All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
The captain grinned. “Yes… yes, of course…”
Geordi eyed Data. It looked like this was going to go on, after all. “So I guess all we need now is a medical ship,” he said. The older man grabbed the android by the arm. “I think I can arrange that, Mr. Data. Find the U.S.S. Pasteur. I have some… some pull with her commanding officer.”
For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his eyes glazed over with memories. Then he came out of it.
“At least,” he amended, “I used to …. “
The former Beverly Crusher, captain of the medical vessel known as the U.S.S. Pasteur, considered all three of the visitors standing there in her ready room. However, she focused most of her attention on the man she had once called her husband.
“I never could say no to you,” she told Jean-Luc, leaning back in her chair.
He smiled. “You should have said it when I asked you to marry me.”
Beverly looked at him with mock annoyance. “Don’t
bring that up,” she said, “or I’ll change my mind about all this.”
For a moment, a scene flashed before her eyes. She saw herself on her wedding day, before the Howard family house on Caldos. She and Jean-Luc were standing before Governor Maturin, taking their vows as their friends and fellow officers looked on… and the wind brought the scent of heather.
Wesley was there, showing no outward signs of the strange and wonderful being he had become. He was smiling, happy for her.
Jean-Luc’s brother, Robert, was happy as well—glad to see that their marriage would start off in a place blessed with tradition. Or so he had told them, in a private moment before the ceremony.
No doubt, he would have liked it better if the ground had been French, and the house that of his own family … and the scent on the wind that of sun-ripened grapes. But then, he’d been expecting something cold and artificial—so an homage to any tradition was a pleasant surprise.
And Beverly herself was happymtruly happy, for the first time in many years. She felt as if, with her marriage to this fine and noble man, some cosmic balance had been restored. And this time, she vowed on that special day, it would last.
So much for her powers of prognostication, she thought sourly, as her thoughts returned to the bridge of the Pasteur. It was a good thing she was a doctor, and not a fortune-teller.
Jean-Luc elbowed Data in his synthetic ribs. “You see?” he said. “I knew I could still count on her… not like Riker.” His expression turned bitter as he recalled his discussion with the admiral. “Did I tell you what he said to me, Beverly? To me?” She nodded. “You told me, Jean-Luc.”
It hurt her to see him like this—a man whose intellect was once so engaging—reduced now to near-senility. She took in Geordi and then Data with a glance.
“Well, then. The first order of business is to obtain clearance to cross the Klingon border. And believe me, that won’t be easy.”
“What about WorJ7.” asked the former chief engineer. “Isn’t he still on the Klingon High Council?”
“I’m not sure,” responded Data. “Information on the Klingon political structure is hard to come by these days. However, at last report, Worf was living on H’atoria—a small Klingon colony near the border.”
Jean-Luc snapped his fingers. “Worf… yes, that’s it… that’s the answer.” He nodded. “Worf He’ll help us. Let’s make it so.”
Abruptly, her conn officer’s voice cut in over the intercom. “Chilton to Captain Picard.” “Picard here,” replied Beverly.
“Go ahead,” said the man she’d been married to, responding to the same summons. They exchanged looks.
“Captain,” said Chilton, apparently unperturbed by the confused answer from the ready room, “McKinley Station is signaling. They want to know when we’ll be docking.”
Beverly stood. “Tell McKinley that we’ve been called away on a priority mission. We won’t be docking any time soon.” “Aye, sir,” came Chilton’s acknowledgment.
As the captain of the Pasteur headed for the door, her former mate smiled at her. “Kept the name?” he asked.
Ignoring the question, which wasn’t really a question at all, Beverly led Jean-Luc and his companions out