Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [36]
Picard’s annoyance faded away, sharply refocused on these new facts. “What about the medical support teams accompanying them?”
“They’re spread too thinly; they don’t have the facilities.” She shook her head, gave a gesture of helplessness. “I’m by no means criticizing them. They just can’t handle the Ntignano needs in transit. And as it is, transit is taking entirely too long.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything; his frustration swirled around thoughts of Tsoran sensibilities—and in sensitivities—and he felt the potential for providing onsite support to Geordi slip through his fingers. “All right, Beverly,” he said. “Perhaps I can find a way to prod Atann into action.”
“But you won’t leave Tsora,” she said, searching his face, looking for confirmation. “From what I’ve seen of Atann, it would take years before he’d even consider speaking to us again.”
“I won’t break orbit without further discussion,” Pi card acceded, feeling some inner part of him rail against his failure to rush to the away team’s rescue. But the promise satisfied Crusher.
When she left, he immediately called Deanna Troi. She was off-duty—as, technically, were he and Beverly Crusher—but that didn’t stop her from arriving in the ready room, in uniform, within fifteen minutes of his request.
“What,” he said, with very little preamble, “would
you predict of the Tsoran response if they discovered we had initiated mapping of the space under discussion?” Or not under discussion, as the case may be.
“I doubt they’d have anything to do with the Federation for a long, long time,” Troi said, tucking her hair behind her ear—the long, unruly curls were the only sign that she’d been caught out of uniform, although her fatigue was evident, and worry rested in her eyes. Worry over Riker, no doubt. The past ties that bound them were strong—stronger, sometimes, than Picard thought either of them realized, regardless of what other entanglements they entered.
But not so strong that she couldn’t continue to focus on the question at hand. Quite practically, she added, “I’m not sure how much the Tsoran reaction matters. Is our goal here to rescue the Ntignanos, or to establish sturdy relations with the Tsorans?”
“I’m sure Starfleet would prefer that we do both,” Pi card said dryly. “And there is certainly some question, according to Geordi’s report, whether we could accomplish the mapping in time to do any good. Dr. Crusher has made it clear that for some of the refugees, we’re already too late.”
She sat quietly for a thoughtful moment. “It’s not an easy decision.”
That it wasn’t. Throw the fate of his first officer into the mix and it bordered on the impossible.
“I’d like to see what we can do to jar Atann into responsiveness,” he said, after his own moment of thought, moving away from the conflicts of the mapping issue for the moment.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been giving that some thought.” She scooted to the edge of the couch, resting her entwined fingers over one knee. “I think, if we made
it known to him, perhaps through Nadann, that you had heard of their accomplishments—the way they’ve thrived in what used to be a difficult and dangerous environment —you might well prompt an invitation to visit their historical sites or kaphoora training facilites. The question is, will Atann merely walk away again when you bring up the subject of the charted space?”
“Quite likely,” Picard muttered. “Unless I have some news of his son.”
“Have you heard from Geordi recently? Do we know anything more than we did?”
“Not recently.” La Forge was, however, in occasional contact with Data, and if there had been any significant development, Picard was quite sure he’d know about it. “And I’m afraid not.” He took a deep breath, feeling decisions settling into place. “Counselor, come planet morning”—the same as ship morning, as they’d arranged it