Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
Of course, Ejanix had become a revolutionary over the years, someone who had come to tolerate the use of force in the name of social change. Vigo didn’t condone that approach—he had already said as much. But it didn’t mean that he could dismiss Ejanix and his compatriots out of hand.
If it turned out that they had a point, Vigo wanted those in the upper caste to be made aware of the problem. And as a member of the upper caste himself, he felt he was uniquely suited to the work of informing them.
Picard sat back in his chair. “You wish to take advantage of that leave we spoke of?”
“Yes,” said Vigo. “For the reasons we discussed.”
The captain nodded. “I understand. And I will not stand in your way. If you feel you must go, I will make the necessary arrangements immediately.”
Vigo looked grateful. “Thank you, sir.”
Picard dismissed the need for gratitude with a wave of his hand. Vigo was a mainstay of his crew. The captain just wished he could do more for him.
“Dismissed,” he told Vigo. “And good luck.”
The lieutenant nodded, then got up and left. As he exited the room, Picard took a good look at his weapons officer, knowing he might never see him again.
It wasn’t that he thought Vigo would prefer to remain on his homeworld. He believed that, in time, the Pandrilite would want to return to Starfleet, and to the Stargazer in particular.
Picard just wasn’t certain that he would still be commanding the Stargazer when Vigo came back.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the screen of his computer monitor—that of a fellow with prominent cheekbones, a strong, cleft chin, and inquisitive brown eyes. A young man, to be sure. And yet, he was already developing worry lines above the bridge of his nose.
But then, he had more worries than most men his age.
In a week’s time, he was slated to report to Starbase 59. Shortly after he arrived, he would attend a formal hearing, the subject of which would be his actions as commanding officer of the Stargazer, and his future in Starfleet.
There would be three admirals present to hear his case. One was McAteer, his superior, and the man who had arranged the hearing in the first place. Another was Mehdi, who had made Picard a captain and given him command of the Stargazer.
If all went as expected, McAteer would try to tear Picard down while Mehdi did his best to defend Picard’s decisions. One against one, an even contest—or it would have been, if McAteer and Mehdi had been the only combatants.
But the third juror—and there had to be a third one, lest the contest end in a draw—was Admiral Caber, whose son had been unceremoniously kicked off the Stargazer for what Picard had believed were good reasons.
The younger Caber had seen the matter otherwise. And at the time of his departure, he had threatened to use his father’s influence in Starfleet to get even with Picard.
The Cabers’ chance to do that was close at hand. All the admiral had to do was side with McAteer and Picard would be abruptly stripped of his command—not to mention his rank.
So when the captain wondered if he and Vigo would ever have a chance to serve together again, it wasn’t an idle question. It was a very real concern.
Frowning, he ignored his reflection and focused on the list of Starfleet advisories on his monitor screen. He might not be a captain much longer, but for the time being he would continue to do his job.
Nikolas woke to the feeling of something cold and wet against his cheek. Lifting his head, he saw that a puddle had gathered beneath his face in a trough formed by three stout, still-growing stalagmites.
No, he thought, correcting himself. They weren’t just stalagmites anymore. They had connected with the stalactites growing above them, creating complete, hourglass-shaped columns. In fact, the corridor was lousy with them in both directions.
But the alien was gone.
Nikolas felt a wave of relief. What the invader had done to him…he never wanted to