All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [33]
For now, she reflected, the ship would have a slightly different purpose. But then, if Jean-Luc’s judgment could be trusted, they would still be saving lives.
“Nell,” she said, addressing Ensign Chilton, “lay in a course for H’atoria. Best speed.”
Chilton glanced back over her shoulder, but didn’t display any surprise at the order. “Aye, Captain.”
Turning to Jean-Luc, Beverly gestured to the turbolift. “I’ve prepared quarters for you on deck five if you’d like some rest.”
He shot a sour look at her. “There you go again, always telling me to get some rest. I wanted a wife, not a personal physician.”
Smiling cordially, she reminded him of where he was—and who was in charge here. “I could have you escorted there,” she told him.
For a moment, she thought he would make this harder than it had to be. Then, making a sound of disgust, Jean-Luc turned his back on her. “I can find my way around a starship, Beverly. I’m not that old …. “
And, grumbling all the way, he entered the turbolift.
“Everyone treats me like an invalid,” he muttered, looking about the lift compartment, as if there were someone there to listen to him. “But I’ve still got a few years left… don’t need to be led around… shown everything…”
A moment later, the doors closed behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, Beverly turned to Geordi and Data. She was hard-pressed to keep the sadness out of her voice.
“How long since he’s had a neurological scan?” she inquired.
Geordi shrugged; his artificial eyes glittered back at her. “I’m not sure, but don’t waste your time suggesting it. He says he’s not taking ‘any more damn tests.’”
Beverly grunted. That sounded just like him. “Do you believe he’s doing what he says he’s doing? That he’s moving through time?”
At that, Geordi looked away. It was clear he didn’t put much faith in Jean-Luc’s story.
“I don’t know if I do, either,” she confided. “But he’s still Jean-Luc Picard. And if he wants to go on one more mission, that’s what we’re damned well going to do.”
Inside the turbolift, Picard grumbled to himself, fixing his objective in his mind. “Got to find that anomaly… show them all I’m not crazyú They’ll see …. “
They would, too. And then they would be embarrassed at having doubted him.
Not that he cared all that much about being proven right. That would just be the icing on the cake. What he really wanted was to find out why he was shifting through time … and what it had to do with the phenomenon in the Devron system.
Abruptly, the lift stopped and the doors opened. He stepped out…
… onto the bridge. For a moment, Picard had that feeling of dizziness again—of disorientation. Then he realized what had happened. Once again, he’d been transported in time somehow.
Looking around, he saw Tasha at tactical… Worf at an aft station… O’Brien at conn and Data at ops. Troi was sitting in her customary seat beside the captain’s chair.
Pulling down on the front of his tunic, Picard intoned, “Report.”
“We’re on course for Farpoint,” Troi repliedú “We should arrive in approximately fourteen hours, thirty minutes.”
He nodded. Moving to O’Brien’s side, he gazed over the man’s shoulder at the helm console monitors.
The chief looked up at him uncomfortablyú “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”
“There is,” the captain confirmed crisplyú “How far are we from the Chavez system?”
O’Brien peered at him through narrowed eyes. “The Chavez system? We just passed it, sir.”
Picard found himself staring. “Passed it… and nothing happened?” The chief looked quizzical. “Nothing, sir.”
The captain cursed inwardly. “Drop out of warp,” he ordered. “Reverse course. Take us back to the Chavez system.”
He could see the reactions to his directire out of the corner of his eye. Tasha, Troi, and several others were having a hard time figuring him out. O’Brien, however, simply did as he was told.
It took several minutes for them to come about and return to the coordinates