The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [13]
Troi smiled impishly, her black eyes sparkling. “In that case, sir, it would be only fair to allow Commander Data to get out that ridiculous hat he calls a deerstalker and that smelly pipe.”
Picard’s smile widened, and he waved the air before his face, his nose wrinkling at the memory. “The hat I could perhaps countenance,” he said. “But that pipe constitutes a menace to the environmental systems. Scratch Dixon Hill, as well. I will have to solve this one as Jean-Luc Picard.”
The captain’s expression sobered, hardened. “And solve it I will, Counselor,” he finished softly.
Chapter Three
“ENTERING SECTOR 3SR-5-42, Captain,” Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher announced. The bridge crew glanced up from their tasks at the stars streaking by in rainbow-hued trails.
“Reduce speed to warp one, Mister Crusher.”
“Aye, sir.” The young helmsman touched the huge starship’s control panel, and obediently, the mammoth vessel slowed her headlong rush. “Warp one, Captain.”
Jean-Luc Picard sat back in his contoured command seat in the center of the bridge, Ship’s Counselor Deanna Troi in her usual position to his left. “Very good, Mister Crusher.” Picard turned his gaze to his android officer, who sat in his accustomed position at the Ops console beside Wesley. “Mister Data, at our present speed, how long before we reach the last recorded position of the Marco Polo?”
“One hour and seventeen minutes, Captain,” Data said. His abnormally pale features appeared even more inhuman in the bright lights of the bridge. “I am conducting long-range sensor scans as ordered, sir.”
“Thank you, Mister Data. And how long before we will reach the vicinity of the PaKathen?”
“That ship’s last recorded position was relatively close to the coordinates where the Marco Polo lost contact, sir. About half a light-year. I cannot be more precise than that, because the PaKathen was not transmitting when it vanished, so the Klingon vessel’s precise location remains unknown.”
“I see …” The captain thought for a moment, then straightened in his command seat. “Mister Crusher, prepare a sublight search pattern that encompasses both sets of coordinates with a point-five light-year overlap as a margin for error. Ensure that it allows for both minimum search time and maximum fuel economy.”
“Yes, Captain!” Wesley responded eagerly. Immediately the teenager began communing with the computer, his thin, handsome young features taking on the faraway expression he customarily wore while working to solve some abstract problem, be it homework or the piloting of the great ship. He’s so much like his father, Picard thought. Jack used to get that same intent expression whenever he was faced with a challenge—and the more difficult that challenge was, the better he liked it.
A small, fond smile touched the captain’s mouth as he regarded the brown head bent so earnestly over the computer console. Then he realized that Troi was watching him with a faint, knowing smile of her own, so he hastily adjusted his features.
“Mister Data,” he said briskly, “do you have that information on the Marco Polo that I requested?”
“Yes, Captain, I do.” The android officer swiveled to face his commanding officer. “Shall I put it on the main viewer, sir?”
“Please do so, Mister Data.”
Data pressed a button on his Ops console, and a schematic of a ship took the place of the starfield on the main viewscreen. The ship was a bulky freight carrier, lacking the Enterprise’s sleek lines. Below its small saucer section, the vessel’s cargo holds bulged gravidly. “The Marco Polo is a class-one freighter, Captain,” Data said, his voice falling into his “lecture mode.”“Designed to ship agricultural products and luxury items, it has a crew complement of forty-three. Its cargo holds can carry a payload of—”
“I am familiar with the cargo capacity of class-one freighters, Mister Data,” the captain interrupted. “How old is this particular ship?”
“It was originally launched ninety-three years ago, sir, but it was completely refitted thirty-one years ago.”
“Still rather an antique,