Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [24]
Moving down the line, Picard indicated Deanna next. “Ship’s counselor Deanna Troi.”
This time, McCoy took the initiative. Reaching for the Betazoid’s hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed it in gentlemanly fashion. “A pleasure to meet you, Counselor.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” She smiled at the gesture.
A moment later, the captain would have introduced Beverly. However, McCoy had taken her hand before Picard could say anything.
“Doctor Crusher,” he said, “it’s good to see you again.”
“And you, Admiral,” the chief medical officer replied.
“You know each other,” the captain observed.
Beverly nodded. “Yes, from my tenure at Starfleet Medical.”
“Of course,” Picard remarked.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t keep her there longer,” the admiral complained, already moving on to Geordi.
“My chief engineer,” said the captain. “Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge.”
“Admiral.” Geordi smiled. Like Riker, he didn’t extend his hand.
McCoy nodded to him. “La Forge.”
“And finally,” Picard finished, “Lieutenant Commander Data.”
“Admiral,” said the android. Then he turned to the captain. “The admiral and I have met before as well, sir.”
“Have we?” McCoy interjected. “When?”
“Several years ago,” Data told him. “I gave you a brief tour of the Enterprise, prior to its launch.”
The admiral considered the android for a moment. “So you did, son. You’re the artificial Vulcan,” he said. Then he turned to Picard. “What’s next, Captain?”
“We’ll arrange for your things to be taken to your quarters,” Picard assured him. “You then have the option of retiring there for a rest, or joining us in the ship’s Ten-Forward lounge.”
When the admiral spoke, his voice took on a slight edge. “Captain, I came here to participate in a mission, not just to show Starfleet colors. I’d like to be included in your strategy sessions.”
“You will be,” Picard promised.
“Then,” asked McCoy, “what would we be doing in the ship’s lounge?”
For a moment, the captain didn’t understand what the admiral was getting at. “We would relax,” he said finally.
“Relax?” McCoy snorted. “There’s too much work to do. I’d like to know what state your plans are in for getting Spock out of that Romulan rats’ den.”
Suddenly the truth was painfully clear to Picard. He cleared his throat.
“Admiral, at the moment there is no plan—other than to follow Starfleet orders and take up a position near the Neutral Zone, where we will pursue a diplomatic liaison.”
“Diplomatic?” McCoy railed suddenly, making no effort to control the tone or volume of his voice. “For God sakes, man, we don’t have time for diplomacy. Spock is at the mercy of those people!”
The admiral was nearly shouting by the time he finished, as the captain and his officers noted uncomfortably. Picard would not allow such a display to continue on board his ship. He would have to put a stop to this immediately.
“At the moment,” he began, “there is no danger—”
“No danger?” McCoy cursed beneath his breath. “How can you say that? Spock’s in a great deal of danger.”
“I was about to say,” the captain replied, “that there is no danger to Federation interests or security. And until—”
“And until Spock becomes a security disaster, we don’t have to do anything to help him.” The admiral was ranting out loud now, having given up any pretense to officer’s decorum.
Picard managed with effort to keep his own voice steady. “I am not proposing to abandon the ambassador to his fate—but I am saying we must be cautious.”
McCoy harrumphed loudly. “Captain, I’m not sure I’m on the right ship. You are the Jean-Luc Picard who beat back the Romulans during that Klingon civil war, aren’t you? The fella who invented the Picard maneuver? Who busted up the conspiracy when those parasites invaded Starfleet Command? And unless I’m mistaken, didn’t you go to Romulus yourself once, ready to pull Spock out by the ear?”
The older man brought his face to within inches of the captain’s. “And now you’re hemming and hawing over a simple rescue operation.”
“Admiral,” Picard said, “there is nothing simple about the rescue of an important