STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Three

by John Vornholt

“Next time,” he echoed as he hurried toward the door. When it opened, he peered cautiously into the corridor, then dashed out.

  “Good-bye, Daddy,” said Suzi with a sniffle.

  * * *

  [194] Jean-Luc Picard felt drugged, sated, and blissfully happy as he blinked awake, until he realized that he was in a strange bed on a strange ship. And Kaylena was no longer in his arms, although this was her bed. “Oh, my word,” muttered Picard as he sat up and rubbed his head. “What the hell am I doing?” It had been years since he’d had a hangover, but that’s how he felt—drunk on loye.

  Covering himself in shame, although there was no one else in the luxurious quarters, he sprang out of bed and searched for his uniform. He never dressed quicker in his life, and he wondered how he was going to get back to the Enterprise with the least amount of embarrassment.

  On her vanity was a companel he had seen her use before, and he walked up to the device and pressed it.

  “Yes, Captain Picard,” said an officious voice.

  “I wish ... to return to my ship,” he said simply. Wild horses wouldn’t drag any more information out of him.

  “But of course, Captain,” answered the voice. “Commander Kaylena is occupied at the moment, and she sends her regrets. She hopes to meet with you again at the earliest opportunity.”

  Picard felt a stirring in his heart and elsewhere, but he kept his mouth shut. Meeting with Kaylena again was his fondest desire, and he already felt pangs of loss at her absence. But he was glad that she wasn’t here, or else he would be making a fool of himself all over again.

  The voice on the companel continued, “An escort will arrive there soon to take you to the transporter room. We will transport the prototype phase suits at the same time.”

  “Oh, good,” said Picard, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “At your service,” responded the voice.

  Well, thought Picard as he slumped into a chair, I can’t complain about being made to feel unwelcome here. But he also felt used in some odd way, although he had been a willing participant. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more important to him than it was to [195] Kaylena. In fact, he couldn’t shake the feeling that to him this romance was more important than anything.

  When Captain Picard walked onto the bridge ten minutes later, he was a bit dismayed to find Beverly Crusher in charge. He had been mentally prepared to face Riker, but not her. He tried to keep his demeanor businesslike as he approached her, although it was difficult to meet her eyes.

  “Hello, Beverly,” he said softly, taking her arm and leading her toward an unoccupied auxiliary console to starboard. She smelled good, too, and he found himself drawn to her, thinking back to some very fond memories.

  Picard cleared his throat, and tried to clear his mind. At least they were out of earshot of the crew. “I have a feeling I might need a trip to sickbay. But for the moment, I’d like to be on the bridge.”

  She peered at him with a professional eye. “You don’t feel well?”

  “I’m not myself,” he replied, having never said anything more truthful in his life. “I fell asleep over there.”

  She withdrew a step, lifting a suspicious eyebrow. “I think you’d better come to sickbay right now.”

  He nodded and lowered his voice to say, “If you’ll let me sit here on the bridge and get my bearings for a minute, I’d appreciate it. Then I’ll go to sickbay. But you finish your shift—I’ll talk to Ogawa or Pelagof ... or somebody else.”

  “Anybody else.” Beverly gave him a feisty look, and her green eyes blazed. He found her very desirable.

  “What’s our status?” he asked, taking a step away and forcing himself to look at meaningless readouts on the empty console.

  “The same. We were waiting for you, and now I presume we’re going to put those suits to use and go in there. That wouldn’t be my first choice, but we haven’t got many good options. I don’t want to induce a dream state in Deanna either, and I canceled that.”

  [196] “First we’re going to look for biological beings just outside the rift,” promised the captain.

  Now she stepped away from him. “I promised Riker I would let him know when you got back. Excuse me.”

  Picard nodded and walked to his command chair. He sat down and studied the image on the viewscreen. After he heard Crusher tell Riker that he was going to sickbay, he knew he was, although he felt awfully silly doing so. He was a mature man—a Starfleet captain—laid low by lovesickness.

  Picard suddenly realized that he would have to stop moping around, or it would be difficult to see Kaylena again. And it would be difficult to do his work. He rose to his feet and stretched his arms vigorously.

  “You know, I feel better now. It must have been something I drank or ate over there. But I’ll still have Ogawa check me out.” He gave her a hearty smile and started toward the door. “The bridge is yours, Doctor.”

  “Go straight to sickbay,” she ordered.

  “Yes, Sir,” answered Picard good-naturedly on his way out. As soon as the turbolift doors closed, he fought the temptation to tell the computer to take him back to the transporter room. Too much of a good thing, he concluded. You’ve got to pace, yourself—you can’t let her take over your life.

  Too late, another voice in his head answered.

  “Destination?” asked the computer.

  “Sickbay,” he answered glumly.

  Admiral Nechayev stood in the corridor outside the brig, gazing at the drugged Romulan, who was lying in a stupor and muttering to himself. She looked with satisfaction at Teska, then at the security officers who had accompanied her back to the brig.

  “He’s in perfect condition to return to his cell,” declared the admiral. “Has he said anything coherent or useful?”

  [197] “No,” answered Teska. “And where is Regimol?”

  “He’s gone back to the runabout, taking a Starfleet crew with him, plus the Ferengi. They’ve left Lomar, and we have about another hour before we can leave.” Nechayev motioned to her beefy security team. “Pick him up and drag him in.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” asked the Vulcan.

  “But of course. And I know you’ll keep your poker face,” said Nechayev with a smile.

  The door opened, and the security officers dragged the unconscious prisoner into the brig and tossed him into his cell, reapplying the force-field. That seemed unnecessary, as he was not going anywhere.

  Teska glanced at the other prisoner, who was taking this all in. The emotions in his youthful face went from fear to hatred, then down to melancholy. “If you’ve hurt him—”

  “We haven’t hurt him,” snapped Nechayev. “We take no pleasure in this, believe me. We would just as soon have you cooperate and give you asylum.” She stepped closer to the young Romulan’s cell and lowered her voice to say, “You can go to live in the Rigel System, be a Rigelian. We have a special colony, where former Romulans are quite happy.”

  “Defector Farm?” he asked with a laugh. “I’ve heard about the place. You expect that to get me to defect?”

  Nechayev glanced at Teska, who tried to look a bit more heartless than usual. “You are going to tell us, one way or another. We’ll reward you for sparing us all another mind-meld. Be aware, the longevity in your chosen career is short, and we’re offering you a way to get out alive.”

  Her eyes and voice grew steely. “Force us to do a mind-meld, and we’ll return you to your masters, with a note pinned to your chest outlining everything you told us. They won’t be so kind.”

  “And Jerit?” asked the youth.

  “That’s also up to you,” answered Nechayev. “If you cooperate, we’ll return him, but we won’t say we learned anything. If you want, [198] we’ll return you both, with no comment. We’ll even offer him asylum ... however you want to structure it. We’re getting our information, anyway. Your decision now is to determine what happens to both of you after this.”

  The young Romula
n bowed his head and whispered, “I’ll go with you.”

  “Thank you,” said Nechayev sincerely. She motioned to the guards to turn off his force-field and conduct him from his cell.

  A minute later, the spy and the admiral were ensconced in an interrogation room, seated across from each other at a table, while Teska and the security officers were watching them from the control room.

  After the prisoner supplied his name and rank, Nechayev consulted her padd. “All right, what are the names of the Romulan vessels which took portable Genesis devices from Lomar?”

  The young Romulan narrowed his eyes. “If you read Jerit’s mind, then you know that already.”

  “We have to have a cross-check to see how truthful you are,” answered Nechayev evenly. “Plus your memories may be better than his. We probably know the answers to all the questions I’m going to ask, which is another reason you needn’t feel guilty.”

  “I heard she was good,” said one of the security guards, “but to get a Romulan assassin to spill his guts, she’s amazing.” The others in the control room with Teska grunted their admiration for the admiral.

  “Now,” said Nechayev forcefully, “the names of your ships which have portable Genesis emitters, taken from Lomar—”

  The young prisoner licked his lips, then finally replied, “There are four of them—the Terix, Baltrun, Javlek, and Petrask, One was given to each ship.”

  “Those four devices were the only ones you found on Lomar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your team was on Lomar as part of the operation?” asked the admiral.

  “That’s right. We killed a lot of moss creatures.”

  [199] She nodded. “Searching the place, you found out about the fifth device on Torga IV, and your team was sent there to retrieve it?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “How did you know we were on Torga IV?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind.” Nechayev glanced at her padd as if she were studying information, when Teska knew she had nothing but educated guesses. “Those four ships that each took a Genesis emitter—where did they go?”

  “Two were recalled to Romulus, as I recall, and the other two were sent—” He frowned in hard recollection.

  “Sent where?” prodded Nechayev.

  “Sent to see if the Enterprise had a Genesis device,” the Romulan finally answered.

  The admiral nodded appreciatively. “You’re doing a fine job, Son. Let’s send out for some food.”

  “Physically, the captain is fine,” said Alyssa Ogawa over the communications panel on the bridge. “His blood counts and hormone levels have improved since his last exam, and he seems well rested, really energized. He said he was a bit confused when he saw you, but he doesn’t exhibit any of that now.”

  Frowning with concern, Beverly Crusher walked toward the edge of the viewscreen. “And you’re keeping him there for observation?” she asked. Only it wasn’t a question.

  There was a long pause and finally, “Noooo. He wanted to go to engineering, so we released him. There’s nothing wrong with him, Beverly.”

  The turbolift door opened, and Commander Riker strode onto the bridge. Beverly took a deep breath and said, “I have a feeling I’ll see you soon. Crusher out.”

  “Status?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Unchanged,” she answered. “The captain reported to sickbay, but he’s been released.”

  [200] “Yes, I just talked to him,” replied the first officer. “He sounded in good spirits, and he’s down in engineering, working with Geordi. I guess his long visit to the Javlek didn’t do any harm.”

  “And he wants to go back, right?” asked Crusher.

  Riker squinted at her, then looked away. “As a matter of fact, he did mention that. They’re going to help us test the Brahms suits, and if we have any problems, they’ll help us fix them.”

  “Am I relieved of bridge duty?” asked Crusher, fearing what would come to light if she said anything else.

  “Yes, I feel rested after dinner,” said Riker, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Beverly transferred control of the bridge to him, then strode briskly to the turbolift. When confronted with her choice of destination, she had about four places she wanted to go, but she figured she should change from her duty uniform into her medical togs. So she gave the level of her quarters.

  Stepping off the turbolift not far from her door, Beverly was confronted by another complex man in her life, with whom she didn’t want to deal at the moment—Lieutenant Raynr Sleven. The broad-shouldered Antosian seemed to hear her coming, and he turned and looked joyfully at her.

  “Beverly!”

  With a sigh, she tried to look uninterested as she brushed past him. “If you’ve come courting,” she said, “this isn’t exactly the best time.”

  “No, no! You misunderstand,” he insisted, following her to her quarters. “You said I should see you ... if I had any problems.”

  Her door slid open, and she looked at Raynr curiously. “What kind of problems?”

  Two people were walking toward them in the corridor, and the Antosian looked at her beseechingly. “May I come in? Please.”

  With a pained expression, Beverly nodded and motioned him inside. “Are we talking about psychological problems, or physical [201] problems?” she asked as the door slid shut behind them. “Are you having trouble adjusting?”

  “No, I like it on the Enterprise just fine,” he answered. For a moment, he searched around her quarters in confusion, until he found a chair in which to sit. He sat in the same seat he had sat before, near the shelf where she kept her family portraits, mostly of Wesley and Jack.

  Hesitantly, twisting his big hands, Raynr Sleven went on, “It’s in the nature of one of those side effects you warned me about.”

  “Really?” she asked, growing concerned for the first time.

  “And I’ve done something bad, too. Not terrible ... but bad. I was only trying to help, but it’s gotten out of hand.” The Antosian gazed at a holographic portrait of Jack Crusher and said, “You must miss him very much.”

  “Can we get back to you?” she insisted.

  He rubbed his throat and said, “I’m dry. Can I have please something to drink? Just some water would be fine.”

  Beverly nodded and went to the replicator to get two beverages—water for Raynr and iced tea for herself. With the glasses in her hands, she turned to walk back toward him. She got only a few steps before she gasped aloud and dropped the glasses, which clattered on the deck of her cabin.

  Before her stood Jack Crusher, looking about thirty years old in the prime of life. Rationally, she knew it wasn’t her husband, but she was unable to be rational when he stepped toward her and put his arms around her. “Beverly,” he said, nuzzling her neck, and she trembled.

  She touched his face and gaped in awe. “You look just like him ... it’s incredible.” Then the joy was replaced by a grimace of horror. “But it’s not you! You’re not really here.”

  Caressing her shoulders, the young, beautiful Jack Crusher answered, “If this is the way you want me, I can be this way. I can be anyone you want—even Captain Picard. I can be a different man every night.”

  [202] Beverly stared at him, then jerked away with a surge of willpower. She pointed accusingly at him and shouted, “If you come near me again, I’ll call security!”

  He held up his hands and looked at her helplessly. It made her ache for when she had been young and innocent, like him. Only it wasn’t Jack, she told herself. “I came to you for help and understanding,” he pleaded. “I want you to see what a temptation this has been. You warned me it could happen with cellular metamorphosis, and I thought I was mentally prepared. But I wasn’t. Listen, I’m not evil, Beverly—I just want some help.”

  The doctor slowly relaxed, her professional responsibilities taking the place of her personal reaction—a strange mixture of revulsion and attraction. “I would appreciate it if you could change back
to yourself,” she said hoarsely.

  “I need to concentrate,” he responded, sounding as shaken as she felt. He turned away from her and covered his face, then he staggered toward her couch, twitching uncontrollably. Finally he slumped onto her couch and remained bent over, as if he had stomach cramps. When he looked up, sweat drenched his face, but he was again Raynr Sleven, recently assigned to the Barcelona. That face that had just hours ago looked so strong and handsome now just looked pathetic.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, but that didn’t last long when she thought about everything he had said. “All right, who else did you do this to?”

  He caught his breath and couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Alyssa Ogawa’s daughter, Suzi,” he rasped. “She thinks her father has come home.”

  Now Beverly gasped in true horror. How could she ever, ever have even entertained the thought of a romance with this man? “Sleven, how could you? That’s trifling with the emotions of a little girl.”

  “I thought I was trying to help her ... I don’t know what I was thinking, except that I made her happy.” The Antosian stared at her, tears welling in his eyes and his crown of sleek black hair [203] looking disheveled. “It was such a thrill to see her face when she saw her daddy.”

  Crusher rubbed her eyes wearily. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He nodded glumly. “I don’t feel crazy. In my joy at being saved, I thought that her father would soon be rescued! I didn’t realize that it might be a long time ... or never.”

  “I take it that Alyssa doesn’t know,” said the doctor.

  “Not so far, because Suzi has kept our secret,” answered Raynr, looking down at his hands. “I mean, we just play, talk a little bit—I don’t stay long.”

  Crusher crossed her arms and glared at him. “All right, you did this to Suzi Ogawa and me. Who else?”

  “No one else,” he answered, pleading with his tearful eyes. “I had to show you! You are my doctor ... if nothing else.”

  She looked away, dropping her angry pose. His shoulders heaved as he broke into tears. “And with Suzi,” his voice croaked, “I realize I made a terrible mistake. Maybe I am a little crazy, but I’ve come to you for help.”