All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [49]
“Have you scanned the subspace bandwidth?” asked Jean-Luc, stubbornly resisting reality.
“Yes, sir,” replied Geordi. “The subspace barrier is a little thin in this region of space…” “Ah-hah!” the older man cried.
Geordi frowned. “But, as I was about to say, sir, that’s not unusual. In other words, we still haven’t got anything to hang our hat on.”
Jean-Luc’s celebration died aborning. He shook his head.
“I don’t understand. I’ve already seen it in the other two… the other two time periods. Why isn’t it here?”
Worf, who had been working at a neighboring console, suddenly looked up with concern. “Captain,” he said, his eyes fixing on Beverly. “I have been monitoring Klingon communication channels—and several warships have been dispatched to this sector. They are searching for a… renegade Federation vessel.”
Damn, thought Beverly. The jig was up. It was time to get out of here—assuming there was still time.
Her ex-husband tugged on her sleeve. “You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?”
She sighed, not wanting to hurt his feelings any more than they’d already been hurt. But there was no other way. “Jean-Luc,” she said, “there’s nothing here …. ” “There should be!” he roared. “There has to be!” Turning to Data, he leaned over and grabbed him by the shoulders. He’d relied on the android so many times in the past, he obviously didn’t know how to stop.
“There must be some other way to scan for temporal disturbances,” Jean-Luc cajoled. “Something that’s not covered in a normal sensor sweep…”
Data considered the suggestion. “There are several methods of detecting temporal disturbances,” he noted, “but we are limited by the range of equipment on the Pasteur. This ship is designed primarily for medical emergencies, not scientific research.”
Beverly interposed herself between the two of them. “Jean-Luc,” she explained, “we’ve done all we can. We have to head back to Federation territory.”
“However,” Data went on, unperturbed, “it may be possible to modify the warp deflector to emit an inverse tachyon pulse, which could scan beyond the subspace barrier.”
That changed Jean-Luc’s demeanor again. All of a sudden, he was shaking his fists in the air in front of him.
“Very good!” he exclaimed. “Make it so!”
“Wait a minute,” Beverly interjected. Turning to the android, she asked, “How long would this take?”
He shrugged. “To make the modifications and search the entire Devron system will take approximately fourteen hours.”
She grunted. “Worf, how long until those Klingon warships get here?”
The Klingon sighed. “I am uncertain—but I believe they are coming from the Memp’ha Outpost. That would put them anywhere from eight to eleven hours away.”
Time wasn’t on their side, was it? Under the circumstances, she’d have to be crazy to pursue this thing any further—even if Data did give Jean-Luc’s theory some credence. But then, she’d done crazy things before.
“All right, Data. Begin modifying the tachyon pulse. Ensign Chilton, lay in a course back to the Federation. If we haven’t found anything in six hours, we’re heading back at maximum warp.” Chilton nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Six hours aren’t enough,” Jean-Luc protested. “We have to stay here until we find it—no matter how long it takes!”
Beverly felt something boil up inside her. It was all she could do to contain it.
“Carry out my orders,” she told the ensign. And then, to Jean-Luc, she said tautly, “May I see you for a moment?”
His eyes were steely, full of righteous anger. “I should say’ so,” he told her.
Without another word, she led him into her ready room.
As the doors closed behind them, Picard was still bristling with indignation. “Beverly,” he said, “I can’t believe you’re not willing to stay here until—”
Abruptly,