A Time to Love Read online

  Data had to surrender his emotion chip to Command.

  Ever since his android friend first inserted the chip some years before, Picard had watched him struggle and then finally master the myriad emotions that had flooded his positronic brain. Data was no longer an outsider to the close relationships that had formed among the ship’s senior staff. At last he could return in full measure the caring of friends who had become family.

  Then the chip had been removed, and Data was once again orienting himself to an emotionless existence. Picard wondered how well the adjustment was going. He made a note to invite the android to his quarters for a frank talk in the next day or so. If nothing else, Data would see that his captain was concerned for his well-being and know he could count on his help. Even if receiving emotional support no longer mattered to Data, offering that support mattered to Picard.

  He had watched Data’s early adjustments as the weeks passed on the Enterprise’s trip to the Dokaalan colony. If anyone could still touch Data’s heart, it was the Dokaalan. Picard himself was impressed by how a society managed to flourish living only on asteroids, after their planet no longer could harbor life. What started out as a minor errand turned into an opportunity to do some significant good, and briefly Picard’s hopes rose. Perhaps their success with the Dokaalan would end Enterprise’s exile….

  Those hopes were dashed by the missions that followed, which proved to be short and unmemorable. He realized his log entries were brief, bordering on terse, and they clearly reflected his mood. While he would rather not have to be called to defend the Federation against some galactic threat, Picard still wanted a challenge worthy of the ship and its crew. The captain longed to be released once more to explore, but such missions had to wait until the fleet was rebuilt. He also recognized that on a personal level, he needed something to make himself feel he was still making a difference. He had seen to it that the majority of their assignments were important ones. It was why he defied Admiral Dougherty’s orders and went into the Briar Patch, the region of space where Data had been assigned and subsequently damaged. That decision worked out for the best since it prevented the Son’a from subjugating their homeworld out of a twisted desire for vengeance.

  But now…

  Picard’s dark thoughts were abruptly banished by a chime coming from the right arm of his chair. A flashing light indicated a communication from Starfleet Command, so by the time Christine Vale announced a message was coming in, Picard was already out of his chair. He crossed the bridge and headed for his ready room, his pace increasing with every step.

  Once at his desk, he adjusted the angle of the desktop viewer and activated the screen. The blue field with the UFP symbol was quickly replaced by the visage of Admiral Upton, a balding, gruff officer Picard could barely remember. Quickly, he mentally sifted through the organizational chart and remembered that Upton was with cultural affairs.

  “Picard,” Upton said by way of greeting.

  “Admiral Upton, good to see you,” Picard said, a professional smile playing on his face.

  “Are you familiar with Delta Sigma IV?”

  “Yes, sir,” Picard responded, unfazed by the lack of pleasantries. “It’s a few parsecs from our position. I believe they’re celebrating their centennial as a successful colony world.” That was all he recalled, and that only because it was mentioned on one of the newsfeeds he had read during recent downtime between missions.

  “Well, they’ve just experienced their first murder in a century, and it’s our fault,” Upton said, his expression grim. His bushy, gray-streaked eyebrows looked like storm clouds over his blue eyes.

  Picard frowned as the admiral elaborated on the nature of the mission. It was important, to be sure, but it would be personally trying as well, for one member of his crew in particular.

  “You do realize the position this puts Commander Riker in,” Picard said, when he finally could get a word in.

  “I’m not worried about Riker. His issues have been considered,” was all Upton would say.

  Knowing it would be unwise to press the point, Picard changed the subject. “This is a higher profile mission than the last few,” he noted. “Are we being unleashed?”

  Upton paused before replying. “Actually, this is a lousy mission. We’re going to look bad regardless of how it turns out. Just how bad we look is in your hands.”

  “Very well, Admiral,” Picard replied neutrally. “We’ll lay in a course immediately.”

  “Starfleet out,” was the only reply, and the screen shifted back to its standby image. Picard sat back for a moment and let everything sink in. He reached for his viewer, entered a few quick commands, and then rose.

  Moving to the replicator for a cup of Earl Grey tea, Picard tapped his combadge. “Picard to Data.”

  Instantly, the android responded.

  “Mr. Data, I’ve just routed our latest mission packet to you. Please prepare to give senior staff a presentation in thirty minutes.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  That accomplished, the captain once again tapped his badge and summoned Riker to the ready room. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to, but one that he wanted to handle in private, before the rest of the crew learned of the new mission. Seating himself on the couch near a tome of his beloved Shakespeare, Picard sipped the hot liquid and tried to figure how much time had elapsed since he last longed for a new mission. Certainly less than thirty minutes, and he was reminded once more that one needed to be careful about what one wished for.

  Upton left his office and took the turbolift to the floor housing a private room. Only admirals were given access to the space, filled with antique furniture salvaged from around the globe. The gleaming wood and brass always had a faint smell of polish, and voices were muted by the plush carpet found nowhere else in the headquarters building. It was a refuge away from staff, from cadets, even from captains light-years away.

  The room was capable of holding only two dozen people at most, and usually had less than half that at any one time. However, it was a much desired refuge, and during the worst of times, it was where admirals could be found collecting their thoughts or just grabbing a quick nap when time permitted. The tradition began over a hundred years earlier when the building was repaired after an alien probe nearly destroyed the planet.

  He entered the sanctuary and moved with practiced ease past three other admirals seated in a semicircle. He went straight to a sideboard, where he poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a cut crystal glass and then swirled it around three times. Traditional Scotch, there was nothing like it, as his father always used to say.

  He took one small sip, let it rest in his mouth for a full ten seconds, and then swallowed. The ritual complete, he turned to face the others, who were debating some point of legislation that had just been passed by the Federation Council. Upton lowered himself into a comfortable wing chair and sipped in silence. The others—Admirals Janeway, Nechayev, and Stek—continued their discussion, with mere nods of their heads in acknowledgment of Upton’s presence.

  Finally, Stek, a senior Vulcan responsible for technological development, asked Upton, “How was the mission received?”

  “Picard’s a career man. He knows better than to complain.”

  “It’s a pretty bad assignment. I wouldn’t want it,” Janeway admitted.

  Upton smiled coldly at her. “That’s about what he deserves right now.”

  “So, if he didn’t complain, what did he say?” asked Nechayev, the smallest of the four, but the one with perhaps the most forceful personality.

  “What do you think? He brought up Riker’s issues.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” said Janeway, recently promoted after successfully returning the U.S.S. Voyager, which had been lost in the Delta Quadrant for seven years. She was by far the youngest admiral in attendance.

  “With Kyle Riker missing, there are questions we need answered, and Will Riker is his son.”

  Janeway�
�s look of surprise amused the older admiral. He took another small sip of the aged Scotch and enjoyed feeling it travel down to his stomach.

  “Do you know Riker?”

  “Actually, Alynna, we had one date at the Academy,” Janeway admitted, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Nothing came of it, and we never stayed in touch.”

  “Well,” Alynna Nechayev added, “there’s little love lost between those two. They’ve barely spoken over the years, from what I understand.”

  “But I do know Will helped his dad once years ago,” Janeway added. “When the father was suspected of some crime.”

  “The reunion was brief and of little consequence, it seems,” the Vulcan noted. “However, personal conflicts aside, Riker has proven to be a capable man. I do not fully understand why he has refused command.”

  “Never felt ready, or didn’t want something less prestigious than the Enterprise,” Nechayev guessed.

  “Well, now Picard’s holding him back. Maybe we need to force his hand,” Upton said. He ignored Nechayev’s look and admired the light reflecting off the crystal glass in his hand.

  “If you feel that strongly, Jack, should the Enterprise be the one for this mission?”

  “Kathryn, I know you’ve taken Picard’s side in this,” Upton said, “but trust me, any officer who has been through what he has, needs to be watched. But yes, he’s closest, and he’s come through for us repeatedly on these diplomatic fiascos. He just needs to know we’re watching closely to make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble. Again.”

  Upton stifled the urge to roll his eyes at the disapproving glares that greeted his comments. Was he the only one there who could face the truth?

  “All command officers get thoroughly evaluated,” Stek said. “Those found underperforming get reassigned.”

  Et tu, Stek? Upton thought with disgust. “Oh for pity’s sake, the man is reckless. Look how he lost Stargazer and crashed the Enterprise.”

  “Actually,” Nechayev interrupted, “he’s always put the Federation first. We might disagree with how he has handled his assignments—I certainly have—but in the end, he and his crew uphold our ideals. Better than most.”

  “Good as Picard has been in the past,” Upton said unhappily, “right now we have to face the fact that he’s a liability. Member worlds have raised concerns with the Council, and it’s damaged our ability to function. At the first sign of trouble, we need to act decisively. I already have Braddock readying a squadron, just in case.”

  “With or without all the facts,” Janeway noted archly.

  “We let the facts speak for themselves,” Upton replied.

  “Yet, you let him keep the Enterprise,” Janeway said, her voice deepening. “You kept his senior crew intact, and you’ve given him this diplomatic assignment. If the Council has concerns, why give him this? Especially with Kyle Riker in the mix?”

  “Ever meet Riker the elder?”

  “Yes, briefly, when I was an ensign,” she said.

  “Stubborn and pigheaded,” Upton said. “A man of such virtue as Picard should be the one to rein him in. It’s also a chance to see if Picard’s learned anything these last few months.”

  He purposely ignored the frown that marred Janeway’s features.

  Chapter Two

  PICARD AND RIKER WALKED into the briefing room off the bridge to find the senior officers already in place. As usual, Troi was seated to the left of the captain’s chair, with Geordi right beside her. Opposite him was security chief Christine Vale, and beside her was Dr. Beverly Crusher, her hands stuffed into the big pockets of her blue lab jacket. Standing by the viewscreen, looking alert as always, was Data. Picard nodded to acknowledge them all and then took his seat.

  Data at once activated the screen and a colorful star chart appeared, with the sector containing the planet Delta Sigma IV already highlighted. Data then zoomed in to show the planet in close-up.

  “Delta Sigma IV was discovered by the Bader some one hundred thirty years ago. They were quite good at colonizing worlds and even took contracts to help other races perform the same function. It made sense that after their initial promising surveys, they would seek to colonize this one as well.

  “Shortly after the Bader arrived, an exploratory team from Dorset also arrived on the planet. Both the Bader and the Dorset had a history of antagonism that stretched back three centuries, to shortly after both races developed spaceflight. They quarreled over asteroid belts, moons, planets, and even a rogue satellite that once flew through both solar systems. The skirmishes never led to full war, but harsh feelings have continued to cause conflict between the two planets.

  “By contrast, the leaders of both colonizing parties chose to cooperate and built the colony together. It was an unprecedented display that must have been intended to influence both governments. If that was their intent, however, they failed, since hostilities between the home planets continue to this day.”

  “If I recall,” Crusher said, “the Bader are pretty hostile to everyone.”

  “True, Doctor,” Data acknowledged with a short jerk of his head. “They have antagonized a fair number of Federation worlds as well as unaligned governments.”

  “How did the joint venture turn out?” La Forge asked.

  “Surprisingly well. Contrary to all expectations, the joint colony grew prosperous. At first there was conflict, but that almost immediately gave way to social and political harmony. Sociologists considered this a perfect example of interspecies cooperation.”

  “What allowed them to buck the trend?” Riker inquired.

  Troi broke into a smile of recognition. “Wait, I read about this a few years ago. There have been many conflicting theories among sociologists. The leading hypothesis focuses on colonization as a bonding experience. In any case, the people of Delta Sigma IV now credit the wisdom of their pioneer leaders.” They say it’s thanks to these elders that theirs became a mutually supportive society, one based on peace, and totally at odds with their respective homeworlds.”

  “Correct,” Data said. He paused to see if there were other comments and then forged ahead. “After such cooperation, they declared their independence from the Bader and Dorset homeworlds and managed to gain admittance to the Federation. That independence kept them out of the small wars between the colonizing races.”

  Picard nodded and gestured for Data to take his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Data. Some time ago, a Federation team was dispatched to the planet to study the new society to see if there were lessons that could be learned and then applied elsewhere in the Federation. Heading that delegation was Kyle Riker, whom most of you have met.” As he paused, all eyes focused on Riker, who seemed to fixate on a point on the viewscreen.

  “Representing the Federation, he worked with medical, educational, and anthropological research teams from the colony. He discovered a disturbing trend.”

  “They were living shorter life spans,” Crusher said, snapping her fingers. “I read that same report! The researchers had only a few generations to work with, but their studies showed a steady and chartable trend. If things remain unchanged, the colonists won’t live long enough to reach puberty and reproduce, let alone run the planet.”

  “Luckily the Federation was able to help,” Picard added, smiling at her. “Kyle Riker informed Starfleet Medical and the Federation. A counteragent was developed, then tested for some time on five volunteers from the planet. When things looked promising, the volunteers were returned to Delta Sigma IV and placed in final-stage quarantine.

  “Riker returned to the planet recently to represent the Federation at its centennial celebration. The quarantine was scheduled to end as a part of the festivities. However, before the first event, one of the test subjects murdered another and escaped from confinement. Logs show Riker following the murderer out of the building, and he has not been seen since.”

  Everyone reacted to that. Everyone except Will, who seemed to have been replaced by a statue.

  “The Dor
set have formally complained to the Federation that Riker and the Federation are behind the murder. Our job is to go there, find Riker, and determine what is truly going on.”

  “Captain,” Troi broke in quietly, obviously respecting Riker’s feelings. “Is there any evidence that the Federation harmed the test subjects, however inadvertently?”

  “Nothing concrete that we’ve been shown. The other three test subjects appear fine, according to the reports from the Federation ambassador.”

  “Does anyone have a clue where Kyle might be?”

  “No, Counselor,” Picard said. “It’s assumed he’s still on the planet, but that’s all we know.”

  “Could Riker actually be after the murderer?” Christine Vale asked. “Acting when the locals didn’t?”

  Picard paused and thought about the question, measuring it against what he knew of the man. “Kyle Riker is a brilliant tactician and Starfleet adviser, but he is not known for directly interfacing with local civilians. Instead, he’d be more likely to advise their peace officers.”

  “I agree with your assessment,” Troi added.

  “Have the Bader also complained?” La Forge asked.

  “Not yet. While we’re en route, I want you, Counselor, to read up on the planet and its people. Dr. Crusher, please review the medical findings. Lieutenant Vale, I want your people drilled in planetary procedure. We’re going to need them to help maintain the peace.

  “Number One, you’ll beam down and begin the search for your father. Counselor, I’ll want you to join me as we speak to the planetary leadership. We’ll plan further once we arrive. Mr. Data, have the bridge lay in a course and get us under way at warp five.”

  Everyone around the table acknowledged the orders and, out of respect for Riker, remained subdued as they left the briefing room. He stayed in his seat, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Picard sat with him until the room emptied.

  “Will, you can still ask to be relieved from the assignment,” Picard said gently.