The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [16]
But Data was not to be deflected from a new line of conjecture. “Perhaps the missing crew of the starship were eaten as well. Though several hundred bodies would presume a considerable hunger.”
Another call from Lieutenant Yar saved the captain from having to respond. “Not the Farmers again?” asked Picard.
“No, sir. I’m receiving a transmission from Zendi Starbase Ten.”
Riker rocked back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “They’ve taken a long time in getting back to us, sir. The communications lag is only a few hours, not a full day.”
“Late or not, at least we’ll get some answers from Admiral Zagráth,” said Picard. “Pipe it in here, Lieutenant.”
“Advise you to take the message in your office, sir. Scrambled transmission, Code 47-for your eyes only.”
“The message was only three minutes long,” protested Yar. She leaned over the aft deck railing, staring at the curving wall that separated the bridge from the captain’s Ready Room. “But he’s been in there for ages.”
Data swung the ops console around to face the other bridge officers. “Ten minutes, twelve seconds. Not an unreasonable duration for contemplation of a classified transmission. If one is human, that is.”
“I call twenty minutes unreasonable,” said Geordi a while later. “After all, how many times can you listen to a three-minute message?”
“Six point six, six, six, six … “
“Data,” said Yar, breaking into the android’s computation. “Has there been any computer activity from the captain’s terminal?”
“Not according to my … “
Riker shook his head firmly. “That’s enough, Data. We’re getting close to an invasion of privacy. We’ll know what’s going on soon enough.” After waiting another ten minutes, the first officer turned to Troi. “You haven’t said very much about the captain’s absence. Aren’t you curious?”
“That’s a leading statement and you know it,” responded Troi tartly. “What happened to your concern for his privacy?”
Geordi and Data both turned from their posts and stared silently at the counselor. She glanced above her head and saw both Yar and Worf looking at her as well. Troi sighed heavily. “If you must know, I sense he is experiencing great anger. He is trying to bring his temper under control.”
Any further explanation was forestalled by the sound of the Ready Room doors opening and closing. Face stripped of all emotion, Picard marched stiffly to the front of the bridge. He stood at attention, back to the viewer, and coughed loudly, as if calling an unruly class to order. In a flat, uninflected voice, he addressed a point in the center of the room.
“On instructions from Starfleet Command, there is to be no further discussion among the crew concerning the events we have witnessed in response to the distress call from the Ferrel. All log entries and sensor data involving the USS Ferrel and its attacker will be sealed. I trust each and every one of you will follow these instructions to the letter.”
The trill of an incoming call broke the uneasy silence that followed the captain’s announcement. Yar cut off the shrill sound with a swift jab at her communications console. “It’s from the Oregon Farmers, Captain.”
“Inform Farmer Patrisha that I will see her now,” answered Picard evenly. He had already reached the doors of the turboelevators before he turned and spoke again. “Data, you have the conn. Number One, Ill need your assistance.”
Riker asked no questions as their compartment dropped deck by deck through the center of the saucer. Eyes front, he matched the captain’s severe demeanor with his own martial stance.
“Hold.” Picard’s sudden order brought the turbolift to a standstill. A flashing alarm signaled their location between decks. “As first officer, you deserve to know at least some of what that transmission contained.”
“Off the record, I assume,” said Riker. He glanced around the small compartment. “The setting for the briefing is a little unorthodox.”
The tight line of Picard