Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [0]
Instead, there was an air of optimism. Of camarade-rie, as there had been on the ship when it was whole. He looked around at the faces—familiar faces. Gilaad Ben Zoma, his first officer, dark and handsome, confident as ever. Idun Asmund, his helmsman, tall and pristinely beautiful as she bent over the shuttle’s controls. “Pug” Joseph, his security chief, characteristically alert, ready for anything.
And another-a face that he was gladder to see than all the rest. “Jack,” he said.
Jack Crusher turned his way. He indicated their surroundings with a tilt of his head. “A little snug in here, isn’t it, Jean-Luc?”
“That’s all right. It won’t be forever.”
The other man quirked a smile, brushing aside a lock of dark brown hair. “I guess not. It’ll only seem like forever.”
It was so good to see Jack sitting there. So very good. “You’re out of your mind,” someone rasped.
He turned and saw Phigus Simenon, his Gnalish head of engineering. As usual, Simenon was arguing some point of science or philosophy with Carter Greyhorse, the Stargazer’s towering chief medical officer.
“If it’s by definition the smallest thing possible,” the Gnalish went on, “how can there be anything smaller?” His ruby eyes were alive with cunning in his gray, serpentine visage. “Easy,” Greyhorse answered, the impassivity of his broad features belying the annoyance in his deep, cultured voice. “You take it and cut it in half.” Easing his massive body back into his seat, he raised his arms. “Yoi1k, you’ve got something even smaller.” “Can’t be,” Simenon argued. “By definition, remember, it’s the smallest-was
The Gnalish was interrupted by Cadwallader, their slender, girlish communications officer. She placed her freckled hands on the combatants’ shoulders. “Could you keep it down a bit, fellas? Some of us are trying to sleep back here, y’know. Thanks ever so much.” Chuckling, the captain returned his attention to Jack. “What will you do when you get back? Take a leave for a while?” His friend nodded. “I want to see Beverly. And my son. He’s probably grown six inches since I last saw him.” A pause. “Ever think about having a family, Captain?”
“You know me, Jack. I’d rather be boiled in oil than dangle a baby on my knee. Scares the-“
Suddenly, he remembered something. It chilled him, despite the closeness of the quarters. “Jack … you’re not supposed to be here.”
“No? You mean I should’ve taken one of the other shuttles?” “No.” He licked his lips. “I mean you’re dead. You died some time ago-long before we lost the Stargazer.” Jack shrugged. “I can go if you like-“
“No. Don’t. I mean—”
But it was too late. His friend was moving away from him, losing himself in the crowd aft of the food processor. “Don’t go, Jack, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to send you away—” That’s when Jean-Luc Picard woke up.
The air in his cabin was cold on his skin. He wiped his brow and felt the perspiration there.
“Damn,” he breathed, Just a dream.
Nothing like his tortured dreams of Maxia Zeta, inflicted a few years back by the Ferengi DaiMon Bok. No, this had been different, but in its own way just as frightening.
Nor did it take a ship’s counselor to figure out why he’d happened to have the dream now.
Beverly Crusher was halfway across sickbay when she realized she had no idea where she was going.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Doctor Selar, her Vulcan colleague, watching her from her office. Crusher could feel an embarrassed blush climbing up her neck and into her face.
Think, Beverly, think. You were late for-Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and started walking again. On the way, she glanced at Selar.
The Vulcan was still watching her. Crusher smiled. Being Vulcan, Selar didn’t smile back. She just returned her attention