Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
“I am pleased to hear that,” said Picard. “After all, Greyhorse was my friend and a great talent as a physician. What’s more, there is no mission without him. But we will be in constant peril on Kevratas. If Doctor Greyhorse is likely to buckle under the strain, I need to know that in advance.”
“I understand your concern,” said Esperanza. “However, in my professional opinion, Doctor Greyhorse is no more likely to do that now than when he served on the Stargazer.”
It made Picard feel better to hear that.
“Have you ever had occasion to visit a penal settlement?” Esperanza asked.
“I have not,” said the captain. It was something he supposed he should be thankful for. “It is more pleasant here than I would have imagined.”
Indeed, it was the sort of place he might have chosen for a picnic, had he been inclined to have one, and if there were someone to join him. An idyllic locale, he thought, without question. But it was still a prison.
And Greyhorse had spent the last fourteen years of his life there, enjoying only those limited freedoms he could earn by cooperating with his therapists. A man who had traveled the vast, majestic distances between stars, confined to such a small and unchanging place…
It was difficult for Picard to imagine. Almost as difficult to imagine as what the doctor had done to compel the Federation to put him there.
“When the compound was originally built,” said Esperanza, “more than a century ago, it wasn’t nearly this pleasant. Prisoners-as they were called then-lived in small, stark cells instead of freestanding cottages. Security systems were much more visible. The overall atmosphere was one of mistrust.”
As she said that, she and the captain emerged from the embrace of the forest and gained an unrestricted view of the compound. He could see now that it was actually a collection of unconnected buildings with smooth, silicon-composite walls and large, airy windows.
“Things have changed,” Picard observed.
“Indeed they have,” said his guide.
Walking up to the first building in their path, Esperanza ascended a series of steps and went through an arched entranceway. Picard followed her into an anteroom furnished with exotic flowers, leathery-looking furniture, and evidence of the tribal culture that had originated in this part of the world.
There was a security officer stationed at a desk to one side of the entrance. At a sign from Esperanza, he tapped a command into the panel in front of him. Then he looked up at Picard and said, “He’ll be right out, sir.”
“Thank you,” said the captain.
As a student of archaeology, he had some interest in the Maori artifacts on the walls, and under other circumstances would have inspected them more closely. But at the moment, he was too eager to see Greyhorse.
After what seemed like a very long time, an interior door slid aside and two men walked into the room. One was a security officer whom Picard had never seen before. The other had once been his chief medical officer on the Stargazer.
Picard didn’t know what he had expected to see. Greyhorse had been incarcerated for so long, it wouldn’t have surprised the captain if the doctor had been diminished in some way.
However, Greyhorse was every bit as impressive as Picard remembered, his shoulders jutting like boulders from a mountainside, his features as proud as if they had been chiseled from stone. And despite all he had done and tried to do, the captain was still glad to see him.
“Doctor Greyhorse,” he said.
Greyhorse didn’t smile. But then, he never had, not in all the time Picard had known him.
“You look well,” the doctor observed in his deep, cultured voice.
Truthfully, the captain wouldn’t feel well until he had found Beverly. But he accepted the remark without objection.
“Is Mister Joseph with you?” asked Greyhorse.
“No,” said the captain. “Mister Joseph-Pug- is in orbit, awaiting our arrival. It appears we will all three be working together again.”
Greyhorse nodded. “Just like old