The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [13]
“That may be their expectation, Lieutenant,” Picard replied, “but I have no intention of accommodating that demand. That’s why you will accompany the doctor as her assistant. The Enterprise will maintain station just on the Federation side of the border, and I’ll have no reservations about entering Cardassian space if we suspect anything untoward taking place.”
Yar offered a confident nod. “Understood, sir.”
Despite the succinct response, Crusher still noted the slightest hesitation as the lieutenant answered. Yar’s earlier admission of her discomfort at variances in command structure was open and honest, one that may even have been difficult for her to express. Crusher knew that for this mission to succeed, the two of them would have to maintain that level of honesty, at least until the doctor could earn a greater measure of trust from Yar in the field.
“How soon can you be under way?” Picard asked.
“My staff is already preparing the list of items I want to take with me,” Crusher replied, “and a shuttle’s being prepared for medical transport. At last report, it would be ready within three hours, and we can leave directly after that.”
Picard nodded in approval. “Excellent. Despite the unorthodox nature of this mission, I don’t need to remind you that the diplomatic ramifications of your efforts may well prove as vital as the humanitarian aid you’ll be providing. Good luck to both of you. Dismissed.”
As the room began to clear, Crusher caught Picard’s eye and walked toward him at his small nod. His gaze met hers, and their years of close friendship allowed her to read the concern and responsibility for her welfare she knew he carried.
“This Cardassian doctor and his captain are making an uncharacteristically bold step toward the Federation with this offer,” he said. “Starfleet Command will be watching what happens with a keen eye. Despite what I said earlier, your first duty is to your patients, and your own safety. Leave diplomacy to the diplomats.”
Yar nodded. “You can count on us, sir.” Something about the way she said it even offered Crusher a renewed sense of confidence.
Her answer seemed to appease Picard as well. “I have full confidence in you, Lieutenant. Make it so.”
The captain turned and left the observation lounge, leaving Crusher and Yar alone to regard each other with a mix of emotions. “Well,” Yar said, offering a sly grin, “you’ve certainly found a way to get rid of the boredom of gamma shift. Any other surprises I should know about?”
I hope not, Crusher thought.
Shuttlecraft cockpit seats, Crusher decided, were the one method of torture condoned by Starfleet.
Crusher craned her neck, stiff from her attempts to doze in her seat in the Jefferies’s cockpit, and looked back along the slim corridor formed by the sides of the vessel’s freshly installed emergency stasis units. Scrambling to treat any unforeseen complication within the small craft likely would prove difficult if not deadly to the people she was attempting to bring home alive. While the stasis units—which resembled coffins—would not facilitate healing by any means, they would provide safe transportation for her patients back to the Enterprise or a Starfleet medical facility, if necessary.
After nearly eight hours cooped up in the cramped confines of the Jefferies, the doctor had for the ninth or tenth time seriously considered commandeering one of the three units for herself, if only to get some unfettered rest. With every cubic centimeter of available space now repurposed for the care and transport of her patients, creature comforts within the shuttle’s cabin—let alone space to stretch—were slim to none.
In the back, Crusher saw Yar kneeling next to the shuttlecraft’s emergency transporter pad. To maximize space while making the shuttle as utilitarian as possible to medical needs, Enterprise engineers had cross-purposed the device to function as a replicator, capable of creating any equipment or synthesizing any pharmaceuticals or implants Crusher might deem necessary for