Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [61]
Geordi La Forge seemed startled, then smiled. “Yes, sir! I’d like that very much!”
He quickly came down into the command arena and took the nav chair.
“Mr. Riker, your place is right here—” Bateson gestured to the seat on the right of the command chair, then motioned to the chair on the left and said, “Gabe, I want you right here beside me too.”
Not nearly as jolly as the last time Riker had seen him, Gabe Bush had obviously been sobered up a little by his shipmates. Twitching with self-consciousness, he wallowed in obvious embarrassment as all eyes came to him. His eyes went only one place—to Riker’s. Bush flushed in humiliation, and he couldn’t look up for long.
He glanced at the captain. “Thank you, sir,” he scratched out. “I ‘preciate that.”
Not belaboring the discomfort, Bateson took his place in the captain’s chair.
“Let’s see what she can do. Mr. La Forge, your course is two six zero one point six.”
“Twenty-six-oh-one, aye, sir!” Helmsman Andy Welch’s voice had a quake of thrill running through.
Bateson tapped the control on the command chair’s arm. “Captain’s log. Captain Morgan Bateson recording. Log first engagement of matter/antimatter propulsion system, U. S. S. Enterprise, NCC 1701-E. Mr. Welch … give us warp factor one.”
“Warp factor one, sir!”
The engines hummed. Space on the screen blew into gorgeous distortion. The Fries-Posnikoff Sector blurred into some kind of painting, and snap—they were going faster than Einstein thought anybody ever could.
As she pressed her armored shoulders forward into light-speed, the U.S.S. Enterprise-E was indeed a beauty, inside and out. She was a forward-leaning thing, a huge bird leaping off that cliff, but she was leaping for the first time. She was a grand ship. Only time and trial would tell if indeed she was also a great ship.
“Ahead standard.”
“Standard cruising speed, Captain, warp factor four. All systems responding.”
Now that they’d settled down and most people’s eyes had dried up some, Will Riker turned to Captain Bateson. “What’s our destination, sir? Circling the Emerson-Northern Nebula?”
“The Forest Hill Asteroid Belt?” La Forge guessed from the starboard side.
“The Civic Park Cluster at Echo-Five?” Data added hopefully. He still looked like an android, but he wasn’t acting much like one right now.
“Nope, nothing so pedestrian.” The captain pointed at the big main screen and made a sweeping gesture with both hands. “We’re going right out to the far edge of the Typhon Expanse. Our old hunting grounds.”
As Bateson glanced around in satisfaction and met eyes with his original crew members, Riker noticed that everybody else—he himself, and the engineers and techs who hadn’t come through time with Bateson—were all staring in a completely different manner.
Then Riker noticed that most of them were looking at him. They expected him to say something. He expected it too.
“Captain,” he began, stepping into the command arena, “that’s directly adjacent to the Klingon Neutral Zone.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Sir … it’s considered hostile space. The Federation recommends that all shipping remain clear of the Expanse. That area is scrupulously avoided by all but assigned Starfleet border patrol vessels.”
“Yes, I know that too.”
“Vessels, I might add, which are thoroughly shaken down, fully armed, and manned by active-duty battle-trained field officers, sir—”
“Yes, Will, I know, I heard you.” Bateson tilted his head and surveyed the officers of the EnterpriseD. “What’s the matter with all of you? You look like a raft of seals. Stop staring. Are you getting upset for some good reason?”
Riker worked to unclench his fists. “No, sir.”
“Good. I had a feeling you might be a little reluctant. How long was it—seven years under Picard?”
“Yes, sir.” Uneasily, Riker met the glances of Geordi and Troi, who were now standing together with Data on the upper starboard deck.
Bateson shrugged. “Well, all good things … no, I’m not trying to be heartless.” He strolled toward Riker, much closer than Riker wanted to be right now, and the captain looked at