Part 10 (1/2)
”A few more shakedown tests and it goes on-line,” Santos told him. ”They're estimating just a couple of weeks.”
Ironic, thought Picard. If the array was switched on sooner-its power boosted slightly-it would probably detect the Gorn civilization. In fact, he could this very moment make the suggestion to power up the array ... invent a compelling enough reason that Travers would have to act on it immediately. Then, with defenses in place, the tragedy could be avoided. Santos and the other colonists wouldn't have to die.
Of course, the Prime Directive forbade it. And even putting the noninterference regulations aside, there were too many other reasons. If the ma.s.sacre were averted, Captain Kirk could not have settled the dispute with the Gorn captain in single combat. Picard would not have had the basis for his first encounter with the Gorn, and the upcoming summit might never take place. Instead, the Gorn might have resorted to a full-scale attack on the Federation as a first contact. The possibility for devastation and loss of life was incalculable.
No. Clearly, the captain would have to let history play itself out as it must. Santos and the others would have to perish, so that peace could eventually come from their tragedy. Intellectually, Picard understood the situation perfectly. The question was ... why did it feel so b.l.o.o.d.y wrong?
The doctor turned to him, delight illuminating her face, somehow making her green eyes seem even greener. ”We're explorers, Dixon. And in two weeks we begin a whole new phase of human exploration. Luckily for you, you'll be here to see it.”
The excitement in her voice seemed to ask for some response, or at least an affirmation of what she was feeling. But Picard could not find his voice, so he simply nodded.
Santos misinterpreted his silence. ”Come,” she said. ”Let me show you the control room. Chief Engineer Hronsky will be busy, but I think he would like to meet you, especially if you have any technical skills.”
She led him down the incline to a short, rectangular building-the only structure that was unmarked, the captain noticed. It was probably because no one could mistake it for anything else but what it was.
Inside, they walked down a short flight of stairs to the main floor of sensor controls. Picard could see that the stairs extended down even farther-like the other buildings on the outpost, the bulk of the s.p.a.ce was underground. The captain knew those lower floors held the matter-antimatter reactor that powered the sensor array.
The control center was a bustle of activity, with perhaps two dozen people working, in, under, and around various control panels-some of which were still being a.s.sembled.
No one seemed to pay them any attention as Dr. Santos led Picard through the maze of people and equipment. She stopped to ask a lieutenant where Hronsky was, and the young man shot the captain a quick, nervous glance before pointing to a two-meter-high catwalk at the back of the room.
Picard and the doctor made their way to the back of the room, where she started up the ladder to the catwalk, gesturing for the captain to follow. Up top, a husky man wearing a lieutenant commander's braids was giving instructions to two others. Santos approached the man and entered the conversation with a quick ”Excuse me, Michael.”
The lieutenant commander stopped the conversation with an uplifted hand. He favored the doctor with a harried smile beneath his dark, bushy brows.
”Yes, Julia?”
She indicated Picard. ”Michael Hronsky, I would like you to meet our new guest, Captain Dixon Hill.”
The man turned his attention to the captain. For a moment, Hronsky's face registered genuine surprise. ”Captain Hill,” he muttered.
”Michael, what's going on here? You and your men seem to be going full tilt,” Santos noted.
Hronsky kept his eyes on Picard as he responded, ”Uh, Julia ... could I have a word with you in private?”
Before the doctor could respond, the man addressed Picard directly. ”Captain Hill, I'm sorry, but I need to speak with the doctor alone. One of my men will escort you outside.”
An ensign who was standing beside Hronsky gestured for the captain to return back down the ladder. On the ground, the same ensign led Picard back through the control room-and then waited with him in uncomfortable silence until Santos emerged.
Her face was blank, which the captain now recognized as a sign that she was upset. As she got closer, he saw the subtle frown lines at the corners of her mouth.
”I'm sorry, Dixon. Apparently, the engineering staff is very busy. Perhaps we could see this part of the outpost at a later date.”
She didn't say anything else on the subject, but she didn't need to. Hronsky's expression had told Picard everything he needed to know. He regarded the newcomer as Lieutenant Harold had at first: as a possibly dangerous intruder. Undoubtedly, Commodore Travers had spoken to him already.
What's more, the captain couldn't muster any indignation at the suspicion he was facing. He was a b.l.o.o.d.y intruder, wasn't he? One who was as dangerous to the Federation as the Gorn strike force that was probably already ama.s.sing outside the system.
What troubled Picard was the near-feverish activity inside the sensor-array control room. He didn't think the engineering crew looked like a team working ahead toward a two-week deadline, and that raised a number of questions.
Picard and the doctor walked back to the residence area in silence. She showed him to his door, 11-H, and pointed out Lieutenant Harold's temporary quarters next door.
”If there's anything you need,” said Santos, ”you can ask your computer terminal, Dixon. Or call Lieutenant Harold. Or call me.”
The captain smiled. ”Thank you. But I think, for now, I will just rest.” Actually, with luck, he would be able to secure some supplies from the kitchen and then investigate the outpost stores on the lower level of the residence area. ”Good-bye, Julia. Thank you for the tour.”
All unintentionally, he had called her by her first name. The doctor seemed pleased by it.
”There's more tomorrow, if you feel up to it,” she told him.
”I'm looking forward to it,” Picard a.s.sured her. As she turned to leave, he entered his quarters and shut the door behind him. A quick scan told him the room was comfortable, relatively s.p.a.cious ... and occupied.
Lieutenant Harold jumped up. He'd been sitting at the small desk that held the computer terminal.
”Uh, Mr. Hill ... sorry to intrude, but I wanted to talk to you.”
”That's fine,” Picard replied. ”What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” He gestured for Harold to take a seat and then took one himself at the small all-purpose table near the desk.
The younger man frowned. ”Well, sir, I wanted to ask you about merchant s.p.a.ce service.”
The captain looked at Harold askance. ”Are you interested in a career change?”
”Well, not exactly,” said the lieutenant. ”I'm just curious about what it would be like.” He looked uncomfortable, as if the mere idea of leaving Starfleet were traitorous.
”There isn't a lot of ... excitement on this outpost, is there?” Picard asked.
Harold responded to the understanding tone and relaxed a bit. ”Well, it's very interesting, from a scientific point of view. We'll be collecting a lot of data when the sensor array goes on-line. But I'm not much of a scientist. When I joined Starfleet, I was hoping to do some genuine exploring. Not that what we're doing here isn't important,” he added hastily. ”But I'm not sure it's for me.”
The captain knew all too well what the lieutenant was feeling. ”Have you tried to apply for stars.h.i.+p service?”
Harold actually smiled. ”About twice a month since I graduated.” He shrugged. ”But there aren't a lot of openings.”
Of course, Picard thought. In this time, there were only twelve heavy-cruiser-cla.s.s stars.h.i.+ps in service. Thus, there were less than five thousand of the coveted positions on board the vessels that were at the forefront of s.p.a.ce exploration. In his own era, he knew, there was substantially more opportunity. But by then, the Federation had grown as well, so the compet.i.tion was still heavy for positions on a stars.h.i.+p.
If Starfleet Academy had denied his second application, Picard probably would have ended up on a merchant s.h.i.+p. If he had been posted for a few years on a starbase, with no hope of a position on a stars.h.i.+p, he suspected he would have moved to commercial flight as well.
”I suspect that you might find serving on a freighter to be just as mundane,” he said finally.
Harold grunted. ”Excuse me, sir, but it's s.p.a.ce.”
”True,” the captain concurred. ”But you're actually closer to the frontier where you are now.”
”Mr. Hill,” said the lieutenant, ”I joined Starfleet to see what's out there. To make first contacts. To be a part of something. So far, I've served with only humans. In my entire Starfleet career, I have met two Vulcans and one Tellarite. When I was a kid, I looked at the stars and decided I was going to meet the people who lived on them. If a job in the commercial sector is what I need to do, then that's what I will do.”
Picard would have liked to a.s.sure Harold that staying in Starfleet was the answer, but he knew it wasn't true. An officer might very well spend his entire career on various outposts. Finally, the captain told him what he could about merchant service. He'd known more than one merchant commander in his time, so he was able to draw a fairly accurate picture.
In the end, Picard knew his advice probably wouldn't have much effect. Lieutenant Harold's life would be shaped and nearly ended by an attack that was a mere two days away. In fact, the captain had no way of knowing if his arrival had somehow subtly altered history so that, this time, Matthew Harold might not survive.