Star Trek - Requiem. Part 6

He'd have to ask for volunteers. He wouldn't order anyone to sign up.

"Sir?"

Geordi snapped out of his reverie and saw that he and Barclay were alone in the turbolift. Geordi had a vague memory of watching Beverly and Troi get off a moment ago.

"Yes, Reg?"

"I'd like to volunteer, sir," Barclay said, looking his superior square in the eye. "For the team that will be boarding the station, I mean."

"Volunteer?" Geordi repeated uncomprehendingly.

"Yes, sir. The captain lost several seconds getting me out of the access tunnel. And he only missed the airlock door by a second or two. If I hadn't-"

The engineering chief shook his head. "Reg, you can't do that to yourself. What happened to Captain Picard was n.o.body's fault."

"Maybe," Barclay answered. But Geordi could see that the man didn't believe him for a second. "Still, I would like to help if I can."

The commander gave a mental sigh. "To be perfectly frank, Reg, I don't know if I can take the chance. It may get rough out there."

"I know that," said Barclay, "And I'm ready, sir. I'd really like to help ... and I'd like to show you ... well, I'd like to show you what I'm made of, sir."

Geordi watched Barclay's expression turn deadly serious, and saw something he'd never seen before in the man: resolve.

That made two times that Lieutenant Barclay had surprised him today.

"Commander Riker," came Worf's voice from behind the first officer. "Priority-one message from Starfleet Command, for Captain Picard."

"I'll take it in the captain's ready room," Riker responded, already on his feet.

It took the commander only a few long strides to reach the ready room door and then the captain's desk. Once before, when Picard had disappeared, Riker had been extremely uncomfortable at that desk. Since then, he'd adjusted to command in the captain's place-though he still hated the circ.u.mstances.

Sitting down, the exec touched the control and the Federation seal popped onto the small viewscreen. A moment later, Admiral Kowalski's stern, weathered features replaced the seal. In less than an instant, the admiral recognized Riker. His scowl deepened.

"Where is your captain, Commander?"

"Missing, sir. I'm preparing my report now."

Kowalski frowned. "We've got a tense situation over here, Commander. Give me the highlights."

Riker quickly reviewed the discovery of the alien station, Picard's disappearance, and their plan for a rescue. The admiral listened carefully, with no change in expression.

"I a.s.sume," Kowalski said, "that Captain Picard briefed you on his plans for the summit."

"No, sir. There wasn't time."

"d.a.m.n," the admiral exclaimed.

Riker leaned forward. "Sir, I think we still have a good chance of finding the captain and continuing the mission as planned. We still have six days-"

"Yes," Kowalski interrupted. "But no more. The Federation regards the summit as critical. To date, we have had little contact with the Gorn. The fact is, we really don't know what's going on there, but we have been getting reports of internal tension within their homeworld's governing body. If that tension reaches a crisis point, it could mean a number of things for the Federation-and none of them good. At best, we will have lost the hope of progress Picard's breakthrough gave us twenty-five years ago. And at worst ... well, I don't intend to see the worst happen."

Riker saw from the look on Kowalski's face that the admiral was not exaggerating. The situation and possible consequences worried him greatly. "What can I do, sir?"

"You can get me Picard," Kowalski replied. "He's the closest thing we have to an expert on the Gorn. I want both him and the Enterprise at the Gorn homeworld in five days-at the outside."

Riker grunted. Now it was five days. "We could use some help in our search, sir. Are there any Starfleet vessels close enough to a.s.sist?"

Kowalski shook his head. "Not so much as a scout ship, commander. I'm afraid you're on your own." For a moment, the admiral allowed his expression to soften. "I'm sorry about your captain, Commander. But in the event you are not able to recover him, you are to proceed as per the new schedule-and complete the mission. Is that understood?"

The first officer nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I'll expect your full report on Captain Picard's disappearance in fifteen minutes. Kowalski out."

The admiral's face was replaced by the Federation symbol, which Riker shut off a moment later. As soon as the report was finished, he would have to call Geordi and Data to apprise them of the new developments. They were no longer just looking for a needle in a haystack, they were doing it with the barn burning down around them.

Chapter Three.

A BUZZ filled Picard's ears. He felt himself moving, and he soon recognized his motion as the familiar sensation of flying. Not the indiscernible hum of s.p.a.ceflight, but the rocking progress of atmospheric flight. Suddenly he felt his craft buck, twist, and then resume its irregular but more or less steady course.

A moment later, the captain was able to open his eyes. Outside the small c.o.c.kpit was a strangely familiar haze of white. Picard knew he was inside heavy cloud cover. A sputter that broke the monotony of the buzz drew his attention forward-and he saw the craft's propeller rattle and come to a halting stop.

What followed happened quickly. As the captain felt the craft's sudden descent, he grabbed the joystick and rolled the vessel until it was upside down. Popping open the canopy, he felt a rush of wind on his face. As he removed his restraints, Picard pushed outward and let gravity take him. Free of the ship, he felt himself falling.

He reached out with his failing memory. There was something he still needed to do, something to pull ... a cord. He clutched his stomach and found it, then yanked with all of his strength... .

A moment later, the captain felt the first stirrings of consciousness, as the dream left him and began to slowly fade. Odd, he thought. He hadn't had that dream since he was a cadet, though when he was very young it had haunted him. In the dream, he was a World War II fighter pilot from a story he had read-and he was bailing out of his Royal Air Force aircraft over the English Channel.

The dream always ended them. But in the story, the pilot woke up in a British hospital. After a short time, the pilot realized that the hospital was a fake, as were the nurses and doctors he had met. The pilot put together the clues, the minor discrepancies, and realized that the hospital and staff were a ruse perpetrated by the Germans to induce him to give up military secrets.

As a boy, Picard had had the dream a number of times-usually when he was confronted with any unfamiliar situation, such as a new school. In those days, he had a.s.sumed the dream was a reminder from his subconscious not to take new situations at face value-good advice that had been borne out by his experience in Starfleet. But the dream always left him uneasy, as if some of the surprises he faced might not be pleasant.

As the fog lifted slowly over his brain, the dream faded even more from his consciousness. But the feeling remained: something was wrong.

Memory flooded back-the alien station, losing Ensign Varley, the airlock.

Forcing his eyes open, the captain tried to scan the room, but his vision was blurred. Even so, he could tell that he was not on the Enterprise. The ceilings were too low, and the walls were made of welded plates. And the sounds ... they were not the sounds of his ship.

The first step, he knew, was to take better stock of his surroundings. Concentrating, he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. When his body responded sluggishly, he leaned back and threw himself forward, trying to use momentum to force himself up.

The pain was remarkable. It was centered in his head and his right shoulder, but seemed to radiate through most of his body. Picard immediately lay back down and waited for it to pa.s.s. After what seemed like a few minutes but was probably only a few seconds, the pain retreated to a point in his forehead and another point in his right shoulder.

Taking careful stock of himself, he determined that aside from his head and shoulder, the rest of him was in reasonably good condition. He moved his left hand and found that it could move freely. Using it, he traced the surface he was lying on and found it was a thin mattress on a hard platform. Similar to the beds in Beverly's sickbay but not identical.

It was that difference that made up the captain's mind. If he was in the hands of a friendly party, that party certainly wouldn't mind if he tried to leave to sort out what was going on. If, however, he was in the hands of a hostile force, his best chance lay in getting away quickly, while his captors a.s.sumed-not incorrectly, he mused-that he would be incapacitated.

For Picard, the memory of his time as a Carda.s.sian prisoner was too fresh for him to take the risk of remaining still if he was in the hands of an enemy. If he erred here today, it would be on the side of caution.

The captain determined that his right arm was not only injured, it was immobilized in some sort of a sling. Using his left arm to support himself, he slowly rolled onto his left side and pushed himself up. With only that arm, he forced himself into a half-sitting position.

Next came his legs, which he moved to the side of the bed. Working them over the side, he let gravity take them, using the resistance of his muscles only to control their descent. As a result, he found himself in a full sitting position-though his legs were still not touching the ground.

The price was a gradual increase in the pain, but in a moment that had subsided. When his head was once again clear, Picard could see that the floor was perhaps a foot beneath his feet.

Bracing himself against the pain he was sure would follow, the captain slithered off the bed. His feet found purchase immediately, and he kept his left hand on the bed to steady himself. Aside from a brief period of queasiness, Picard was gratified to note that he felt no ill effects from the effort. Perhaps he was in better condition than he had first thought.

Scanning the room again, the captain noted that his vision was improving, but the dim light prevented him from making out much detail. He could see that there were half a dozen empty biobeds like the one he had just occupied, as well as some additional equipment that he didn't immediately recognize.

He also saw that the room seemed to have only one door. Keeping his good hand on the biobed, he took his first step toward that door. Another step and he was out of reach of the bed. He kept moving forward in slow careful steps, until he reached the door-which he could now see was red.

Before he could step through, however, he heard voices. He couldn't be sure if they were speaking English, but he could tell that they were close and coming closer. For a moment he considered retreat, but knew this was probably his one chance at escape.

Picard stepped into the doorway and watched as the door slid open. Light poured in and partially obscured the two figures entering the room. Seeing one of the figures reaching out, the captain pressed forward, but recognized his mistake immediately: he didn't have the strength or the balance for the task. Hitting the newcomers, he crumpled to the floor.

A moment later, he was looking into a face. Forcing his eyes to focus, Picard could see that the face was human. A closer look told him the face was friendly. In fact-he suddenly realized-it was quite lovely.

He heard one word: "hypo." Then a brief hiss.

And then nothing.

Riker leaned forward from his place in the captain's chair. "Mr. Data?" he ventured.

The android, who was manning the ops station, turned his head.

"Sir, as you requested, I have mapped out a search pattern for the captain, with an eye toward maximizing our efficiency. Given the size of the search area and allowing for a single-orbit search pattern of each world, total time for the mission is nine days fourteen hours."

"That's still about four days more than we have," Riker observed.

"Yes, sir," Data concurred.

The first officer noted that the bridge's turbolift doors had opened. With his peripheral vision, he could see Geordi enter.

The android continued. "We face additional problems as well. If the captain is currently alive and if he is still in possession of a functioning communicator, then he will be easy to locate. However, we will have to allow for the possibility that he is lost in the past. In that case, finding signs of his appearance on a given world will be extremely difficult, especially considering that the Enterprise will be relying on a single orbital scan."

Riker shrank inside. Data was only saying what the first officer had known all along: that the mission they were embarking on was nearly impossible. Probably completely impossible, when you factored in the time-travel factor and the time constraints. He had secretly been hoping the android would come up with some magic solution to the problem.

"You're right, Data. But I'm depending on the captain"s ingenuity. He should recognize that the Enterprise will be searching for him. I'm counting on him to have left a sign, something that will be relatively easy to find."

"I think I may have found a way to take the guesswork out of the search, sir," Geordi announced, suddenly turning away from his engineering console.

Riker listened to the other man's solution, and found his spirits rising again. It was simple, it would work and, in fact, seemed as close to foolproof as they would get on this mission.

"Brilliant," he said simply. "Thank you, Mr. La Forge."

Geordi just nodded. The Enterprise's chief engineer might have just saved the mission and the captain's life, but Riker could see that his mind was already on other matters.

"Are you ready to go right away?" he asked.

Geordi nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm just here to collect Data."

The android got up immediately and joined his fellow officer.

"Where's the rest of your team?" Riker asked.

"In shuttle bay one, checking our equipment. I'm keeping the party small-just myself, Data, O'Connor, and Barclay."

"Lieutenant Barclay?" Usually, he made an effort not to question an away team leader's choice of personnel, but this time his surprise betrayed him.

"Yes, sir," said the chief engineer. "I think he'll be an a.s.set while we're sorting out the alien systems."

Riker didn't grill Geordi any further. Even though the first officer had heard the reports about the incident on the alien station and Barclay's performance, La Forge was the one who had been there. If the Enterprise's top engineer thought Reg Barclay was fit for this away duty, then Riker was satisfied. But still, Barclay ...

"Geordi, Data ... I wish you luck," the first officer said.

"You too, sir," Geordi replied.

Riker nodded. "Report in via subs.p.a.ce at one-hour intervals and don't take any unnecessary risks. If you see any signs of trouble, any signs at all, don't wait-get off the station."

Once again, the engineer nodded his a.s.sent. Together, he and Data turned and entered the turbolift.

Perhaps two minutes later, Riker watched the shuttle's departure on the viewscreen. Once the craft was safely aboard the alien station, he would give the order for the Enterprise to warp out of orbit and begin the search. But first, he had one more duty to perform.

"Ensign Ro, in the ready room, please," he intoned.

Ro looked up from her forward position at conn.

Moments later, from behind the captain's desk, Riker watched Ro look at him expectantly, almost impatiently.

The commander paused, drew out the moment, and then began, "I'm a.s.signing you to be acting first officer, Ensign-effective immediately."

"Sir?" Ro replied incredulously.

Riker didn't respond to that. He decided to wait until she had said what was on her mind. Of course, he didn't have to wait long. The ensign quickly composed herself.

"I don't understand, sir. There are more senior officers on board."

Suppressing a grin, Riker responded coolly. "Ensign, am I to understand that as your first duty as first officer, you are questioning my judgment in a.s.signing you the job?"

"No, sir," Ro countered. "Your judgment is impeccable. But I am ... curious about your logic."

Riker nodded. "Of course. You're correct when you say that there are more senior officers on board, but few with more command experience during crisis periods. And, frankly, I need Lieutenant Worf at the sensor console during the delicate maneuvers we will be performing."

The big man leaned forward. "For the next week or more, I'll be walking a very fine line, balancing my commitment to the search for Captain Picard against the importance of the Gorn summit-and the captain's own importance to that summit. I need someone who will not be afraid to speak up immediately if I'm stepping over that line. I'll also need creative thinking and additional options during the search and during the summit-if we are forced to go without the captain. For now, that will be your job."