Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [51]
The Klingon looked as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he merely frowned and headed for the exit.
So did everyone else. Everyone except the captain and Admiral McCoy, that is. It was clear to Picard that their discussion was only just beginning.
Once they were alone, facing each other across the length of the long, polished surface of the table, McCoy leaned back in his chair. His blue eyes gleamed beneath his feathery white brows.
“You know what this does?” he asked. “Scotty’s capture—and this rescue mission?”
“I thought you were in favor of it,” the captain noted.
The admiral grunted. “I am in favor of it—but it ups the ante, dammit. If the Romulans realize the Federation’s sent a team to get Scotty out, they’re going to take it personally. You can count on that. And it’s going to make them a whole lot less eager to negotiate about anything.”
“Including the release of the unificationists,” Picard suggested.
“That’s exactly right,” McCoy confirmed. “They’ll shut up tighter than a Venus flytrap with a big ol’ beetle in its mouth.”
A colorful image, the captain had to admit. “Your point?” he asked.
McCoy stood up and jabbed a bony finger at the younger man. “My point,” he snarled, “is you’re going to have to find a way to speed things up.”
“With regard to Ambassador Spock,” Picard said evenly.
“That’s right,” the admiral agreed. “Play another angle, maybe. In fact, I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve got a scheme in mind already. All you’ve got to do is carry it out.”
“Really,” commented the captain. Under the circumstances, it was difficult for him to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Perhaps you’d like to share it with me.”
As Picard listened, McCoy did just that. But there was one problem with his plan.
“It won’t work,” the captain told him.
The admiral’s brows met over his nose in an expression of pique. “What do you mean it won’t work? How do you know until you’ve tried?”
“It’s too risky,” Picard said. “Too reckless. We’re dealing with a very delicate problem here—and one with sweeping implications for the Federation. This is no time to conduct an experiment in gamesmanship.”
McCoy planted his gnarly hands on the table before him. “Dammit, man, don’t you see? Extreme situations call for extreme measures. That’s the way we always did it on our Enterprise!”
As the captain rose, he felt the blood rushing to his face. Pushed over the edge, he found himself raising his voice until it seemed to fill the entire lounge.
“It might help,” he snapped, “if you remembered that this is not your Enterprise. We do things differently around here. And as long as I am in command of this vessel, we will continue to do them differently.”
The admiral’s eyes screwed up tightly. “Then you leave me no choice,” he grated, trembling with fury. “From now on, Captain, you are no longer in command of the Enterprise!”
Picard blinked, scarcely able to believe his ears. “What?” he said.
“You heard me,” McCoy barked. “I gave you a chance to act like a captain and you threw it away.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Picard maintained.
But it was clear to him that the admiral wasn’t listening. He was too intent on making his point.
“I can’t force you to obey my orders,” McCoy continued, his mouth twisted in anger, “but I can sure as shootin’ make sure someone does. That’s one of the benefits of being an admiral, for God sake.”
The captain shook his head. He hadn’t expected anything like this. Even now, it didn’t seem real.
“Effective immediately,” said McCoy, “I’m relieving you of your command. You’re restricted to quarters Picard.”
The captain shook his head. He couldn’t allow this to happen. He had to take hold of events before they whirled out of control.
“No,” he demanded, “listen to me. I am not rendering these decisions arbitrarily. I speak from long years of experience.”
“No longer than mine,” the admiral seethed. “And what’s that got to do with it, anyway? Jim Kirk was smarter than both of us when he was