“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” With a relieved sigh, he looked down at the Elaysian.
“Now the captain,” she insisted.
“Right.” He tapped his combadge again and swallowed nervously. “Barclay to Captain Picard.”
“Picard here,” came the curt response.
“Yes, sir, this . . . this is Barclay.”
“You said that.”
“Right, Captain.” Barclay took a deep breath and blurted it out. “I’ve met a new crewmember, Lieutenant Melora Pazlar, who’s Elaysian. She urgently wants to speak to you.”
Reg winced, waiting to be chewed out. Instead came the cheery response, “I’d be happy to meet Lieutenant Pazlar. Is now convenient?”
“Now?” echoed Reg in shock. He looked at Pazlar, and she nodded vigorously.
“Let’s meet on the forward observation deck,” said Picard. “In five minutes?”
“Yes, sir!” snapped Reg with relief. “Barclay out.” Melora Pazlar regarded him with increased respect. “You were right, he is approachable. Either that, or you have some special influence over him.”
“It’s not that,” Barclay assured her. He gingerly touched her elbow as if to help her. “Shall we be going? We don’t want to be late.”
Shaking off his hand, Pazlar hobbled down the corridor. “Believe me, I can move fast when I have to.”
Reg cleared his throat. “Uh, why are you here, if it’s so difficult?”
“I’ve got the Starfleet bug,” she grumbled. “Wanderlust. Even though the species on my homeworld don’t get out much, I’ve always had this yen to see beyond the next star. Sometimes I doubt my sanity for choosing this life . . . and this is one of those moments. Is that the turbolift?”
“Yes!” Barclay hurried ahead of her and made sure the door opened, then he unnecessarily fidgeted by the door until she entered.
“Hurry!” she barked at him.
Elegant in its simplicity, the forward observation lounge consisted of a polished teak handrail and a convex window offering a panoramic view of the glittering starscape beyond. As the forward part of the saucer section, it was the only area of the ship that offered a view of space undiluted by nacelles, weaponry, and communication arrays. Captain Jean-Luc Picard gripped the handrail and gazed at the void, thinking it looked like a great jeweler’s case—a swath of black velvet sprinkled with glittering diamonds.
No matter how many times he regarded this magnificent sight, it never ceased to awe him. Although it was dangerous and alien, space was the one constant in his life—it was the ocean in which he swam and the soil in which he grew. He ought to feel as comfortable here as he felt in the bistros of Paris, but that wasn’t the case. In this environment, he would always be the outsider, dependent upon the strength of his protective cocoon.
Sounds of conversation and tinkling silverware floated from the nearby dining room, and a group of his shipmates passed by on their way to dinner. They nodded politely, and he returned the gesture. No one spoke because no one wanted to interrupt a captain in his quiet contemplation of the stars. Perhaps they thought he divined some special knowledge from his ruminations with the void. Picard supposed it had been that way since the days of the sailing ships, when a skipper could gaze for hours at the endless sea without rebuke. Call it a captain’s prerogative.
He saw them emerge from the turbolift together, and he noted with some surprise that Lieutenant Barclay and Lieutenant Pazlar made a striking pair. They were both fair-skinned, fair-haired, and slim. Barclay, who was sometimes a bit flighty, seemed to be on his best behavior. Lieutenant Pazlar’s anti-grav suit looked no more bulky than a flight suit, and she walked well, albeit with a limp and the help of a cane.
The last person Picard had seen carry a cane was the new Grand Nagus of the Ferengi, Rom. He was young and hardly needed a cane, yet it was a wonderful prop to impart stature and majesty. The Elaysian’s wooden cane lent her a serious demeanor far beyond her years. Picard wondered if she was really as tough as she looked.
He applied his most gracious smile. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Lieutenant Pazlar.”
“Thank you,” she said. The ridges on her forehead creased. She didn’t look very thankful.
Barclay fidgeted nervously. “It’s good to see you, Captain. I . . . I suppose I should get back to duty.”
“Can you stay, Lieutenant?” asked the Elaysian. “I may require a witness.”
“A witness?” asked the captain with surprise. He glanced at Barclay, but the engineer looked just as puzzled as he was.
“Yes, there may be an inquiry later.” Melora Pazlar squared her shoulders, stared frankly at the captain, and declared, “I need to leave the Enterprise immediately and return home. I’ll give up my commission, if I have to. In fact, we must contact the Lipuls.”
Picard tried to keep the edge out of his voice as he pointed to a sofa in the corner. “Let’s sit down, Lieutenant, and you can explain yourself. Mr. Barclay, you’re welcome to stay.”
“Yes, sir . . . thank you, sir,” stammered the engineer. He gazed at the young Elaysian with great concern as he escorted her to the sofa.
Chapter Three
CAPTAIN PICARD LEANED BACK in his seat and tried not to show his disappointment. He was not impressed by Melora Pazlar’s reasoning. “So you’ve made this decision . . . based on a dream? Have you ever had this dream before?”
The young Elaysian bristled. “Sir, I’ve had hundreds of dreams, but never one like this. I’m absolutely certain that the Lipuls were trying to contact me using one of their dreamships.”
“You mean those are real?” asked Reginald Barclay, leaning forward eagerly.
Picard shot him a glare, and Barclay withered back into his seat. The captain looked sternly at Melora Pazlar. “Lieutenant, may I remind you that you are here on a mission. You can request a leave through regular channels, and I’ll do what I can to rush it through, after the mission is completed.”
With considerable effort, Pazlar rose to her feet. “With all due respect, sir, you don’t understand. I’ve got to go home now. Something there is terribly wrong.” The Elaysian took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself.
“No one was looking forward to the low-gravity experiment more than I,” she said evenly. “It would be like shore leave for me. But I’m needed more at home. If you can’t divert the ship, can you at least loan me a shuttlecraft?”
“Can’t we contact your homeworld?” asked Barclay.
“If you go through a special protocol, you can contact my people, the Elaysians, and maybe the Alpusta.” Melora shook her head impatiently. “But there’s no subspace contact directly with the Lipuls. They’re not humanoids, and that’s not their way.”
“Nonetheless, let’s try to contact them before we do anything else,” said Picard with finality. He rose to his feet, anxious to resolve this problem. “Mr. Barclay, take the lieutenant to the bridge, and try to contact her planet. I’m sure Data will be of help. Lieutenant Pazlar, you’ll be getting a call from our ship’s counselor, Deanna Troi. I suggest you see her at your earliest convenience.”
Pazlar glowered at him. “I don’t need counseling, Captain. You can look at my record. I know this request is unusual, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“You’ll see Counselor Troi, or I’ll have you confined to quarters. Is that clear?” Picard said in what he hoped was an understated, but firm, tone.
Melora shivered and clutched the handle of her cane. “Yes, sir. But about the shuttlecraft . . .”
“Out of the question until you see the counselor.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “And I wouldn’t try to steal one—we’ve tightened up security since the war.”
The Elaysian bowed her head and looked as downcast as anyone Picard had ever seen. She certainly wore her emotions on her tunic, making him wonder how she had garnered such glowing evaluations from her previous commanding officers. Then again, he wasn’t seeing Melora Pazlar at her best.
>
The captain cleared his throat. “At a later date, I’ll take you on a tour of the ship, as I intended.”
Melora granted him the wisp of a smile, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. “I would like that, sir. May we be dismissed?”
“Yes.” He nodded to Barclay, and the engineer took the Elaysion under his watchful eye.
Tight-lipped, the captain tapped his combadge. “Picard to Commander Troi.”
“I don’t understand how it can be this difficult to contact a Federation planet,” complained Commander William Riker, looming over Reg Barclay’s shoulder. Data peered with interest over his other shoulder, and Melora Pazlar was practically in his lap. That was the only part of the arrangement that Reg wouldn’t complain about. On the bridge of the Enterprise, the mightiest ship in Starfleet, half of the command staff was gathered around an auxiliary console on the back bulkhead.
“It can be very difficult, if they don’t wish to be contacted,” answered Pazlar somberly. “The Elaysians keep a subspace hot line open with the Federation, in case of emergencies, but it’s not used for day-to-day chitchat. Access isn’t automatic.”
Barclay took his eyes off the auxiliary panel long enough to glance from Pazlar to Riker, who was slowly stewing. Barclay wanted to jump in and protect his new shipmate, but she was much better at verbal sparring than he was, especially with commanding officers.
Data had been surprisingly quiet until now. Reg attributed that to the fact that he hadn’t yet made any mistakes in his laborious attempts to contact Gemworld. Commander Riker had come in late, annoyed that the process was taking so long on his watch, and Barclay felt a need to explain.
“W-We’re waiting for the approval of the protocols from the subspace relay in sector six-ninety-one.” Reg cleared his throat, glad to have gotten that much out. He was very relieved when Data jumped in.
“There is little need for regular subspace communications,” said the android. “Due to gravity concerns, few inhabitants of Gemworld ever leave, and few outsiders ever visit. Although the planet has six sentient species, only the Elaysians have shown interest in regular contact. The other species are unusual, even by Federation standards. For example, our first contact with their planet was telepathic, through the dreamships of the Lipuls.”
Melora nodded impatiently. “I’ve been trying to tell everybody that the dreamships are real.”
“The last contact with a dreamship was two hundred and four years ago” added Data. “Humanoids have short memories.”
“Time doesn’t mean the same to the Lipuls as it does to us,” said Melora. “We’ve shared a planet with them for millions of years, and we don’t even know how long they live.”
Riker scowled and took a step back. “All right, it sounds like a place where people like their privacy. As for me, I like a minimal amount of distraction on the bridge. So do what you can to wrap this up.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Barclay quickly, never taking his eyes off his instruments. Finally new data began to appear. “I think I’m getting a response now.”
He gaped in disbelief at the message which scrolled across the board. Captain Picard and Melora were not going to be happy about this.
Peering over his shoulder, Data read the message aloud: “Subspace contact with Gemworld suspended at this time, due to subspace warping and interference in sector six-ninety-one. Cause unknown.”
“Exactly as I thought,” said Melora with a mixture of vindication and worry. “Now the captain is going to have to give me a shuttlecraft. We should go right now and investigate!”
Data cocked his head. “Interruption of one subspace channel on a single relay is not normally cause for concern. There are many possible explanations.”
Melora scowled and banged the tip of her cane on the deck. “What will it take? Do we all have to die! Can’t you just take my word for it?”
“We do not know you very well,” answered Data helpfully. “And your actions appear irrational.”
While Melora seethed and nobody else knew what to say, the combadge on her anti-gravity suit suddenly beeped. She slapped it angrily. “Pazlar here.”
“This is Counselor Troi,” said a lilting voice. “I hope I haven’t interrupted you at a bad time. The captain suggested we meet.”
Melora grit her teeth, and Reg thought she was going to explode. Instead she replied very evenly, “Would now be convenient?”
“Cetainly. If you don’t know how to get to my office, I’m sure—”
“Lieutenant Barclay will show me. In fact, I’d like him to sit in with us.”
There was a pause before Troi answered, “That’s highly unusual.”
Pazlar took a deep breath and said calmly. “I don’t know anybody on this ship, and Lieutenant Barclay has been very kind and understanding. I would just feel more comfortable.” She patted Reg on the arm. “That is, if you don’t mind.”
“No, no! Not at all.” Reg tried not to express his happiness at being indispensable, but he wished it could be under different circumstances. He recalled that Melora had also wanted a witness when she was talking to Captain Picard. She was no dummy. She knew that her actions might lead to an inquiry, or even a court-martial. Melora was convinced there was an emergency, and that she was in the right; so she wanted an impartial observer to back her up. That was probably all she wanted from him.
“We’re coming now,” said the Elaysian. “Pazlar out.”
“We’ll put our long-range scanners on it and see what we can find,” said Commander Riker, giving Pazlar a sympathetic smile. “And we’ll also keep trying to raise them on subspace.”
“Thank you, sir,” answered Melora, now sounding obedient and contrite. Maybe she realized it would be no simple feat to commandeer this great starship and take it home. She was biding her time while she built her case.
Barclay rose to his feet and motioned to the turbolift door. “After you.”
“Thank you.” As Melora shuffled off, he followed dutifully behind her. “I hope you don’t mind helping me out,” said the Elaysian.
“No, no. This beats a regular shift in engineering. I’m sorry we couldn’t contact your homeworld.”
Pazlar shrugged. “I didn’t expect us to be successful.”
As the turbolift doors closed on the two of them, Barclay said, “Deck nine.” They began to move, and he tapped his combadge. “Barclay to engineering.”
“La Forge here,” came the familiar voice. “It’s okay, Reg, the captain told me you were on special duty. Report when you can.”
“Thank you, sir. Barclay out.”
Melora snorted a derisive laugh. “So I’m ‘special duty.’ I have to tell you, I don’t usually cause a commotion when I arrive at a new post. Why did they have to contact me? I’m a stupid choice.”
The door opened, and they stepped out of the turbolift onto deck nine. This was a public deck, with offices, classrooms, libraries, theaters, and similar facilities. They strolled slowly down the corridor, eliciting a few curious glances from passing crewmembers.
“I’m used to that,” whispered Melora. “Either they’re trying to place my species, or they’re wondering why I need the suit and the cane. Since the war, there have been a lot more people with canes and crutches. Eventually all of them will get prosthetics. But I’ll still have the cane.”
Barclay cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. “How . . . how do you know the dream wasn’t just your mind . . . telling you it wants to go home?”
“Do you mean, how do I know I haven’t finally flipped out after ten years in Starfleet? Am I pathetically homesick? Maybe. But I wasn’t feeling any grouchier than usual before the dream. No, the only reason I want to go home is that they need me. If only there were other Elaysians in Starfleet, I could contact them . . . I could see if they had the same dream. But I’m alone here.”
Pazlar straightened her shoulders with resolve and pounded her cane. “If I’ve got to convince everybody on this ship, one
by one, I will.”
“We’re here,” said Reg, stopping in front of a door which bore a small plaque reading “Ship’s Counselor.” He pressed the door chime.
“Come in,” answered a voice, and the door slid open.
Counselor Deanna Troi rose from her desk to greet them. As usual, Reg was a bit awed by her sultry beauty. He had once harbored considerable fantasies about Counselor Troi. He had even brought a few to life on the holodeck. Familiarity and the pasage of time had tempered his feelings toward the dark-haired Betazoid, but he was still often tongue-tied in her presence.
“Counselor Troi, this is Lieutenant Melora Pazlar,” he managed to blurt out.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” said Deanna Troi at her most charming. She motioned to a small sofa. “Won’t you sit down, Lieutenant. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” answered Melora. She looked anything but comfortable as she made her way across the room and gingerly eased herself onto the sofa. “It’s curious how people always want you to sit down to begin a meeting.”
“Would you prefer to stand?” asked Troi.
“Actually, standing and sitting are both alien to me. I would prefer to be floating or flying, but that’s not possible.” Pazlar rested her cane on the arm of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap.
Troi turned to Barclay. “Where would you like to sit, Lieutenant?”
“Anywhere is fine.” Barclay backed awkwardly into a corner and bumped into a chair. “I’ll sit over here . . . out of the way.”
“Would anybody like a refreshment?” asked the counselor pleasantly.
That was when Melora’s studied patience evaporated. “Counselor Troi, can we please dispense with the niceties and get down to business? There’s something wrong on my home planet, Gemworld, and I’ve got to get back there. Immediately! The captain won’t release me or take me there until you give me a clean bill of health. So what do I have to do?”
“First you should remember that you’re a Starfleet officer,” answered Troi calmly. She sat across from the Elaysian on a small love seat. “Your life stopped being your own when you joined the Academy.”
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 3
