We docked at the bay, and I knew that everyone who had relatives on Earth were anxious to disembark—given Earth’s centrality in the Federation, this went for many of the non-human crew as well. Once all the ship’s systems were shut down, I granted everyone but a skeleton crew shore leave.
Before he left, Walker asked to see me in private.
“I’m leaving the Stargazer,” he said. “I’ve been offered a ship.” He was sitting across from me in my quarters, and I was thrilled. I hadn’t actually told him my plans, since I didn’t know what they were, but there was no doubt in my mind that Walker deserved his own command.
“Wonderful,” I said. “What ship?”
“The Horatio,” he said. The shock must’ve registered on my face, and he reacted to it. “You don’t think I deserve it?”
“No,” I said. “Of course you do. I’ll be honest, I’m envious.” I was having trouble processing this; if the newest ship off the assembly line was going to my first officer, what ship would I get?
“When are you due to leave?”
“I haven’t even begun to put the crew together, so I’ll be here for a while,” Walker said. “I won’t poach anyone from Stargazer without checking with you first.”
“Thanks,” I said. “If I have to come back to this bucket, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“I wouldn’t worry. They must have big plans for you,” Walker said. I supposed he was right, but given that he’d just gotten what I wanted, I couldn’t imagine what those plans could be. “Now, how about joining me and Jack for a drink? There’s a woman I’m going to introduce him to.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’d better get home.”
I had just enough time to get to the vineyard and see my mother; the next morning I had an appointment with Admiral Hanson, who’d been promoted the year before and put in charge of Starfleet Operations. I assumed he would be giving me a new assignment.
Beaming into the La Barre station was not the sentimental experience I thought it might be. It was night in France, and as I approached the vineyard I was overcome with dread. Somehow my fifteen years out in space, all those experiences, adventures, and the maturing that came with them—or that I thought came with them—were wiped away. I was a child again.
By the time I reached the house it was one o’ clock; all the lights were off except one downstairs. I entered as quietly as I could.
“You look tense, Jean-Luc,” my mother said. I turned and saw her in the living room. She was fully dressed, in a bright purple and silver blouse, wearing silver earrings, her ghostly white hair perfectly coiffed up.
“Maman,” I said. It was a strange tableau: one lamp on, her sitting at a table with a silver tea set.
“Come and have a cup of tea. I’ll make it good and strong the way you like it. We can have a nice, long talk.” She started to pour some tea into a cup. I walked over and gave her a kiss.
“Maman,” I said, “how are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “Now, tell me about school.”
“School?”
“Yes, school is very important to your future…” I’d read about the confusion this disease caused, but I didn’t expect it. I was at a loss as to what to say.
“He’s not in school,” my father said. He was in his dressing gown, standing in the hallway. He looked exhausted, but I don’t think he’d been asleep. “Yvette, what are you doing up?”
“I wanted to have some tea with Jean-Luc when he came home from school.”
“I just said, he’s not in school anymore.” Father was very aggravated, impatient with what must have been a tragic situation for him. “He’s a grown man.”
“I know, you don’t have to tell me,” mother said, but her voice wavered. Then it looked like she’d started to remember. “You were in space.”
“Yes, Maman,” I said.
“You’re the pilot… you always wanted to be the pilot…”
“Come to bed,” Father said.
“I’m having tea with Jean-Luc…”
“I said come to bed!”
“We’ll have tea in the morning, Maman,” I said. I helped her to her feet, and my father took her hand and walked her out of the room. I sat alone in the room.
Nothing I’d seen in my years of command prepared me for this.
* * *
I slept in my childhood room that night, unchanged since my departure for the academy. When I woke the next morning, I looked over my spaceship collection, and the carefully repaired NX-01, still there among the rest. I picked up a Constellation- class ship I’d built when I was nine, identical to the vessel I’d been commanding for almost a decade. I had been living the dreams of my childhood, dreams that I had used to escape the unhappiness of my years in my father’s house. And now I’d come home to an even harsher reality: the one person who I knew loved me was fading away.
I dressed in my uniform and went out into the kitchen to find my father and brother eating breakfast in silence.
“So, you’re home,” Robert said.
“Yes,” I said. “Where’s Mother?”
“Asleep,” my father said. There was a baguette and a few wedges of cheese on a cutting board in front of them. I sat down and helped myself.
“That service of yours requires you wear a uniform to breakfast?” Robert said.
“I have to go to headquarters,” I said. We continued to eat in silence. It was a strange experience. I hadn’t seen either of them in 15 years. Even if there hadn’t been a pall hanging over our home, they still would have had no interest in the life I had been leading. I certainly wasn’t in a mood to share it.
“I’m going to request a leave of absence,” I said. “I will be around more.” Robert looked unaffected by this.
“Your mother will be pleased,” my father said. I could forgive that he said this without the least bit of indication that it would please him as well.
“What do the doctors say about the progression of the illness?”
“It has progressed very quickly,” Robert said. “They have not been optimistic.” We ate in silence for a few more minutes, and then I got up.
“I will be home by dinner.” Neither one said anything, and I left.
The problem with instantaneous travel by transporter on a planet is the time difference, so I arrived in San Francisco the night before, and had time to kill before my morning meeting with the Admiral. I wandered the city for a few hours, then headed to Starfleet Headquarters. Entering the Archer Building in my uniform, surrounded by members of my service, I was more at home than I had been at breakfast at home. I found my way to the top floor of the building, occupied by the offices of the Admiralty, where a yeoman escorted me to Admiral Hanson’s office. When he saw me he practically bounded from the other side of his desk.
“Jean-Luc, get yourself in here,” he said, shaking my hand. “How ’bout some coffee?” I said yes, and the yeoman brought in a tray with coffee and sandwiches. The admiral dismissed the yeoman and poured the coffee himself. I was a little taken aback by the attentiveness. It had all the warmth that had been missing from my own father.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” Hanson said, as he handed me a cup. “I’m just sorry you weren’t able to serve under my command so I could take more credit for all your accomplishments.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “And congratulations on your promotion.”
“Well, I enjoyed being in the center seat,” Hanson said, “but they need me here. I probably don’t have to tell you we’re facing a potentially devastating conflict…”
“The Klingons?”
Hanson nodded.
“They’ve increased ship production two hundred and fifty percent, and we’d had some hope of negotiating a new, more far reaching Khitomer Accord1, but they’re more interested in trying to surround us with enemies. Your work has given us valuable information. Aside from that incident with the planet-killer, we have a fair amount of circumsta
ntial evidence that they’re the ones arming the Tzenkethi. And they’ve reaffirmed their alliance with the Romulans. The Federation could be facing a war on three fronts.”
“The Romulans don’t know about the incident with the planet-killer?”
“Oh, they do,” Hanson said. “The Klingons told them, said rogue elements in the Federation were responsible. We were never able to find more conclusive proof of Klingon involvement, so we couldn’t counter their misinformation.”
This was a troublesome turn of events. I had studied war my whole life but had not experienced it. War on a galactic scale could cost billions of lives. Even Earth itself might be threatened in such a conflict.
“How does Starfleet plan to deal with this situation?”
“You’re going to find all that out soon enough,” Hanson said. “You have a big role in this.” I had come to the office with the purpose of asking for a leave of absence to spend some more time with my mother in what might be her final year, yet the obligations of service were pulling me in another direction.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Whatever you need.” How could I ask the admiral to put my own priorities above those of the Federation? The answer was, I couldn’t.
“Good,” he said. “I want you to be my chief of staff.”
“What?”
“You’ll be stationed here, and help me whip the fleet into shape. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and I think your experience out there will be of immeasurable help. What do you say?” My head was a mass of confusion. Hanson was offering me a compelling opportunity, the chance to help prepare Starfleet and protect the entire Federation. This work could end up shaping the quadrant for the next two decades. It also meant that I could be home for my mother.
“Of course, sir,” I said. “I’d be honored.”
“Great,” he said. “I’d like you to start as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I knew that this was the moment I should let him know about my personal situation, but I could not bring myself to say the words. “I still have a few things to wrap up on the Stargazer.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Also, I understand your mother is facing some difficult challenges. Please send her my regards. I remember meeting her at your graduation. Lovely woman.”
He really had been keeping tabs on me.
We said our goodbyes, and Hanson then had the yeoman show me my new office. It had a window with a stunning view of San Francisco. I could see the academy and the Golden Gate Bridge. I’d just spent fifteen years crammed into an outdated ship, and now I was literally on top of the world. Yet something at the edges of my mind gnawed at me. I didn’t want to be a deskbound officer, I wanted a captaincy. But I consciously pushed these thoughts away. This is where it was decided I was needed. It implied respect and esteem, not just by Hanson but by Starfleet itself. Whatever my personal desires were, I tried to let this cascade of approval overwrite them.
I left the office, and had myself beamed up to Stargazer. There was, as typical when the old lady was in spacedock, a lot of maintenance work underway. On the bridge, I found Jack Crusher supervising all of it. As he took me through the repair and upgrade schedule, I realized I probably wouldn’t be serving with him much longer. I would however make sure that Starfleet was aware that Stargazer had a good replacement for Walker as XO. When we finished, I decided to indulge my curiosity.
“I heard Walker fixed you up last night,” I said. Crusher brightened.
“She’s nova,” Crusher said. “Medical student, really smart… beautiful.” His expression revealed a lot more than his words. “Not someone you’d meet in a bar,” I said.
“Well, maybe,” he said, “but not someone who’d go home with me if I was drunk.” I laughed. It appeared Walker had hit the mark.
I took a short tour of the ship, and, satisfied that Crusher had things well in hand, told him to call me if there were any difficulties.
When I returned home, I had another surprise waiting for me. There was a woman in the kitchen I’d never seen before, cooking. She met me with a smile. She was fair-haired with blue eyes, a stunner in a plain dress and apron.
“You must be Jean-Luc,” she said. Her hands were deeply involved in kneading dough, but she quickly wiped them off to shake mine. “I’m Jenice.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you work here?”
“Your father didn’t tell you?” she said. I shook my head. “Oh, well, since your father and brother have to spend their days in the vineyard, they requested an aid from the Federation Health Service, who sent me. I’ve been helping take care of your mother.”
“I see,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Have you had a chance to see her?”
“Yes, last night.” She read my expression very well.
“She has good days and bad,” Jenice said. “It’s a very difficult time. She’s sitting out back. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Jenice indicated the window in front of her, and I could see my mother in one of the wooden chairs that overlooked the vineyard in the back of the house. I thanked Jenice again and went outside.
Mother sat staring at the vineyard. She was in a heavy bathrobe, and her hair was ill kept. It was a stark contrast to the well-presented image she’d had the previous night. As I approached, she looked up at me.
“Hello, Maman,” I said. She smiled at me.
“Hello,” she said. I could see she was confused, but trying to hide it. Her “hello” had no recognition in it.
“I’m Jean-Luc,” I said. She nodded, still smiling. I didn’t know whether she didn’t recognize me, or just didn’t have the words. “I’m just going to sit here awhile, if that’s all right?” She nodded, and looked back out at the vineyard. I sat in the chair next to her. She held her hand up, indicating the long stretch of vines.
“Look how pretty,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
* * *
She passed away two weeks later. There had been flashes of lucidity, but the disease progressed very rapidly, and in her last days she was lost in a private world none of us could see. We buried her in the local cemetery, in a plot surrounded by Picard ancestors. The service was small: my brother and father, Jenice, as well as Walker and Jack, whom I hadn’t told about my mother’s sickness but had managed to find out anyway. There were also a few people from the town who knew her, including my childhood friend Louis. My father said a few words: about how my mother would not have wanted us to fuss about her death, about what a strong person she was, and how much her sons meant to her.
Afterward, I thanked my friends for coming, said goodbye to them and Jenice, and went home with my father and Robert. When we arrived, my father went to his room. My brother and I exchanged few words, and then I suggested we open a bottle of wine. I thought we might find a way to speak about our loss, but the dialogue never came. We drank in silence.
A short time later, my father appeared. He’d changed into his work clothes.
“Come,” he said to Robert, “we have things to do.” Even Robert was surprised by this, but, after only a brief pause he stood up and went to change. My anger, however, boiled over.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate,” I said, “on the day of our mother’s burial…”
“I don’t expect you to do anything,” he said. “Stay here and wallow in wine and self-pity…”
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “Fly away on your toy spaceship, the men have work to do.” He walked outside. Furious, I threw my wine glass and it shattered against the wall, the red juice dripping down to the floor.
I went to my room, packed my bag, and left without saying goodbye. I don’t remember the walk to the transporter station, I was so engulfed in white-hot rage. There was a short line of people waiting to use the transporter pad, and I got in line to wait my turn.
“Jean-Luc,” Jenice said. “What are you doing here?” She was standing right in front of me, bu
t I’d been so lost in my fury I hadn’t noticed her.
“I’m going back to San Francisco,” I said.
“I see.” She seemed to understand, which shouldn’t have surprised me, since she’d spent time with my family. Her presence made me suddenly ashamed of my display of anger. I tried to hide what I was feeling in a forced gentility.
“Where are you headed?” I said.
“Home to Paris.” I nodded. She stared at me, gave me an empathetic smile.
“Thank you… for everything you did,” I said. The line of people in front of us had disappeared; it was now just the two of us waiting for the pad.
“I wish I’d known your mother longer,” she said. “She was a lovely person.” She placed her hand on my arm. The fugue of rage I was in dissipated, overcome by a wave of sorrow.
“Yes.” I wanted to run past Jenice and get on the pad, escape before it overcame me.
“She loved you very much. You made her very proud,” Jenice said. The ire I felt toward my father was spent, and all I could think about was my mother, and that she was gone. Tears welled; I wanted to say something else to try to fight it off, but I had no words. I soon found myself in Jenice’s embrace, crying softly.
* * *
I was in deep mourning, and I wouldn’t leave it for several months. I tried to distract myself with work, and this would have a temporary effect, but being on Earth brought my mother to mind often. Eventually, the pain of her death became dulled, though there are still days where it comes back at me full force. She taught me more about compassion, love, and learning than any one person in my life, and I owe so much of who I am to her.
But as she went on in her life, I went on in mine. Though still grieving, I returned to San Francisco and forced myself to focus on my role as Hanson’s chief of staff. He put me to work organizing fleet construction, trying to remove logjams that had slowed down new ships coming off the assembly line, and making sure that ships already in service were properly equipped for potential conflict. Hanson also tasked me with personnel recommendations for captain and first officer postings, with an eye to shoring up command teams with at least one command-level officer who had combat experience. Ironically, my first assignment in this area was finding my replacement for the Stargazer.
STAR TREK THE NEXT GENERATION THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JEAN-LUC PICARD Page 16
