Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [177]
In all the months he had spent on the Stargazer, Lieutenant Vigo had never visited the captain’s ready room.
He had seen plenty of other officers entering and leaving the place from his vantage point at the bridge’s weapons console. Sometimes, he had even gotten a glimpse of what it looked like inside. It was just that he himself had never been summoned there.
Until just a couple of minutes ago.
Standing outside the ready room doors, Vigo waited for the internal sensors to recognize his presence and alert Picard to the fact. A moment later, Vigo knew that the sensors had done their job, because the doors whispered open and gave him access.
He could see the second officer standing near an observation port, to one side of the captain’s sleek, black desk. Picard smiled. “Please, Lieutenant. Take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir,” Vigo replied. He pulled out a chair that stood across the desk from the captain’s and tried to make himself comfortable—not an easy thing for a being of his bulk.
Picard regarded him for a moment. Then he said, “I take it you heard about Lieutenant Werber.”
The Pandrilite nodded. “That he was caught. Yes, sir.”
Vigo had been forced to carry out his regular assignments, pretending that he didn’t know anything about the mutiny. Otherwise, Werber and his comrades might have suspected a leak and called it off.
Knowing what was taking place elsewhere on the ship, it was difficult for him to keep his mind on his work. Almost impossible, in fact. But somehow, he had managed.
Then, early that morning, while he and two other crewmen were repairing a phaser turret, Vigo had heard the news. Werber and his mutineers had been caught. Picard and Ben Zoma had prevailed.
It hadn’t given him any special pleasure to know that he was the one who had scuttled the mutiny. He had only done his duty, after all. There was nothing personal in it—only a sense of relief.
“Obviously,” said Picard, “I can’t allow Lieutenant Werber to go free. Not after what he tried to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Vigo agreed.
“And if he’s in the brig,” the second officer continued, “he can hardly serve as weapons chief.”
The Pandrilite began to see where the conversation was going. Why would Picard discuss this with him unless…
“Sir,” he blurted, “I didn’t expose Lieutenant Werber’s plans so I could replace him as weapons chief.”
Picard smiled understandingly. “I know that, Lieutenant. In point of fact, I have had my eye on you for some time. I can tell you that few crewmen in any section, weapons or otherwise, have demonstrated as much dedication to their work as you have.”
The Pandrilite was surprised. As far as he had been able to tell, only Werber had had the chance to see how hard he was working—and for whatever reason, the weapons chief had refused to acknowledge it.
“That’s kind of you, sir,” said Vigo.
“You needn’t be humble,” Picard told him. “It’s part of my job to identify personnel with the potential for advancement. And, I’m happy to say, you have such potential. Even if Mr. Werber hadn’t acted as he did, you would still have been considered for a promotion.”
The Pandrilite found himself smiling. “It’s gratifying to hear you say that, sir.”
“Then you’ll accept a promotion to weapons chief?” Picard asked.
Vigo’s conscience was clear. Under the circumstances, how could he refuse? “I will,” he assured the second officer. “Thank you again, sir.”
“No, Mr. Vigo. Thank you. And by the way, your promotion is effective immediately. I will inform Commander Ben Zoma.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Pandrilite.
As he left the lounge, he felt a little dazed. But more than that, he felt vindicated. He had acted honorably…and contrary to the expectations of his friends, his actions had been rewarded.
There was some justice in the universe after all.
It was part of Gerda Asmund’s job to conduct periodic long-range sensor scans—even when they weren’t in an unfamiliar and potentially hostile sector of space.
Since the attack by the Nuyyad ship, she had been inclined to conduct