Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [4]
“By all means,” he responded.
Valderrama’s nostrils flared. “I want to apologize,” she said softly. “Not only to you and First Officer Ben Zoma, but to Ensign Jiterica as well. What I did was reprehensible. I wish the idea had never even occurred to me.”
It was the last thing that Picard had expected to hear after Valderrama tried to take credit for someone else’s idea—in this case, Ensign Jiterica’s. Glancing at Ben Zoma, he saw a look of surprise on his friend’s face—although it must have been only a faint shadow of the surprise visible on his own.
Still, he couldn’t accept Valderrama’s apology. What she had done truly was reprehensible, and there was nothing she could do now that would change that.
Meeting her gaze, the captain said, “I’ll be sure to relay your apology to Ensign Jiterica.”
If Valderrama had hoped for absolution from him, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked considerably more at ease simply for having made her peace with her commanding officer.
“Thank you,” the lieutenant said. Then she joined Caber on the transporter platform.
A part of Picard naturally disapproved of what she had done. However, another part of him wished her well and hoped she might regain what she had lost of herself.
Unlike Valderrama, Ensign Caber had yet to make a sound. He looked bored as he stood on the platform, as if his being there were something of an inconvenience to him.
The captain could have let him go on that way. But he didn’t. He approached the ensign and said, “What about you, Mr. Caber? Do you have any regrets concerning your actions?”
The young man smiled thinly, exposing perfectly spaced white teeth. “None at all, sir,” he replied with undisguised arrogance. “And when my father hears what happened here, I don’t think I’ll be the one with cause for regret.”
The threat wasn’t lost on Picard. Caber’s father was an admiral in Starfleet. Never having met the fellow, the captain had no idea how he would react.
Not that he could allow it to affect his decision. Caber had assaulted another member of the crew, exhibiting a certain amount of what appeared to be bigotry in the process. His presence would no longer be tolerated on the Stargazer.
Picard turned to Refsland and said, “Energize.”
“Energizing,” Refsland responded.
Almost instantly, Valderrama and Caber were reduced by the transporter to shimmering columns of light. Then they vanished altogether, their molecules dispatched through space to their destination.
Picard sighed. Ben Zoma was right, of course. Valderrama and Caber had brought this fate on themselves. Their departure wasn’t anyone’s fault but their own.
Nonetheless, the captain regretted the loss of his most promising ensign and his science officer. Any commanding officer in the fleet would have felt the same way.
Fortunately, Caber and Valderrama were not his only reason for being there that morning. “Mr. Refsland,” he said, “are our new crewmen ready to beam up?”
The transporter operator nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Then,” said the captain, “advise the base that we are ready to receive them.”
As Refsland relayed the information to his counterpart at Starbase 42, Picard turned to Ben Zoma. “Feeling lucky?”
His friend smiled. “I was just going to ask you that.”
The two who would replace Caber and Valderrama, unlike their predecessors, had been handpicked by the captain and his first officer. In fact, they were the first additions to the crew Picard had made since the day he assumed command.
He regarded the empty transporter platform. “To tell you the truth, Number One—”
“Too late,” said Ben Zoma. “Here they come.”
In a reversal of the dazzling effects that had accompanied the departures of Valderrama and Caber, two brillant columns of light appeared on the platform. Moments later, a pair of figures materialized in the midst of them.
One of them was human, a fair-haired young man with boyish features that contrasted with the seriousness of his expression. The other was a Kandilkari, his long, striated face distinguished by the heavy, purple jowls characteristic of his