Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [88]
Phaser in hand, she took off down the corridor. Like everyone else on the bridge, Wesley was still shaking his head over the success of Professor Simenon’s idea. The ensign grinned as he watched the Gnalish regale Picard with the. third retelling of his stone-skimming exploits in the holodeck. With Riker and Troi having departed to oversee repair and relocation efforts, and Morgen gone along with them, the captain and Simenon had the command center all to themselves.
Suddenly, the professor pointed to Wesley, and the others turned his way as well. The ensign felt himself blush as Picard smiled appreciatively and nodded; he could just imagine what Simenon was telling him. Wonderful boy you’ve got there. Couldn’t have done it without him. So how is it he never skimmed stones before? Who’s responsible for his education anyway?
Swiveling away before his blush became permanent, Wesley returned his attention to his board. Much to his surprise, the astrogation function had been returned to it; that section of the display was outlined again in green light.
Touching the appropriate keys, he called up their
position. Instantly, the coordinates appeared on the screen. He froze as he realized the significance of what he saw. No, he told himself. Please say this isn’t right. With an effort, he forced his fingers to run the system through acom diagnostic check. There was nothing wrong with it. It was functioning perfectly. Swallowing, Wesley turned again toward the captain. And drew Picard’s attention. Abruptly, the captain stopped smiling-and came striding down to the Conn station. “What is it, Mister Crusher? You look positively green.” Then Picard looked past him and saw the coordinates. As Wesley watched, the muscles in the man’s jaw rippled. “Commander La Forge,” the captain called, hardly raising his voice. His eyes remained fixed on the astrogation readout. “Aye, sir?” Geordi came down the ramp from the aft stations. “Something wrong?”
Picard nodded. “Apparently.”
“What is it?” Simenon asked, rising from his seat in the command center.
“Come see for yourself, Phigus.”
By that time, Geordi had arrived and was beginning to appreciate the situation. He whistled soft and low. Wesley knew that someone had to come out and say it. But he waited dutifully for the Gnalish to arrive and curse beneath his breath before he fit words to the problem.
“We’re in Romulan space,” he announced-a bit
more loudly than he’d intended. It attracted some stares from around the bridge.
“Indeed,” Picard said. Then, a little more softly. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
As if sensing that the question was directed toward him, Geordi looked up. “Captain, the engines are in bad shape. And even if we had warp speed, I don’t think I’d want to risk using it.” Picard’s eyes narrowed. “Because we might get ourselves stuck in the slipstream all over again?”
“That’s right, sir.” La Forge bit his lip. “To be safe, we’ve got to put some distance between ourselves and the phenomenon. And even at full impulse, that’s going to take some time. Hours, anyway.” “At least,” Simenon chimed in.
Picard frowned at La Forge. “We don’t have time, Commander. There could be a Romulan ship on our tail at any moment.” His frown deepened. “How quickly do you think you can give me warp one?” La Forge shrugged. “I don’t know. A day, a few hours-it’s hard to say, sir.”
“Three hours,” Picard told him. It wasn’t a request and it wasn’t an order. It was just a statement of what they needed. Geordi sighed. “You’d letter excuse me,” he said, and headed for the forward turbolift. Without waiting to be asked, Simenon fell in right behind him.
Picard turned to Wesley. “How far are we from the Neutral Zone at full impulse?”
Wesley quickly performed the necessary calculations. “Sixteen hours, thirty-two minutes,” he said, though the captain