Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [4]
The dream of Jack Crusher still haunted him. Still, after all this time.
He remembered the lesson they taught at the Academy-the one that was supposed to put the loss of crewmen in perspective. It sounded as hollow now as it had then. A starship captain makes a hundred decisions a day, and a goodly number of them involve the well-being of part or all of his crew… .
For a while immediately afterward, lack’s death had cost him his confidence-caused him to second-guess himself. And for even longer, it had left a gaping pain of loss.
Because the victim of his decision wasn’t just another crewman. He was a friend. And at that stage in his career, Picard had never before lost a friend.
Certainly, he had lost others since. Vigo and the others
at Maxia Zeta. And Tasha-dear, fierce Tasha. But the first, as the expression went, was the worst.
Perhaps he should have expected this. With his Stargazer officers converging on the Enterprise, was it any wonder that Jack was on his mind? Or that his memories would manifest themselves in dreams? And that was all right—as long as it didn’t affect him the way it had once. As long as it didn’t in any way jeopardize the safety of those for whom he was now responsible.
He resolved that it would not. “Captain?” He turned and looked up at Worf. “Lieutenant?” “I have a response from the Excalibur. It seems that Captain Morgen would prefer to beam over without any preliminaries.”
Picard smiled tautly, nodded to himself.” “That sounds like Captain Morgen,” he said. “Inform him that I will attend his arrival.” Worf took a moment to send the return message. “Done, sir,” he said finally.
“Thank you, Mr. Worf.”
Rising, the captain made for the turbolift.
“Admiral?” “Yes?”
“The Charleston has arrived, sir. Commander Asmund is beaming down now.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marcos. Please see to her wants. I’ll be by to meet her shortly.”
Vice-Admiral Yuri Kuznetsov cursed softly under his breath as he pulled up his swim trunks. Yet another of these Stargazer survivors, he mused. And if she was anything like the first two, it was nothing to look forward to.
Look on the bright side, he instructed himself. It’s only for another couple of days. Then the Enterprise comes and takes them all away, and you never have to put up with them again. Truth be told, Dr. Greyhorse wasn’t so bad. A little too serious for Kuznetsov’s taste, a little too intellectual. Carrying on a conversation with him was like talking to a machine. But from what he understood, these were personality defects that ran rampant at Starfleet Medical.
And if they were disingenuous, they were also tolerable. It was the Gnalish, Simenon, that really jump-started Kuznetsov’s reactors. Not only was he opinionated, self-centered, and domineering … he also brought out the worst in Dr. Greyhorse. Since their arrivals, which were almost simultaneous, the two had done nothing but butt heads on every subject in creation. No doubt, at some level they enjoyed their bickering. But listening to it was driving Kuznetsov up a wall-and then some. He grabbed a towel, closed his locker, and padded barefoot across the synthetic tile floor. He could almost feel the temperature-controlled water leeching away his frustration. It was his responsibility to entertain Greyhorse and the Gnalish-Starfleet Command had made that plain enough. They didn’t want anything to go wrong with Captain Morgen’s return to Daa’V. With the Romulans an active threat again, the Daa’Vit Confederacy was too valuable an ally to take chances with—and if the Stargazer people were important to Morgen, that made them important to the brass back on Earth.
But it was 0600 hours-long before he was scheduled to go on duty. For a little while, anyway, he could relax.