Unification - Jeri Taylor [12]
Chapter Four
It is WRONO. A lifetime of discipline washed away, and in its place, bedlam… nothing but bedlam. And I am helpless to prevent it/I am old/Nothing left but dry bones and dead friends. Weary, so weary…
Picard’s eyes snapped open and inexplicably he found himself in his own bed in his quarters on the Enterprise. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel dampness on his cheeks from tears.
Slowly, he sat up, eyes adjusting in the darkness. It was his quarters, all right; the padd he had been using earlier was on the bedside stand where he had left it, with a half cup of now-cold tea nearby. Where had he been in his dream?
The memory was slipping away even now, an elusive wisp dancing just ahead of his grasp. He remembered being cold, unbearably cold… there was a sensation of torment and misery… overwhelming passions crowding in on him, suffocating himm Sarek. That was it; he had revisited the mind meld.
Picard sat up in bed, far from sleep now. It was his habit to dissect disturbing dreams like this, to attack them head-on and process them completely. He believed that was the way to deal with these unbidden denizens of the night: haul them up into consciousness, look at them, explore them, probe them, make them such a part of the rational mind that they could never again descend into the depths of the unconscious.
That he was connected to Sarek in some profound, indescribable way he did not doubt. That this connection should invade his dreams did not seem odd. What it portended for his encounter with Spock, should that occur, he did not know. That realization made him uneasy. Picard preferred to feel certainty, and there was almost nothing in this mission that allowed him that luxury. He was afloat in a landscape of strange, mystic possibilities that his mind could not even grasp, much less control. That wasn’t the way he liked to do things.
He sat up in bed and reached for the padd. He needed to focus his mind, to deal with realities— things precise and tangible. He worked for a few moments, refining the plan he had concocted. He thought it workable, though risky. The most difficult part of it would probably be in persuading Admiral Brackett to approve it.
But he did have a few ideas about that.
His face on her viewscreen was affable and confident. To Admiral Brackett, that meant he was about to present her with some proposition that was dangerous, unwieldy, intractable—or some combination of all three.
She adored this man.
“Yes, Jean-Luc”—she smiled, in her most earnest manner—”how can I help you?”
“Admiral.” He smiled. “I have visited Vulcan, and talked with Spock’s father and stepmother.”
“Yes?”
“They were unable to give me any real insight into Spock’s motives for going to Vulcan. However, I learned from Sarek the name of a Romulan senator with whom he might have been in contact.”
“Who is that?”
“His name is Pardek.”
“Yes. Pardek.”
“You know of him?”
“A senator… he has the reputation of being a moderate.”
“So I gather.”
“Then—you would make contact with Pardek?”
“Yes. Admiral… getting through the Neutral Zone and to Romulus is not a simple task.” “Of course not.” “I have a plan, but you will need to approve it.” Every finely honed instinct in Admiral Brackett went on alert with that statement. Even though Picard tried to speak of it casually, this “plan” sounded alarming. “Let me outline it for you,” continued Picard. “Please don’t,” replied Brackett. Picard’s face on the viewscreen was quizzical.
“Jean-Luc—I very strongly suspect I don’t want to know this plan of yours.” “But, Admiral, I must have your approval.” “You have it.” “Pardon me?” “My approval. You have it.” “I see.” “Any further questions?”
There was a long moment, and Brackett held his look imperturbably. Picard was no fool. He realized that her blanket approval also meant that if anything were to go wrong, she would disavow the entire mission. But she was sure it was the only way she could give him the freedom he needed to complete this most delicate of assignments.
Was that