Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [106]
For once, there weren’t any repair vehicles floating around. Just him and the stars. At least, for a little while.
Then he heard a chime, and a chill ran down his spine. “Come,” he said, forcing certainty into his voice.
But he kept his back to the door. After all, until he actually saw Beverly’s replacement, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that she was really gone.
It was a bit rude, yes, and he had always prided himself on his manners. But he couldn’t help it. Funny, he thought. He had faced all sorts of enemies and nightmarish circumstances in the course of his Starfleet career, but he couldn’t bring himself to face his new medical officer.
Picard heard the whisper of the door as it opened, and then again as it closed. And by those signs, which cut him like knives, he knew that Beverly’s replacement had entered the room.
“I apologize,” he said, keeping his eyes on the stars as he gathered himself. “I was tied up, or I would have greeted you in the transporter room. In any case, I am glad to have you aboard. You are obviously highly qualified, or you would not have been selected for this assignment.”
For the first time, he heard his new CMO speak. “I requested this assignment, Captain.”
Had he heard only the words and not the voice, he might have marveled at the coincidence-because they were among the first words Beverly uttered when she came aboard the EnterpriseD. But hearing the voice, he knew it was no coincidence, because the woman who had uttered the words the first time was the same woman who had uttered them a second ago.
The captain turned from the observation port and saw Beverly Crusher standing before him, a sheepish smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t… understand…” he said, stumbling over the words like a schoolboy.
By way of a response, she crossed the room and took him in her arms. Then she raised her perfect mouth to his and kissed him-long and passionately.
Afterward, she said, “I’ve been a fool, Jean-Luc. I was given a second chance at loving you and I almost threw it away. Can you forgive me?”
Picard smiled and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Perhaps in time. But then, we have plenty of that now, don’t we?”
And he kissed her all over again.
Acknowledgments
After some sixty books, this is the central lesson I’ve learned about the writing life: Acknowledgments get harder all the time. Dedications aren’t so bad, because there are always people you want to honor, but acknowledgments are a bear.
In this case, for instance, I want to thank my editor, Margaret Clark, for her insights into the Trek mythos, her creativity, and her recognition that writers are people with mortgages, dental appointments, and kids to pick up at the bus stop. And that’s the sort of thing I would say about her, except I’ve already said it. A lot.
Take a look at the books I’ve written in the Stargazer series, all six of them (buy ‘em, collect ‘em, trade ‘em with your friends), and you’ll see I just keep thanking Margaret for this stuff.
Nor is she the only one. I heap a load of gratitude on Scott Shannon, my publisher, as well. So I could tell you he’s a smart guy who always seems willing to go out on a limb for a good cause (i.e., me), but you’ve heard that song before. On the other hand, the guy deserves a few props for his efforts, so what am I going to do-ignore him?
And how about Paula Block, the Trek guru in Viacom’s licensing department? I’ve already waxed poetic about how understanding she is and how much she contributes to a manuscript-sometimes even going so far as to reject a stupid idea and force me to come up with a better one, which is more or less what happened in the case of Death in Winter. And I’ve told you also how indebted I am to Paula for letting me cover unexplored Trek ground in books like Reunion, when that privilege seemed to be reserved for the TV shows.
But how many times can you listen to that? How many times can even Paula listen to it? It’s embarrassing already.
Even my medical experts, Doctor Seth Asser of Rhode Island