Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [55]
“When the ship itself is threatened, so is mine.”
Riker said nothing, only looked at him hard. “That’s exactly where we stand,” Picard said. “They have uncovered the problem to which there is only one possible answer, and unfortunately for me, it’s spelled “Picard.”” Riker opened his mouth, and Picard said, “No. The ship itself, as you say, is threatened. If we do not obtain the information we need from that other Enterprise’s computer core, we stand little chance of ever getting home again: we will be stranded here, all of us. Not only the crew, who understand the risks one takes on active mission, but their dependents as well, who do indeed depend on us for their safety and well-being. I am not a great one for children, but I for one do not choose to have any of our children grow up in this world. If they survive so long, which I begin to have my doubts that they would do.” Picard frowned as grimly as Riker had been doing. “And besides—I will not take the chance of my ship falling into these people’s hands—which sooner or later she would, for even should we destroy this other Enterprise, I will lay you long odds that this universe’s Starfleet knows perfectly well by now that we’re here. They will come to take us by force. When that happens, I will destroy this ship rather than let her and her crew fall into their hands. So—let us be clear about our options. We have none.”
“If we just had more time …” Riker said softly.
“We don’t. Picard to Crusher.”
“Crusher here.”
“Doctor, I need two hyposprays and multiple refills for them—the same incapacitant you gave the away team. Have them beamed directly to my ready room.”
“Yes, Captain. Ou.”
He turned to Riker. “You got an image of my counterpart, I take it.”
Now Riker shook his head, looking very concerned indeed. “We didn’t, Captain. No scan picked him up at all—and believe me, we tried.”
“Never mind. The uniform will be provided. Picard to Chief O’Brien.”
“Here, Captain.”
“We’re in a bit of a rush, Chief. You will beam me directly from my ready room to the shuttlecraft, and from there to the—” He paused. “Where is the away team at the moment?”
“Still at last reported location, Captain. They’re indicating they’re ready to move, though, on your orders.”
“Where to?”
“Deck eleven, right.”
Picard smiled, a quick angry grin. “There’s the uniform problem solved. Very well. They’ll have to precede me. Acknowledge their request and beam them there immediately. I’ll be following them shortly.” From off to one side came a subdued shimmer of sound, the hyposprays and refills, on a small pouch with a strap. Picard picked it up, slung it over his shoulder. “Mr. Worf.”
A second later, the door to the ready room opened. In it Worf stood, holding one of the phasers that had been cosmetically modified to resemble the standard-issue, wicked-looking phasers of the other ship. Worf stepped forward and offered it to Picard.
“I took the measurements from your grip template in the armory files,” Worf said. Picard took the phaser and, having nowhere to holster it, simply held it. “You anticipated this,” he said to Worf with some surprise.
“It seemed an eventuality for which one should be prepared. Captain—be careful.”
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I will be as careful as the three-legged mouse at the cat show, because that’s what I feel like.” Picard looked over at Riker. “Now here are your orders, Number One. Your priorities are to get this ship home by whatever means you find possible. If she cannot be gotten home, you must destroy her cleanly—don’t let her fall into those people’s hands. Take no chances. Understood?”
“Understood,” Riker said, though obviously not at all happy about it. “Captain, you can’t go without having an intradermal put in! If something goes wrong, we won’t be able to find you or pick you up.”
“I have one in at the moment,” Picard said calmly. “Dr. Crusher installed it