Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [88]
But that didn’t make the outcome any less tragic.
The captain had begun dictating a commendation of Jiterica into his log when he heard the sound of chimes again. Valderrama? he wondered.
“Come,” he said.
When the doors parted, he saw that it wasn’t Valderrama after all. It was Commander Wu.
“Yes?” Picard said.
The second officer stepped into the room and spoke without preamble. “Sir, it’s come to my attention that you’re operating as commanding officer of this vessel in clear violation of Starleet regulations.”
“Indeed,” the captain responded. “And if I may ask, precisely which regulations am I violating?”
She told him. As it turned out, there were a good deal more of them than he would have guessed, ranging from insufficient expertise in weapons systems to a lack of certain inoculations.
“I promised Commander Ben Zoma that I wouldn’t hold any of my subordinates to regulations. But I believe that, as you’re the captain, you at least should be held to a stricter standard.”
Picard felt himself stiffen at the rebuke. Nonetheless, he said, “I appreciate your pointing that out, Commander. I’ll take it under advisement.”
Wu nodded. “Thank you, sir.” And she turned to go.
“Commander?” he said, stopping her in her tracks.
She faced him again, “Captain?”
No doubt she expected him to comment on her overzealousness. He surprised her. “You handled yourself well while we were hunting the White Wolf.”
Wu smiled. “It pleases me to hear that, sir.”
He smiled back. “Dismissed.”
Picard waited until she had left the room and the titanium doors had closed behind her. Then he contacted his first officer via the ship’s intercom system.
Apparently, he still had one more problem to take care of.
Wu didn’t understand. She said so, her voice echoing throughout sickbay.
Greyhorse shrugged. “There’s no question about it. You’re due for a physical.”
She frowned. “But you already gave me a physical.”
“That was when you first came onboard.”
“It wasn’t that long ago,” she pointed out.
“Long enough,” Greyhorse told her. “Lie down, please.” And he indicated the nearest biobed.
Wu got up on the bed and lay down. Then she watched the doctor scan the bio monitors.
“You know,” she said, “I have reports to file. I hope this won’t take long.”
“It shouldn’t,” he told her. Suddenly, his brow creased.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Greyhorse shrugged. “Nothing serious.” But he continued to regard the monitors.
“Don’t be mysterious,” Wu told him. “If there’s something I need to know about—”
“It’s your blood pressure,” he said, looking up at her. “It’s a little high.”
“How high?”
The doctor told her. Indeed it was a little high. But just a little—hardly worth discussing.
And now that Wu thought about it, she had an explanation. “I had black bean soup for lunch. It was very salty.”
“That might be the culprit,” Greyhorse allowed.
The second officer swung her legs around and sat up.
“And everything else is in order?”
He nodded. “Very much so.”
“Good,” said Wu, slipping off the table. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to my duties.”
She was halfway to the exit when Greyhorse spoke up again. “Actually, Commander, I can’t allow that.”
Wu turned and looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can’t allow you to return to your duties,” he said. “Not with excessively high blood pressure.”
“But we agreed that it’s from the black bean soup.”
“We agreed that it might be. The only way to know for certain is to test you again later this evening.”
“But in the meantime, you’re telling me I can’t resume my duties as second officer?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
Wu scowled. “This is ridiculous. You’re splitting hairs.”
“It’s a regulation,” Greyhorse maintained.
“But you don’t need to take it quite so literally, Doctor. There’s no way I’m unfit for—”
She was halfway through her declaration when she realized what she was saying. And a moment later, she realized why she was saying it.
“The captain put you up to this,” she said accusingly.
“Didn’t he? Or was it Ben Zoma?”
“Ben Zoma,” Greyhorse replied.
And Wu knew