Unification - Jeri Taylor [5]
“There was one other thing,” he said. “Take a look at this.”
Riker took the padd and scanned its contents briefly as Picard continued, “Something that turned up dur-ing the intelligence sweep on Spock. What do you make of it?”
Riker absorbed the succinct report. “Metal fragments, possibly disassembled components, identified as Vulcan—recovered from a downed Ferengi ship…”
“And the crates they were in were marked as medical supplies.”
Riker raised an eyebrow. “Contraband?”
Picard simply shrugged his shoulders as he started toward the door. “They’ve been sent to Vulcan for identification. Starfleet has requested we lend them a hand.” And he was gone.
Riker stood in the empty room, holding the padd in his hand, rereading the information, hoping to discover in it something that promised an adventure.
But all he saw was a mundane investigation. Identifying metal fragments. Hardly the stuff to challenge the mind and electrify the sensibilities. But it was better than nothing.
Chapter Three
JEAN-LUC PICARD SMILED as he entered Transporter Room Three and saw Miles O’Brien at his post. He liked O’Brien immensely. O’Brien was the kind of man who wore well, like old leather, becoming more comfortable over time. Picard had seen him move from amiable bachelor to loving husband and now, within recent weeks, to fatherhood. Molly Miyaki Worf O’Brien had been born in Ten-Forward during a catastrophic event on the Enterprise, and Picard was sure that O’Brien’s life was now topsy-turvy. In fact, as he approached the ruddy, curly-haired transporter chief, he was sure he could see dark circles under his eyes, testifying to lack of sleep. “Hello, Chief. How are Keiko and the baby?”
“Very well, sir. Molly’s got an Irish set of pipes, that’s for sure. And she uses them, all night long.”
“I thought you were looking a little peaked.” Picard’s warm smile eliminated any hint of chastise-ment.
“It’s amazing to me, sir. She seems to wake up the minute I go to bed. She sleeps soundly all day long, never fusses, nurses well. But no matter what time it is I try to go to sleep, she starts squalling. Do you think they do these things on purpose?”
Picard had no idea what babies might or might not do and had no particular interest in finding out. Babies were strange, burbling little creatures that others might enjoy fawning over; he was content to observe them from afar. “I’m afraid I’m not the right person to ask, Mr. O’Brien,” he responded. “You might speak to one of the pediatric nurses.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining, sir. I think she’s just being a baby. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Is our guest ready to come on board?” Enough of this talk of babies; he was here for a purpose, one that had galvanized his energies as no mission had in a long while. Visions of Spock haunted his mind and invaded his dreams. He had become possessed by the mystery of Spock’s disappearance in a way that was overwhelming and disturbing. And he had no doubt that it all had to do with his mind meld with Sarek.
“Aye, sir, I can bring her on any time.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Picard moved toward the transporter platfornl as O’Brien keyed commands into his console. There was a brief silence, and then the sparkling effect of the transporter beam began to form on the platform and coalesce into a woman’s body.
An instant later Perrin stood before him, lovely and gracious as ever, her graceful features tranquil and composed. Only her eyes mirrored the pain she carried from dealing with Sarek’s illness.
“Captain Picard.” She walked toward him, two arms extended. Her warm, honey-blond hair was artfully done, as always, and her hazel eyes radiated compassionate gentility.
“Perrin.” He lifted his hands and she grasped them firmly, pressing a generous greeting.
“It’s good to see you again.”
“And you. How is Sarek?”
Her face clouded slightly as they moved