2335 lines
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Plaintext
2335 lines
115 KiB
Plaintext
Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!news.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
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From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: Aftershock, part (1/8?)
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Date: 13 Feb 1995 00:41:54 GMT
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Organization: Division of Information Technology
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Lines: 443
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Message-ID: <3hm9si$k6j@news.doit.wisc.edu>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-090.net.wisc.edu
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X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
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Hi all!
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This is my very first story posted to a newsgroup, so I
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hope I get it right. It seems to me to be the logical follow-up
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to such stories as _The Nexus_ by Virginia Boehn and _To Every
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Purpose_ by Melissa Wilson. If you haven't read them, do it.
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They're a lot of fun, and if you don't this might not make any
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sense.
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A word of warning: if you're not a Hopeless Romantic,
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DON'T READ THIS. There's very little plot, and I left the actual
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mission of the _Enterprise-E_ suitably vauge to minimize the
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amount of this that will be rendered non-canon when STVIII comes
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out. In the meantime, happy reading.
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Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, everyone,
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and everyplace in this story lock, stock and barrel. The story
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itself, for good or ill, is mine.
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**************
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AFTERSHOCK
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copyright Amy Raduege, 1995
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"Jean-Luc, she's beautiful."
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Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commanding officer of the U.S.S.
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_Enterprise_-E, smiled. Beyond the shuttle windows, the Nova-class
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ship was just coming into full view, sweeping away from them with
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an elegant grace that delighted him.
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Beside him, Dr. Beverly Crusher was smiling happily.
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Unconsciously, she slipped her hand into his, her lustrous blue
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eyes never leaving their new ship.
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Picard squeezed her fingers, trying to contain his own
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happiness. Things had turned out better than he had ever dared
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hope. The court-marshal proceedings had gone well; everyone had
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agreed that his crew had done everything humanly possible to save
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the ship, in light of the circumstances. The __Enterprise__ was his
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again, along with her now-highly-coveted command crew. Will Riker
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had been offered command of the _Aspire_, another newly-commissioned
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ship, but had turned it down to remain with the _Enterprise_. Again.
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Commanders Data and Troi had received special accommodation for
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their combined efforts to save the ship. Worf, too, had been
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honored. And Beverly...
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Jean-Luc's smile turned toward the lovely woman standing
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beside him. Things had worked out especially well with Beverly.
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He squeezed her fingers again, thinking of their delicate
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touch on his face, his back, his chest...
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"Isn't she lovely?" his chief medical officer asked, her eyes
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filled with the wonder of their new ship.
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"Very," he agreed, not taking his eyes off her face.
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Her eyes flickered toward him and away again, a small, pleased
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small tugging at her lips. "Jean-Luc, we have a christening
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ceremony to attend."
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He glanced quickly around the shuttlecraft, but Admiral
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Nechayev had gone into the aft compartment, and the pilot was much
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too preoccupied with her guidance systems to pay any attention to the
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two officers standing in the main cabin.
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"So we'd better make the most of the time we have," he said,
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brushing her cheek with his finger. Gently, he bent and kissed
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her, savoring the sweet taste of her lips, the warmth of her body
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beside his. When they parted, he smiled into her eyes, then turned
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toward the windows again. "Now, Doctor, none of that," he said
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playfully. "We can't have the Admiral getting suspicious."
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"Why the hell not?" she asked mischievously, her fingers
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brushing lightly against his uniform. Then, perhaps sensing his
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sudden alarm - Beverly could be difficult when she had a mind to be
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- she sighed. "Aye, sir," she said impudently, and then her gaze
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turned toward the ship.
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In companionable silence, they drifted toward their new home.
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"Commanding officer, _Enterprise_, arriving." Will Riker called
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the skeleton crew to order as Captain Picard and Dr. Beverly
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Crusher disembarked from the shuttlecraft. It was a tradition as
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old as water for the Captain to give a speech upon taking command,
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and this occasion was no exception. Captain Picard was prepared.
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His speech was short, brilliant, and to the point.
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"We have a galaxy to explore, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get
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to work."
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The First Officer fell into step beside his captain as the two
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of them left the docking bay. Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi
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followed.
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"How was France, sir?" Riker asked gently. He hadn't had the
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chance to ask before, with the court-marshal proceedings and all.
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"Did you and Dr. Crusher get all your family's affairs in order?"
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For a moment, the Captain's face looked wistful. "It was a
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mixed blessing, Number One."
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Riker nodded understandingly, wishing he could offer some comfort.
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"Home is the best place to lay an old life aside, Captain,"
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said Deanna from behind them. She linked her arm fondly with
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Beverly's. "And the best place to begin a new one."
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Riker grinned back at her. Trust Deanna to say the perfect
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thing.
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"Well, I suppose you'd all like to know where we're going,"
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Picard said. He made some attempt to hide his distaste from his
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crew, knowing that they would be no more pleased than he. They had
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a new ship, an entire galaxy to explore, and - "Our first mission
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is, I regret to say, diplomatic. We're to travel to Starbase 39-
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Sierra, where a delegation of bureaucrats is waiting." He paused
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again, weighing the consequences of his next
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statement. "It seems the Federation wants to show off its new
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ship."
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"You can hardly blame them, Captain," said Deanna Troi,
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comfortingly. "She is beautiful. Definitely something to be proud
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of."
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Picard smiled ruefully. "I recognize the importance of the
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mission, Counselor. I just hope something exciting happens along
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the way."
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"Captain on the bridge," the young ensign announced as the
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command crew left the new lounge.
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"You don't need to announce that so regularly, ensign," Picard
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said to her. "Everyone can see that I'm here."
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She stiffened slightly under the perceived reprimand. "It's
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in the regulations, sir."
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He sighed. "One thing I've learned, ensign, is that you can't
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always live by the regulations. They can limit you." He looked
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thoughtfully at her, but her seagreen eyes gave no hint that she'd
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received the lesson. "Lay in a course for Starbase 39-Sierra, warp
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4.8," he ordered, heading for his chair.
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"Aye, sir."
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He settled in, shifting uncomfortably - these new chairs were
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unfamiliar. His eyes swept the lines of the new bridge, clean and
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elegant, the pride of Starfleet technology - and not yet home. For
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a brief moment, just the briefest of moments, he longed for his old
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ship. But such longings were futile, and he pushed them aside.
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"Engage."
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"You've briefed your command crew by now?" the
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Admiral asked.
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"I have, sir." He kept his voice carefully neutral.
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A wry twist came to Alynna Nechayev's lips. "I take it they
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were almost as pleased as you."
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"You might say that."
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The Admiral sighed. "All right, Captain. Time to lay the
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cards on the table. There's another reason we're sending you to
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Starbase 39-Sierra - one that doesn't have anything to do with
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diplomatic tours."
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"Really?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
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Admiral Nechayev's narrow face narrowed even more. "Yes.
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We've detected some unexplained activity across the Neutral Zone.
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Starfleet Intelligence suspects that the Romulans are developing a
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new weapon."
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"I see." He leaned back against his chair, considering.
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"Have I permission to tell my command crew?"
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"Not unless it becomes necessary. For all they or anybody
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else knows, you're simply touring the quadrant, showing off our
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finest. And nobody had better suspect otherwise, or things could
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turn ugly. Nechayev out."
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"How are the diagnostics coming, Geordi?" Data asked
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cheerfully.
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"Fine, Data," the chief engineer answered, putting down the
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diagnostic indicator. "I can't believe some of the upgrades we've
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got. Looks like Leah's been working overtime on that new warp
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engine. I feel like a kid at Christmas."
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"Captain Picard seems pleased with the new ship, as well,"
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Data observed.
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"What about you?" Geordi asked.
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Data paused, looking wistfully about the vast area of
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engineering. "It is a beautiful ship, but - I find I miss the old
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_Enterprise_. She was, after all, home for seven years."
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Geordi sighed. "Me, too, buddy. Me too."
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"That was lovely," Beverly said, pushing her empty plate
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aside. "I love saltimbocca, but you knew that, didn't you?"
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"Of course." He left the table to pour her some more wine,
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then took her hands and led her to the couch. "As Captain, it's my
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job to know all the intimate details of my crew."
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She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "*All* of them, Captain? Why,
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it's only been a few wee-"
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"Worf to Captain Picard."
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Jean-Luc rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Worf?"
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"We're receiving a distress call from Bett'au VII, sir. It's
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coded priority one."
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He glanced at Beverly, saw the concern rising in her eyes.
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"On my way, Mr. Worf."
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"Req...<crackle> major ear<crackle>qua..."
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Picard and his officers looked at one another in concern,
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trying desperately to understand the garbled message through the
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static.
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"thousands <static> casu..."
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"Mr. Data, can you make anything out of this mess?" the
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Captain snapped. It took a deliberate effort not to look at his
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chief medical officer.
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"I can extrapolate, sir. It seems that Bett'au
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VII has been hit by a major earthquake, resulting in significant
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casualties."
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This time, duty required him to look at his chief surgeon. He
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knew her too well not to see the memories rising to the surface, to
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ignore the sudden pain in her eyes. "Is there any ship closer than
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we are?" he asked Data.
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The android shook his head. "No, sir."
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"I see." Briefly, he weighed the possibilities, the
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consequences of inconveniencing a handful of Federation dignitaries
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versus the importance of saving a planet. It took maybe half a
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second. "Commander, lay in a course to Bett'au VII, warp 5."
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"Aye, sir."
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As the other officers left the new observation lounge, Beverly
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raised her stricken eyes to him. "What was that you were saying
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about hoping something exciting would happen?" she asked, trying to
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make light of the situation.
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He grunted.
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"Be careful what you wish for. You might get it."
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Captain's Log, stardate 48952.7. The damage to Bett'au VII has
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proven far worse than any of us imagined. The tremors were caused
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by a sudden shift in the planet's orbit, something so completely
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unexpected that no one quite knows what to make of it. Geordi and
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Data are trying to assess the extent of the damage, and to
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determine if the newly-formed colony will have to be moved yet
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again. The medical teams are working overtime, trying to combat
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thousands of major injuries as well as the outbreaks of plague,
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psychosis, and poor sanitary conditions that are the inevitable
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consequences of such a disaster.
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"Damn."
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Dr. Beverly Crusher pressed her hand against her forehead,
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willing the dizziness and nausea to go away. Three of her staff
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had become sick already, despite the fact that she'd inoculated
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them against everything she could think of. And in the meantime,
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there were hundreds of wounded to be tended, sanitary systems to be
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reestablished, medical supplies to be replenished: all matters
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easily attended to if proper facilities were available.
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Beverly knew from first-hand experience what could happen when
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those facilities were not available.
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She passed a weary hand before her eyes and forced herself
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back to normal. She mustn't let the others see she was becoming
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sick, or Jean-Luc would pull her off the planet, and Beverly wanted
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desperately to tend these final cases herself.
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She smiled at the thought of the captain. Dear, sweet Jean-
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Luc, to know her own memories of Arvada III would surface at the
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mention of disaster. He'd instantly understood her need to be
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there, taking care of the suffering colonists. He'd even come to
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her quarters later, to be sure she was all right. She'd been
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pacing her rooms, anxious to arrive, and knowing that the
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_Enterprise_ could go no faster than the Federation-wide Warp 5
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limit. Jean-Luc had taken her into his arms, soothing away her
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nervous anxiety with soft words and gentle caresses...
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She turned her attention to another colonist.
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"You'll be all right," she told the little girl, gently
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brushing the hair out of the child's face. "Just a broken leg. In
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two weeks, you'll be bouncing around again like nothing happened."
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This brought a smile to the child, but Beverly saw the shadow-
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clouded eyes of her mother and looked away. But something did
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happen, and it'll be a long time before you forget - if you ever
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do.
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The osteoregenerator hummed in her hands as the bone knit back
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together, then she patted the child's knees reassuringly and turned
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to the next patient.
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Another wave of dizziness washed over her, and she leaned
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heavily against the table.
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"Doctor?" asked the mother, alarmed. One of the medics,
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seeing his commanding officer leaning against the table with a
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trouble colonist supporting her, hastened to her side.
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"Dr. Crusher?" he asked, his dark features heavy with concern.
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"I'm all right, Soli," she said, trying not to be angry. The
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medic was new to the _Enterprise_, and obviously hadn't been warned
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not to interfere with her medical - or other - practices. "I
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just turned around too fast, that's all. I'll be all right in a
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minute."
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Soli looked at her with evident disbelief. "You've been
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working 'round the clock since this whole thing started. Maybe you
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should go back to the ship and get some rest."
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Airily she waved him aside. "Nonsense. There are only a few
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patients left; I'll finish them up and then I'll go back. It'll
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only take a few more minutes."
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"Well, all right," said Soli grudgingly.
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She was conscious of his eyes on her back as she tended the
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next few patients, but then her work absorbed her again and she
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forgot all about the incident.
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"So what are your plans for shore leave, sir?" Ship's
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Counselor Deanna Troi asked him mildly.
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"Oh, I was thinking it might be nice to visit a holosuite or
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two," said Riker, "And I hear there's a *great* jazz band on Ingral
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III. That's only about an hour away by shuttle. Do you and Worf
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have any plans?"
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Unconsciously, Deanna's gaze flickered up to the towering
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Klingon standing on the deck above them, a mysterious smile
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hovering about her lips. "We do," she said.
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"Geordi and I have plans to visit the zoo," threw in Data.
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"He says it will be a remarkable chance for me to revisit my
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childhood." He frowned slightly. "Although, since I never had a
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childhood, I am uncertain as to how I can 'revisit' it."
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Riker chuckled.
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"Was that funny?" Data asked hopefully.
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"Only mildly, Data."
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"Oh." Data was obviously disappointed. "Although I have
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succeeded in mastering several emotions, I am afraid that creating
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humor still escapes me."
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"You'll get it, Data. Just give it time."
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The turbolift doors hissed open and Captain Picard stepped
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onto the bridge. Since their recent trip to Earth and the
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launching of the new _Enterprise_, Riker thought he detected a new
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buoyancy in the Captain's step, a lightness of heart that
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had not been there before - particularly whenever a certain medical
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officer was nearby. A less observant officer wouldn't have noticed
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anything amiss, but Riker had his suspicions.
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"How goes it, Number One?" the Captain asked, settling in to
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his new chair. He squirmed slightly, if the Captain could be
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imagined doing so undignified a thing as squirming; the new chairs
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required some getting used to.
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"All's well, sir," Riker reported. He cast a conspiratorial
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glance at Deanna. "We were just discussing how we're going to
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spend our brief shore leave at 39-Sierra."
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"Enjoy yourselves," said the Captain. "It'll be a long time
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before we're anywhere near a starbase again, so make sure you get
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everything you need."
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"Do you and Beverly have any plans for our visit to the
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starbase, sir?" Deanna asked innocently.
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Riker hid a grin by pretending to smooth his beard. So he
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wasn't the only one who had suspicions.
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"No," said the Captain, unruffled. "I'll be dealing with that
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delegation of bureaucrats, and I have no idea what Dr. Crusher
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has planned."
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"I see," said Deanna, looking away as if it were of only the
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mildest possible interest to her. "Well, if you're looking for
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suggestions -"
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She was interrupted by the sudden blurp of the comlink. "Soli
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to _Enterprise_."
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"_Enterprise_ here," said the Captain.
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"Sir." There was obvious relief in Soli's voice. "Would you
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please beam two directly to sickbay?"
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Instantly, concern darkened the Captain's features. "Is one
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of the colonists -?"
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"No, sir. It's Dr. Crusher. She's fainted."
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The first thing that Beverly Crusher saw when she opened her
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eyes was the overhead sensor. The damned thing seemed
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unnecessarily bright against her weary eyes. The second was Jean-
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Luc's face, hovering over her with naked concern - and a little
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anger.
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She resisted the urge to groan.
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"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
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She pushed herself up, embarrassed to be lying unconscious in
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her own sickbay. She shook her head to rid herself of the last
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lingering traces of dizziness. "I think so."
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"Good." She could see the muscles of his jaw clench; she had
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to restrain the urge to caress the tension away with her fingertips.
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"Doctor, I think you should refresh yourself on medical basics.
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You can't do your patients any good if you're so exhausted you
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can't see straight."
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"I had work to do-" she began hotly.
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"Which you can't do if you're exhausted," he repeated. Then,
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seeing her temper rising, he laid a gentle hand on her arm.
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"Beverly. Please. Go to your quarters and lie down. Your medical
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team tells me they're almost done; the disaster is over, and no one
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has been lost since we arrived."
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"Thanks largely to the efforts of our medical team."
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"I know to whom credit is due," he said, looking gravely into
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her eyes.
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Poor Jean-Luc. He was really worried. She'd have to take
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better care of herself; it wouldn't do to have the ship's captain
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distracted because he was worried about his chief medical officer's
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health. She sighed and looked down at her trembling hands. If only
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she weren't so very tired.
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He crossed his arms before his chest. "Dr. Crusher, go to
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your quarters and get some rest, or I'll have you relieved and
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sedated."
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Momentarily startled, she looked up into his face. His
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expression was stern enough, but he couldn't quite keep the smile
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from reaching his eyes.
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"Hah," she said, swinging her legs off the table. "Nobody
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orders my medical staff around but me."
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"Would you care to challenge that?" he asked pointedly.
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"Not particularly." She hopped off the table with her usual
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vivacity, but the cursed dizziness swept over her again.
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Instantly, Picard's arms went about her, holding her upright.
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"Dizzy again?" he asked, and now his voice was actually
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alarmed.
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She couldn't resist the obvious reply. "Being in your arms
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always makes me dizzy," she whispered.
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The Captain tried not to smile and failed. His arms around
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her shoulders tightened imperceptibly. "Beverly, I'm really
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worried about you. You've been working around the clock for two
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days, and you yourself said there are a lot of highly contagious
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bugs running rampant down there. Promise me you'll go to your
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quarters and rest."
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She smiled. "Aye, sir, Captain, sir," she said, as
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insubordinately as she possibly could.
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He removed his arms from her shoulders as Nurse Ogawa came
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rushing up.
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"Dr. Crusher?" she asked anxiously.
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"I'll be all right, Alyssa. I just need to go to my quarters
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and lie down." She fixed Jean-Luc with a glare she hoped would
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fool her observant staff. "It seems I'm being ordered to get some
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rest."
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"That's probably a good idea," Alyssa said.
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Crusher smiled again at Jean-Luc and headed toward her
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quarters.
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"Alyssa."
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At the sound of her first name, Beverly's favorite nurse
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looked up. "Yes, Captain?"
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"Alyssa, can you tell me somthing?"
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Alyssa licked her lips nervously. "If it doesn't break medical
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confidentiality, Captain."
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"I see." The Captain crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Is Dr.
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Crusher ill?"
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She sighed with relief. That she could answer. "Not to my
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knowledge, sir."
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"Have you noticed any unusual behavior lately?"
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Alyssa cocked her head, considering. "She's been a little
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edgy since she first heard about the earthquake. But then, it
|
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probably struck a little close to home. Weren't her parents killed
|
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in some sort of disaster?"
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"Yes, they were." The Captain paced the empty sickbay,
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obviously more concerned then he would admit. Alyssa waited
|
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patiently, thinking about how she would feel if her own beloved
|
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Mark had just fainted on a planet far below them. Being a good
|
|
nurse depended heavily upon keen powers of observation, and Alyssa
|
|
was under no delusions about the feelings between her Captain and
|
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her boss. She just wished they'd admit to them and get on with
|
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their lives.
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|
But then, maybe she just wanted everybody to be as happy as
|
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she and Mark were.
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Picard stopped pacing. "Very well. Alyssa, if you do learn
|
|
anything that you can tell me without breaking medical
|
|
confidentiality, I'd appreciate it if you'd inform me at once."
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"Aye, sir," replied the nurse.
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"Well, that should stop most of the tremors, Governor," said
|
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Geordi. "We've reinforced the tectonic plates, and the
|
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gravitational alignment of the planet has stabilized. I still
|
|
don't know what it would take, to knock a planet off-course like
|
|
that."
|
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The Governor shrugged. She was Kempakan, a tall, blue-skinned
|
|
race with protruding eyes. Geordi privately thought they rather
|
|
resembled inebriated fish, but they made very, very good
|
|
administrators. "Who knows? I just hope it isn't something that's
|
|
a regular occurrence on this planet."
|
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"No way. The Federation does pretty thorough research before
|
|
opening a planet up for colonization. Things just happen
|
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sometimes, though."
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The Kempakan shrugged again. "Well, we'll just have to hope
|
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it doesn't happen again," she said.
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
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araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
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Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
|
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From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: aftershock
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Date: 14 Feb 1995 05:02:18 GMT
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Organization: Division of Information Technology
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Lines: 258
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Message-ID: <3hpdgq$bjb@news.doit.wisc.edu>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-156.net.wisc.edu
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X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6034
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This is my very first story posted to a newsgroup, so I
|
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hope I get it right. It seems to me to be the logical follow-up
|
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to such stories as _The Nexus_ by Virginia Boehn and _To Every
|
|
Purpose_ by Melissa Wilson. If you haven't read them, do it.
|
|
They're a lot of fun, and if you don't this might not make any
|
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sense.
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A word of warning: if you're not a Hopeless Romantic,
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DON'T READ THIS. There's very little plot, and I left the actual
|
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mission of the _Enterprise-E_ suitably vauge to minimize the
|
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amount of this that will be rendered non-canon when STVIII comes
|
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out. In the meantime, happy reading.
|
|
|
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Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, everyone,
|
|
and everyplace in this story lock, stock and barrel. The story
|
|
itself, for good or ill, is mine.
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*********
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AFTERSHOCK
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part 2
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Captain's Log, Stardate 48953.8 We have arrived at Starbase 39-
|
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Sierra at last, where an envoy awaits the opportunity to
|
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inspect our new ship. Most of the crew, including the senior
|
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officers, will be enjoying an informal sort of shore leave, but I
|
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must remain aboard to entertain our guests.
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"So, what do you plan to do with your shore leave?" he asked,
|
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pouring his companion another cup of tea.
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"Hmm?" She looked up at him, her luminous blue eyes lost in
|
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thought. He loved to see her like this, relaxed and happy, wrapped
|
|
in her favorite blue robe - actually, it was *his* favorite blue
|
|
robe- and perfectly content just to be with him. "Oh. Shore
|
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leave. I hadn't thought much about it, really. There's still so
|
|
much to be done. I wanted to review the new medical databanks,
|
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make sure everybody's records are up to date, and there's an
|
|
article in _Molecular Exogenetics_ I keep meaning to read..."
|
|
"Beverly." He took her hand. She raised her eyes to
|
|
his as he squeezed her fingers. "I want you to go have some fun.
|
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Really. Just because I'm stuck on board this drafty old ship of
|
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ours doesn't mean you can't go to the base and have some fun." She
|
|
laughed lightly at his feeble joke. "Why don't you find Deanna?
|
|
You haven't spent much time with her lately, and she and Worf
|
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aren't scheduled to leave until late this afternoon."
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|
She smiled into his eyes. "You're right, of course. I
|
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haven't really taken any time since the disaster on Bett'au VII,
|
|
and I *do* have some shopping to do. Will you have time for supper
|
|
tonight?" She was already headed into the other room to get
|
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dressed.
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"Always."
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"Good." She reemerged a moment later, impeccably professional in her
|
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uniform, her long hair bound loosely against the back of her neck.
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"I'll see you later, then." And with a soft kiss on the tip of his
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nose, she was gone.
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"Anything in particular you're looking for?" Deanna asked,
|
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running a brush through her luxuriant curls.
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"Oh, I don't know," Beverly said from the Counselor's day
|
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room. "Wesley's birthday is coming up - although I don't know
|
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*how* I'd manage to get anything to him - and there are a few
|
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miscellaneous things I need. Mostly, though, I just want to get
|
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away."
|
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Deanna nodded. "You really could use the rest. You haven't
|
|
taken any time off since you and the Captain came back from France,
|
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and three months without a break is really too long." It was meant
|
|
as a gentle jibe, a sort of probe to see if she could fish anything
|
|
out of Beverly about her new relationship with the Captain. It
|
|
did not have the intended effect. She felt a sudden rush of
|
|
shock, of disbelief, pouring from the adjacent room. "Beverly,
|
|
what's wrong?" she asked urgently, watching all the blood drain
|
|
away from her friend's face.
|
|
Weakly, Beverly sank into one of Deanna's chairs, shaking
|
|
her head.
|
|
"Beverly, what is it?" She knelt down next to her friend.
|
|
Frantically, Beverly reached out and clutched Deanna's hand.
|
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"Deanna, will you make one brief stop by sickbay with me? I think
|
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I may have some shopping to do after all."
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"Anything else I should know about?" Riker asked, taking one
|
|
last perusal around the new bridge.
|
|
Data frowned. "I see no cause for concern, Commander.
|
|
Everything seems to be under control."
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Riker grinned. "All preparations for our bureaucrats well in
|
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hand?"
|
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"The Captain appears to be preparing for their arrival with
|
|
great anticipation," Data deadpanned, but the flash of humor in his
|
|
eyes was unmistakable.
|
|
Riker's grin widened. "You're getting better all the time,
|
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Data."
|
|
"Thank you, sir."
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"Is everything ready?" Worf asked, making a last quick check
|
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of the shuttlecraft.
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"Ready," Deanna confirmed.
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The Klingon glanced at her sharply; she seemed vaguely
|
|
distant, and there was a soft, dreamy look in her dark Betazoid
|
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eyes.
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"Deanna, is something wrong?"
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"Wrong?" She turned her mysterious eyes toward him. Slowly,
|
|
he saw her gaze come into focus. "No, nothing's wrong. In fact,
|
|
everything's wonderful."
|
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He relaxed slightly. "I am glad that our trip pleases you,"
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he said.
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To his surprise, a faint smile graced Deanna's features.
|
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"That, too," she said softly.
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|
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"So how did your day go?" Beverly asked, carefully setting her
|
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bundles down on his desk. "All those bureaucrats didn't strain
|
|
your temper too much, did they?"
|
|
He crossed the room to give her a kiss and press a glass of
|
|
wine - real wine, from his family's vineyards - into her hand. "Not
|
|
terribly - for bureaucrats." He grinned suddenly. "For a group
|
|
of tourists, though, they were awful."
|
|
She smiled at him, but the smile faded quickly away, replaced
|
|
by a far more thoughtful expression.
|
|
Picard studied her carefully. He noted the smudges of
|
|
exhaustion lingering beneath her vibrant blue eyes, the faint
|
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pallor of her porcelain skin. She just hadn't been herself at all
|
|
lately. Maybe she still hadn't recovered from the effects of the
|
|
earthquake on Bett'au VII.
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Or maybe she was still unwell, and hadn't told him.
|
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He couldn't bear to think about it any more. With his wine
|
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glass, he indicated the piles of packages stacked on his desk.
|
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"What's all this?" he asked, leaning over to inspect them.
|
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She stepped quickly in front of him, blocking his vision.
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"Oh, a few gifts for my oldest son," she said. "The rest is a
|
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surprise. What's for supper? I'm famished." She put her arm
|
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through his and drew him toward the table.
|
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"Oh... umm, braised lamb, new potatoes, and steamed carrots."
|
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"Mmmm, sounds perfect. Let's eat," she said.
|
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"Beverly, you haven't touched your wine."
|
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She bit her lip, looking suddenly uncertain and a little
|
|
frightened. "I know," she said softly. "Medically speaking, it's
|
|
not a good idea right now."
|
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Cold fear gripped his heart. Something was wrong with
|
|
Beverly! If she'd contracted something on the planet, something
|
|
the biofilters didn't scan for... He turned and pulled her tightly
|
|
against him.
|
|
For a moment, she simply clung to him, and he felt her
|
|
trembling against him. They'd only just admitted their feelings
|
|
for each other, after more than twenty years of timid silence; to
|
|
loose her now would be unbearable. Picard held her, promising
|
|
whatever powers there might be in the universe anything, anything
|
|
at all, just as long as they kept Beverly safe.
|
|
And then he realized she was laughing! Disgruntled, he
|
|
removed his arms from her slender waist and stepped back. "What's
|
|
so funny?" he demanded gruffly.
|
|
"Oh, Jean-Luc, the look on your face just now! You looked
|
|
like I'd just signed my own death certificate!" She laughed again,
|
|
lightly, and kissed him.
|
|
He was not amused. "Beverly, what the hell is going on?"
|
|
Her bubbling laughter faded away, replaced by that hesitant
|
|
uncertainty he had detected earlier. She took a deep breath,
|
|
squared her shoulders, and said, "I have something to tell you."
|
|
He waited, steeling his heart against whatever she might say.
|
|
"Maybe you'd better sit down."
|
|
Oh, _merde_. It was worse than he thought. His knees
|
|
suddenly weak, he sank obediently onto the couch.
|
|
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked
|
|
directly into his eyes for the first time that evening. "Jean-Luc,
|
|
I'm pregnant."
|
|
The glass slid away from his suddenly numb fingers.
|
|
Her eyes searched his face, but she must've been uncertain
|
|
what she saw there, because she said, coachingly, "You're going to
|
|
be a father."
|
|
"A f-father?" he repeated.
|
|
Her eyes filled with an odd mixture of concern and amusement.
|
|
"Jean-Luc, are you all right?"
|
|
"A father?" he said again.
|
|
Beverly sighed. She crossed the room and knelt before him,
|
|
laying her hands on his. "Jean-Luc. Are you all right?"
|
|
"All right?" He looked at her in wonderment. "Beverly... I
|
|
don't know what to say."
|
|
"At this point, *anything* would be an improvement."
|
|
"A child..." he mused. "I'm going to be a father. I never
|
|
thought I'd hear those words, especially after Jason..."
|
|
She waited, her heart in her eyes.
|
|
He looked down at her, saw her pulse beating nervously
|
|
against her throat. And he smiled. "I never thought those words
|
|
could be so wonderful."
|
|
And then she was in his arms, their lips pressed tightly
|
|
together. He wasn't sure if the tears wetting his cheeks belonged
|
|
to her or to him.
|
|
They parted to gaze into each other's eyes. "This is where
|
|
all the trouble began," she said, teasingly.
|
|
He smiled, remembering that warm and fateful night in France, in
|
|
his family's ancestral home. A home that maybe, perhaps,
|
|
might yet again be filled with the laughter of children. A low,
|
|
delighted chuckle bubbled up from his chest and escaped his guard;
|
|
he was suddenly overcome with joy.
|
|
"Marry me."
|
|
"What?!"
|
|
This was not precisely the answer he had expected. Gravely,
|
|
he repeated, "Marry me."
|
|
Still she hesitated. "Jean-Luc, if this is about us having a
|
|
child together-"
|
|
"I assure you it's not. Beverly." He laid a hand over hers,
|
|
then changed his mind. He slid off the couch and knelt before her,
|
|
taking both her hands into his. "Beverly, I love you.Being your husband,
|
|
raising our child, would be the fulfillment of dreams I didn't even know
|
|
I had. I promise you, no matter what your answer, I will love and cherish
|
|
you both for the rest of my days. But please say yes. Marry me."
|
|
The beauty of the stars spread out behind her paled in
|
|
comparison to her smile. "Now, how can I resist a proposal like
|
|
that?" she asked.
|
|
"Is that a yes?" he asked, acutely aware of his heart pounding
|
|
against his ribs.
|
|
"Yes. Most definitely, yes."
|
|
For a moment, he was too overjoyed to move or even reply.
|
|
Then he let out a very un-Captain-like whoop, startling Beverly,
|
|
and leapt to his feet. "Just a minute," he said, kissing her
|
|
again, and vanished into the other room.
|
|
When he returned, he held a small box cradled gingerly between
|
|
his fingers. "I was going to give you this a little later," he
|
|
said. "But, circumstances seem to warrant ..." He flipped open
|
|
the lid.
|
|
Beverly gasped. Inside was a simple gold ring, highlighted by
|
|
the advent of a single diamond.
|
|
"I know engagement rings are a little outdated," he said
|
|
tentatively, looking critically at the gleaming stone, "but I was
|
|
wondering if you might consent to wearing it? It belonged to my
|
|
great-great-grandmother; we could say it was a family tradition,
|
|
that you were humoring me by wearing it..."
|
|
"Jean-Luc."
|
|
At the sound of her voice, he stopped babbling and looked at
|
|
her. She was smiling softly at him.
|
|
"Jean-Luc, I'd be proud to wear it." Gravely, she held out
|
|
her left hand.
|
|
Somewhat nervously, he removed the ring from its box and
|
|
slipped it onto her finger.
|
|
"It fits perfectly," she said, sounding surprised.
|
|
He grinned wickedly. "I know. I had it resized in
|
|
anticipation of this event."
|
|
She looked at him askance. "You're lucky my fingers aren't
|
|
swollen. How did you know my size?"
|
|
"I measured your finger while you were sleeping."
|
|
Her expression changed to stunned disbelief, then surprise,
|
|
and finally dissolved into laughter. "Well, life with you will
|
|
certainly keep me on my toes, at any rate."
|
|
"Or off of them," he agreed, nuzzling her neck.
|
|
|
|
|
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|
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
|
|
araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
|
|
|
|
|
|
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!usc!math.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
|
|
From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
|
|
Subject: Aftershock, part (3/8?)
|
|
Date: 14 Feb 1995 08:08:57 GMT
|
|
Organization: Division of Information Technology
|
|
Lines: 231
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Message-ID: <3hpoep$gkv@news.doit.wisc.edu>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-071.net.wisc.edu
|
|
X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
|
|
Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6038
|
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|
|
Hi all!
|
|
This is still my first story ever posted, and it's turning
|
|
out quite a bit different from what I originally expected. However,
|
|
I still feel it is only fair to warn you that this is For Hopeless
|
|
Romantics. If you like stories about big guns, high drama, sophisticated
|
|
strategies, and so on, this is not for you.
|
|
|
|
Otherwise, happy reading once again.
|
|
|
|
Quintessential disclaimer about Paramount owning everything,
|
|
everyplace, and everyone mentioned in the story. The story itself
|
|
belongs to me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
*************
|
|
|
|
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AFTERSHOCK
|
|
part three
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Good morning, Doctor."
|
|
"Good morning, Alyssa." Awkwardly, Beverly negotiated the
|
|
path toward her desk, lowering her cumbersome bulk into the chair.
|
|
Funny, the space had never seemed so cramped before. Now it seemed
|
|
to get smaller with each passing day.
|
|
"How are you feeling?" Alyssa asked, following her into the
|
|
office.
|
|
"Wonderful. Horrible. I just wish the morning sickness would
|
|
go away." She patted her bulging belly, as the child within
|
|
rewarded her attentions by giving her a firm kick.
|
|
Alyssa grinned knowingly. "I know. I only had it two months
|
|
with Matthew, and I thought it was never going to end."
|
|
Beverly smiled. "I certainly would have thought it would give
|
|
up by now. After all, the child'll be here in only a few weeks,
|
|
and Jean-Luc -"
|
|
She was interrupted by the cheerful blurp of the ship's
|
|
hailing system. "Captain to Doctor Picard."
|
|
At the sound of her husband's voice, Beverly Picard's heart
|
|
flipped. "Yes, Captain?" she asked as Alyssa discreetly slipped
|
|
from the room.
|
|
"Doctor, there will be a staff meeting in the observation
|
|
lounge in ten minutes. I'd appreciate it if you could attend."
|
|
"Of course, sir."
|
|
There was the briefest of pauses, and then Jean-Luc said, "Are
|
|
you feeling any better?" His voice was softer, gentler, an
|
|
unspoken arrangement between them that he was talking to her now as
|
|
her husband, not her commanding officer. He was in the ready room,
|
|
then. He never talked to her like that except when they were
|
|
alone.
|
|
"I'll be all right," she said, then gasped as their unborn
|
|
child kicked her firmly in the ribs. "Just tell the baby to quit
|
|
kicking me, and I'll be much better."
|
|
"Come up to the bridge and I'll do just that."
|
|
"I'm on my way."
|
|
|
|
The other officers all stood as Beverly entered, an
|
|
unconscious acknowledgement of her procreative state.
|
|
Jean-Luc crossed the room and offered her his arm,
|
|
gently lowering her into the seat beside him.
|
|
"How's the kid?" Riker asked teasingly.
|
|
Beverly smiled at him and pushed a stray strand of hair back
|
|
from her face. "Just fine, thank you." She patted her belly.
|
|
"Likes to kick a little much for my taste, though - I thought I'd
|
|
*never* get to sleep last night."
|
|
Jean-Luc laid a hand on her shoulder, an unconscious gesture
|
|
telling her to keep their private life private. "All right,
|
|
people, if you're done enquiring about the state of my lovely bride
|
|
-" he smiled fondly at his wife - "we have some business to attend
|
|
to."
|
|
Instantly, his officers were all business.
|
|
"I have some bad news," he said. "Bett'au VII has suffered
|
|
another earthquake, accompanied by strong storms and severe
|
|
flooding." He looked at his wife, who had suddenly gone deathly
|
|
pale. "I'm afraid there were no survivors."
|
|
Beverly put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wider than he'd ever
|
|
seen them. He had to resist the urge to take her into his arms.
|
|
But that wouldn't be appropriate; in this room she was the Chief
|
|
Medical Officer, not his wife. Gently, he said, "We're the
|
|
closest ship in the area. We're going to have to assess the
|
|
damage."
|
|
Weakly she nodded, her eyes drifting toward the obsidian
|
|
tabletop.
|
|
Picard turned his attention back to the rest of the crew.
|
|
"I'm afraid it gets worse. Starfleet Command has evidence to
|
|
suspect that the Romulans have developed a new weapon."
|
|
"Metagenic?" Beverly asked, her face going even paler.
|
|
Her husband regarded her with unmistakable tenderness, but his
|
|
voice retained the Captain's control as he replied, "No. It seems
|
|
they have developed a means to pull a planet out of alignment."
|
|
There were low cries of disbelief and outrage around the
|
|
table.
|
|
"The amount of power required to move an entire planet would
|
|
be considerable," Data said, though his voice was sick with horror.
|
|
"Even the _Enterprise_ cannot generate so much."
|
|
"And the effects on the planet's inhabitants would be
|
|
devastating," Geordi added. "There'd be floods, storms,
|
|
earthquakes of a scale to make your head spin-" And then he was
|
|
silent, as he and the other officers realized what he'd just said.
|
|
Feeling slightly sick himself, Picard nodded. "Yes. The
|
|
Federation Science Council now believes that the disaster on
|
|
Bett'au VII was deliberately instigated by the Romulans in an
|
|
attempt to test their new weapon. Two other planets have been
|
|
destroyed as well."
|
|
His officers merely stared at him, stunned.
|
|
"Our orders," he continued, forcing himself to keep his eyes
|
|
away from his wife, "are to patrol the sector, ready to respond to
|
|
the first sign of distress from any Federation planet. If we find
|
|
the Romulans, we have the authority to take whatever action we deem
|
|
necessary. The _Agamemnon_, the _Urania_, and the _Temin_ are on
|
|
their way. In the meantime, let's spend the time heightening our
|
|
sensor capabilities and *quietly* preparing the ship for an
|
|
encounter with the Romulans."
|
|
"Do you think it'll come to that, sir?" Riker asked, looking
|
|
faintly uneasy. They all knew what 'an encounter with the
|
|
Romulans' meant.
|
|
"I hope not, Number One. I'm just trying to prepare for all
|
|
extingencies." He flicked a glance at his wife, who sat in
|
|
troubled silence.
|
|
Riker followed his gaze. "Understood, sir."
|
|
|
|
"No!" he roared.
|
|
"Jean-Luc, I'm still the Chief Medical Officer. It's my duty
|
|
to go down there, and I'm going, whether you like it or not!" She
|
|
regarded him with dangerous fire behind her eyes. "Unless
|
|
you plan to relieve me of duty merely because I'm pregnant?"
|
|
He took a deep breath, making a determined effort to reign
|
|
in his considerable anger. "You know I can't do that."
|
|
"Then you have to let me go."
|
|
He counted to ten in several languages at once, forcing his
|
|
concern and his temper back under control. Once more, he tried
|
|
reasoning with her. "Beverly, you're seven and a half months
|
|
pregnant. Would you send any of your staff down unto an unstable
|
|
planet riddled with disease under those conditions?"
|
|
"No. But then, none of them are this ship's Chief Medical
|
|
Officer. I am."
|
|
"And you're the best in Starfleet. That doesn't mean,
|
|
however, that you need to attend every disaster yourself."
|
|
"Yes, but - this is different." She stopped pacing their
|
|
quarters and turned to face him. "Jean-Luc, these people were my
|
|
patients. I need to see what's been done to them, to confirm for
|
|
myself that there isn't anyone left." She stretched a hand toward
|
|
him, her voice and her eyes filled with supplication - not for his
|
|
permission, but for his understanding. "Please."
|
|
And in that instant, Jean-Luc Picard knew he would do anything
|
|
she asked of him - not that he'd ever been able to deny her
|
|
anything anyway. Reluctantly, he gave in.
|
|
"All right. But take care of yourself. Let Riker and the
|
|
others bring the bodies to *you*. They're dead; nothing you can do
|
|
will help them now." He laid a hand against her cheek to take the
|
|
sting away from the brutal words.
|
|
"All right," she promised.
|
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|
|
"Here's another one," called Geordi La Forge, examining yet
|
|
another body half-buried in the rubble. He sighed in recognition;
|
|
it was the Kempakan governor, now looking more than ever like a
|
|
fish out of water.
|
|
Dr. Picard waddled over to him with almost no sign of her
|
|
usual grace, attended soliticiously by Data. The android officer
|
|
was fascinated by her pregnancy, following her about with childlike wonder and plying her with
|
|
limitless questions, which Picard endured with remarkable patience.
|
|
Her face hard as stone, Picard made the necessary adjustments
|
|
in her log.
|
|
"Let's go over there next," she said, indicating a collapsed
|
|
building with her eyes. Wordlessly, Data and Geordi followed her.
|
|
The ruin was once a school, and the bodies within were all
|
|
young children. Geordi couldn't quite resist the urge be sure
|
|
the doctor was all right. Picard's face was now deathly pale, and
|
|
there was a slight tremor in her voice as she ordered Data to move
|
|
this or that so that she could better inspect the bodies.
|
|
And then she simply collapsed.
|
|
Instantly, Data and Geordi were beside her, kneeling next to
|
|
her in concern as she sat shaking on the cracked and twisted
|
|
pavement. "Oh, my God," she said, over and over.
|
|
Curiously, Geordi turned to the corpse she had just
|
|
discovered. It was a little girl, wisps of blond hair floating
|
|
gently about her still face. He could see nothing extraordinary
|
|
about her.
|
|
But Picard said, "She had a broken leg. I healed it for her;
|
|
I told her it was going to be all right. And now it'll never be
|
|
all right again. She was only six."
|
|
La Forge was amazed to see tears pouring down Picard's face;
|
|
she never lost control of herself like this, and the _Enterprise_
|
|
had encountered some pretty tragic things over the years. Then he
|
|
remembered that raging hormones sometimes caused pregnant women to
|
|
behave more emotionally than they normally would. Still, it was
|
|
disconcerting.
|
|
From the expression on his face, Data was concerned, too.
|
|
"Come, Doctor," he said, gently easing the CMO to her feet. "I
|
|
believe it is time we returned to the ship. There is nothing we
|
|
can do here."
|
|
|
|
"Anybody who'd be the deliberate participant in such an
|
|
atrocity deserves... well, worse than anything I can come up with,"
|
|
Beverly spat, too angry to be reasonable.
|
|
Jean-Luc simply put his arms around her. He knew his wife;
|
|
he could almost see her remembering the thousands of death
|
|
certificates she'd had to fill out - and there was nothing Beverly
|
|
hated more than death certificates. Particularly those of the
|
|
children. With the birth of her own child rapidly approaching,
|
|
those deaths were just that much more painful.
|
|
For a moment, she stood stiff and unyielding in his embrace,
|
|
and then she crumpled against him and began to cry.
|
|
"There were so many children," she whispered against his
|
|
chest. "So many little ones who'll never have the chance to grow
|
|
up."
|
|
"I know." He stroked her hair reassuringly.
|
|
She sobbed until she had no more tears, then stood leaning
|
|
against him, drawing on his warmth and strength as he had so
|
|
often drawn on hers.
|
|
The baby within Beverly kicked them both, an affirmation of
|
|
life in the midst of so much death. In spite of herself, Beverly
|
|
smiled down at her protruding tummy, allowing the loving embrace of
|
|
her husband and the promise of their unborn child to comfort her
|
|
at last. When she looked at him again, Picard could see only the
|
|
faintest of shadows in her eyes.
|
|
But seeing shadows where there had been only light before
|
|
filled Picard's heart with grief, and he promised himself that
|
|
whoever was responsible would not go unpunished.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
|
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araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
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Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.moneng.mei.com!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
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From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
|
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Subject: Aftershock, part (4/8?)
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Date: 16 Feb 1995 05:42:09 GMT
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|
Organization: Division of Information Technology
|
|
Lines: 304
|
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Message-ID: <3huojh$9u4@news.doit.wisc.edu>
|
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NNTP-Posting-Host: f182-054.net.wisc.edu
|
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X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
|
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6130
|
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This is my first story ever posted. So far, all comments and suggestions
|
|
have been helpful and encouraging, for which I am exceedingly grateful.
|
|
|
|
A quick word: I know that in _Parallels_, Troi talks about two children
|
|
she had with Worf. Speaking as a biologist, I just find that extremely
|
|
unlikely. By definition, "the ability to produce viable offspring" means
|
|
that they'd have to be the same species (barring genetic engineering).
|
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A technicality, I know, but it's one of my Personal Pet Peeves. Everyone
|
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is, of course, entitled to his or her own opinion.
|
|
|
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Typical disclaimer: Paramount owns every person, every place, and every
|
|
thing mentioned in this story. The story itself, for good or ill,
|
|
remains my own.
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|
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Enjoy!
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AFTERSHOCK
|
|
part 4
|
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|
|
|
|
"It would be advisable for you to push at this time," Dr.
|
|
Selar said calmly.
|
|
At that moment, Beverly Picard sincerely wanted to push Dr.
|
|
Selar - preferably out the nearest airlock. "What do you think
|
|
I've been *doing* for the past six hours, Selar? Knitting?"
|
|
Selar merely raised an eyebrow. Having spent so many years on
|
|
the __Enterprise__, she was accustomed to the unusual declarations
|
|
made by human women in labor. However, Beverly Picard was proving
|
|
to be one of her more... inventive... patients.
|
|
Beverly endured the rest of the contraction and sagged back
|
|
against her pillows, gasping for breath.
|
|
"You're doing just fine," Jean-Luc said, his voice low and
|
|
reassuring. Tenderly, he stroked the sweat-soaked hair out of her
|
|
face, caressed the tired muscles of her neck and shoulders. "It'll
|
|
be over soon."
|
|
She opened her eyes to fix him with a steely glare. "Soon?
|
|
I'll tell you about soon." She was about to say more, but another
|
|
contraction took her and she arched forward, out of the bed, then
|
|
fell back again when it ended.
|
|
Calmly, Deanna Troi dipped a cloth into some cool water and
|
|
laid it against Beverly's forehead. "How does that feel?"
|
|
"Like somebody's piloting a Klingon battle cruiser through my
|
|
stomach!" She turned to her husband, clutching the front of his
|
|
shirt; comfortingly he wrapped his arms around her.
|
|
"Jean-Luc, I don't want to do this anymore," Beverly said
|
|
wearily, leaning her head against his chest. "*You* have the baby.
|
|
Bring it home when you're done. I just need to sleep."
|
|
Picard kissed her hair. "I would do it for you if I could."
|
|
She yawned. "I'm just so tired," she began, then cried out as
|
|
another contraction took her.
|
|
"Should it be hurting her so much?" Picard whispered to
|
|
Deanna, horribly worried for his wife's safety.
|
|
Deanna smiled reassuringly. "It's been a long time since
|
|
Beverly's been through this," she said. "Her body is just protesting,
|
|
that's all."
|
|
Time wore on. The contractions grew increasingly intense, and his
|
|
poor Beverly writhed on her bed, suffering under the onslaught of
|
|
the powerful spasms.
|
|
And then, suddenly, she began to laugh.
|
|
"It's here," said Selar calmly, pulling the infant from its
|
|
mother's body. A healthy squall filled the air. "Captain and
|
|
Doctor Picard, I announce the birth of your daughter."
|
|
"She's beautiful, Captain," said Deanna Troi, a radiant smile
|
|
coming to her face.
|
|
Delighted, Picard bent and kissed his wife, who smiled
|
|
tiredly.
|
|
Alyssa wrapped the newborn in a blanket and gravely presented
|
|
her to her parents.
|
|
For the first time, Picard held his daughter in his arms. He
|
|
was amazed at how small she was, how delicate, how beautiful. And
|
|
she was *his*. His and Beverly's. Wonderingly, he reached out and
|
|
touched the crying baby's soft cheek.
|
|
A tiny fist came up and grabbed, wrapping her little fingers
|
|
around his thumb and his heart in that instant. Tenderly, he
|
|
kissed the tiny head.
|
|
"Jean-Luc, don't be such a monopolist. Let me see her," said
|
|
Beverly.
|
|
Smiling, he turned to his wife. Her hair was dishevelled and
|
|
damp with perspiration, stains of exhaustion were forming
|
|
beneath her weary eyes, and her clothing was smeared and
|
|
splattered with the efforts of her labor. But she was smiling
|
|
softly, and there was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before.
|
|
She'd never looked more beautiful.
|
|
Gently, he lowered their daughter into her waiting embrace,
|
|
and then gathered them both into his arms.
|
|
"Hello, little one," she said to the infant. At the sound of
|
|
her voice, the baby stopped crying. Gravely, mother and daughter
|
|
regarded each other. Picard was struck be the resemblance, already
|
|
apparent; the baby had her mother's red hair, and a faintly
|
|
doubtful look he knew very well indeed. The baby yawned a solemn
|
|
hello, blinking tiredly after her eventful day. Beverly kissed
|
|
the tiny head. And then they both fell asleep.
|
|
|
|
"Good morning, sir. How's Jackie?" Riker asked.
|
|
The Captain looked at him wearily, slinking tiredly into his
|
|
chair. "She's fine, Number One, but her mother and I could use
|
|
some sleep." He pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his
|
|
nose and bit back an obvious yawn. "You'd think after three months,
|
|
she'd be sleeping through the night. But she seems to think
|
|
'nighttime' is for grown-ups only." Then he fixed his First
|
|
Officer with a speculative eye. "I don't suppose I could
|
|
persuade you to babysit, could I?"
|
|
Riker looked more frightened than if Picard had just suggested
|
|
that he take on a Menthalion razortooth singlehanded. "Sorry, sir.
|
|
I'm just not good with infants."
|
|
Picard smiled ruefully. "I didn't think I was, either - until
|
|
I had one."
|
|
"How's Beverly?" Deanna asked softly from Picard's other side.
|
|
As always, the mere thought of his wife bought a smile to
|
|
Picard's lips. "Fine. Tired. A little temperamental. I think
|
|
she's going stir-crazy, with only the baby and me for company and
|
|
no work to distract her."
|
|
"How long before she goes back on duty?" Riker asked.
|
|
"A few more weeks. Selar's doing a good job as acting CMO,
|
|
but it'll be good to have Beverly back at her post." He grinned.
|
|
"Although my annual physical is overdue, and I somehow think I'm
|
|
going to hear about it."
|
|
Deanna smiled. "I was planning to visit her later."
|
|
"Do that. She'll be thrilled for some company besides her
|
|
grouchy old husband and a cranky infant."
|
|
Deanna laughed.
|
|
|
|
From tactical, Worf listened with disapproval. Since the
|
|
Captain and Dr. Crusher had married, the tenor of the ship had
|
|
changed. Everyone was... well, so *happy*. And since the birth of
|
|
their daughter, things seemed to revolve around families and
|
|
booties and baby-clothes.
|
|
Of course, on a Klingon ship, there would be no families. A
|
|
warrior could concentrate on a warrior's business, without the
|
|
distraction of children underfoot.
|
|
Worf frowned. No children underfoot also meant no Alexander.
|
|
And, troublesome though the boy was, Worf loved his son. Having
|
|
the boy around was worth some inconvenience.
|
|
Besides, the little girl was cute, in a human sort of way.
|
|
Perhaps after she got older, talk centered around her would die
|
|
down and things would get back to normal.
|
|
He could hope, anyway.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Deanna, please come in," Beverly said, looking enormously
|
|
relieved.
|
|
"Hello, Beverly. The Captain said you might like some
|
|
company."
|
|
Beverly smiled. "That was nice of him. He's right; I'm
|
|
getting a little bored. Just a second, I'll get us some tea."
|
|
Quickly she crossed the room and ordered two Darjeelings -
|
|
Deanna felt an amused twinge at Beverly's private rebellion - and
|
|
some cookies.
|
|
"So, what's happening on the ship these days?" Beverly
|
|
asked, placing the food between them.
|
|
Deanna was unable to hide her surprise. "Hasn't the captain
|
|
told you?"
|
|
"Not beyond a need-to-know basis. I know that we're still
|
|
searching for the Romulans, that they're still being elusive, and
|
|
that two more planets have been destroyed in the meantime. He
|
|
won't tell me anything beyond that. We'd scheduled some leave
|
|
time after Jackie was born, but of course the situation changed
|
|
all that. He still wants me to enjoy the last few days of *my*
|
|
leave, though, and he's worried that I might get upset about the
|
|
way things are going, throw on my uniform, and go marching up to
|
|
the bridge to fix things." She laughed. "He's probably right."
|
|
"Then maybe I shouldn't say anything, either."
|
|
"No, please, talk to me. I love Jackie, but at this point
|
|
it's a relief to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with
|
|
someone that doesn't require diapers."
|
|
Deanna laughed. "Well, as you said, we're still searching for
|
|
the Romulan ships. Geordi thinks he's come up with a way to detect
|
|
them even if they're cloaked - he presented the method at the staff
|
|
meeting, but I didn't understand very much of it, to be honest. I
|
|
don't think *anybody* did, except Data. Something about enhanced
|
|
tachyons and compressed quantum singularities. But anyway, we
|
|
haven't found anything. So mostly, we're just patrolling the area
|
|
and waiting." She thought of her long hours on the bridge and
|
|
smiled ruefully. "You really haven't missed anything."
|
|
"Which explains why Jean-Luc has been so impatient lately,"
|
|
Beverly concluded. "He doesn't like sitting on a time-bomb."
|
|
"Probably."
|
|
The two women sipped their tea in companionable silence,
|
|
which was interrupted by a baby's cry from the other room.
|
|
"Lunch time," Beverly explained, jumping up from her seat.
|
|
Deanna watched with some envy as Beverly nursed her tiny
|
|
daughter, discreetly shielded by a soft blue blanket - one of
|
|
the doctor's purchases at 39-Sierra, Deanna recalled. "It must be
|
|
wonderful, having a child of your own to hold," she said.
|
|
Beverly smiled softly. "It is. I'd forgotten how much fun
|
|
it is to have a baby - lots of work, though," she added,
|
|
shifting the child to her shoulder.
|
|
"Let me." Deanna took the willingly-proffered baby into her
|
|
arms, cradling her gently against her shoulder and patting the
|
|
little back.
|
|
Beverly watched them with mysterious eyes. "You should try
|
|
that with one of your own."
|
|
Deanna laughed wistfully. "Not me. Betazoids and Klingons
|
|
aren't genetically compatible, and the idea of engineering a child
|
|
just seems - well, a lot less fun than just... making one."
|
|
The doctor nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, you have
|
|
my number."
|
|
Deanna shifted the baby down to her lap. "When are you going
|
|
back on duty?" she asked, adjusting Jackie's dress.
|
|
"Next week. I'm really looking forward to it, but I have to
|
|
admit, it'll be hard leaving Jackie every morning." She stroked
|
|
the little head affectionately.
|
|
Then the ship rocked beneath them.
|
|
|
|
"Mr. Worf, aim phasers and fire!" Picard bellowed, leaping to
|
|
his feet.
|
|
"Aye, sir!" Worf complied instantly.
|
|
Picard watched the viewscreen, anxiously searching for any
|
|
signs of damage. Streaks of energy ripped away from the
|
|
__Enterprise__ and tore toward the suspected location of the
|
|
enemy ships.
|
|
From the apparently empty space in front of him, three
|
|
explosions occurred. Two struck the port ship, which detonated
|
|
immediately; the other was hit only once, and the _Enterprise_
|
|
personnel could see its struggles to maintain its position.
|
|
"One enemy ship destroyed," Worf announced unnecessarily from
|
|
above. "Sensors indicate significant damage to the second ship."
|
|
"Is there a third?"
|
|
Worf adjusted his sensors slightly. "Yes. It lies
|
|
approximately three hundred kilometers off our starboard bow." The
|
|
console bleeped at him. "Sir, they are hailing us."
|
|
"On screen."
|
|
Instantly, the indignant face of a Romulan general filled the
|
|
screen. "What is the meaning of this?!" he roared.
|
|
Picard's jaws clenched. Tightly, he said, "This is Federation
|
|
territory, sir. If you fire on a Starfleet vessel, you may expect
|
|
us to return the favor."
|
|
The Romulan responded with icy fury. "We are defending
|
|
Romulan territory! Do you expect us to stand by and do nothing
|
|
while the Federation pulls inhabited planets out of orbit? Do you
|
|
think we will not defend our people?"
|
|
Picard felt a surge of indignation that the Romulans
|
|
would accuse them of such things, and then the significance of that
|
|
statement slammed into him. "What?" he asked, feeling the blood
|
|
drain away from his face.
|
|
The general leaned forward accusingly. "In the past seven
|
|
months, six Romulan planets have been ripped out of their proper
|
|
orbits and destroyed - all in this quadrant, all bordering
|
|
Federation territory. Over seventeen billion people have been
|
|
killed. Did you really think you could get by with such an
|
|
atrocity?"
|
|
Picard stared at him. "Sir, I must inform you that five
|
|
Federation planets have been destroyed in this manner as well."
|
|
The General snorted contemptuously. "Do you really expect me
|
|
to believe you?"
|
|
"What you believe or don't believe is not the point," Picard
|
|
said, making a determined effort to keep his temper. "I will
|
|
transmit the information now, if you'll receive it."
|
|
The Romulan regarded him suspiciously, but Picard thought he
|
|
saw the faintest gleam of curiousity behind the other's dark
|
|
expression. His eyes narrowed. "Very well. Let us see if you can
|
|
substantiate these - rumors."
|
|
With a gesture, Picard ordered Worf to transmit the
|
|
informtaion. The Klingon obeyed just as quickly as he had before,
|
|
but with considerably less enthusiasm. Worf would rather fight the
|
|
Romulans than talk to them.
|
|
The general leaned forward, studying the materials now
|
|
flashing across his viewscreen. When he looked up again, much of
|
|
his anger had melted away. "It appears we have a common
|
|
problem," he said.
|
|
"I've reached much the same conclusion," Picard agreed.
|
|
"Would you agree to meet with me and my staff aboard the
|
|
__Enterprise__, General -?"
|
|
"Valok," the Romulan supplied. "And you, of course, are
|
|
Jean-Luc Picard. Your reputation preceeds you, Captain."
|
|
Picard nodded tersely. "Will you come aboard, General Valok?
|
|
It seems we have much to discuss."
|
|
"It does indeed," said the Romulan. He considered it. "Very
|
|
well. I and two of my aides will come aboard your ship. Valok
|
|
out."
|
|
"Worf, go greet them. Bring them up to the observation
|
|
lounge." Worf headed toward the turbolift, but not before giving
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his captain a displeased stare. Picard sighed and tapped his
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combadge. "Picard to Troi."
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"Yes, Captain?" came the Counselor's pleasant voice.
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"Would you please report to the observation lounge? I think
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your services might be required."
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"Of course, sir."
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There was a moment's silence before Beverly's voice came over
|
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the link. "Jean-Luc, is there anything I-?"
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"Not now, doctor," Picard said, more harshly than he'd
|
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intended. Cold fear washed over him as he suddenly realized that
|
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the lives of his wife and daughter had been in serious danger, and
|
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only the Fate Riker claimed watched over ships named __Enterprise__ had
|
|
saved them. That, and Geordi's extraordinary engineering
|
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abilities, abilities that had enabled them to detect the Romulans
|
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before it was too late.
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He swallowed heavily, trying to conceal his sudden trembling.
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"Number One, you have the bridge," he said to his First Officer,
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and retreated to the observation lounge to calm his nerves before
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Valok and his aides arrived.
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
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araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
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Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!tadpole.com!uunet!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
|
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From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: Aftershock, part (5/8?)
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Date: 21 Feb 1995 04:50:26 GMT
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Organization: Division of Information Technology
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Lines: 216
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Message-ID: <3ibrei$cf5@news.doit.wisc.edu>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-189.net.wisc.edu
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X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6305
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Hi all!
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Sorry for the delay. My computer and I were experiencing
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creative difficulties.
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Disclaimer #1: This story is for hopeless romatics and by a hopeless
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romantic. If you like subtle intrigue, lots of action, etc., you're
|
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in for a big disappointment - particularly in this section. :)
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Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, every place, and every
|
|
thing mentioned in this story lock, stock, and barrel. I'm still
|
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responsible for the story itself.
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Happy reading!
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AFTERSHOCK
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part 5
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Lieutenant Commander Data was having a bad day.
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Things began to go wrong the moment the Romulan ships
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decloaked. Since the launching of the _Enterprise-E_, no one had
|
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had the temerity to actually fire on the Federation flagship. The
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destruction of the _Enterprise-D_ notwithstanding, Data had begun
|
|
to feel safe and secure on board its successor.
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Then there were the Romulans themselves. Though he'd had
|
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interactions with their race in the past, he hadn't realized they
|
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were quite so... aggravating. Their arrogance, their
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condescension toward a species that Data had always admired - well,
|
|
it set his teeth on edge.
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And to top it all off, after somehow persuading General Valok
|
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and his aides that the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire faced
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a common threat, Captain Picard had laid the problem of *defining*
|
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that threat squarely in Data's lap. He'd looked forward to a nice,
|
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quiet evening in his quarters, practicing his violin or playing
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with Spot's latest batch of kittens, but that would have to be
|
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postponed now.
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He sighed heavily.
|
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"Something wrong, Data?"
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Commander Riker stood just down the corridor, a sympathetic
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grin on his face. Data grinned back, ruefully.
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"No, sir. I was merely lamenting the fact that my evening
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will not be spent as I intended."
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Riker's grinned broadened. "Just think how the Captain feels.
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He's got to inform Starfleet Command that they were *wrong* about
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the Romulans - and you know how Starfleet Command feels about being
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wrong about anything. And *then* he's got to go home to his
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wife."
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For a moment, Data was puzzled. Returning to one's spouse was
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generally considered to be a pleasant experience, particularly when
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there was a young child at home.
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Then he remembered the scene on the bridge.
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"Oh, dear," he said.
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"My thoughts exactly," Riker said, giving Data a
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conspiratorial thump on the shoulder. "The bachelor life for me,
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my friend." And then he headed off down the corridor.
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Data, for his part, resumed course toward the science lab.
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Suddenly, an evening spent with the computer didn't seem so bad.
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Captain Picard sighed and pushed his fingers against his weary
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eyes. Taking another sip of his Earl Grey, he continued his entry:
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"The Romulans finally agreed to accept us at our word, and
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acknowledge that we have a common problem. They have returned to
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their surviving ship, requesting time to brief their government."
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He took another sip of his tea. "Computer, encode and send to
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Admiral Alynna Nechayev, priority one."
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The bleep of the computer blended smoothly with the chime at
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his door.
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"Come," he called.
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The door opened and Commander Troi walked in. "Good evening,
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Captain," she said pleasantly.
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"Commander," he replied, remembering that Troi often took the
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delta shift to facilitate her other duties as ship's counselor.
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"Work about done?" she asked.
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He nodded tersely. "Only just."
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"Good. Then I can tell you to go home."
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He was somewhat taken aback by the firmness of her tone.
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"I'd advise you to go home at once, Captain," she said, and
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this time there was no mistaking the command in her voice.
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"Beverly was quite upset after she tried to contact you."
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For a moment, he could only stare at her. Then he said, "Oh,
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|
dear."
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"Precisely."
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"Was she terribly angry?" he asked meekly.
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Deanna smiled reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry about it *too*
|
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much. It's only natural to react with anger when someone you love
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has been threatened. However, given Beverly's particular
|
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temperament, it might not be wise to let it fester."
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He was already on the turbolift when he heard Deanna say,
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"Good night, Captain."
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Although it was very late, he'd hoped Beverly might be up,
|
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waiting for him. But the lights in the main cabin were out and the
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windows darkened, a sure sign that she'd turned in for the night -
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and that she was angry with him. For a brief moment, Jean-Luc
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Picard, who had faced down countless enemies, endured a multitude
|
|
of attacks, and survived more than one "Captain Picard Day", seriously
|
|
considered spending the night on his ready room couch. Then a soft
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baby's gurgle came from the bedroom; he sighed and headed in that
|
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direction.
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Beverly was sound asleep, their infant daughter playing on the
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bed beside her. Picard watched them a moment, delighting in the
|
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scene before him. Once, he'd never dreamed he'd share a home and a
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life with the former Beverly Crusher. Now, she lay peacefully on
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their bed, their child playing contentedly beside her.
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Jackie's head turned toward him as he approached. She gurgled
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once, regarding him gravely for a moment before returning to the
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serious matter of trying to stuff her toes into her mouth.
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He crossed to the bed and sat down beside his wife, studying
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her sleeping face. Never had he seen her so tired as she had since
|
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Jackie's birth, but he'd never seen her so happy, either. She was
|
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so precious to him. And their little girl, Jackie... He rubbed
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her little tummy and was rewarded by a delighted smile and what
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might have been a giggle. The thought of what might happen to them
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twisted his heart.
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Slowly, tenderly, he leaned forward to kiss Beverly's cheek.
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He hadn't wanted to wake her, only to reassure himself that she was
|
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there, real, warm and safe in their bed with their infant daughter
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playing in her arms. But she came awake at his touch, reluctantly
|
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blinking the sleep out of her weary eyes.
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"Jean-Luc...?" she asked vaguely, looking around as if she
|
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were faintly disoriented. "Wha -?"
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"Shhh. Go back to sleep," he whispered, caressing her arm.
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"I just wanted to reassure myself that you and Jackie are all
|
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right."
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She pushed herself upright and pushed the hair out of her
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eyes, blinking at him in confusion. "We're fine," she said. "Why
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wouldn't we be?"
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"The attack..." he began.
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"Oh, the attack," she repeated, and then remembered that she
|
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was angry with him. Her gaze swung into focus. "And what did you
|
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mean, just clipping me off like that? Just because I'm your wife,
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you don't have to answer my questions anymore? I'll be Chief
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Medical Officer again pretty soon, and you'd better not interrupt
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me like that *then*, or-"
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He stopped her by planting a firm kiss on her lips. He
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slipped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close,
|
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stroking her hair tenderly.
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"Jean-Luc, what's wrong?" she asked. All trace of her anger
|
|
was gone, replaced by compassion and concern.
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"It's just... hearing your voice made me realize what
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might've happened... how you and Jackie might've been killed by my
|
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actions. It frightened me. I've never had so much to lose before,
|
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not even with Nella Daren..."
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He cursed himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
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The flash of pain in her eyes was unmistakable. Weakly, he smiled
|
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for her. "I'd forgotten how difficult it is to have someone I love
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under my command."
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Jackie squirmed, and Beverly laid a tender hand against the
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baby's downy head. "You've put me at risk before," she reminded
|
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him softly.
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He looked at her, saw the tears pressing against the backs of
|
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her eyes, felt her grief and pain as his own. He reached out and
|
|
cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "But never as my
|
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wife," he pointed out. "I'd never admitted to myself how much
|
|
putting you at risk bothered me, how empty I'd feel if anything
|
|
ever happened to you. Those others... they were all just affairs,
|
|
empty and meaningless in the long run. But you... you're so much
|
|
a part of me, I don't even know where I end and you begin anymore.
|
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I can't imagine my life without you in it - and Jackie," he added,
|
|
feeling a thump against his thigh as the baby stretched. He
|
|
reached down and lifted her up, holding her tightly against his
|
|
heart. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to either of
|
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you," he said.
|
|
Beverly only looked at him. Finally, she said, "I wish I knew
|
|
what to say. We both knew that there were risks when we entered
|
|
Starfleet; we just never realized we might be risking each other."
|
|
Startled, he turned from his contemplation of his daughter to
|
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stare into her eyes. Yes, she was right: he was as much at risk
|
|
as she. His position didn't require him to beam down to unfamiliar
|
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planets, didn't ask that he expose himself to all sorts of unknown
|
|
disease or pestilence, but his life was in danger, too. Starfleet
|
|
life was exciting, stimulating, invigorating - anything but safe.
|
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Jackie grabbed a handful of her father's shirt and earnestly
|
|
attempted to stuff it into her mouth.
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"I think she's hungry," he said, passing the infant back into
|
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Beverly's arms.
|
|
"She shouldn't be. I'd just been feeding her when you came
|
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in."
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"I think you'd been asleep for some time, actually."
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"Mmm."
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Picard reached out and rubbed Beverly's neck, delighting in
|
|
the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, while Jackie slurped
|
|
happily in her mother's arms. Slowly, she leaned against him, and
|
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gently Picard cradled his wife and daughter against his heart.
|
|
"I guess we've made up," Beverly concluded as Jackie finished
|
|
her meal. She lowered the infant to her knees and readjusted her
|
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nightgown.
|
|
"I guess so," Jean-Luc agreed, kissing her neck.
|
|
"Stop that," Beverly chuckled, pushing him gently away. The
|
|
expression she turned toward him was serious. "Jean-Luc, this won't
|
|
be the last time we have to face this problem."
|
|
"I know," he said.
|
|
"So what are we going to do about it?"
|
|
He shrugged. "I don't think there's anything we *can* do about
|
|
it. We'll just have to face each situation as it arises, and try
|
|
to remember above all else that we love each other."
|
|
She smiled at him, her face suddenly warm and inviting.
|
|
"That's true," she said, leaning forward and kissing him
|
|
passionately.
|
|
Jackie cooed with delight.
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
|
|
araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
|
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|
|
|
|
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!post.its.mcw.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
|
|
From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
|
|
Subject: Aftershock, part (6/8)
|
|
Date: 25 Feb 1995 05:44:13 GMT
|
|
Organization: Division of Information Technology
|
|
Lines: 306
|
|
Message-ID: <3img3d$dp5@news.doit.wisc.edu>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-110.net.wisc.edu
|
|
X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
|
|
Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6508
|
|
|
|
Disclaimer #1: This story is by a hopeless romantic, and for hopeless
|
|
romantics. If you are not one, this is not the story for you.
|
|
|
|
Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, place, and thing mentioned
|
|
in this story. The story itself, for good or ill, belongs to me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AFTERSHOCK
|
|
|
|
part 6
|
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|
|
|
|
Jean-Luc Picard awakened with a smile on his face. His wife
|
|
lay curled close beside him, her long red hair spilling softly
|
|
across his chest. Deeply content, he reached out and gathered her
|
|
into his arms.
|
|
She sighed and woke up. "Good morning, darling."
|
|
"Good morning." He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled
|
|
against him. The weight of her head on his shoulder was warm and
|
|
reassuring, comforting in the midst of so much uncertainty. Her
|
|
hand rested lightly against his chest, absently tracing little
|
|
circles with her fingers.
|
|
"I go on duty in an hour," he said. "I have to brief General
|
|
Valok."
|
|
She sighed. "I know."
|
|
"Beverly -"
|
|
Something in his tone must have warned her; she withdrew her
|
|
hand and shifted so that she could meet his eyes. "What?"
|
|
"Beverly - I know you've enjoyed some time off, taking care of
|
|
Jackie, but... I don't suppose you'd be willing to come back on
|
|
duty a little early?"
|
|
She sat up and stared at him incredulously. "You really mean
|
|
it?"
|
|
"I do. Something about this whole situation just strikes me
|
|
as... well, *wrong*. I can't put my finger on anything and say
|
|
'this is what's bothering me', but I feel the need to be prepared
|
|
for any eventuality. I want this ship's Chief Medical Officer to
|
|
be the best there is. Dr. Selar's done an excellent job, but,
|
|
well, she's not you."
|
|
Beverly's smile was radiant. "When do I start?" she asked.
|
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|
Data sighed.
|
|
"How's it going, Data?" Geordi asked, entering the lab with a
|
|
steaming mug of coffee in his hands.
|
|
Data turned to look up at his friend. "Not well, I am afraid.
|
|
I believe I am experiencing a new emotion."
|
|
"And what would you call this new emotion?"
|
|
"I believe it is frustration."
|
|
"I see." Geordi took another sip of his coffee. "Then the
|
|
question is: what are you going to do about it?"
|
|
Data frowned. "In the past, I have often analyzed the
|
|
reactions of my friends and colleagues. Captain Picard, for
|
|
instance, most typically responds to a frustrating situation by
|
|
maintaining an icy reserve. Dr. Picard, on the other hand,
|
|
exhibits a disconcerting tendency to shout. Commander Riker
|
|
swears, Counselor Troi employs Betazoid mind-relaxation techniques,
|
|
and Worf kills graphic incarnations on the holodeck. However, I
|
|
have decided to employ *your* particular methodology."
|
|
"And that is?" There was no mistaking the amusement in the
|
|
engineer's voice.
|
|
"I have decided to forge ahead, as it were, and not relent
|
|
until my goal has been accomplished."
|
|
Geordi finished his coffee and set the empty mug in the
|
|
disposal. "That's very flattering, Data. But in the end, you're
|
|
going to have to find your own way to deal with these - more
|
|
turbulent -emotions."
|
|
Data nodded. "I know. But you have a lifetime of feelings to
|
|
draw upon, and human intuition to guide you. I possess neither of
|
|
those qualities."
|
|
Geordi shook his head. "All right, Data. Whatever works.
|
|
Now, what's causing your frustration?"
|
|
The android swivelled back toward the computer display. "The
|
|
Captain has asked me to find the cause of the destruction of the
|
|
Romulan and Federation planets. Despite my best attempts, I have
|
|
been unable to do that."
|
|
"Well, what have you found so far?"
|
|
"Very little." He called up a different image, this one a map
|
|
of the sector, displaying all relevant systems. "The planets
|
|
destroyed are of no particular strategic or economic importance,
|
|
beyond that they all lie near the Neutral Zone. Most were simply
|
|
colonies, two were scientific outposts, and one a recreational
|
|
outpost for Romulan Senators."
|
|
Geordi frowned, peering closely at the screen. "What about
|
|
the *order* in which they were destroyed? Maybe there's a pattern
|
|
here, something we can chart, and then predict where it'll happen
|
|
next."
|
|
Data entered a few commands, connecting the planets in
|
|
sequential order. What was revealed most closely resembled Spot's
|
|
favorite strand of yarn: tangled inextricably, and with no
|
|
particular pattern.
|
|
"Well, so much for that theory," Geordi sighed.
|
|
"I, too, discarded that possibility. Then it occurred to me
|
|
that perhaps it was some aspect of the planets themselves which
|
|
enabled these disasters. But I can find only one commonality:
|
|
they all contain a core of ferrous metal."
|
|
"Iron, eh?" Geordi tapped his teeth thoughtfully. "What
|
|
about the magnetic flux?"
|
|
Data raised an eyebrow. Quickly, he called up the
|
|
information. "The magnetic flux of each planet displays a small
|
|
but significant disruption."
|
|
"Enough to change a planet's orbit?"
|
|
"Enough to shift the planet a few degrees," Data confirmed.
|
|
"Yes, that would be sufficient."
|
|
"Well then." Geordi leaned forward, studying the display with
|
|
an almost palpable intensity. "What could cause that?"
|
|
"No known natural phenomenon has such an effect." He paused,
|
|
considering. "However, these patterns are reminiscent of an older
|
|
method of propulsion, discarded by the Federation in 2132. It
|
|
involved using magnetic resonance to fuel the warp drive. The
|
|
project was quickly abandoned, however. It was deemed erratic,
|
|
unpredictable, inefficient, and unstable."
|
|
Geordi pointed to the sector map again. "That looks pretty
|
|
unpredictable to me."
|
|
Data sat shock-still for a moment, and then his fingers began
|
|
to fly over the console.
|
|
"What are you doing, Data?"
|
|
"If I am right, I will soon have a possible explanation to
|
|
offer Captain Picard."
|
|
|
|
It felt good to be in uniform again, Beverly Picard decided as
|
|
she finished brushing her hair. She loved her family beyond words,
|
|
but somehow being a full-time wife and mother wasn't enough. She
|
|
needed to get back to her duties.
|
|
She emerged from the bedroom to find her husband finishing
|
|
breakfast preparations, trying to balance two coffee mugs, a plate
|
|
of croissants, a bottle of milk, and Jackie - all in one arm. The
|
|
other was laden with Jackie's favorite blanket, diapers, and a
|
|
stuffed bunny.
|
|
"Here, let me help you with that," she chuckled, coming across
|
|
the room to gather her daughter into her arms. "You don't need to
|
|
do everything all at once, you know."
|
|
His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "You look wonderful.
|
|
I'd forgotten how good that uniform looks on you."
|
|
She could feel a faint blush warming her cheeks. "Is that an
|
|
appropriate remark from the Captain of this ship to his Chief
|
|
Medical Officer?" she asked teasingly.
|
|
"Probably not," he admitted. "But it *is* an appropriate
|
|
observation from a devoted husband."
|
|
She laughed lightly and set Jackie in her chair. "Flattery
|
|
will get you everywhere, Captain."
|
|
Their playful banter was interrupted by the chime of the door.
|
|
"Come," they called as one.
|
|
The doors slid aside to reveal Deanna Troi, looking more than
|
|
just a little stressed after her night on the bridge. "Oh, good
|
|
morning, Captain," she said, sounding a little surprised to see him
|
|
there. "I thought you'd be on the bridge."
|
|
"Not quite yet," he admitted. Then, shooting a teasing glance
|
|
at Beverly, he said, "My wife had other plans for me this morning."
|
|
"Oh." Deanna shifted her weight slightly, obviously unwilling
|
|
to interrupt what she thought she was interrupting. "I was just
|
|
wondering if you'd be willing to let me borrow Jackie for the
|
|
morning. I'd like to take her for a stroll in the arboretum."
|
|
"Sure," Beverly Picard replied. "She needs a babysitter
|
|
anyway."
|
|
"Babysitter?" Deanna asked, and then realized that the doctor
|
|
was in uniform. "Going back on duty?"
|
|
"By order of the Captain," she replied, giving Jean-Luc a
|
|
tender smile. "Seems he wants his staff back in place to deal with
|
|
this new threat."
|
|
"A sensible decision," Deanna said. "I can take the baby,
|
|
then?"
|
|
"Absolutely. Just let me get her things."
|
|
"She likes to be cuddled," she heard him tell Deanna, lifting
|
|
his daughter out of her highchair and demonstrating. "She's just
|
|
been fed; she'll probably take a nap fairly soon. But she's in a
|
|
good mood this morning; you're lucky."
|
|
Deanna received the baby into her arms with a curious
|
|
expression on her face. "In some ways," she said softly.
|
|
|
|
"That's it!" Geordi La Forge exclaimed excitedly. "Data,
|
|
you've found it!"
|
|
"This is merely the most likely explanation," Data replied
|
|
calmly, though a broad smile illumed his face. "I could be wrong."
|
|
Geordi wasn't listening. "It's the only explanation that
|
|
covers everything. Data, you did it!" He slapped the android on
|
|
the back, then wished he hadn't. Data's back was considerably more
|
|
solid than the human equivalent.
|
|
Data continued to look skeptical. "It is certainly possible,"
|
|
he agreed finally. "Now the question is: how will the Captain
|
|
take the news?"
|
|
|
|
The air of the arboretum was cool and refreshing, a pleasant
|
|
change from the tensions of the bridge. Unfortunately, her three
|
|
companions were less appreciative than she, and Deanna was
|
|
beginning to wish that she hadn't thought it up.
|
|
That was when things began to go seriously wrong.
|
|
|
|
"An *accident*?" the Captain demanded incredulously.
|
|
"That is correct, sir," Data replied, so calmly that for a
|
|
moment Geordi wondered if the android hadn't removed his emotion
|
|
chip for this encounter. "It seems that someone as yet
|
|
unidentified has developed a warp drive similar to one discarded by
|
|
the Federation many years ago. The primitive nature of this warp
|
|
drive suggests that this may be their first attempt at interstellar
|
|
travel. Further, the pathway of the destruction is erratic and
|
|
unpredictable, suggesting that the ship is no longer under the
|
|
strict control of its occupants."
|
|
"An accident?" Captain Picard repeated. "Nine planets
|
|
destroyed, billions of people killed, and you're telling me it's
|
|
all because of some colossal *mistake*?"
|
|
"Actually, it's kind of surprising this sort of thing doesn't
|
|
happen more often," Geordi put in. "Achieving interplanetary
|
|
travel is a difficult thing, and sometimes we really don't know the
|
|
long-term consequences. I mean, look at how recently we discovered
|
|
that our own warp technology is damaging the fabric of the
|
|
universe. If we're encountering a new culture just venturing out
|
|
into space...."
|
|
Picard's face remained calm, but Geordi knew him well enough
|
|
to see the thunder behind his eyes. "Can we track them?"
|
|
Data considered. "A warp technology employing magnetic fields
|
|
would leave a residual trace in the surrounding subspace. A minor
|
|
modification of our forward sensors should enable us to follow
|
|
their trail."
|
|
For a moment, the Captain simply sat there. His expression
|
|
did not change in the slightest, but Geordi had the impression that
|
|
he was making a determined effort to get his temper under control.
|
|
Then he nodded tersely.
|
|
"Make it so," he said.
|
|
|
|
Beverly Picard was in sickbay, going about her duties as Chief
|
|
Medical Officer of the _Enterprise_. She tried not to smile in
|
|
delight as she tended the minor hurts and ailments of the crew;
|
|
they might mistake her joviality for a lack of respect for their
|
|
injuries, instead of her joy at being back where she belonged.
|
|
She recognized Jackie's outraged wails well before the doors
|
|
hissed open. Beverly winced; her daughter had a powerful set of
|
|
lungs, and was showing signs of developing the legendary Howard
|
|
temper.
|
|
The doors opened to admit a haggard-looking Deanna Troi,
|
|
wearing an expression that said she wished she was anywhere but
|
|
here. There was mud splattered on her pink pantsuit, and twigs
|
|
tangled in her hair.
|
|
Beverly raised an eyebrow, but she wasn't quite finished with
|
|
her patient yet. Quickly, she finished healing the sprained ankle,
|
|
then fixed the young ensign with a stern glare. "Next time, young
|
|
man, I'd advise you to program a few less boulders into the river.
|
|
White water rafting can be dangerous, and next time it might not be
|
|
so easy to fix."
|
|
The ensign grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
|
|
He gave her a cocky salute - an outdated gesture if ever there
|
|
was one - and slipped down from the biobed. Beverly pocketed her
|
|
tricorder and crossed the room to her screaming daughter.
|
|
"Now, what seems to be the trouble here?" she asked, gathering
|
|
the disgruntled baby into her arms. She kissed the tiny head,
|
|
bouncing the baby slightly to quiet her. "Hush, Jackie. There's
|
|
nothing wrong with you."
|
|
"No, she's fine," said Deanna wearily. "*I'm* about ready to
|
|
jump off the port nacelle, but Jackie's fine."
|
|
Beverly flashed her an amused glance and indicated her office
|
|
with a nod of her head. "Why don't you come in and tell me about
|
|
it?"
|
|
Deanna followed her into the office and flopped
|
|
unceremoniously unto the consultation couch. "Ugh. I don't even
|
|
know where to start."
|
|
"Don't be stuffy," Beverly said, patting her daughter's back
|
|
comfortingly. "Start at the middle and work outward."
|
|
Deanna did. "I should have known things would go wrong when
|
|
Worf started grunting," she admitted ruefully.
|
|
"Grunting?"
|
|
"You know." She produced a fair imitation of Worf's unhappy
|
|
grumbling. "He wouldn't talk to me. And then Alexander fell into
|
|
the pond -"
|
|
"That's how you got mud all over you, I assume."
|
|
"- and I gave Jackie to Worf so that I could clean Alexander
|
|
up, and Worf held her like she was an arboreal death adder, or some
|
|
other venomous creature."
|
|
Beverly couldn't help smiling at the image. "I can see how
|
|
Jackie wouldn't appreciate that."
|
|
"It's not funny, Beverly," Deanna told her seriously.
|
|
"I'm sure it's not," she agreed, chuckling.
|
|
"You," Deanna told her, "are no help at all."
|
|
"Deanna," said Beverly, laying a reassuring hand on her
|
|
friend's arm. "Don't be so upset. Jackie wasn't permanently
|
|
damaged, and as far as I can see, the only thing you did wrong was
|
|
handing her to Worf in the first place. Didn't you know that Worf
|
|
dislikes babies?"
|
|
"I do now." Deanna sighed wistfully. "It'll be a long time
|
|
before I try anything like that again."
|
|
Beverly shifted the baby in her lap. "Well, you're off duty
|
|
now, so you can go back to your quarters and sleep. You'll feel
|
|
better after that."
|
|
"Mmm. That's really not fair, you know."
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"That." With one accusing finger, she pointed to the baby,
|
|
who was now playing happily in her mother's arms. "Do you have any
|
|
idea how hard I tried to calm her down?"
|
|
Beverly laughed. "A mother's touch, I suppose."
|
|
"Well, I think I'll go back to my quarters and take a nap.
|
|
This day hasn't started out too well; maybe I'd better give it
|
|
another try."
|
|
At the moment, the Captain's voice came over the intercom.
|
|
"Senior officers, please report to the bridge."
|
|
Deanna sighed. "Well, so much for that nap."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
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|
|
Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
|
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araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
|
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|
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Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!post.its.mcw.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
|
|
From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
|
|
Subject: Aftershock, part (7/8)
|
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Date: 25 Feb 1995 05:51:25 GMT
|
|
Organization: Division of Information Technology
|
|
Lines: 292
|
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Message-ID: <3imggt$dp5@news.doit.wisc.edu>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-110.net.wisc.edu
|
|
X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
|
|
Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6510
|
|
|
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I don't know about the rest of you, but some of this came as a surprise
|
|
to me. :)
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|
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Disclaimer #1: The hopeless romantic stuff again.
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Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, place, and thing mentioned
|
|
in this story.
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AFTERSHOCK
|
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part 7
|
|
|
|
|
|
The _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp in a dazzling display of
|
|
light and color, perfectly paralleling the movements of the Romulan bird
|
|
of prey flanking her.
|
|
The atmosphere on the bridge was strained, to say the least.
|
|
The Captain held his chin in his fist, his brow furrowed and his
|
|
jaw clamped tightly shut. Riker sat leaning forward, hands braced
|
|
against his knees like a cat ready to spring. From tactical, Worf
|
|
glowered over them all, a silent and foreboding sentinel.
|
|
Quickly, Troi crossed the bridge and sat down; Beverly, after
|
|
a worried glance at her husband, took a position just beyond Riker.
|
|
"What's going on?" Deanna asked quietly.
|
|
"We're tracking the enemy ship," Riker answered.
|
|
"Alien ship detected," Data announced. "Fifty billion
|
|
kilometers and closing." He entered a few more commands. "Coming
|
|
into range visual range now."
|
|
"On screen." The Captain rose to his feet, tugging his jacket
|
|
into place.
|
|
A breathtaking field of stars spread out before them,
|
|
perforated by a small ship veering wildly from its course, if
|
|
indeed it had a course at all. It zigged and zagged erratically,
|
|
sometimes even looping through its own path, lurching forward at
|
|
warp speed one moment, and shuddering to an almost-halt the next.
|
|
Deanna felt sickened. The waves of hopelessness, of despair,
|
|
of fear, emanating from that ship were almost overwhelming. She
|
|
carefully raised her mental barriers, and the waves receded.
|
|
"Captain-" she began.
|
|
He didn't hear her. "Is there anybody even *piloting* that
|
|
thing?" he asked, lurching to his feet.
|
|
Data frowned at his console. "Sensors indicate fifty-two
|
|
life-forms aboard the alien vessel," he confirmed. "More than
|
|
that, I cannot say."
|
|
"Captain -" Deanna began again, and then his attention was
|
|
consumed by other matters.
|
|
|
|
"Sir, the Romulan bird of prey is powering up their forward
|
|
disrupter array," Worf announced from tactical.
|
|
"At us?" He couldn't believe it. Why now, when they were so
|
|
close to solving this mystery?
|
|
"No, sir. At the alien ship."
|
|
Picard bit back an angry curse. "Hail them."
|
|
Worf tried. "They are not responding."
|
|
"Disrupters are at a sufficient intensity to completely
|
|
annihilate the alien ship," Data said.
|
|
Picard clenched his jaw, fervently hoping that his next
|
|
decision was the right one. "Mr. Worf, aim photons at the Romulan
|
|
weapons banks and fire."
|
|
"Aye, sir," Worf replied with a great deal of satisfaction.
|
|
Bursts of energy ripped away from the _Enterprise_ and
|
|
impacted with dreadful beauty against the Romulan ship.
|
|
"Weapons systems destroyed, sir," Worf announced.
|
|
General Valok appeared on the viewscreen. "Picard!" he
|
|
demanded angrily. "What is the meaning of this?"
|
|
"General Valok." He couldn't keep the ire from his voice. "I
|
|
might ask you the same thing."
|
|
The Romulan lifted his chin. "I will not stand by and let
|
|
anyone destroy six Romulan planets and get by with it," he said
|
|
coldly.
|
|
"I assure you, Valok, that should we discover that these
|
|
people committed these atrocities knowingly or willingly, they will
|
|
answer to *both* our governments. But they cannot answer for
|
|
anything if they are dead."
|
|
"They have committed murder," Valok said. "In a Romulan
|
|
court, that is cause for execution."
|
|
"This is not a Romulan court, Valok. And you are not a jury."
|
|
Valok's face was hard as stone. "I am a duly appointed
|
|
official of the Romulan Senate, Picard. In this situation, I am
|
|
all the jury required."
|
|
"For Romulus, perhaps. You cannot, do not, and will not stand
|
|
for the Federation."
|
|
"The Federation is weak, Picard. You do not punish as crimes
|
|
deserve. You are willing to let the deaths of thousands of
|
|
children go unpunished." Valok's face was hard as stone, but
|
|
something deeper lingered behind his eyes. "Children, Picard. How
|
|
would you feel if it had been *your* daughter on one of those
|
|
planets?"
|
|
"I can't answer that," he replied, and then - "Are you saying
|
|
-?"
|
|
The general's face was filled with cold defiance. "Yes. My
|
|
wife and daughter were on Ariaka when it was destroyed." He
|
|
remained quiet a moment, and then added, "She was only six."
|
|
Picard felt a wave of sympathy for the man. This was not a
|
|
Romulan talking to a Terran, this was one father sharing his grief
|
|
with another. Jackie was only an infant, just beginning to be a
|
|
person, but already she was dearer to him than life itself.
|
|
He could not resist glancing at his wife. Beverly sat still
|
|
and passive in her place, but her face had gone pale, and her eyes
|
|
were filled with shadows. Beverly knew she was thinking of the
|
|
little girl on Bett'au VII, the little girl she had not quite been
|
|
able to save, and another little girl she called her own.
|
|
What would it be like, he wondered, to lose that little girl
|
|
six years from now?
|
|
Still, his fundamental beliefs would not let him go so easily,
|
|
and the old adage 'an eye for an eye' tended to leave everybody
|
|
blind.
|
|
"I am sorry for your loss, Valok," he said quietly. "I cannot
|
|
imagine what you must be going through. But I *do* know that
|
|
destroying that ship will not bring your daughter back."
|
|
"It will not," said Valok, colder than the depths of space.
|
|
"But I *will* have my revenge, Picard."
|
|
"Maybe," he agreed. "But not today." He made a short,
|
|
chopping gesture at Worf, and the general's image disappeared from
|
|
the viewsceen.
|
|
Picard sighed, feeling suddenly older than the universe, and
|
|
just as cold.
|
|
And he still had work to do.
|
|
He returned to the command center. "Mr. Data, can we
|
|
establish communications with the alien vessel?"
|
|
Data frowned. "Yes, sir. Their communication and sensor
|
|
systems are primitive, but they do have visual capabilities."
|
|
Picard nodded. "All right, then. Hail them. Let's see what
|
|
they have to say for themselves."
|
|
The image that appeared on the screen was only faintly
|
|
humanoid. Large, slitted eyes regarded them distantly, the
|
|
expression in them almost impossible to determine. Picard glanced
|
|
at his crew, but none of them showed any signs of recognition.
|
|
"Who are you?" it asked, its voice rasping and musical all at
|
|
once, like velvet on sandpaper.
|
|
Slowly, Picard rose to his feet. "I am Captain Jean-Luc
|
|
Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_," he said.
|
|
The creature regarded him from unblinking eyes. "What do you
|
|
want?" it asked.
|
|
Well, that was abrupt enough. "We wanted to talk to you about
|
|
some planets you may have encountered," he said.
|
|
The screen went blank.
|
|
For a moment, Picard simply stood there, too stunned to even
|
|
be angry. Then Riker said, "We must've hit a nerve."
|
|
Worf growled. "They are too dishonorable even to admit their
|
|
crime."
|
|
"No, that's not it," Troi said urgently. "Captain, you must
|
|
listen to these people. They're *terrified*."
|
|
Startled, the Captain turned to her. "Terrified? Of what?"
|
|
Troi's expression grew distant as she tried to probe the alien
|
|
ship. "Of ... us. They saw us turn our phasers on the Romulans.
|
|
And... they're far from home, lost... they don't know how to get
|
|
back."
|
|
So Data had been right. Mentally, Picard reminded himself
|
|
never to doubt his officer again.
|
|
Picard looked toward his other officers. Geordi stood at the
|
|
engineering station, looking helpless. Riker's gaze rested on
|
|
Troi, then slid away uncertainly. Worf looked like he'd just as
|
|
soon destroy them all, and have done. And Beverly... She remained
|
|
silent, but he knew her too well not to understand her expression:
|
|
there's been enough death.
|
|
He made his decision.
|
|
"Hail them again, Mr. Worf."
|
|
The image appeared on the screen again.
|
|
"Leave us alone," the creature said.
|
|
Picard shook his head. "Oh, no. I can't do that. Your
|
|
technology is believed to be responsible for the destruction of
|
|
nine planets in this sector. We cannot let you go without at least
|
|
preventing the possibility of more destruction. And..." he paused,
|
|
glancing uncertainly at the ship's counselor. She nodded
|
|
encouragingly, and he continued. "We have reason to believe you
|
|
may require our assistance."
|
|
The creature hesitated. "You... would help... us?"
|
|
"We will gladly lend whatever aid we can," he said. "Will you
|
|
permit us to help you?"
|
|
The creature now regarded him with unmistakable suspicion.
|
|
"At what price?"
|
|
Had they encountered the Ferengi? "Only that you let us learn
|
|
more about your people, and that your solemn word never to allow
|
|
such catastrophies to happen again."
|
|
There was a brief pause. "That is acceptable."
|
|
A very succinct people, at least. "Very well. Commander
|
|
Riker, prepare an away team. Let's see what we can do."
|
|
Riker nodded shortly. "All right. Geordi, Data, Worf, and
|
|
Dr. Picard. Let's go."
|
|
The Captain rose to his feet. It was the first time since
|
|
their marriage that he'd had to let Beverly go into such a
|
|
dangerous mission. Even on Bett'au VII, she'd been reasonably
|
|
safe. These aliens could still be hostile, could rip the away team
|
|
apart in a matter of seconds if they so chose. Part of him wanted
|
|
to go to her, to stop her from going or at least to kiss her good-
|
|
bye, but he knew that wouldn't be appropriate. She had her duties
|
|
to perform, and he couldn't ask her to be less than what she was.
|
|
Besides, she'd proven time and again that she was more than
|
|
able to take care of herself.
|
|
Beverly, however, sensed his uncertainty. She stopped as she
|
|
passed in front of him, giving his hand a surreptitious squeeze.
|
|
"I'll be all right," she promised, her voice carrying no further
|
|
than his ear.
|
|
Then she stepped onto the turbolift and was gone.
|
|
The Captain settled into the reassuring embrace of his command
|
|
chair and steeled himself to wait.
|
|
|
|
The room into which the away team materialized was like
|
|
nothing Riker had ever seen. The lighting was dim, the temperature
|
|
far too high, and the ship seemed to lean in on itself. Even
|
|
during their encounter with Gomptuu, the lines had been smooth and
|
|
flowing, and so, vaguely familiar. There was nothing familiar
|
|
about this ship.
|
|
The creatures started as they appeared, shying away from them.
|
|
They were considerably smaller than they had appeared on the
|
|
viewscreen; even the tallest came no higher than his elbow.
|
|
Riker put up his hands, showing that they were empty.
|
|
(Hopefully, the aliens wouldn't recognize the phasers hanging at
|
|
their hips for what they were.) "We're here to help," he said
|
|
softly.
|
|
Dr. Picard moved forward. One of the aliens was injured, or
|
|
so it seemed: a bright, orangish fluid seeped forth from one of
|
|
its limbs, and its color was a little less green than its
|
|
compatriots.
|
|
The creature shied away from her approach.
|
|
"No, it's okay; I'm a doctor. I just want to be sure you're
|
|
all right." With a smile that would have disarmed a Borg, she
|
|
moved toward it again.
|
|
The thing simply skittered further away.
|
|
Dr. Picard heaved an exasperated sigh, flicking a reproving
|
|
glance at Riker. "This is going to take a long time if they keep
|
|
this up." Making sure that she had the creature's attention - it
|
|
wasn't hard to do, all eyes in the room were on her - she turned
|
|
the tricorder on herself, using it to show that it would do them no
|
|
harm. Then she approached the alien again.
|
|
It quivered, but let her examine its arm.
|
|
Riker watched as she studied the readout, saw the unhappy
|
|
frown on her face. "What is it?" he asked.
|
|
"Their physiology's completely different from ours. It's
|
|
going to take me a moment to see if the tricorder can come up with
|
|
anything similar." She paused, thoughtfully biting her lower lip.
|
|
"Ah, yes. Let's see. If I just make this go this way... Yes.
|
|
That should work. Here."
|
|
Riker had no idea what she was talking about, but he watched
|
|
as Picard administered a drug into the alien's system.
|
|
The creature stared at her, its eyes going very, very wide,
|
|
and then it said something to its companions. Riker didn't quite
|
|
catch the comment, but it must have been favorable, for suddenly
|
|
the aliens were all crowding around the doctor, touching her face,
|
|
her hands, her hair, with wondering curiosity.
|
|
Picard looked faintly alarmed, but she made no move to resist.
|
|
After that, the aliens seemed more inclined to trust them.
|
|
They skittered away from Riker and Data, but they watched with wary
|
|
interest as Geordi and the android set about repairing their warp
|
|
drive, and they allowed Picard to treat their injuries, following
|
|
her around like large, faintly reptilian puppies.
|
|
"They must have been through hell," Dr. Picard said, wiping
|
|
the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "They're
|
|
suffering from things as basic as broken bones and malnutrition.
|
|
I'll have to see what I can do to get them some food." Then her
|
|
face blanked. "But I have no idea what they eat."
|
|
Riker shook his head. "Do you have a leader?" he asked the
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nearest alien.
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The thing shied away from him.
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Riker sighed. "Maybe you should try it," he suggested to
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Beverly. "They seem to trust you."
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She heard the frustration in his voice and smiled. "It's just
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because I healed them. People are always willing to trust somebody
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who's made them well."
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Riker grunted.
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"Could you tell me who's in charge?" she asked.
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The alien regarded her suspiciously for a moment.
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Then another voice said, "I am."
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The creatures parted to let another of their number through.
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This one was slightly taller than the others, slightly bigger of
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build, and it bore itself with an unmistakable air of command.
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Riker thought he recognized the alien who had spoken with the
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Captain.
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"I am X'Pet," it said. "I command this sad vessel."
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Beverly smiled. "I am Doctor Beverly Picard," she said,
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speaking slowly and clearly. "I'm the chief medical officer of the
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_Enterprise_. This is Commander Will Riker, our First Officer."
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"How do you do?" Riker said, feeling awkward and out of place.
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X'Pet bowed. "We are grateful for your assistance. We have
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been drifting a long time."
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"Well, maybe we can change all that. After we've fixed the
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problems here, we'll tow you home."
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He was surprised to see a melancholy expression cross the
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alien's face. "I am afraid that will not be possible," X'Pet said,
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and there was no mistaking the sadness in its voice. "We cannot go
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home again, for there is no home awaiting us. We are the last of
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the V'Shnar. Our planet was destroyed more than a year ago."
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
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araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
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Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news
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From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: Aftershock, part (8/8)
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Date: 25 Feb 1995 18:21:56 GMT
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Organization: Division of Information Technology
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Lines: 184
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Message-ID: <3insg4$5an@news.doit.wisc.edu>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: f182-099.net.wisc.edu
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X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6521
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Whew! It actually turned out to be 8 parts! This is what happens
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when you don't plan ahead...
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Next time, if there is a 'next time', I will actually write the whole
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thing before I post it. :)
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Disclaimer #1: This story is by and for hopeless romantics. There is
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absolutely no intrigue, strategy, or such in this segment AT ALL. It's
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just wrapping things up.
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Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns everybody, everything, and everyplace
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mentioned in this story lock, stock, and barrel.
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AFTERSHOCK
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part 8
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"Fifty-two people," the Captain whispered. "Fifty-two of an
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entire race."
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He remembered the horror he'd felt when he'd learned that
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Robert and Rene had been killed. When the old _Enterprise_ was
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destroyed. His world had literally come crashing down around him.
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But at least he could go home again, go back to Earth and France
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and all the places that he loved. The V'Shnar no longer could.
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"The technology which destroyed so many of our planets was
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also responsible for the loss of their own," Data said, his voice
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cool and pitying. "Thus, they discovered their mistake almost
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instantly, but they could no longer go home to repair it."
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What would it be like, he wondered, to be responsible for the
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destruction of your own planet? And nine others?
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"And they've been wandering about this part of the galaxy ever
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since," Riker added.
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"What do we do with them now?" asked Beverly. "We can't just
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leave them out here, with no warp, very limited power, and the
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Romulans determined to extirminate them. They wouldn't survive."
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"And they still must face the punishment for their actions,"
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put in Worf.
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Geordi looked at him with disbelief. "You want to do
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something *worse* to them than give them the knowledge that they
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destroyed their own planet and nine others?"
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"There's been enough death," Beverly agreed. "I, for one,
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don't want to fill out any more death certificates for a good long
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time."
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"From the reports of the away team, these are a very timid,
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reclusive people," Troi added. "They didn't do this deliberately
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or maliciously. It was a *mistake*. A terrible mistake, to be
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sure, but an mistake all the same."
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"Ignorance is not an excuse," Worf began.
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"I tend to agree with the Counselor and Geordi," said Picard,
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waving aside the argument boiling among his officers. "We can't do
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anything worse to them than they've already done to themselves.
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Yesterday, I would have been willing to destroy them. Today, I am
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not. The time for vengeance is over. It is time to let them
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heal."
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Captain's Log, Stardate 49002.5 In accordance with the wishes of
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Starfleet Command, we have taken the V'Shnar ship in tow and are
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returning to Federation space. There, a board of inquiry will have
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to be joined, but given the circumstances it is quite likely that
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those few remaining will be given a planet on which to reestablish
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their species. In the meantime, we are learning all we can about
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this new culture.
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On a happier note, there will be a reception tonight to
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acknowledge the arrival of Admiral Alynna Nechayev. She has come
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aboard to aid in negotiations with the Romulans, who still believe
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the remaining V'Shnar should be executed, and to meet the fifty-two
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remaining. Counselor Troi has taken the preparations in hand,
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insisting that this will be a good way to release the tension that
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has been building up among my crew.
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Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood uncertainly in front of the
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mirror, readjusting the collar of his dress uniform for the
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thousandth time.
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"Stop that. You'll ruin the lines," said his wife, coming up
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to stand behind him. She smiled and smoothed the front of his
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jacket. "The designer put a lot of thought into these things."
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"Then the designer was either an idiot or a sadist," Jean-Luc
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replied, taking her into his arms. "You look marvelous."
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Unlike her husband, Madame Picard had the option of not
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wearing her dress uniform - an option she'd willingly exercised.
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Instead, she wore a stunning dark blue gown, cut low against the
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creamy skin of her shoulders and slit up one side, for dancing.
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Beverly grinned mischievously. "Why, thank you, Captain
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Picard."
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He sighed and released her.
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"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
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He shook his head. "Nothing. Old ghosts."
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Beverly laid a comforting hand against his arm. "Is there
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anything I can do?" she asked, her eyes dark with concern.
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Jackie, oblivious to the mood of her parents, waved her arms
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enthusiastically and laughed with delight at her accomplishment.
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Jean-Luc began to feel a little, just a very little, better.
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"It seems I have everything I could want," he told his wife,
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kissing her reassuringly on the nose. "Are we ready?"
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"All ready." Gently, Beverly gathered Jackie into her arms,
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taking the time to straighten her little dress before turning back
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toward him. "Let's go."
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The reception was in full swing by the time the Picards
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arrived. Geordi descended on them at once, gleefully taking Jackie
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from her mother's care, and several of the V'Shnar surrounded him,
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curious to see the baby. Admiral Nechayev stood nearby, talking to
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X'Pet, and the other officers were scattered around the room,
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laughing and talking and dancing.
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He saw the wistful look in Beverly's eye as she watched her
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friends moving through the slow and stately rhythm of the waltz.
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He repressed a grin; he had a little surprise for her.
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"Would you care to dance?" he asked his wife gallantly.
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Her delighted smile was all the answer he needed. He led her
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onto the floor and took her into his arms.
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He led her effortlessly through a complicated series of
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steps. "You've been practicing," she said, her blue eyes gleaming
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with amusement.
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"You noticed," he said, smiling in return, and then sighed
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heavily.
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"Penny," she said softly.
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"I was just thinking about the V'Shnar," he said. "One
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experiment run amuck, and now they have to start over. Is fifty-
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two enough to reestablish a species?"
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"It will have to be," she said. "But they've got our
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scientists and technology working for them, too; they'll make it.
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And families can grow at an alarming rate." She smiled teasingly.
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His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "And will they be able
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to live, knowing what they've done? Will they be able to establish
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a home again after such a tragedy?"
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"Oh, I don't know," she said lightly. "*We've* certainly
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managed to recover nicely."
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Picard followed her eyes around the room. Riker stood not far
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away, a pretty ensign on his arm. Deanna coached Alexander through
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his first waltz, while Worf looked on with a peculiar tenderness on
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his face. Data was telling jokes - badly, but not as badly as he
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once had. And Geordi sat at the bar, dandling little Jackie on his
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knee. The sound of the baby's laugh floated across the room and
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brushed his ears like the promise of angels.
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Their baby.
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In the aftershock of losing the old _Enterprise_, of the death
|
|
of his brother and nephew, Jean-Luc Picard had thought he might
|
|
never feel whole again. So much guilt. So much wasted time. But
|
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Jackie had changed all that. Jackie... and her mother.
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The Captain turned his gaze back to his wife, smiled into her
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glorious eyes. Her face was radiant as sunshine. In spite of the
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number of people in the room, Jean-Luc leaned over and kissed her
|
|
cheek. "We *have* done rather nicely at that, haven't we?"
|
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"I'd say so," she agreed, moving closer to him as the music
|
|
slowed. Picard wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her
|
|
body soft and warm against his.
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Picard felt a surge of contentment. His friends were all
|
|
here. His family. He couldn't change the past, couldn't restore
|
|
the worlds that were lost, but he could keep the memory of such
|
|
things alive. And in the new _Enterprise_, perhaps they could
|
|
prevent such tragedies in the future.
|
|
And with that thought, he realized something. The
|
|
_Enterprise_ had finally become more than just a ship, more than a
|
|
huge vessel sailing through the stars. His wedding celebration had
|
|
been held here, in this very room. His daughter had been born in
|
|
this ship's sickbay. It was here she would take her first steps,
|
|
say her first words, here she would learn to talk. Deanna would be
|
|
her surrogate aunt; Geordi and Will and Data and Worf her uncles.
|
|
The ship would be filled with laughter and friendship and love,
|
|
everything that it should be. Safe. Familiar. Comfortable.
|
|
Home.
|
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THE END.
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Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes
|
|
araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren
|
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|