“Commander Riker? Lieutenant Yar, chief of security.”
Riker stepped down from the transporter pad, extending his hand. “I’m pleased—”
“Captain Picard will see you on the battle bridge,”Tasha interrupted. “This way, please.” She turned on her heel and stalked off, the doors hissing open to admit her. Riker had to hurry to catch up, even with his longer strides. There was a turbolift across the corridor; and Tasha was inside it, impatiently waiting for him when he reached her.
“With the saucer section gone, can I assume something interesting happened on your way here?” he asked.
“That’s for the captain to explain, sir.” She turned her head to speak quietly toward the controls. “Battle bridge.”
Riker studied her frankly, but she did not seem to pay any attention to his scrutiny. “Yar,” Riker said thoughtfully. “I believe your security teams have won the Fleet championships three years in a row in the seek-and-protect exercises.”
“That is a fact, sir. We intend to keep it that way.”
“An enviable record, Lieutenant. Tell me, were you on the battle bridge when it separated from the saucer section?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you mind telling me what happened?”
“That’s for the captain to say, sir.”
Riker shook his head. Maybe they’re all a bunch of old burrhogs on this ship, he thought ruefully.
On the battle bridge, Picard was intent on the viewscreen before him. “Do we have clearance?” he snapped to Data.
The android nodded from his position at the Ops console. “Aye, sir. Into standard parking orbit.”
“Make it so.”
The turbolift doors snapped open, and Tasha preceded Riker into the battle bridge. “Commander Riker, sir,” Tasha announced crisply.
Riker came to a halt at attention beside Picard’s chair. “Riker, W. T., reporting as ordered, sir.” He expected the captain to offer his hand, but Picard merely glanced at him and then to Tasha.
“Is the viewer ready, Lieutenant?”
“All set up, sir.”
Picard noticed that Riker was still at attention and he waved his hand negligently. “Please stand at ease, Commander. First, we’ll bring you up to date on a little . . . ‘adventure’ we had on our way here. Then you and I will talk.”
“This way, sir,” Tasha said, instantly moving toward a viewer in the aft section of the bridge.
He doesn’t waste any words either, Riker thought as he followed the security chief. She motioned him into a seat in front of the viewer and leaned in past him to key the viewer on. Riker prided himself on having a keen sense of smell, keen enough to determine the exact fragrance any woman was wearing. All he could smell on Tasha was the faint, pleasant aroma of soap and shampoo: Lieutenant Yar apparently disdained the standard little “feminine” touch and contented herself with just being clean. Interesting, Riker noted.
The viewer fluttered, almost whited out; then began running the bridge camera’s record of the most extraordinary scene Riker had ever witnessed. The alien who called itself Q appeared on the bridge and ordered Picard to take his ship back to Sol system or suffer the consequences. Riker leaned in closer in order to clearly hear all the details of the confrontation over the hum of routine ship’s business going on behind him.
Data turned away from the Ops console and addressed Picard. “Message from Lieutenant Worf, sir. The saucer section will arrive here in fifty-one minutes. The lieutenant sends his compliments.”
“Inform the lieutenant we’ll reconnect as soon as they arrive.” The captain pushed out of his chair and headed for his ready room, just off the port side of the bridge. As he passed Tasha, he said, “Send the commander to me when he’s finished viewing the encounter file.”
“Yes, sir.” Tasha glanced over to where the new first officer still hunched over the viewer.
Riker shook his head and spoke aloud to no one in particular. “He calls that ‘a little adventure’?”
Picard was seated at his desk in the battle bridge ready room studying a series of matter-antimatter fuel formulas on the viewer when a buzzer sounded at the door. He flicked the viewer off and called, “Come.”
The door slid open, and Riker entered. The captain waved him to a seat opposite the desk. Riker slid into it, studying the man under whom he had requested service. Jean-Luc Picard was fifty-five, balding, with a hawk-like face dominated by commanding, intelligent eyes. When he chose to display it, a charmingly rueful smile softened his normally stern expression. Of average height, he held his slim, tightly muscled body ramrod straight, giving the impression of more height. Riker had been struck by the enormous presence of the man when he first met him on the battle bridge. Here, in the smaller room, he felt Picard’s personality even more strongly.
The man was born to command.
“I’m sorry you had to be brought aboard in such a willy-nilly manner, Commander,” Picard said in a strong baritone. “I hadn’t intended to welcome my new first officer by arriving in half a starship.”
Riker smiled understandingly. “This is not exactly a run-of-the-mill happening, Captain.”
“It seems we’re alive only because we were placed on probation . . . a very serious kind of probation. And we’re still possibly under sentence.”
“Sentence of what, sir?”
“Never being allowed to fare out of our own star system again. The question is—how do we prove we’re worthy? And will we know we’re being tested? In any event, it appears Farpoint Station will be our testing ground—” A chime sounded, and Picard looked up. “Go.”
Data’s voice echoed over a comm line. “The saucer section is now entering orbit with us, sir.”
“Acknowledge.” He paused. “Commander Riker will conduct a manual docking. Picard out.”
Riker’s eyebrows went scrambling up in surprise. “Sir?”
Picard snapped a challenging look at him. “You’ve reported in, haven’t you? You are qualified?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I mean now, Commander.”
Riker bounced to his feet and strode from the ready room. Picard leaned back in his chair, contemplating the young first officer’s back as he left the room. Adequate, so far, he thought. At least he’s not afraid of a challenge. He rose and followed Riker out to the bridge.
Riker had settled himself at the control console and was studying the main viewscreen when Picard slid into the command chair. Data sat beside Riker at the Ops console, but Riker was too busy concentrating on the upcoming maneuver to pay attention to him. The viewscreen showed the rear end of the saucer section as it loomed above and ahead of the stardrive section. Riker could see the docking link area. It looked smaller than he remembered. Disturbingly small.
“Ahead—docking speed,” Riker said.
Data and Tasha, as well as Picard, studied him from their own viewpoints, evaluating the new man. His hands moved easily on the console as he made his initial adjustments. His posture indicated tension, but his voice was firm and steady.
“Confirming this is a manual linkup,” Data said. “No automation.”
Riker did not spare him a glance. He was concentrating on the angle and speed of approach. “As ordered,” he replied.
The goosenecked battle section slowly moved ahead toward the vast disk. Still a little low, Riker noted. “Velocity to one-half meter per second. Adjust pitch angle to negative three degrees.” His hands moved over the panel, long fingers delicately tabbing in gentle adjustments. “All stations, prepare to reconnect.”
The two enormous sections were even, quite close together. The battle section continued to ease forward. “Level flight,” Riker intoned. “Maintain docking speed.” The trailing edge of the saucer section loomed into the viewscreen, the docking link area dead ahead and growing closer. Riker’s hands moved quickly over the console now. “Thrusters to station keeping, all velocities zero. Her own inertia should do the job now.”
The two sections slid together smoothly. The great locking mechanisms began to rumble forward out of their sockets. Riker hit two more tabs on the control console. “Lock up . . . now. Docking crew complete all reconnections.” He turned in the chair to look back at Picard. “Docking board is green across, sir.”
A voice floated from the ship’s intersystem communications. “Docking Chief to Bridge. All reconnection systems are secure.”
Picard tabbed the right hand command chair panel. “Thank you, Chief. Bridge out.” He stood up and nodded to Riker. “If you’ll join me, Commander, we have some things to discuss.”
The two men entered the turbolift, and Picard snapped “Observation Deck” at the controls as the doors sighed shut. The lift rose swiftly from the battle bridge toward the now rejoined saucer section. Riker waited for Picard to speak; he would have felt presumptuous pushing a conversation at this point.
“Reconnection is a fairly routine maneuver, but you handled it quite well.” Picard knew perfectly well it was a dangerous maneuver unless the person in command had both a sharp eye and quick responses. The Academy reconnect simulator was a horror chamber for those who couldn’t get the hang of the maneuver, and those who couldn’t washed out of command training. They were routed into operations or sciences where their lack in that one area would never endanger a ship.
“Thank you, sir.” Riker said wryly. “I hope I show some promise.” Riker was annoyed at being damned by faint praise. He had been the highest scorer of all time on the Academy reconnect simulator and had successfully accomplished the maneuver on both the Yorktown and the Hood. Judging by the appraising look he shot at Riker, Picard probably knew it too.
“I do have a number of other tests for you,” the captain said mildly as the turbolift eased to a halt. The doors opened, and he gestured the younger man around a curving corridor to their left.
“Yes, sir. I thought you might.” Riker was not sarcastic or disrespectful, but his tone left the distinct impression he would not be walked on.
The observation lounge Picard stepped into was a large, slightly curving room that fit smoothly into the great arc of the saucer section. The windows allowed a panoramic view of the bulk of the disk and the vast depths of space winking with the cold light of the stars. The yellowish surface of Deneb IV glowed softly below them in reflected light from its sun. Picard crossed to a wall slot, speaking to Riker over his shoulder. “Coffee?”
“Thank you, sir. Black is fine.”
Picard tabbed one of the flat controls twice, and in a moment two mugs of the steaming, aromatic brew were delivered. Picard handed a cup to Riker and motioned him to be seated in one of the comfortable chairs near an observation window.
“This is not your first starship.”
As you very well know, Riker thought. “No, sir. Three years as second officer on the Yorktown before I moved up to first officer on the Hood.”
“Now you’ve transferred again—to a larger starship. Is it that you simply crave more space or that you don’t like a stable environment, Commander?”
Riker grinned and shrugged lightly. “What could be more stable than a twenty-year mission?”
Picard ignored Riker’s joke. “I see in your file that Captain DeSoto thinks very highly of you. I respect his opinion. One thing interests me, however. You refused to let him beam down to Altair III.”
“In my opinion, sir, conditions on Altair III were too dangerous to risk exposing the captain.” Riker paused and regarded Picard steadily. “I’d do it again.”
“I see. A captain’s rank means nothing to you.”
“Rather the reverse, sir. A captain’s life means a great deal to me. I would be failing in my duty if I allowed my captain to negate his duty to his ship and crew by beaming down to a planet where his life could be at risk.”
The captain’s voice hardened. “Isn’t it just possible, Commander Riker, that you don’t get to be a starship captain without knowing if it’s safe to beam down or not? Isn’t it a little presumptuous for a first officer to second guess his captain’s judgment?”
“Permission to speak candidly, sir?”
“Always.”
Riker leaned forward intently, his elbows braced on his knees, his big hands moving in eloquent gestures as he spoke. “Having been a first officer yourself, you know that assuming responsibility for the safety of the ship must, by definition, include the safety of the captain. I have no problem with following any rules you lay down. But under no circumstances will I compromise your safety. If you have a problem with my position, sir, you can forestall my transfer and put me back on the Hood before she leaves.”
“You don’t intend to back off that position?”
“No, sir,” Riker replied firmly.
Picard studied him carefully, and Riker levelly returned the stare. Riker’s service envelope had indicated he was an ambitious officer, but counterbalancing the ambition was the simple fact that the man was good. Crew followed him naturally; he had an affinity for communicating with people; he worked hard; and he was bright. All his commanding officers had made special note of his extra study courses in subjects relating not only to command of a starship but engineering, communications, and several sciences. If he had been an academic, Riker could easily qualify for several doctorates.
As for his obstinacy on this point of refusing to let a captain lead an away team . . .
Picard finally nodded. “I’m glad to hear it, Commander. I would have refused your transfer to the Enterprise if you had backed down.” He paused. “One further thing . . . a special favor?”
“Anything, sir.”
Picard cleared his throat, covering a faint stir of embarrassment. “Help me with the children.”
“Sir?” Riker asked, puzzled. What problem could a self-possessed man like this possibly have with children?
“I’m not a family man, Riker, yet Starfleet has given me a ship with children aboard. Using the same kind of strength you showed with Captain DeSoto, I’d appreciate it if you can keep me from making an ass of myself with them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They make me uncomfortable,” Picard went on. “But, since a captain needs to have the image of ‘geniality’ toward them, you’re to see that’s what I project.”
Riker carefully hid his smile, managed a serious “Yes, sir.”
Picard didn’t seem to notice Riker’s struggle to contain his grin. “I don’t know about you, Commander, but the idea of children living aboard this ship—I don’t care for it. They get into things. They make a mess. There have to be special security measures to keep them out of certain areas. And they’ll all want to get onto the bridge.”
“Of course they will. And we can give them supervised tours of it. I think children learn best through experience. It’s all part of growing up.”
Picard threw him a jaundiced look. “My experience has been that ‘growing up’ has been a catch-all phrase to excuse a lot of mischief. And mischief is the last thing I need aboard the bridge of my ship.” His expression softened somewhat. “However, we’ll have to deal with the children elsewhere—and still run a tight ship.”
“Yes, sir. We can do that.”
Picard smiled and held out his hand. “Welcome to the Enterprise, Commander Riker.”
The two exchanged a firm handshake. For the first time, Riker felt the warmth of the man under the steely captain’s facade. Picard’s reputation as an old burrhog was no doubt earned—but behind that Riker was sure there was a fair and understanding man of compassion.
Encounter at Farpoint Page 8
