Part 6 (1/2)
He'd have to ask for volunteers. He wouldn't order anyone to sign up.
”Sir?”
Geordi snapped out of his reverie and saw that he and Barclay were alone in the turbolift. Geordi had a vague memory of watching Beverly and Troi get off a moment ago.
”Yes, Reg?”
”I'd like to volunteer, sir,” Barclay said, looking his superior square in the eye. ”For the team that will be boarding the station, I mean.”
”Volunteer?” Geordi repeated uncomprehendingly.
”Yes, sir. The captain lost several seconds getting me out of the access tunnel. And he only missed the airlock door by a second or two. If I hadn't-”
The engineering chief shook his head. ”Reg, you can't do that to yourself. What happened to Captain Picard was n.o.body's fault.”
”Maybe,” Barclay answered. But Geordi could see that the man didn't believe him for a second. ”Still, I would like to help if I can.”
The commander gave a mental sigh. ”To be perfectly frank, Reg, I don't know if I can take the chance. It may get rough out there.”
”I know that,” said Barclay, ”And I'm ready, sir. I'd really like to help ... and I'd like to show you ... well, I'd like to show you what I'm made of, sir.”
Geordi watched Barclay's expression turn deadly serious, and saw something he'd never seen before in the man: resolve.
That made two times that Lieutenant Barclay had surprised him today.
”Commander Riker,” came Worf's voice from behind the first officer. ”Priority-one message from Starfleet Command, for Captain Picard.”
”I'll take it in the captain's ready room,” Riker responded, already on his feet.
It took the commander only a few long strides to reach the ready room door and then the captain's desk. Once before, when Picard had disappeared, Riker had been extremely uncomfortable at that desk. Since then, he'd adjusted to command in the captain's place-though he still hated the circ.u.mstances.
Sitting down, the exec touched the control and the Federation seal popped onto the small viewscreen. A moment later, Admiral Kowalski's stern, weathered features replaced the seal. In less than an instant, the admiral recognized Riker. His scowl deepened.
”Where is your captain, Commander?”
”Missing, sir. I'm preparing my report now.”
Kowalski frowned. ”We've got a tense situation over here, Commander. Give me the highlights.”
Riker quickly reviewed the discovery of the alien station, Picard's disappearance, and their plan for a rescue. The admiral listened carefully, with no change in expression.
”I a.s.sume,” Kowalski said, ”that Captain Picard briefed you on his plans for the summit.”
”No, sir. There wasn't time.”
”d.a.m.n,” the admiral exclaimed.
Riker leaned forward. ”Sir, I think we still have a good chance of finding the captain and continuing the mission as planned. We still have six days-”
”Yes,” Kowalski interrupted. ”But no more. The Federation regards the summit as critical. To date, we have had little contact with the Gorn. The fact is, we really don't know what's going on there, but we have been getting reports of internal tension within their homeworld's governing body. If that tension reaches a crisis point, it could mean a number of things for the Federation-and none of them good. At best, we will have lost the hope of progress Picard's breakthrough gave us twenty-five years ago. And at worst ... well, I don't intend to see the worst happen.”
Riker saw from the look on Kowalski's face that the admiral was not exaggerating. The situation and possible consequences worried him greatly. ”What can I do, sir?”
”You can get me Picard,” Kowalski replied. ”He's the closest thing we have to an expert on the Gorn. I want both him and the Enterprise at the Gorn homeworld in five days-at the outside.”
Riker grunted. Now it was five days. ”We could use some help in our search, sir. Are there any Starfleet vessels close enough to a.s.sist?”
Kowalski shook his head. ”Not so much as a scout s.h.i.+p, commander. I'm afraid you're on your own.” For a moment, the admiral allowed his expression to soften. ”I'm sorry about your captain, Commander. But in the event you are not able to recover him, you are to proceed as per the new schedule-and complete the mission. Is that understood?”
The first officer nodded. ”Yes, sir.”
”I'll expect your full report on Captain Picard's disappearance in fifteen minutes. Kowalski out.”
The admiral's face was replaced by the Federation symbol, which Riker shut off a moment later. As soon as the report was finished, he would have to call Geordi and Data to apprise them of the new developments. They were no longer just looking for a needle in a haystack, they were doing it with the barn burning down around them.
Chapter Three.
A BUZZ filled Picard's ears. He felt himself moving, and he soon recognized his motion as the familiar sensation of flying. Not the indiscernible hum of s.p.a.ceflight, but the rocking progress of atmospheric flight. Suddenly he felt his craft buck, twist, and then resume its irregular but more or less steady course.
A moment later, the captain was able to open his eyes. Outside the small c.o.c.kpit was a strangely familiar haze of white. Picard knew he was inside heavy cloud cover. A sputter that broke the monotony of the buzz drew his attention forward-and he saw the craft's propeller rattle and come to a halting stop.
What followed happened quickly. As the captain felt the craft's sudden descent, he grabbed the joystick and rolled the vessel until it was upside down. Popping open the canopy, he felt a rush of wind on his face. As he removed his restraints, Picard pushed outward and let gravity take him. Free of the s.h.i.+p, he felt himself falling.
He reached out with his failing memory. There was something he still needed to do, something to pull ... a cord. He clutched his stomach and found it, then yanked with all of his strength... .
A moment later, the captain felt the first stirrings of consciousness, as the dream left him and began to slowly fade. Odd, he thought. He hadn't had that dream since he was a cadet, though when he was very young it had haunted him. In the dream, he was a World War II fighter pilot from a story he had read-and he was bailing out of his Royal Air Force aircraft over the English Channel.
The dream always ended them. But in the story, the pilot woke up in a British hospital. After a short time, the pilot realized that the hospital was a fake, as were the nurses and doctors he had met. The pilot put together the clues, the minor discrepancies, and realized that the hospital and staff were a ruse perpetrated by the Germans to induce him to give up military secrets.
As a boy, Picard had had the dream a number of times-usually when he was confronted with any unfamiliar situation, such as a new school. In those days, he had a.s.sumed the dream was a reminder from his subconscious not to take new situations at face value-good advice that had been borne out by his experience in Starfleet. But the dream always left him uneasy, as if some of the surprises he faced might not be pleasant.
As the fog lifted slowly over his brain, the dream faded even more from his consciousness. But the feeling remained: something was wrong.
Memory flooded back-the alien station, losing Ensign Varley, the airlock.
Forcing his eyes open, the captain tried to scan the room, but his vision was blurred. Even so, he could tell that he was not on the Enterprise. The ceilings were too low, and the walls were made of welded plates. And the sounds ... they were not the sounds of his s.h.i.+p.
The first step, he knew, was to take better stock of his surroundings. Concentrating, he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. When his body responded sluggishly, he leaned back and threw himself forward, trying to use momentum to force himself up.
The pain was remarkable. It was centered in his head and his right shoulder, but seemed to radiate through most of his body. Picard immediately lay back down and waited for it to pa.s.s. After what seemed like a few minutes but was probably only a few seconds, the pain retreated to a point in his forehead and another point in his right shoulder.
Taking careful stock of himself, he determined that aside from his head and shoulder, the rest of him was in reasonably good condition. He moved his left hand and found that it could move freely. Using it, he traced the surface he was lying on and found it was a thin mattress on a hard platform. Similar to the beds in Beverly's sickbay but not identical.
It was that difference that made up the captain's mind. If he was in the hands of a friendly party, that party certainly wouldn't mind if he tried to leave to sort out what was going on. If, however, he was in the hands of a hostile force, his best chance lay in getting away quickly, while his captors a.s.sumed-not incorrectly, he mused-that he would be incapacitated.
For Picard, the memory of his time as a Carda.s.sian prisoner was too fresh for him to take the risk of remaining still if he was in the hands of an enemy. If he erred here today, it would be on the side of caution.