Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [28]
It was Riker’s turn to be caught off guard. He had served with Ro for almost two years, and she had never spoken about her past to him. Certainly, she had never revealed anything so personal. He was tempted to respond, but decided not to make the situation any more difficult for her.
And in any case, his mind was made up for now.
“Thank you for your counsel, Ensign. While we continue the search, I will be counting on you to research the Gorn as thoroughly as you can—check rumors, tall stories, anything you can find—and formulate a contingency plan for the negotiations. Dismissed.” Then he shot her a look that made it clear the discussion was closed.
Ensign Ro acknowledged his command with a nod, turned, and left. When the door shut, Riker watched it carefully. It would only be a moment.
The chime came right on schedule. “Come,” Riker intoned, watching the door. Deanna walked into the room, wearing the blue uniform that she now wore during duty hours. Too bad, he thought. He liked the green dress better.
“Counselor,” he nodded.
“A challenge?” Troi said without preamble.
“No more than what I expected.”
“How do you feel about it, though?”
Riker shrugged. “It’s her job now to raise questions about important command decisions. And to recommend options,” he said evenly.
“And how do you feel about the questions she has raised?” Troi probed.
“You mean how do I feel about my decision to search for the captain?” Deanna responded with a nod, and Riker thought about it, carefully. In many ways everything that Ro had said was absolutely true. The logical thing to do would be to abandon the search and commit all of his resources to the summit. To do anything else would be bucking pretty strong odds. And all he had was a hunch that he was doing the right thing.
The exec looked inside himself for that pit of certainty that had been so easy to find several hours ago. He could still find it, he was pleased to learn.
Looking up at Troi, he knew that the counselor had finished the job that Ro had started. For now, he was sure.
When Picard opened his eyes again, the room came into focus with surprising speed and clarity. He had expected the pain that he still remembered vividly from his last conscious moment, but now he felt fit and lucid.
The captain kept his head still as he looked up at the ceiling and scanned the room with his eyes. He immediately recognized the modular, prefabricated construction. He had seen it before on older bases and some Starfleet sponsored colonies of different sorts.
Then a face obscured his vision. It was human, a female. Judging by the faint lines around the vibrant, green eyes and the mouth, and the short, dark hair peppered with gray, Picard guessed that she was about his age, and—he noted almost as an afterthought—she was quite attractive. She looked him over with a professional eye that he had seen Beverly use before. A doctor, then.
Her features softened a bit as she spoke. “You’re human, you know.”
For a moment, the captain could think of no response. “Am I?”
She nodded. “Yes, I have scanned you and everything checks out. You’re human, all right.”
“To be perfectly honest, Doctor,” Picard ventured, “I’m surprised there was any doubt.”
“Not doubt as much as speculation,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You see, we don’t get many unannounced visitors here.” She ran a small scanner of a type the captain didn’t recognize over him. Then, after studying a readout above his head, she returned her attention to him.
“Would you mind telling me where ‘here’ is?” Picard asked.
“You are in my infirmary,” the doctor said evenly.
“And where is that?”
For a moment, she looked at him askance. “Are you suggesting that you don’t know what planet you are on?”
The captain shook his head. “I am suggesting nothing. I am saying it plainly. Where am I?”
To Picard’s surprise, she smiled broadly. “You really expect me to believe you came all the way out here and don’t know where ‘here’ is?”
“Yes,” he said. “Please,