Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [56]
They seemed to accept that. Dayton took the burden. “Ruby spent years looking for us. Hiring ships, scratching resources together, lobbying admirals, buying search services, getting fleeced, getting older … she hired some of the most disreputable characters around.”
“Yes,” Riker said. “I’ve heard that no one of any self-restraint would go into the Typhon Expanse for a good twenty years after that incident. And I don’t blame them—I was there.”
“You sure were,” Dennis commented.
Riker glanced at him, then said, “Go on, Mr. Dayton.”
“She finally used up all her resources except a single ship that she took out by herself. She had word that Gabe was a prisoner of the Klingons, from someone who was willing to trade lies for money, and she was determined to get him back. She headed straight for the Klingon border.”
“The Klingons got her?” Riker guessed.
“Yes. Captured, tried as a spy, convicted and sentenced to Rura Penthe Prison Planet. The Federation tried to get her back, but she had trespassed on restricted territory. The charge was legitimate. The Klingons were about to let her go on a technicality, but then they found out who she was … the fiancée of the Bozeman’s first officer.”
“The Bozeman,” Riker echoed, “the ship that wrecked their invasion and sent the High Council into a tailspin.”
“That’s right,” Wizz Dayton said. “After that, they sent Ruby back all right … in ten small boxes. The same number of dignitaries who were purged from the High Council.”
With a wince Riker murmured, “Oh, no—”
“All because she was the fiancée of Gabriel Bush,” Dennis added. “And when Gabe checked on what happened to her, there was a nice clear set of pictures in the files. He just sat there for days and stared at the monitor, eaten up by guilt.”
Will Riker winced and canted forward as if he’d been punched. “Oh, my God … poor Gabe …”
With new sorrow and empathy, he looked down the corridor, empty now, wishing he could catch Gabriel Bush and—do something, anything, for him. Anything.
“I guess you can see, sir, why we protect Mr. Bush,” Wizz Dayton said. “We’d appreciate it if you’d just forget what you saw. We’ve been pretty much keeping him away from officers for a long time now, and Captain Bateson’s been running interference for him, making sure nobody finds out. He’s not really causing any harm, sir. And he does do his jobs, usually. Please don’t say anything, sir.”
“That’s highly inappropriate, Mr. Dayton,” Riker began, but they already knew that. “Don’t let me catch him on duty like that.”
As boarding first officer, what should he do? What would he do in their place? Wouldn’t he protect Troi or La Forge just the same way? Hadn’t he and Picard and everyone else protected Worf during all his struggles between his Klingon heritage and his Starfleet loyalties? Those hadn’t exactly been sane times. And the glasswork feelings of Data during his halting search for humanness?
Thinking of those, he couldn’t muster up the second half of his sentence.
“But you can see,” Dennis said, “why he just couldn’t be the first officer for this voyage. We don’t know when he ever will be again. He’s taken the course and upgraded his technical skills to some extent, enough to pass muster—”
“Whenever we could sober him up,” Dayton offered.
“And he passed reaccreditation,” Mike Dennis went on.
“Has the ship’s surgeon seen him?” Riker asked.
“Oh, sure,” Dayton said. “Cured him eight times, enough for him to take exams and get recertified. But there’s just no curing his broken heart.”
Riker drew a breath and sighed. “Well, I’ve heard of conspiracies before, but this—”
If only there were some way to bring this up casually, talk to Bush, help him … but if his own crewmates hadn’t been able to help, and a Starfleet surgeon hadn’t been able to help, then no one could help. Real help, Riker knew, lay untouchable, ninety years in the past, with a soulsick girl and a sorrowful destiny. Some things just can never be fixed.
As the two men led him in silence to his new quarters, he combed his mind for just how to handle this. As first