The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [118]
Like a gull skimming the still surface of an ocean, the USS Enterprise dropped out of warp speed and coasted into a leisurely orbit around a cooling star.
The white dwarf had no name, just a number assigned by astronomers as they charted the desolate reaches of space beyond the Federation. The star had burned in isolation for nearly five thousand years; but now, at the end of that long wait, the dwarf’s single companion was drawing near again.
The heat of their meeting had transformed the speeding ball of rock and ice into a streak of luminous vapor; thus, for a few short months along the course of its elliptical orbit, the comet flared into prominence. Later, once it passed perihelion and fell farther and farther away into cold fringes of the system, the tail would fade, and the comet would continue in anonymous invisibility for another five thousand years.
Riker knew that comets were nothing more than stray pebbles adrift in space, kicked into motion by tidal waves of gravity. Over the years of his Starfleet service, he had seen wonders of far greater beauty and mystery than this lonely traveler in its brief flash of glory, but perhaps it was precisely that ephemeral quality that moved him with a mixture of sadness and joy.
When he entered the ready room, Riker found the captain staring out his window at the same bleak tableau of the white dwarf and its consort. With a softly uttered sigh of irritation, Picard turned away from the scene to hear his first officer’s status report.
“Engineering has managed to restore our deflector shield capacity to fifty-seven percent,” said Riker, “and Geordi expects another ten percent improvement in the next few hours, but for now we’re extremely vulnerable.”
Picard’s gaze kept flicking away from his first officer; he seemed to constantly fight against the impulse to look over his shoulder. His hands were equally restless, reaching for the Heart, then darting back to the data tablet on his desk. “Do the best you can with what we have, Number One.”
One role that Riker often played with the captain was devil’s advocate; Picard had always encouraged him to present any opposing arguments that would offer a different perspective to critical issues. Rarely, however, had Riker felt that the stakes were so high as now. “The best we can do, Captain, is to leave this area before we’re attacked.”
This statement secured Picard’s undivided attention and sharpened his voice. “Are you questioning my present command decisions?”
“No, sir, I’m not, but our orders—” “My orders,” said Picard with icy reserve, “were to keep the Heart out of the hands of the enemies of the Federation. I intend to do just that.”
Riker’s intuition led him toward a disturbing corollary. “But you’re not going to take it back into Federation space, are you?”
“No.” Picard lifted the stone up off the desk as if to include the Heart in the discussion of its fate. “Self-determination is one of the basic tenets of Starfleet’s philosophy; as a sentient being, this entity must be accorded control over its own destiny. Just as important, in my judgment the interests of the Federation are best served by removing the Heart from our affairs. Captain Duregh’s betrayal convinced me that its continuing presence would eventually destabilize our current political alliances.”
“Can you tell me how you plan to remove it?” asked Riker. He had hoped for just such an opening to discuss the captain’s plans for the Heart.
“This place is essential. We must stay here until …” As he groped for words, Picard unwittingly revealed the depth of his uncertainty.
“… until the Heart’s mission has completely unfolded.”
“The longer we remain here, the greater the chance that the unDiWahn—” “The unDiWahn are not a danger, Number One.” With the Heart still clutched in his hands like a talisman warding off evil, Picard said, “You’ve seen what it can do with your own eyes. As long as I hold the Heart, they can’t even touch us.”
Even before his return to the bridge, Troi could sense the rising intensity of Riker’s emotions.
When he finally stepped