to be some kind of release of nervous energy. "Petral is an odd fellow, no doubt. But he surely did not mean-"

"I don't care what he meant, Premier. But I expect you to help me ensure that it does not happen again."

Troi closed her eyes briefly as the wave of fear passed through Premier Fon again.

"I am afraid, Captain Picard, that I am unable to promise you anything, when it comes to Doctor Petral."

"And why is that? He is your subordinate, is he not?"

Premier Fon's skin tone grew even paler. "I cannot say."

Picard and Fon glared at each other for a few more moments. "Keep Petral close by, Premier Fon, or he will quickly find himself banned from my ship."

Several Hours later...

Premier Fon was the leader of his people, seemingly born to this role as the supreme ruler of Ciapathia; and yet he felt his control swiftly slipping away. He stood outside of the door, waiting for it to open. The individual on the inside of the room was in no hurry, no rush. Unlike Fon, he had no official title. He in fact did not need one. For everyone on Ciapathia feared this person; not least of all Premier Fon himself. Impatiently, Fon pushed a small device on his inner wrist. Momentarily the doors to Dr. Petral's guest quarters opened, and Fon walked boldly in.

As was typical of Petral, the lights were very dim. "Bring these lights up thirty percent," Fon said irritably.

"The computer will not comply with your wishes, as it has been programmed to obey mine," a gravelly voice floated from the darkness. "I prefer the darkness, Fon, you know that. I have no need for light."

"Your soul is lost in the darkness," Fon replied.

"No, Fon, your soul is the one which is lost...I have no soul."

"Picard wants you off of his beloved ship," Fon said shakily. "You insulted his medical officer with your ill behavior."

"My behavior, ill or not, will save the future of our race, Fon. Everything I do, as you know, has a purpose. Picard and his people are but a means...you know that, Fon." Dimly Fon could see a small figure approaching though the darkness. "Because you seem to fear the dark as much as you do me...I will change the lighting in this room, for your comfort, dear leader." Gradually the darkness was replaced by a ruby red hue, and Fon could now see that Petral was standing directly in front of him. He had removed his seeing device and the scarred area where his eyes had once been was now visible. Petral smiled. "Is that better, dear leader?"

"Do not call me that," Fon snarled, briefly replacing his fear with anger at Petral's insolence.

"Very well. Why are you here?" Petral demanded with quiet confidence.

Fon clasped his hands in front of him tightly. "It is my daughter. Hatha does not consent to marry you. And I will not force her."

Petral's face was expressionless. "You imply that either of you has a choice in the matter. You will give your daughter to me, or I will take her like all of the others before her."

Fon tightened his jaw. "I will not concede. You have become too powerful, Petral."

"And you have quickly outlived your usefulness. We will resume this conversation later. I must dress for dinner."

Fon stood his ground. "Picard suspects nothing," he said in a low voice.

"Good," said Petral. "Once the preparations have been made we will make our Ascension."

Fon felt his breath quicken. "I am uncertain if I still believe that our people are ready for the Ascension. Perhaps it is too soon."

Petral walked forward. "Do you intend to be remembered as the Premier who betrayed his people, sending us all to our doom? Will you reveal the truth to Picard? Fifteen of your most powerful ships await their orders. I am curious to know your answer. Perhaps you simply intend to reveal the truth to your rival Del...in all of his ignorance, he may still care."

Fon trembled with rage. "How dare you accuse me of treachery, you worm. You will not touch my daughter! As long as I live, I will protect her from your evil."

Petral watched the still enraged Premier leave. "Then you will not live for long," Petral promised the empty room.

What's up, Readers? If you are reading my story "A Full Circle", I should be posting something more tomorrow. Thanks for tuning in. -PP