“All right,” I said. I handed him a communicator and showed him how it worked. “Go back to your air raft. I may need you to come in a hurry.” Mantz nodded and left, just as Cheva returned.
“They’re on the third floor,” she said, showing us the scans she’d taken with her tricorder. “In a central room with no windows. Two guards on the street, one on the roof, one at that third-floor window, and one in the room with the ambassador.”
“Too many for us to make a frontal assault,” Walker said. “Or even one by stealth.” Walker was saying what I was thinking. Any attack might give the extremists enough time to kill the ambassador.
“We might be able to get him if they had to move him,” I said. I looked around and saw, two blocks away from our target, a ruined structure, destroyed in some kind of fire or attack. It had been a three-story building like the ones surrounding it, but less than half of it was left. “Cheva, scan that building. Any life signs?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“Get on the other side of it and wait for my signal,” I said. “When I tell you, blow it up.” Cheva nodded and disappeared into the dark. Walker and I then headed to a spot in an alley opposite the entrance to the building the extremists were in, and crouched behind a refuse receptacle. We had a view of the only door to the building; Smithie was too old to climb out a window, if they were going to escape with him it would be from here. I took Walker’s communicator. “Picard to Mantz…”
“I hear you,” Mantz said.
“In a few moments, you will hear an explosion. When you do, take the air raft and head to the alley directly south of the building where they’re holding the ambassador.”
“Directly south, I understand,” Mantz said. I then switched frequencies on the communicator.
“Picard to Cheva, report,” I said.
“In position,” came her voice.
“Wait for my signal,” I said, then switched the frequency once more. “Picard to Reliant.”
“This is Reliant.” It was Quinn.
“Captain, I’ve found the ambassador,” I said. “And I have a plan to rescue him, but I won’t carry it out without your order.” There was an excruciatingly long pause.
“All right, let’s hear it.”
I laid out the situation and what I had in mind.
“What if they decide to just kill the ambassador?” Quinn said.
“It seems unlikely, unless they feel they have no way out,” I replied. “They will try to escape.” I don’t know why I was so sure of myself, but it appeared Quinn agreed with me.
“Make it so,” Quinn said. This was the first time I’d heard Quinn use this expression, and it wasn’t until he added, “Good luck,” that I realized he’d given me permission. I turned to Walker.
“Set phaser for stun, widest possible beam,” I said. Walker nodded. I opened my communicator. “Picard to Cheva: go, repeat, go.”
After a short moment, the ruined building down the alley exploded. The vibration shook the nearby structures; the guards on the street turned and immediately started shouting. We heard responses from the guard up in the window, who ran inside. The guards on the street took up positions near the door. We watched as two more Milikans came out of the door, dragging the ambassador.
“Fire,” I ordered. Walker and I shot at the group. They were all clustered together; the Milikans and the ambassador were bathed in a red glow, and then fell to the ground unconscious. We moved out of the alley and headed for them.
“Wait,” I said. “There’s one missing…” We both looked up to see the Milikan on the roof, aiming his weapon at us. He was hit with a red beam, and fell backward. We turned to see the source of the shot was Cheva, running to join us, phaser in hand.
“We gotta move,” Cheva said. “They could have friends in the neighborhood…”
We grabbed the still unconscious ambassador, and carried him, just as Mantz’s air raft landed at the end of the alley south of the building. We got on board and flew off.
In the air raft, Cheva took position in the rear to watch for pursuit. Walker patted me on the back.
“Good job, Jean-Luc,” he said. I smiled. I noticed that Ambassador Smithie was slowly regaining consciousness. He looked up at us, frightened and confused.
“It’s all right, Ambassador,” I said. “You’re safe.”
* * *
“Come in, Picard,” Quinn said. He was sitting at his desk in his quarters, which I had never seen. They were simple and efficient, like the man himself. I entered; he indicated a chair across his desk, so I sat.
“Good work down there,” Quinn said. Thanks to my actions, the extremists had been rounded up, the Milikan government had apologized, and the embassy had been established.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You know, it’s rare that I have to apologize to one of my officers,” he said.
“Sir?”
“When I was unable to beam you up, my first order to you should’ve been to reconnoiter and get me more information. That’s what the book says, but…” Quinn paused. “But I didn’t have enough faith in you. So you did my job for me, and now I will get credit for saving the ambassador.”
“Sir,” I said, “you don’t owe me any…”
“You showed better command judgment than I did,” he said. “You saved a man’s life, at great risk to your own. And there was no loss of life on the other side, which helped repair a delicate diplomatic situation.” He took out a small wooden box, and set it on the desk.
“You’re wasted as a science officer,” he said. “You need to be on a command track. Flight controller, right? That’s what you originally wanted?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Unfortunately, there’s no room for you on this ship in that position,” he said. “My flight controllers are good at their job, and I don’t have any reason to transfer them. Same goes for all my command track positions, at least for the time being.” He slid the small wooden box over to me. “Open it.”
I did. Inside were lieutenant bars.
“You’re promoted,” he said. “A 23-year-old lieutenant is going to get noticed, and you deserve it.”
“But, sir,” I said. “I’d like to stay…” I was truly stunned. I had felt a bit of victory saving the ambassador, but it was all in an effort to solidify my place on this ship. I had no intention of leaving.
“You need to be on a bridge, and not at the science station,” he said. “And even if it was this ship, puttering around a safe sector like this one, it’s going to take you too long to do the work you were born to do. Get out to the edge. Dismissed.”
I left Quinn’s quarters in a bit of a daze, and wandered back to my quarters. Walker was there, and saw my new rank.
“You just lapped me,” Walker said, as he pinned the lieutenant bars on my uniform. “How did that happen?”
“He wants me to transfer,” I said.
“You bastard, you’re ruining my day.” Walker and I spent the next hour looking at the available postings. There were a few on bigger ships, more prestigious names, but there was only one opening that appealed to me.
“You ever hear of the Stargazer?” I said.
“No,” Walker said.
“Constellation-class ship,” I said. “It’s got an opening for a relief flight controller.” We both looked at the record; the ship had just returned from a five-year exploration of the unexplored mass of the Galaxy, and it was about to be sent out again.
“Do you know Captain Humphrey Laughton?” Walker said. I didn’t. We did a quick search: he had a very impressive record of exploration.
“Wow,” Walker said. “That’s a lot of new worlds. Are you going to apply?”
“I just did.”
* * *
“Starbase 74, this is Reliant,” Altman said. “Request permission to assume standard orbit.”
We arrived at Starbase 74 during the gamma shift, my shift on the bridge. Though I now outranked Walker, I didn’t see
a need to take his shift, since I was leaving the ship so soon. Altman was in command, and on the viewscreen the massive space station hung in orbit around another blue-green world.
“Reliant, this is Starbase 74,” a female voice said. “You are cleared for orbit.”
“Thank you, Starbase 74.” Altman said, “We have one passenger for transfer.”
Altman gave the order to put the ship in standard orbit near the station. Normally, a ship would enter the massive doors and berth inside the cavernous interior dock, which could hold several large starships. However, Reliant was only there to drop me off.
I had submitted my application to the Stargazer and got an almost immediate reply offering me the post. The Stargazer had a maintenance overhaul scheduled at Starbase 74, which was not too far off the Reliant’s course. Captain Quinn agreed to drop me off here, and I would only have to wait a little over a week for the arrival of my new ship.
But now that I was here, I faced a problem: I hadn’t said goodbye to anyone. There were over thirty people on the ship; I had come to know some of them very well, but not nearly all. Do I go to every department and say goodbye? Since this was the gamma shift, a lot of them were still asleep. Do I wake them up? That seemed presumptuous. On the other hand, if I didn’t make that effort, would they think me arrogant? The way Starfleet operated I could easily find myself serving with some of them again, and I didn’t want to leave anyone with a bad impression. And yet still, the idea of walking through the entire ship looking to say goodbye to people… it seemed an unsolvable dilemma.
I finally decided that I would send a group message to the crew saying what an honor it was to serve with them. I wrote that first: “It was an honor serving with you all,” and looked at it on the screen. It seemed a little perfunctory, but I couldn’t figure out what else to say. It was then that I noticed Lieutenant Nakamura was standing next to me, quite a bit early for his shift. He looked at me, smiling.
“Attention on deck,” he said, quite loudly. I had been so focused on how I was going to say goodbye, I hadn’t noticed that a good portion of the crew had squeezed onto the bridge, including Walker, first officer Shanthi, and the captain. They were all standing at attention. I hurriedly stood up, stunned by the courtesy.
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s… been an honor serving with you all.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed to convey a little more weight than writing it. Or at least I hoped so. Captain Quinn stepped forward and shook my hand.
“Good luck, Lieutenant,” Quinn said.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. I stood there awkwardly for a moment.
“Crew dismissed,” Quinn said. “Back to work.” I had the distinct impression he sensed my discomfort. He turned to Walker. “Ensign, get this man off my ship.”
“Right away, sir,” Walker said, and we got on the turbolift and took it
to the transporter room. My packed duffel was already there. Walker shook my hand.
“Maybe with you gone, I can finally get a promotion around here,” Walker said. I laughed. I got up on the pad, and Walker operated the controls. The hum of the transporter beam coincided with Walker and the Reliant fading from view.
* * *
I had guest quarters on Starbase 74, and it ended up being a relatively quiet first few days as I waited for the Stargazer to arrive. The station was well equipped and pleasant, and I spent the time reviewing what I could about the Stargazer’s systems, as well as practicing navigation in one of the station’s simulators. I was getting used to the relaxed schedule when early one morning I was awakened by a voice on the intercom.
“Lieutenant Picard,” the voice said. It was one I didn’t recognize.
“Yes,” I said. My voice was more of a croak, as I was fast asleep when the voice came through.
“Report to Shuttle Bay One in fifteen minutes,” the voice said. “In your dress uniform.” I sputtered a response but whoever it was had ceased communications. It sounded like an order. Could the Stargazer be early? It seemed unlikely. And why wear a dress uniform? I didn’t have any time to figure it out, so I cleaned up, got dressed, and reported to the shuttle bay. When I got there, I found about a dozen officers, all in their dress uniforms, and a waiting shuttlecraft. None of them had any more information pertaining as to why we’d been called. We didn’t have a long wait to find out.
An elderly man, also in a Starfleet dress uniform, approached us. I silently guessed he was about 100 years old. As he got closer I noticed three more things: he was an admiral, he wore the insignia of the medical branch of the service, and he seemed annoyed at all of us.
“What are you all waiting for? Get in the damn shuttle.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I said. “May I ask where we’re going?”
“Nobody told you?” He seemed even more annoyed. “We’re going to down to the planet for Spock’s wedding. You’re going to be the honor guard. He doesn’t want an honor guard—too bad, he’s getting one. Now get a move on, we’re going to be late. That’s a blasted order.”
We all quickly filed onto the shuttle, and as soon as we were settled on board, it launched. Starbase 74 was in orbit around Tarsas III; the planet itself was the site of an old Earth colony that had terraformed the planet.
But to a man and woman on the shuttle, no one was interested in the where, but the why. We all knew who Spock was, probably one of the most well-known veterans of Starfleet, as well as a distinguished ambassador to the Federation. And he was getting married, and this doctor, whoever he was, had decided to provide an honor guard made up of any officer he could find.
Doctor. I stared at him as he pulled a small flask from his jacket pocket and took a healthy swig. I felt like such an idiot. This was McCoy. For the short ride, I tried my best to get a look at him without letting him know. I was not successful.
“Something I can do for you, Lieutenant?” he said, after catching me.
“No, sir,” I said. “But it’s an honor to meet you…”
“Stow it,” he said, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he was snoring peacefully. The rest of us exchanged amused excitement.
“Who is the senior officer here,” I said, “besides the admiral?” A woman, a lieutenant commander, realized she was, and immediately understood why I asked.
“Let’s all figure out what we’re going to do once we get there,” she said. “I imagine we’re all a little rusty at marching drills…”
* * *
We landed on Tarsas III, at the spaceport a few kilometers outside the main city. Since its inception, Tarsas III had undergone a stark transformation thanks to modern terraforming techniques, and where once natural growth was confined to a small area around the city, it was now over the entire continent. We were taken by hovercraft to the city. It was made up of twelve boulevards that radiated out from a town square. When we got to the square, we saw that preparations were made for a sizable event. There were chairs set up around an altar. It surprised me as the whole thing had a very human flavor. This was not, from what I understood, how Vulcans got married. Our hovercraft stopped, and McCoy turned to us.
“Don’t embarrass me,” he said, and got off first. There were fourteen officers, so, with the lieutenant commander leading, we formed two lines of seven, and marched out of the hovercraft. We stayed in formation until we reached the altar, then split so there was seven on each side. We stood there at attention as the guests trickled in.
And what a guest list it was. The president of the Federation, the commander-in-chief of Starfleet, members of the Federation Council and dignitaries from dozens of worlds. There was nothing “Vulcan” about this event. Which probably meant the bride was not a Vulcan.
“Lieutenant,” a man said, “I have a query.” I was at the end of the line on the left side of the altar, and kept my movement to a minimum so as not to break formation. I glanced sideways at the person talking to me.
It was Sarek. Sarek of Vulcan. One of the greatest figures in histo
ry, a man who helped shape the modern Federation. I hadn’t forgotten he was Spock’s father, but the whole human flavor of the event made me forget he would probably be here.
“Um…” was all I could get out in response.
“I am unfamiliar with human wedding traditions. Is there a specific section for the blood relations of the groom?”
I just stood there, grinning like an idiot. The lieutenant standing next to me leaned in to answer, telling Sarek that it would be first row, whatever side the groom was on. Sarek nodded in acknowledgment, looked at me briefly, and sat down.
The ceremony began shortly thereafter. The president of the Federation stood under the altar to officiate, and Dr. McCoy walked in with Spock. Spock did not seem nearly as old as McCoy, and had the quiet power that came from the inner peace his species enjoyed. They stood only a few inches from me, and I heard a quiet conversation.
“I distinctly requested no honor guard, Doctor,” Spock said.
“It’s not for you,” McCoy said. “It’s for her. Now shut up, you’re getting married.” A string quartet began to play Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons,” and the bride walked down the aisle. She was human, but wore a veil; it was impossible to get a good look at her. When she approached the altar, Spock lifted the veil. From where I was standing, I couldn’t turn to look and see who she was.
“Dearly beloved,” President Uhura began, “we are gathered here today to join in the bonds of matrimony, Spock and…” At the moment President Uhura said the bride’s name, an elderly guest in the front row coughed loudly, so I missed it. The wedding continued in a very human tradition, ending with President Uhura giving Spock permission to kiss the bride. He did so, and when he did I happened to have a direct line of sight to Sarek, in the front row. He wore an expression that I could only describe as disgust. At the intermarriage? No, that couldn’t be, Sarek himself had married an Earth woman. Maybe the display of affection? It was impossible to know.
The wedding ended, and I and the rest of the honor guard returned to Starbase 74. The whole trip back I was in a daze at the company I’d just been in. Once I returned to my quarters, I looked for information on the wedding on the Federation news services, but I couldn’t find anything. Some of the biggest names in the Federation had just come to a private affair that had no publicity. And I had been there too.
STAR TREK THE NEXT GENERATION THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JEAN-LUC PICARD Page 9
