All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [29]
Picard felt the blood rush to his face. “Dammit, Geordi—I know what we have to do!”
La Forge smiled again. In a way, the older man thought, that was almost worse than the other look he’d given him. He could put up with doubts, with skepticism. But he couldn’t stand being patronized.
“Okay, Captain. Whatever you say. But first of all, there is no Neutral Zone… remember?”
No Neutral Zone? Picard pondered the matter, plumbing his memory… and was surprised to realize that his friend was right.
“Klingons,” he muttered. “In this time period, the Klingons have taken over the Romulan Empire …. “
I2 Forge nodded. “That’s right. And relations between us and the Klingons aren’t real cozy right now.”
Getting irritated at his companion’s tone, the older man struggled to his feet. “I know that,” he barked, pulling down on his tunic as he’d once pulled down on the front of his uniform. “I haven’t completely lost my mind, you know.”
Abruptly, it occurred to him how cantankerous he sounded. Again, he was running roughshod over those who were trying to help him. Hoping to take the edge off his remark, he put his hand on La Forge’s shoulder.
“Sorry, Geordi. When I’m here, it’s hard for me to concentrate… and remember things. I don’t mean to take out that frustration on you.”
The younger man nodded. “It’s okay.” A beat. “Well, if we’re going to the Devron system, we’re going to need a ship.”
Picard scratched his chin. “We will, at that.” Then it struck him how they might get one. “I think it’s time to call in some old favors.” La Forge raised an eyebrow. “Favors?” he repeated.
“Yes,” confirmed Picard. “Contact Admiral Riker at Starbase Two-Four-Seven.”
Geordi gazed approvingly at the monitor that Data had brought into the library. Except for the Starfleet insignia, the image on the screen was an unbroken field of violet-blue.
“Nice resolution,” he said appraisingly. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never seen one like this in a private home.”
Data nodded. “As I indicated earlier, holding the Lucasian Chair does have its perquisites.”
It appeared there was a whole slew of perquisites, because it hadn’t taken the android long to contact Starfleet Command—or, having contacted them, to arrange for an audience with Admiral Riker.
A moment later, only minutes after Data had made his request, Riker got in touch with them. The man was a lot grayer than Geordi remembered—but then, who among his old comrades wasn’t? And as an admiral, the man had a whole lot more responsibility than before—a whole lot more reasons for his hair to have gone gray.
But that wasn’t the only difference in him. Even before Riker opened his mouth to speak, he seemed brittle, somehow… less easygoing than the man Geordi had known on the Enterprise. And there was no trace at all of that trademark Will Riker smile.
“Jean-Luc,” said the admiral, acknowledging his for-mer captain. “Data… Geordi.” He was clearly pleased to see thems but he didn’t show ali the enthusiasm that Picard had probably been hoping for. Riker almost seemed… well, leery of what this might be about.
“Will,” replied Picard. “You look every inch the admiral. I knew we’d move you up in the ranks eventu-ally.”
Riker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Of course you did,” he agreed, but in a way that said he didn’t have time for this. “Now, what can I do for you, sir?”
As Picard outlined his needs and the reasons for them, the admiral’s demeanor became frostier by degrees. Finally, he sat back in his chair and frowned. “Jean-Luc,” he said, “you know I’d like to help… but frankly, what you’re asking for is impossible. The Klingons have closed their borders to all Federation starships.”
Obviously trying to remain patient, the captain shook his head. “I don’t think you appreciate the… the gravity of the situation. Will, if this… this spatial anomaly really is in the Devron system…”
Riker didn’t let him finish. “I saw a report from Starfleet Intelligence on that sector this morning. There’s no unusual activity