Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [64]
Julia was wavering, but the captain still hadn’t won her over. He could see it in the rather stubborn set of her jaw.
“Surely,” he said, “you’ve heard rumors of time travel … of a planet, perhaps, where something called The Guardian of Forever provides access to all the ages of the universe?”
At the mention of that name, her expression softened. “Yes,” she replied, after a moment. “I have heard rumors of people traveling through time. But …” She paused. “Until now, I thought they were just fantasies.”
Picard’s heart pounded a little harder. “Then you believe me?”
The doctor swallowed. “Don’t put words in my mouth. All I said was that I’d heard rumors.”
The captain decided to switch tacks. “Not so long ago,” he reminded her, “your physician’s instincts told you I was a good man. What do they tell you now, Julia? That I’m an exquisitely apt liar, trying to obtain access to your power source for my own selfish ends? Or that I am who and what I say I am—and that if we don’t act soon, you and all your colleagues will meet with catastrophe?”
Julia stared at him—and swore softly. “There’s something strange about you, all right. I said that from the beginning. But … a man from the future? I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Because the stakes are too high if you’re wrong?” Picard suggested.
She nodded. “Yes. Because the stakes are too high.”
The captain laid his hand on her tricorder—and in the process, brushed against the doctor’s fingers. Her skin was soft and warm to his touch, reminding him of their embrace the night of the commodore’s dinner. But he couldn’t let himself be distracted now, no matter how much he would have liked to be.
“You want to be sure about me,” he said. “Then program your tricorder to act as a lie detector. I’m certain that you know how—medical students have been doing it since the damned things were invented.”
Julia hesitated. “You’ve got a bionic heart,” she told him. “How do I know that this will work?”
Picard smiled. “Because my heart is the only thing that’s artificial about me. And, ultimately, because you have to trust something, or we will never get to the bottom of this.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Focusing her attention on her tricorder for the moment, she set it to measure his pulse rate and several other physiological indicators. Then she looked up again.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“My name,” he told her, “is Jean-Luc Picard.”
“And your business here?” The doctor glanced down at the tricorder’s tiny, electronic readout.
“I came here accidentally,” the captain repeated. “Ultimately, my goal is to return to my own time, if that is possible. But whether it is or not, I would like to prevent your power source from exploding—and wiping out this entire colony.”
Julia’s brow puckered. When she looked up at him, it was with an entirely new perspective. “It says you’re telling the truth,” she reported.
“As well it should,” Picard remarked. “Now, will you help me?”
The doctor was obviously torn—between her wounded pride and skepticism on the one hand and the tricorder’s evidence on the other. And from what the captain could see, it was a standoff.
Suddenly, he heard the approach of the guard, his heels rapping sharply on the hard-plastic floor. He looked as if he’d made about all the concessions he was going to. After all, how long did it take to make a pass over someone with a tricorder?
His opportunity was slipping away. But what could he do? If he tried anything, the guard would be treating him to the wrong end of a phaser.
“Julia,” the captain pressed, “we dare not wait any longer. If I’m to keep this colony from being—”
“Shut up, already,” she told him. She glared at him. “Just shut up, will you?” Abruptly, her gaze softened. “And when you see your chance, take it.”
Picard almost smiled. Almost. But since that would have given them away, he maintained as dour and downcast an expression as possible. The guard didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong as he stopped in front of the energy barrier.