Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [116]
“Beverly,” Picard said, his voice a parched croak. He was mildly surprised to find that he could speak at all.
“It looks like you beat the singularity after all, Jean-Luc. Despite having ignored your kindly doctor’s advice.” The surgical mask couldn’t conceal her smile.
“How are Hawk and Data?”
“Hawk came through the mission just fine, though I think your injuries scared the hell out of him. Data was… shut off somehow. Geordi thinks he entered some sort of protective shutdown mode while linked to the scoutship’s systems. But he also thinks he’ll have him on his feet again in a few hours.”
Picard nodded, relieved; he owed much to the two officers who had braved the singularity’s dangers at his side. With the immediate peril behind him, he felt exhausted, and was sorely tempted to rest. But even though his throat felt as dry as the Chiarosan Dayside, there were still questions he needed to ask.
“The referendum?”
“From what Deanna told me, everything’s over but the shouting down on Chiaros IV. The long and short of it is this: We’d better have our bags packed within the next twenty minutes. Or else.”
Grelun, he thought with an inward groan. The matter of the rebel leader’s asylum plea had yet to be resolved.
“Have Admiral Batanides and Commander Zweller returned to the ship?” Picard said as Nurse Ogawa returned, a small electronic device in her hand.
Crusher shook her head. “No. But I think their shuttle is due back any time now.”
He silently cursed his immobility. He wanted to leap up and run to the shuttlebay, but he knew that this wasn’t an option while his chest cavity was clamped open beneath the sterile surgical field. “I need to see them as soon as they’re aboard. Particularly Commander Zweller.”
“What you need,” Crusher said sternly, “is to sit absolutely still for the next few minutes so I can repair the damage you did to your artificial heart.”
Picard sighed with frustration, then relented. “Fine. But after that-“
“No promises,” she said, interrupting him. It occurred to him that Crusher was probably the only person on the entire ship to whom he allowed that privilege. “After the operation, we’ll see.”
His dry throat made his next words come out in a sandpapery rasp. “Doctor, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you confine me to sickbay.”
“I don’t negotiate, Jean-Luc,” she said, holding up a hypospray admonishingly. “Why are you in such a hurry, anyway?”
“Beverly, Corey Zweller and I once took a foolish risk by fighting a trio of very hostile Nausicaans. That’s why there’s an artificial heart in my chest today. Forty years later, Zweller is still running foolish risks. Only now, he’s gambling with the lives of his colleagues. Whole sectors of space. An entire civilization. Had the Romulans succeeded in keeping that subspace singularity, his political gamesmanship might even have jeopardized the entire universe.
“But no more. It ends today. And I have to be in the shuttlebay when he arrives so I can tell him that.”
Crusher looked at him for a moment before nodding her assent. “All right, Jean-Luc. I think I can have you good as new-and out of here-in maybe an hour.”
He smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Bev-“
“If,” she said, once again interrupting and pointing the hypospray at him, “you will promise to swear off taking any more foolish risks yourself for at least a week.”
Picard managed a smile as Crusher gently applied the hypospray to his neck. “Cross my heart,” he whispered, and then slept.
The shuttlecraft Herschel vaulted away from the Chiarosan asteroid. Zweller watched as the battered, rocky worldlet dwindled on the viewscreen. He sincerely hoped never to look upon its meteor-scarred face again.
The cockpit had been devoid of conversation during the minute or so