Taking Wing

by Michael A. Martin

  He had a visceral sensation of having come home, if only for one last visit. But the Enterprise isn’t my home anymore, he thought with a wistfulness that surprised him.

  At least a dozen environmental-suited repair techs could be seen working at various points on the dorsal area of the starship’s saucer section, while nimble one- and two-person work bees methodically transported personnel and components to and fro. Though the exterior repairs and inspections were clearly continuing, there remained almost no trace of the hideous damage inflicted on the Enterprise during her head-on collision with Shinzon’s flagship, the Scimitar. Angling the Armstrong beneath the starship’s ventral surface, Riker noted that the captain’s yacht, the Calypso II, was back in its customary place, integrated seamlessly into the saucer. The auxiliary vessel, the replacement for a predecessor that had been destroyed during the previous year’s disastrous Rashanar mission, displayed not so much as a scratch.

  It’s good to see that the repairs to the captain’s yacht went so well. Riker smiled, thinking back to the honeymoon he and Deanna had begun on Pelagia less than a month ago. As a wedding gift, Captain Picard had lent them the Calypso II for that excursion, a voyage that had subjected the craft to more than a few bumps and bruises. Though Picard hadn’t made any mention of the damage afterward, Riker would have been able to sense the captain’s displeasure even without the help of Deanna’s Betazoid empathy.

  A message from the saucer’s aft hangar deck interrupted his reverie, and he swiftly acknowledged and brought the Armstrong into line for final approach and landing. Less than three minutes later, after setting the shuttlecraft down and securing it within the familiar cavernous hangar, Riker strode across the busy deck toward the inner pressure doors, noting the presence of perhaps a dozen engineers who were going about various shuttle-craft-maintenance–related tasks. Each of them paused and adopted attentive postures as he passed, and he told them all to remain at ease. Though almost all of them looked quite young, they struck him as an efficient, disciplined group of officers. But that wasn’t the first thing he noticed about them.

  I’ve never met a single one of them before, he thought, pausing near the hangar’s inner doors. Certainly, the calamitous events on Dokaalan, Delta Sigma IV, and Tezwa had claimed the lives of large numbers of Enterprise security personnel; but a large proportion of engineers, medics, and others had died during those harrowing missions as well, and the presence of so many new faces here served as a stark reminder of that painful fact. It also brought to mind the more recent battle against mad Shinzon, whose failed attempt to annihilate Earth with a forbidden thalaron weapon had claimed the lives of dozens more of Riker’s former shipmates.

  Including Data, Riker thought.

  “May I help you, Captain?” said a familiar voice behind him.

  Riker turned and saw the grinning visage of Geordi La Forge. Behind him stood Lieutenant Commander Worf, a sly half smile slightly contorting his characteristic dour expression as he towered over the Enterprise’s chief engineer.

  Riker returned the grin and grasped Geordi’s extended hand. The handshake immediately became an unabashedly sentimental bear hug. Releasing La Forge, Riker took a half step backward and regarded them both.

  “Did I look lost?” Riker said in answer to Geordi’s question as he released the engineer.

  “Not lost, sir,” Worf said. “But you do appear. . . nostalgic.” The Klingon officer relaxed his posture, apparently satisfied that Riker wasn’t going to try to hug him as well.

  Riker beamed at Worf. “Commander, one of my final acts as this ship’s executive officer was to recommend you as Counselor Troi’s replacement. Your sensitivity shows me that my judgment was sound.” He considered commenting on the stray cat hairs he saw clinging to Worf’s metallic baldric, but held his tongue; he knew that Data’s cat Spot was now sharing Worf’s quarters, an arrangement that was surely a significant imposition on the loyal yet solitary Klingon.

  Worf’s passing look of confusion gave way almost immediately to one of comprehension. Riker recalled that when he had first come aboard the Enterprise-D fifteen years ago, human jokes had left Worf utterly at sea. Though he would never be the life of the party, the utterly humorless warrior Worf had been in those days was no more.

  “I regret that circumstances have forced me to settle for other duties instead, Captain,” Worf said dryly.

  “There are always other jobs in the fleet if this one doesn’t work out, Worf,” La Forge deadpanned to Worf. “I know that Titan already has a pretty darned good head counselor. But from what I hear, the exec position there is still open. Maybe there’s still time to change your mind.” He turned his blue-white optical implants back on Riker with an insouciant wink.

  Riker allowed his smile to fall ever so slightly. Geordi would know if Christine had changed her mind about not taking the job. If I can’t persuade her this time, I’m just going to have to move on. Go through the candidate list again, and then settle for someone else.

  He hated to settle. And he’d already been thwarted on this particular quest too many times.

  “Actually my ongoing executive-officer audition is one of the reasons I’m here,” Riker said aloud. “Titan won’t ship out for almost two whole weeks, so I have that long to finish filling out my roster. But don’t worry. I’m not going to try to steal either of you again.”

  La Forge chuckled at that, no doubt recalling that he had been Riker’s first choice for the exec job. Geordi had opted instead to remain aboard the Enterprise as chief engineer, a job to which he felt better suited. Worf, who had been prematurely invited to take Titan’s exec job by Admiral Ross, had looked forward to serving under Riker’s command. . . until Picard, following Data’s death, had sought Worf’s permanent assignment to the Enterprise. The change in circumstances had led Riker to make his second overture to Vale, which she proceeded to turn down again.

  La Forge’s tone grew suddenly serious. “Do you think she’ll say ‘yes’ this time, Commander?”

  Riker shrugged. “I’ll let you know. But if later you see me scowling in a dark corner of the crew lounge, order me another drink, stat.”

  And with that, he stepped through the inner hangar doors and into the corridor that led to the rest of deck six. A few moments later he entered a turbolift, which he momentarily placed on pause.

  “Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Christine Vale.”

  The door chime sounded, startling her.

  Seated cross-legged on the low sofa in her quarters, Christine Vale set the replicated hard-copy book she had been reading down on her lap. The volume, a biography of Thelian, the Federation’s president during the time of Cardassian First Contact, wasn’t succeeding in holding her interest. At last count, she’d read the same paragraph five times.

  Is it already time?

  “Come,” she said to the closed door. Already aware of her visitor’s identity, she moved the book onto the coffee table and rose from the sofa, only belatedly becoming aware that her boots lay in a heap beside her bed. Though her uniform was otherwise virtually inspection-ready, her feet were bare.

  The tall form of William Riker stepped confidently into the room. “Hello, Christine.”

  “Hello, Captain,” she said, trying not to let her lack of footwear make her feel awkward, even though she was entitled to be comfortable in her own quarters. She reminded herself that he had once seen her lying on a South Pacific beach wearing nothing but a skimpy swimsuit. But today we had a meeting scheduled, and I lost track of time. Not a very auspicious start for a prospective first officer.

  Finger-combing her short, sandy-hued hair, Vale gestured to a nearby chair. “Would you like anything to drink, Captain?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, taking the offered seat. “And you can call me Will. Why don’t you have a seat yourself?”

  Nodding, Vale resumed her place on the sofa and tried very hard not to fidget. Silence stretched between them.

  “So,” Riker s
aid finally.

  “So.”

  Throats cleared. More silence followed. Once again, Riker was the one to break it. “Titan won’t head out for another thirteen days, Christine. I’d still like to have you aboard as my exec.”

  She inhaled, then released her breath in a long, nearly inaudible sigh. “The last time you asked me to my face, I gave you a ‘no.’ ”

  “But when I called you again a little later, you revised it to an ‘I need to think about it some more.’ Unfortunately, I really can’t wait any longer. So have you given my offer any more thought?”

  She nodded. If she were to be completely candid, she would have to admit that she had found it difficult lately to think about much of anything else.

  “Rimward through the Orion Arm, beyond where anyone’s been before,” she said before another conversational lacuna could develop. “The idea certainly sounds. . .exciting.” She knew she was keeping her reaction under restraint, hiding her cards, as it were. The job sounded even better than exciting—it sounded perfect. Pure exploration was the dream of virtually every officer in Starfleet, at least at some point in their careers. Even for someone who never really wanted to be anything other than a cop.

  And another ship, a vessel with a wholly new mission, might allow her to put some distance between herself and the ghosts of Tezwa.

  She watched as he shook his head gently, his expression taking on a somewhat wistful cast. “I’m afraid I’ve been forced to set aside the Orion Arm mission, at least temporarily. Instead, our maiden voyage will take us to the Romulan Neutral Zone, and probably to Romulus itself. We’ll be heading up a special task force. Extending an olive branch while helping the Romulans maintain order until they can get their government back up and running.”

  Despite Riker’s evident disappointment over the delay in exploring the Orion Arm, Vale found her interest even more piqued than it had been before. That surprised her, since she had lost so many of her people trying to keep the people of Tezwa from plunging into the abyss of societal collapse and civil war. She knew that keeping the peace on post-Shinzon Romulus would be vital to the Federation’s security—and that it could end up making the Tezwa mission look easy. I guess I’ll always be more peace officer than explorer.

  “Is your answer still at least a ‘maybe’?” Riker said, breaking into her reverie. He was leaning forward, his eyebrows raised in expectation, though the rest of his features remained poker-game neutral.

  She rose. In spite of herself, she began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back, her bare toes flexing and grabbing at the carpet, a nervous habit she’d acquired as a little girl growing up on Izar, waiting for her mother to return home from night patrols. After another protracted silence, she stopped herself and faced Riker.

  “I’ve told Captain Picard about your offer,” she said. She knew she was only stalling, and she hated herself for it.

  Riker nodded, his hands pressed against his knees. “I know. I’ve already discussed this with him. I didn’t want him to be blindsided, or feel that I’m poaching. But what you still haven’t told either of us yet is whether or not you really want to take the job. So are you interested?”

  She knew the time had come at last to display all her cards, face up. “I am interested. . .” She trailed off.

  “Ah, I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  She favored him with a wan smile. “But I can’t. I’m sorry, Will. I’m afraid I have to turn it down.”

  Riker seemed to deflate, at least a little. Vale knew he wanted very badly to add her to his senior staff. And she was flattered by his persistence. But why couldn’t he see what a terrible idea it was?

  “Do you mind telling me why?” he said finally.

  She sighed again, then plopped herself back down on the couch so she could look at him at eye level. Noticing that she had been playing idly with the newly awarded hollow third pip on her collar, she forced her hands down into her lap.

  “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

  “Always. And it’s Will.”

  “Will, you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  His lips turned upward in a wry smile. “I guessed that. I already don’t like the ‘no’ part.”

  “I think you’ll like the rest even less. But I suppose I wouldn’t be a worthwhile first-officer candidate if I were ever to be anything less than perfectly honest with you.”

  “That’s why I need you on my bridge, Christine,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Commander Troi.”

  He blinked several times, his forehead corrugating slightly in puzzlement. “Deanna has been hoping for weeks now that you’d change your mind and join us. She never mentioned any problems between the two of you.”

  “Please don’t misunderstand me,” Vale said, holding up a hand. “I don’t have any problem at all with Counselor Troi. My problem is with your relationship with her.”

  “You mean the fact that she and I are a married couple? I’m afraid the time to object to that was just before that first wedding ceremony back in Alaska. We’re well past the ‘forever hold your peace’ period.”

  Ack! she thought. Not what I meant!

  She moved her right hand in a quick wiping gesture, as though erasing an old-style blackboard in front of her, and did her best not to grimace. After pausing for a moment to compose herself, she said, “Deanna is more than simply Titan’s senior counselor. According to the tentative crew roster you sent me, she’s also the ship’s diplomatic officer. That’s an extremely important post aboard a ship whose main purpose is exploration, don’t you think?”

  His puzzled frown appeared to be heading rapidly toward scowl territory. “And I can’t think of anyone better suited for it.”

  “Me neither. Trust me, Captain—Will—I’m not second-guessing your judgment in assigning her that job.”

  Now it was Riker’s turn to stand. Towering over her, he was beginning to look truly irritated. “It seems to me that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  Nettled, Vale decided to stop trying to sugar-coat what really needed to be said here. She rose as she spoke, never breaking eye contact with him. He still towered over her, but she didn’t so much as flinch.

  “No, sir. I simply don’t feel comfortable serving under a captain who has made his own wife such a critical part of his senior staff. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I don’t think it’s a wise arrangement for you to have made.”

  Riker’s brow slackened as he lapsed into a thoughtful silence, evidently mulling over her words with great care. At length, he said, “You know, you’re right. I can’t escape the reality that a captain employing his wife as a senior adviser defies most conventional command wisdom. As a matter of fact, Admiral Akaar just spoke to me about it.”

  Her eyes widened at the mention of Akaar’s name. The regal Capellan numbered among the highest ranking admirals in Starfleet, and was also one of the oldest.

  “And what did you say to him?” she said.

  Riker’s benign smile returned. “The same thing I’m about to tell you. That it’s all about discipline and faith. It’s about my ability to keep my family life separate from my professional career. It’s about my having the discipline to make tough decisions without allowing family considerations to cloud my judgment. And it’s about the faith of the people around me that I won’t waver in maintaining that self-imposed discipline. I’m confident I can supply the discipline. Hell, I wouldn’t have had much of a career in Starfleet without that.

  “But I need you to supply a lot of the faith. As well as the courage to be completely honest with me whenever you’re having doubts. Just like you’re doing right now.”

  Vale let his words hang in the air, and found herself marveling at his easy gift for oratory. Had he always had that ability? She’d never noticed it before. She wondered how it was that the addition of that fourth pip always seemed to enable a command officer to deliver such stirring speeches.

  “Did you
really say all that to Akaar?” she said once she had collected her thoughts.

  He chuckled. “Of course not. I wish I had. So I rehearsed that little speech all the way from Mars to here. Not that I really expected it to convince you.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “That I’d at least reassure you that I’ve already made an effort to understand your misgivings. And that I sincerely believe this will be a nonproblem. The fact that Commander Troi and I are married will not affect my command judgment. Especially if you’re sitting at my right on Titan’s bridge, keeping me honest.”

  She nodded mutely, impressed by his sincerity and his utter openness. His awareness of his own fallibility, balanced by a steely determination not to allow himself to fail. And his very real need for her own perfect candor, which was perhaps the best quality she could offer him.

  What more could she ask of a CO?

  “Besides,” Riker added, “do you really think Titan’s head counselor would have let me get away with ignoring an issue like this?”

  Vale found herself chuckling, suddenly far more at ease about the prospect of venturing into the strange, unknown world called “the command track.”

  “All right. I think you’ve just sold me. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “There’s still another problem. And I’m afraid it’s also Commander Troi–related.” Before he could respond, she pressed on: “If I’m going to be your exec, that means that Commander Troi is going to have to report to me, just like the rest of the crew.”

  “That’s right,” he said, his mien serious.

  Vale’s left hand went back to her collar, and her finger once again traced the outlines of the two and one-half pips that identified her rank as that of lieutenant commander. “But Deanna’s a full commander. She outranks me.”