Part 2 (1/2)
”Nonetheless, let's try to contact them before we do anything else,” said Picard with finality. He rose to his feet, anxious to resolve this problem. ”Mr. Barclay, take the lieutenant to the bridge, and try to contact her planet. I'm sure Data will be of help. Lieutenant Pazlar, you'll be getting a call from our s.h.i.+p's counselor, Deanna Troi. I suggest you see her at your earliest convenience.”
Pazlar glowered at him. ”I don't need counseling, Captain. You can look at my record. I know this request is unusual, but I've never done anything like this before.”
”You'll see Counselor Troi, or I'll have you confined to quarters. Is that clear?” Picard said in what he hoped was an understated, but firm, tone.
Melora s.h.i.+vered and clutched the handle of her cane. ”Yes, sir. But about the shuttlecraft ...”
”Out of the question until you see the counselor.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. ”And I wouldn't try to steal one-we've tightened up security since the war.”
The Elaysian bowed her head and looked as downcast as anyone Picard had ever seen. She certainly wore her emotions on her tunic, making him wonder how she had garnered such glowing evaluations from her previous commanding officers. Then again, he wasn't seeing Melora Pazlar at her best.
The captain cleared his throat. ”At a later date, I'll take you on a tour of the s.h.i.+p, as I intended.”
Melora granted him the wisp of a smile, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. ”I would like that, sir. May we be dismissed?”
”Yes.” He nodded to Barclay, and the engineer took the Elaysion under his watchful eye.
Tight-lipped, the captain tapped his combadge. ”Picard to Commander Troi.”
”I don't understand how it can be this difficult to contact a Federation planet,” complained Commander William Riker, looming over Reg Barclay's shoulder. Data peered with interest over his other shoulder, and Melora Pazlar was practically in his lap. That was the only part of the arrangement that Reg wouldn't complain about. On the bridge of the Enterprise, the mightiest s.h.i.+p in Starfleet, half of the command staff was gathered around an auxiliary console on the back bulkhead.
”It can be very difficult, if they don't wish to be contacted,” answered Pazlar somberly. ”The Elaysians keep a subs.p.a.ce hot line open with the Federation, in case of emergencies, but it's not used for day-to-day chitchat. Access isn't automatic.”
Barclay took his eyes off the auxiliary panel long enough to glance from Pazlar to Riker, who was slowly stewing. Barclay wanted to jump in and protect his new s.h.i.+pmate, but she was much better at verbal sparring than he was, especially with commanding officers.
Data had been surprisingly quiet until now. Reg attributed that to the fact that he hadn't yet made any mistakes in his laborious attempts to contact Gemworld. Commander Riker had come in late, annoyed that the process was taking so long on his watch, and Barclay felt a need to explain.
”W-We're waiting for the approval of the protocols from the subs.p.a.ce relay in sector six-ninety-one.” Reg cleared his throat, glad to have gotten that much out. He was very relieved when Data jumped in.
”There is little need for regular subs.p.a.ce communications,” said the android. ”Due to gravity concerns, few inhabitants of Gemworld ever leave, and few outsiders ever visit. Although the planet has six sentient species, only the Elaysians have shown interest in regular contact. The other species are unusual, even by Federation standards. For example, our first contact with their planet was telepathic, through the dreams.h.i.+ps of the Lipuls.”
Melora nodded impatiently. ”I've been trying to tell everybody that the dreams.h.i.+ps are real.”
”The last contact with a dreams.h.i.+p was two hundred and four years ago” added Data. ”Humanoids have short memories.”
”Time doesn't mean the same to the Lipuls as it does to us,” said Melora. ”We've shared a planet with them for millions of years, and we don't even know how long they live.”
Riker scowled and took a step back. ”All right, it sounds like a place where people like their privacy. As for me, I like a minimal amount of distraction on the bridge. So do what you can to wrap this up.”
”Yes, sir,” answered Barclay quickly, never taking his eyes off his instruments. Finally new data began to appear. ”I think I'm getting a response now.”
He gaped in disbelief at the message which scrolled across the board. Captain Picard and Melora were not going to be happy about this.
Peering over his shoulder, Data read the message aloud: ”Subs.p.a.ce contact with Gemworld suspended at this time, due to subs.p.a.ce warping and interference in sector six-ninety-one. Cause unknown.”
”Exactly as I thought,” said Melora with a mixture of vindication and worry. ”Now the captain is going to have to give me a shuttlecraft. We should go right now and investigate!”
Data c.o.c.ked his head. ”Interruption of one subs.p.a.ce channel on a single relay is not normally cause for concern. There are many possible explanations.”
Melora scowled and banged the tip of her cane on the deck. ”What will it take? Do we all have to die! Can't you just take my word for it?”
”We do not know you very well,” answered Data helpfully. ”And your actions appear irrational.”
While Melora seethed and n.o.body else knew what to say, the combadge on her anti-gravity suit suddenly beeped. She slapped it angrily. ”Pazlar here.”
”This is Counselor Troi,” said a lilting voice. ”I hope I haven't interrupted you at a bad time. The captain suggested we meet.”
Melora grit her teeth, and Reg thought she was going to explode. Instead she replied very evenly, ”Would now be convenient?”
”Cetainly. If you don't know how to get to my office, I'm sure-”
”Lieutenant Barclay will show me. In fact, I'd like him to sit in with us.”
There was a pause before Troi answered, ”That's highly unusual.”
Pazlar took a deep breath and said calmly. ”I don't know anybody on this s.h.i.+p, and Lieutenant Barclay has been very kind and understanding. I would just feel more comfortable.” She patted Reg on the arm. ”That is, if you don't mind.”
”No, no! Not at all.” Reg tried not to express his happiness at being indispensable, but he wished it could be under different circ.u.mstances. He recalled that Melora had also wanted a witness when she was talking to Captain Picard. She was no dummy. She knew that her actions might lead to an inquiry, or even a court-martial. Melora was convinced there was an emergency, and that she was in the right; so she wanted an impartial observer to back her up. That was probably all she wanted from him.
”We're coming now,” said the Elaysian. ”Pazlar out.”
”We'll put our long-range scanners on it and see what we can find,” said Commander Riker, giving Pazlar a sympathetic smile. ”And we'll also keep trying to raise them on subs.p.a.ce.”
”Thank you, sir,” answered Melora, now sounding obedient and contrite. Maybe she realized it would be no simple feat to commandeer this great stars.h.i.+p and take it home. She was biding her time while she built her case.
Barclay rose to his feet and motioned to the turbolift door. ”After you.”
”Thank you.” As Melora shuffled off, he followed dutifully behind her. ”I hope you don't mind helping me out,” said the Elaysian.
”No, no. This beats a regular s.h.i.+ft in engineering. I'm sorry we couldn't contact your homeworld.”
Pazlar shrugged. ”I didn't expect us to be successful.”
As the turbolift doors closed on the two of them, Barclay said, ”Deck nine.” They began to move, and he tapped his combadge. ”Barclay to engineering.”
”La Forge here,” came the familiar voice. ”It's okay, Reg, the captain told me you were on special duty. Report when you can.”
”Thank you, sir. Barclay out.”
Melora snorted a derisive laugh. ”So I'm 'special duty.' I have to tell you, I don't usually cause a commotion when I arrive at a new post. Why did they have to contact me? I'm a stupid choice.”
The door opened, and they stepped out of the turbolift onto deck nine. This was a public deck, with offices, cla.s.srooms, libraries, theaters, and similar facilities. They strolled slowly down the corridor, eliciting a few curious glances from pa.s.sing crewmembers.
”I'm used to that,” whispered Melora. ”Either they're trying to place my species, or they're wondering why I need the suit and the cane. Since the war, there have been a lot more people with canes and crutches. Eventually all of them will get prosthetics. But I'll still have the cane.”
Barclay cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. ”How ... how do you know the dream wasn't just your mind ... telling you it wants to go home?”