“Okay, La Forge, get one of those salvagers working,” said Riker. “We’ll check cartography to find the best place to stop and launch it. Once we have our looters inside the graveyard, we can plan the diversion. Does anybody have anything to add?” Several officers glanced at Captain Picard, who was quiet and attentive.
Riker rose to his feet and added, “Let’s all remember to get some sleep, too, whenever we can. We’ll soon be pulling double shifts under stressful conditions, but I don’t expect this mission to be as bad as our last visit. This time we’ll be a free agent—no chasing looters around, no guard duty, no trying to please everybody, just a simple mission to find out what’s going on. Thank you, you’re dismissed.”
There was a bit of small talk as the officers filed out of the observation lounge. Most of them were going back to the bridge. But the Traveler could go anywhere he wanted, and right now where he preferred to be was at Colleen Cabot’s side. He lingered by his chair to watch the lovely woman pass by. When he saw his mother gazing at him with overt curiosity, he was close to waving her off and telling her to mind her own business. She was going to give him away or at least call unwanted attention to him. Reluctantly, he left the group and wandered by himself down the corridor.
“Ensign Brewster!” called a voice behind him. He tried to control his emotions as he turned around, because he knew it was Colleen. She was quite dead-pan as she said, “It’s not urgent, but I need Admiral Nechayev’s authorization. Can we meet after dinner to send her a message?”
“Yes. Twenty-one hundred hours, my quarters.”
“That will be fine,” she answered brusquely, turning back to Captain Picard.
Wes hurried away, glad to end the conversation before his mother emerged into the corridor. Somehow his sudden infatuation with Colleen had heightened his senses of being a human being. He felt bombarded by fears and pangs that he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager. This was the Enterprise, so reminiscent of the ship where he had grown up and felt all the crushes, loves, and defeats of youth. He felt like the prodigal son who’d come home after being gone for years to find that nothing had changed. The raw emotions were more painful than he remembered—yet more wonderful! This existence was so intense that he almost longed for the detached simplicity of a Traveler’s life, and so fled into the peace of space.
Colleen watched the man-shaped blur walk down the corridor, fading from her perceptions like an early-morning dream. What is Wesley Crusher? My lover, a superbeing, the humble son, an interstellar drifter? All those things, none of them? Had she completely lost her senses—shipping out on the Enterprise for a secret, dangerous mission, then falling in love with a specter of a man? She had chewed out two admirals before stealing the most controversial patient in Starfleet Medical. It seemed her career was on life-support. Yet the Enterprise crew was risking just as much to clear their names and Picard’s, and they exhibited no hesitation. I have to be brave like them, do what’s right, and trust for it to work out, she told herself.
Yet there is something I can do to redeem myself in Admiral Nakamura’s eyes, thought Cabot. If this technology can be captured and studied, rather than destroyed, I have to lobby for that outcome. She owed that much to her benefactor, and it could even make the difference in salvaging her career.
“Counselor Cabot,” said a clipped voice, breaking her out of her reverie. “Will you have dinner with Dr. Crusher and me?”
She turned to see Captain Picard, smiling pleasantly, and Beverly Crusher even looked enthused at the prospect of her company.
“I suppose I should keep tabs on my patient,” answered Cabot. “How have you been feeling, Captain?”
“Anxious,” he admitted. “And impatient. It’s a little difficult to be a passenger on this ship, especially when she’s shorthanded. I feel like pitching in, but I can’t.”
“I think you’re doing well,” answered the counselor, her blue eyes sparkling. “Your presence alone is good for morale. It helps that Riker is so capable. Also, the amenities are excellent. Strangely, I’m looking forward to some excitement.”
“Don’t forget the famous corollary by Robert Louis Stevenson,” warned Picard. “When you’re sitting in your armchair, you long to be on an adventure. When you’re on an adventure, you long to be sitting in your armchair.”
Colleen smiled. “Are you saying that I might regret my thrill-seeking?”
“Probably not,” said the doctor. “You don’t seem like you shy away from a challenge.”
“Not lately,” admitted Colleen, sharing a knowing look with Crusher. She took Picard’s arm, allowing Beverly the other arm, and the three of them strolled down the corridor as a trio. “Are we going to your excellent commissary?”
“It’s only replicator fare,” answered Picard. “When we have a full crew, there’s fresh food, too.”
“I’ll suffer,” the counselor answered with a wink.
Colleen did suffer during dinner—not from poor food or boring company, but from separation pangs. She wanted to be with Wes. Oddly, the topic of conversation turned often to Beverly’s long-missing son, and Captain Picard seemed delighted to tell Wesley stories—about how precocious he was, often irritating, but then again every bit as important as any member of the crew. He had always been an extraordinary person, it seemed, saving the ship when he was but a youth. They were all shocked when he got into trouble at the Academy, then nearly bailed from Starfleet; however, no one had been particularly stunned when he opted to go with the Traveler. The path least taken seemed to be Wesley Crusher’s destiny.
From the captain’s joy in talking about the prodigal son, it was clear that Wesley Crusher was usually an uncomfortable subject. But no more. To the captain, Colleen gave the erroneous impression that she and Wes had been acquaintances in the misty past. Beverly often peered at her and asked loaded questions, trying to fathom how much she knew about her son or how involved they were. But playing mind games was the counselor’s stock in trade, so she carefully gave the good doctor no useful information.
The smitten young woman wanted to rush through dinner. She knew she had hours to go before she could meet him. To her, Brewster was the spectral Wesley, the strangest manifestation of his powers, because no one could see him as he really was. As a psychologist, she found that fascinating. He impersonated a nonentity, which had to be some aspect of Wesley’s own personality. On the other hand, she might be reading too much into his behavior. Wes had been trained to behave as he did. Most people spent their lives trying to be noticed; a Traveler was expected to do just the opposite.
After-dinner tea and coffee concluded on a civil note, and Colleen was able to excuse herself. She felt as if she had scored some points—at least she wasn’t the enemy anymore. That distinction belonged to the Ontailians and the deadly anomalies that ruled Rashanar. She left Jean-Luc and Beverly talking about their options like two academics.
She dashed down the empty corridors and stamped her foot impatiently in the turbolift. Finally Cabot arrived back at her room, then realized that he had told her to wait in his stateroom. But what if he wasn’t there?
She needn’t have worried, because the door slid open at her approach. Wes was standing only an arm’s length away. He grabbed her and pulled her close, as the the door snapped shut, sealing out the rest of the world. They held each other tightly; even surrounded by this immense ship, it felt as if they were the only two people in the universe. No one and nothing else was as important as the two of them.
“I thought you’d never come back,” rasped Wes, stroking and nuzzling her hair. “I can’t think about anything…when you’re gone.”
“Then we’ll just have to be together,” she agreed, resting her head on his chest. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer immediately, as if he couldn’t trust himself to speak. So she spoke for him. “This thing you’re looking for in the graveyard, you’ll be able to understand it and learn how to control it. I have confi
dence in you, Wesley.”
“Control it?” he asked.
Colleen squeezed him, then gazed into his startled eyes. “Yes! You don’t have to destroy it. I don’t know why, but I think the Ontailians are trying to do just that when they expel antimatter.”
“Or feed it,” he answered. “Or appease it. I saw something on their planet last night, when they threw themselves at a wild animal…as if they were sacrificing to it. Maybe they have a belief system to appease things they consider dangerous.”
“We’re all making sacrifices and taking risks,” she whispered. “Why should I be here, risking my neck? Or you? We’re a lot like the Ontailians.”
“You don’t need to be here,” he said hoarsely. “You could be safe somewhere else.”
“I need to be here,” she disagreed. Colleen’s lips found his, ending further discussion.
Chapter Six
“HERE IT IS, COMMANDER,” said La Forge, motioning to the lumpen scow, which took up a good chunk of deck space in the shuttlebay. “She’s not much to look at, not very fast either, but now she has shields. I also borrowed an idea from the Androssi and put two photon-torpedo launchers on her, like they did with the Calypso. The tractor beam might actually work now, but it needs a good test under load.”
“We have renamed it the Skegge,” said Data. “After an Ekosian bird.”
Riker nodded sagely as he inspected the ungainly craft, trying not to either laugh or cry. Physically he tried to avoid the jutting antennas, robotic arms, hoists, and winches that threatened his clean uniform with grease and corrosion. “Yes, good job.”
“We could have cleaned it up,” said La Forge, “but this is more authentic.”
“How big a crew does it take?”
“A minimum of two,” answered Data, “one to operate machinery while another pilots. Four is probably optimum, with room for a few passengers.”
The acting captain frowned in thought and muttered, “Who can we spare from the crew when we’re already shorthanded? And don’t suggest yourselves.”
“I suggest Captain Picard,” answered Data. “He is not being fully utilized.”
“But then Counselor Cabot would have to go with him,” said a doubtful La Forge. “She’s really a non-combatant.”
“She volunteered the same as the rest of us, and Nechayev said this was her idea. All the Starfleet counselors I know are hard as nails. Besides, if you’re posing as a scoundrel, it never hurts to have a pretty face around,” Riker opined.
“There is also Ensign Brewster,” said Data. “He is underutilized as well.”
“In fact, I volunteer,” said a voice behind them. Riker turned to see the ubiquitous ensign, who often appeared just when you were thinking about him.
“For the fourth crew member, may I suggest Christine Vale.”
“Vale is a good idea,” allowed Riker, “but let’s talk about you first. We need someone who can pilot this thing and hold their own under battle stress.”
“I’m a little rusty,” answered the ensign, “but I logged plenty of conn work—on a much bigger ship than this salvager. Captain Picard is a good pilot, too, and so is Vale.”
Data cocked his head. “It is gratifying that you know so much about our personnel, but piloting is not the only criterion—this is a dangerous, covert mission.”
“He works for Nechayev,” said Geordi. “That might be enough credentials for a covert mission.”
Not only that, there is something about this inconspicuous lump of a man that is reassuring. Riker was determined to keep Data and La Forge on the Enterprise. The rest of the skeleton crew were essential as well. Brewster must have been sent along for a purpose, and maybe this was it.
“Data, put Mr. Brewster on the conn simulator and see if he’s as good as his word,” ordered Riker. “I’ll talk personally to our other ‘looters.’ ”
“Yes, sir,” answered the android. “On which class of vessel should we test him?”
“Let him choose.” Riker crossed his arms and gave Brewster a piercing look.
“A Galaxy-class starship would be fine,” the ensign responded after a moment.
Riker exchanged a surprised look with La Forge. “Did you know the last Enterprise was Galaxy-class?”
“What a small universe,” said Brewster.
“Test him well,” ordered Riker, striding across the shuttlebay. “And hurry. We have to get this crew together in four hours.”
Five minutes later, Will Riker located Captain Picard in sickbay, assisting Dr. Crusher and her few staff members in setting up a triage for possible injuries. None of them were more shorthanded than Crusher, but she was determined to be ready if they saw action.
“I see you pressed one of our passengers into service,” observed Riker with a good-natured smile.
“It was this or more reading,” replied Picard, “and I’ve been doing plenty of reading lately.”
“I’d like to give you a job,” said the acting captain. Beverly immediately stopped what she was doing to join the two men.
“He’s not allowed to do anything on the Enterprise,” she pointed out.
“This wouldn’t be on the Enterprise,” answered Riker. “I don’t believe there’s anything in the reglations against the captain running a small salvage ship.”
Crusher looked aghast, but Picard nodded with comprehension. “Yes, I could do that.”
“Think what you’re saying, Jean-Luc,” said the doctor. “You’re in enough trouble already.”
“Precisely why I’m a good choice,” he replied. “We don’t want to get anyone else in trouble, plus I’m not doing anything. But what about Counselor Cabot?”
Riker shrugged. “She would have to agree to go with you, but I think she would. She seems game for anything. That’s two, and you need a crew of four on the Skegge. I’m going to ask Lieutenant Vale, too, and Ensign Brewster has already volunteered to go.”
“Brewster?” asked Picard and Crusher in unison.
“He claims to be a pilot. Data is testing him on the simulator.”
“He’s a pilot all right,” said Crusher with a wistful smile. “If he’s going, I feel better about it.”
Both Riker and Picard looked curiously at the doctor, but neither one questioned her unusual confidence in Nechayev’s assistant.
“Captain, you’ll be in command,” said Riker. “You and your crew should be disguised and operating as much like looters as you can. We don’t think the Ontailians will pay any attention to you after you get past their lines and into the graveyard.”
“The first order of business will be to mount a diversion that will get the Enterprise into the boneyard,” Picard observed. “I’ve been thinking about that, but this seems like an instance where the best-laid plans will go awry.”
“Be ready to go in four hours,” said Riker.
“Let’s schedule a briefing for the crew of the Skegge as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Riker. He smiled at his slipup, but the captain was still the captain.
Next stop was the bridge, where Deanna was in charge for this leg of their journey. She and Kell Perim were going over navigation charts when he approached, and his beloved looked at him proudly.
“I think we’ve found a place where we can drop off the salvage ship without them spotting us,” she claimed. “If we use their sun and put it directly behind us, the solar radiation should mask our presence for a few seconds. If we’re fast, we can get in and out without their sensors picking us up.”
“Good work,” said Riker. “When we come out of warp, we might want to cut all power and coast into position.”
“I’ll get on those calculations,” said Perim, turning back to her console.
Riker glanced at the tactical station and Christine Vale, who was already scanning for Ontailians and salvagers, even though they were hours away from their destination. “Deanna,” he said, “I’m going to take Vale off the bridge and put her on the ship with Picard, Cabot,
and Brewster.”
She blinked at him. “All of our passengers? Isn’t that tug a little small to have a ship’s counselor?”
“That’s who we can spare. But I’m not convinced about Brewster. I have to talk to Vale. The bridge is still yours.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Then she lowered her voice to add, “Will, you know how dangerous this is.”
His combadge beeped. “I understand. Riker here.”
“This is Data. We are at the simulator, and Ensign Brewster checks out on the conn of a Galaxy-class vessel. In fact, I would not hesitate to give him the Enterprise conn.”
“Hmmm,” said Riker, “then I guess he’s going to join a gang of looters. As soon as I have Vale lined up, we’ll call a meeting. Riker out.”
“Lined up for what, sir?” asked Vale as he approached her station.
“I’d like you to go on the Skegge, the salvage ship we’re sending into Rashanar. You’ll be disguised as scavengers, and Captain Picard will command.”
Vale smiled. “Do I have to practice saying ‘avast me mateys’ and ‘shiver me timbers’?”
“It might help,” said Riker. “But first you have to volunteer.”
“Of course I will.”
“You’ll be the only official crew member of the Enterprise going on the Skegge,” he added, “because our three passengers make up the rest. Lieutenant, you should understand how dangerous this is.”
“I consider going in there as a looter safer than going on the Enterprise.”
“I can’t argue with that,” admitted Riker with a shrug. “Stay here until you’re relieved for the meeting.”
“Yes, sir. Where will that take place?”
“Aboard your new ship. Now I’ve got one more able body to shanghai.” He turned to Deanna and asked, “Do you know where Counselor Cabot is?”
“I think she’s in the spa.” Troi chuckled. “Do you want me to contact her?”
A Time to Die Page 8
