“My convenience,” Hayes repeated, somewhat ruefully. He shuffled through a dozen padds scattered across his desk, looking extremely harried. “I have twenty minutes right now, before I have to take a conference call with Councillors T’Latrek and Zife. Beam over now, Jean-Luc.”
“Lieutenant Daniels and I will be there directly,” Picard said, giving Daniels a nod. The security chief nodded back sharply.
“Fine. And have Lieutenant Commander La Forge join you, as well.”
“Yes, sir,” Picard said just before the admiral terminated the transmission.
“A problem with the ship?” Riker asked.
“Perhaps,” Picard said as he crossed the bridge toward the turbolift. “Though I’m uncertain why an engineering issue should require a face-to-face meeting.”
The first officer’s surmise made sense to Daniels; the Sovereign class was barely a year old, and the Enterprise herself had been in service for only a few months. He was also somewhat relieved to think that the “security concern” was not something he’d failed to anticipate. Still, his mind started running through the kinds of potential problems a new starship class could face, and his possible reactions, as the turbolift doors closed and started to descend. I’m afraid that letter’s going to have to wait, honey, he thought in the direction of home.
The Enterprise transporter room dissolved away and was replaced by a nearly identical facility on board the starbase. Geordi La Forge started to step down from the transporter platform along with Picard and Daniels, but they were stopped by a young Payav security officer, holding one of her six-fingered hands up toward them. “Please remain on the platform,” she said, “until we’ve finished the scans—routine security procedure. It will only take a moment.”
In fact, La Forge noted, it had already begun: wide-dispersing beams of modulated nadion radiation appeared like rays of sunshine through La Forge’s VISOR, silently washing over the three Enterprise officers from an emitter in the ceiling of the transporter alcove. He could tell at a glance that the scan was similar to the kind of phased energy beams they used to detect and immobilize Changelings, except much less intense, and with its resonance signature significantly modified. It would be perfectly harmless to almost all humanoid life—so harmless, La Forge had to wonder if it actually served as a real screening procedure, or if station security was using it simply to feel that they were doing something.
La Forge’s skepticism was bolstered when the three of them were then led from the transporter room by the security officer to a second small room, where they were all asked to submit to blood tests. Picard grunted in irritation, but said nothing as he offered his arm to the med tech. The captain had been very vocally unhappy with the level of paranoia he’d seen on display throughout Starfleet of late, beginning with their stay at Starbase 375 in the wake of the global blackout on Earth three months ago—particularly since their problems on the starbase were caused not by the Dominion but by Starfleet personnel, against whom these security measures would be useless. Personally, La Forge couldn’t get too upset himself about a few minor inconveniences, not after being a firsthand witness to the havoc a Changeling could raise once it had infiltrated a starship.
Once their blood was DNA crosschecked and judged to be, in fact, their blood, the Enterprise party was escorted to a turbolift by yet another pair of guards. They rode in silence to level eighteen, and then into a small wardroom, dominated by a long, drab metallic table and a wall-sized mural depicting the skyline of Tycho City at Earthrise. Admiral Hayes rose from his seat at the head of the table, where an array of padds and data chips were scattered before him. He extended his right hand to the captain and offered him an almost smile. “Jean-Luc. I apologize if I was a little snappish with you before.”
“It’s quite all right, Admiral. You’ve been under a great deal of pressure over the past several months.”
A haunted look crossed Hayes’s face, confirming the captain’s statement. “Still, it’s hardly your fault I didn’t tell you I wanted this meeting. Unfortunately, it’s going to have to be quick. And, I hope, mostly painless.”
Picard gestured to introduce his officers to the admiral. “My chief of security, Lieutenant Pádraig Daniels, and my chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge.”
“Yes, Mr. La Forge. The reason we’re here today.”
Something in the admiral’s tone, or in his gaze, made La Forge’s insides twist. “Sir?”
“As I said, I have little time for beating around the bush,” the admiral said. “Your prosthetic, Commander. It needs to be replaced.”
The entire room went silent at that, and La Forge heard his own pulse beating hard and loud in his ears. “Beg your pardon, sir?”
“You will need to have ocular implant surgery,” the admiral said, already turning away from him and back to his padds. “Your Dr. Crusher, I’m told, should be fully qualified, but if you prefer to have another specialist perform the procedure, you will be granted medical leave, plus ample recovery time.”
Geordi turned to look at Captain Picard, who seemed just as stunned by the admiral’s sudden edict as he felt. “I…don’t understand. Why?”
The admiral actually sighed at that, and then picked up one of his padds from the table. “On Stardate 48649,” he said, referencing the device’s readout, “while at the Amargosa Observatory, you were taken captive and held aboard a Klingon Bird-of-Prey operated by renegades. While aboard, your VISOR was fitted with a microtransmitter, and when you were returned to your ship, that transmitter was used by the Klingons to determine the ship’s shield frequency, and to ultimately destroy the Enterprise-D.”
La Forge gaped, stunned. “Sir, with all respect, I was cleared of any culpability in the loss of the Enterprise.” In fact, no one had been able to guess how the obsolete old Bird-of-Prey had managed to penetrate the shields until the S.C.E. team aboard the U.S.S. Trosper, one of the three ships that had responded to the Enterprise’s distress call at Veridian III, detected an unknown signal coming from the Farragut after they left the Veridian system. Geordi had felt horrible when he learned he had been made an unwitting accomplice of Lursa and B’Etor. But the board of inquiry investigating the crash decided that nobody, including La Forge, could be faulted for not detecting the covert device earlier.
“I know what the board determined, Mr. La Forge,” Hayes said, giving him a look that warned that he would not tolerate being interrupted again. He then looked back down at his padd and resumed his recitation. “Stardate 44885: en route to an engineering conference on Risa, you were captured by Romulan agents who held you captive and used your VISOR’s neural interface to introduce post-hypnotic commands into your subconscious, with the intent of compelling you to assassinate Klingon Governor Vagh.”
The admiral then looked up from the padd, as if daring La Forge to make some sort of insubordinate response. It took no small amount of self-control for La Forge to keep himself from doing just that. He simply met the admiral’s glare directly, struggling to keep his face expressionless.
La Forge was gratified when Captain Picard spoke up for him in his stead. “Admiral, I assume your information also shows that, as soon as it was discovered what had been done to Mr. La Forge, immediate steps were taken to correct the flaw in the VISOR interface that allowed it to be misused in such a way, and, that Mr. La Forge has continued to serve on my crew with distinction in the five years since that incident.”
“I am aware of all of that, Captain.” The admiral dropped his padd back on the table. “I am in no way trying to besmirch Mr. La Forge’s record or reputation, both of which are exemplary. However, the fact remains that his VISOR has proved a liability in the past. And the Federation no longer has the luxury of turning a blind eye—if you’ll pardon the expression—to such liabilities.”
La Forge was tempted to tell the admiral that, no, he wouldn’t pardon the expression. But he restrained himself, and said instead, “Sir, I have had this VISOR for over thirty
years. It’s a part of who I am. You can’t force me to give it up.”
“No, Mr. La Forge, I can’t force you,” Hayes said. “However, should you elect not to comply with Starfleet’s current security standards, you would not be able to continue to serve aboard the Enterprise.”
La Forge felt his heart climbing its way up his throat. “What?”
“You would have to accept a transfer to a less sensitive posting, where your VISOR would be a less significant vulnerability. I’ll need to know before the end of the summit which option you decide to take.”
Picard stepped forward then, placing himself physically between La Forge and Hayes. “Admiral, you cannot—”
“This is a matter of Starfleet security, Captain Picard,” Hayes said, glaring from under a deeply furrowed brow, making it abundantly clear that he was not about to entertain any further argument. “Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen…”
La Forge looked to Picard, who looked from Hayes to La Forge, and then, jaw clenched, turned and moved for the wardroom door. Daniels followed, and La Forge did likewise, trying to avoid looking at the admiral. That was somewhat impossible, however, given the one hundred eighty-degree range of vision his VISOR provided him. As La Forge walked by, he couldn’t help but notice, beyond the edge of any other human’s peripheral vision, the tiny, self-satisfied smile starting to pull at the corner of the admiral’s mouth.
Behind the VISOR, he squeezed his eyelids tight as he tried to tamp down his growing anger and frustration. It didn’t help.
Once the Enterprise officers filed into a waiting turbolift and started back to the transporter room, La Forge turned to Picard. “He can’t really do this, can he, Captain?”
Picard tried to look anywhere in their confined space except into La Forge’s face. “I would like to be able to tell you ‘no,’ Geordi. However, the admiral did technically leave the choice to you.”
“Some choice,” La Forge grumbled angrily.
“Sir?” La Forge turned to Daniels, who had been completely silent since arriving on the station. “Pardon me for asking, but…it’s not really that difficult a choice, is it?”
La Forge glared directly at the lieutenant. “Whether I let Starfleet dictate that I alter my eyesight or not? You’d call that an easy choice?”
“Well, it being a security concern…”
“‘Security concern,’” La Forge repeated, snorting in derision. “The Founders have the ability to become anything, to impersonate anyone, to infiltrate any part of the Federation they want. My VISOR is not going to be the edge they need to take over the Alpha Quadrant.”
“No, sir,” the new security chief said, almost apologetically. “But, you must admit, your VISOR does leave you uniquely vulnerable to—”
“Everybody has their vulnerabilities,” La Forge snapped back. “Mine are no more ‘unique’ than yours or anyone else’s!”
“Commander,” the captain said, in a low yet sharp tone.
La Forge dropped his head and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Daniels. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”
After pausing a moment for the tension in the car to dissipate, Picard said, “We have three days before you have to give the admiral an answer. I will reach out to some acquaintances in the Judge Advocate General’s office, and try to determine what your legal options might be.”
“Thank you, Captain.” La Forge said, allowing himself a small glimmer of hope as the turbolift car stopped. Picard said nothing in reply, and turned his face away from him as the doors swooshed open. La Forge was still able, however, to read the darkly pessimistic expression on the older man’s face, and he felt his own feelings of hope dim.
CHAPTER
3
Deanna was awakened the following morning, after a fitful night of sleep, by the scent of freshly baked cavat muffins and kimden rolls drifting upstairs into her bedroom. After quickly washing up and dressing, she made her way downstairs to find her mother already seated at the head of the table in the house’s informal dining room (“informal” because it was able to accommodate only twenty guests). Several bowls of whole and sliced fruit were spread out on the table before her, along with a steaming pot of tea and a chilled carafe of allira juice. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” Lwaxana sing-songed. “I was beginning to worry you’d sleep the whole morning away.”
“Good morning, Mother,” Deanna answered, walking along the length of the table and leaning over to kiss her mother on the cheek. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
“Oh, heavens, yes, much,” Lwaxana answered, as Deanna took a seat and started to fill her plate. “There’s nothing like being back in your own bed again after a long trip.”
Deanna’s hand froze in the middle of scooping uttaberries out of a large bowl onto her plate. “Yes,” she said, trying to keep her tone as light as she could. “It was a long trip, wasn’t it? Long and eventful.”
“Hmm,” was Lwaxana’s only reply, as she suddenly became intensely interested in the bowl of hilreps in front of her.
Deanna waited patiently, but Lwaxana added nothing more, either vocally or telepathically. As a counselor and a psychologist, she understood that allowing a long lull in conversation was often the most effective method of encouraging a patient to start talking. But from her mother, extended silences seemed unnatural and frightening. “Why don’t you tell me about your trip,” she prompted neutrally.
“Oh, I don’t want to bore you, dear,” Lwaxana said, still fascinated by the fruit bowl.
“No, tell me, please. I’m sure it was fascinating,” she said, trying to sound curious, but only casually so. “So few outsiders have ever visited Tavny.”
“Oh, would you look at this,” Lwaxana said, snatching a hilrep from the bowl and thrusting it at Deanna. “Look at the size of that bruise! It’s not bad enough this is all there was in the house for breakfast,” she said as she gestured to the abundance of food before them, without a hint of irony, “but this…I don’t understand what is wrong with Mr. Homn, how lax he’s been lately…”
“Mother,” Deanna said, quietly but forcefully, “you moved out. You haven’t lived in this house for a year.”
Her mother laughed as if that were the most preposterous thing she’d ever heard. “Moved out? This is my house. It’s been my home for over thirty years. Nothing or no one could make me move out of this house.”
She was so insistent in her denials that Deanna couldn’t help but think, again, about Kestra. Her mother had been devastated by the death of her first child, who drowned at age six, when Deanna herself was just a baby. And she dealt with that devastation by denying it had ever happened, repressing the entire period from the girl’s conception to her burial.
It pained Deanna to think that her mother had suffered another emotional trauma on the same level as the death of a daughter. Yet, it was becoming increasingly evident to her that her mother was not simply reluctant to talk about her year with Jeyal. And she was deeply worried about how her mother’s mental state would manifest itself once she’d delivered Jeyal’s son.
For a moment, Deanna considered probing telepathically into her mother’s thoughts, to get an idea of just how deep her denial was. It would be a tremendous breach of ethics—not to mention almost certainly futile, given Lwaxana’s exceptional telepathic talents versus her own lesser abilities. If it came down to it, though, she would have to try.
For now, though, she decided to try one last tack. She leaned across the corner of the table, took Lwaxana’s hand in both of hers, and looked deep into her wide, dark pupils. “Mother, I understand this has to be difficult for you. But you cannot do this.” Her mother’s eyes seemed to lose focus, but Deanna gave her hand a tight squeeze to pull her attention back. “You cannot…”
Suddenly, her mother was on her feet, her hand was free, and she was out of the dining room. “Mother!” Deanna jumped up and followed after her as she walked toward the main foyer, and she quickened her pace when she saw
her mother headed for the front door, reaching for the knob. “This is too important to simply pretend it hasn’t happened! You cannot run away from—”
Deanna stopped short when she realized her mother was not, in fact, attempting to walk out on her, but rather opening the door for a visitor she had sensed coming up the front walk. Now stepping into the house was a man Deanna did not recognize, though she did register his hairless head, pale complexion, and prominently ridged nasal septum, which clearly identified him as a Tavnian.
“Deycen! How nice to see you!” Lwaxana said brightly, before finally turning to acknowledge her daughter’s presence again. “Deanna, this is Ambassador Deycen, from the Tavnian Embassy to Betazed. Deycen, my beautiful daughter, Deanna. Deycen is the one who introduced me to Jeyal at a diplomatic reception at his embassy.”
Deanna’s jaw literally fell open on hearing her mother so casually drop Jeyal’s name. She thus found herself unable to say anything to Ambassador Deycen, though the Tavnian took no offense. He spared Deanna only the briefest of looks before turning his sour expression back to her mother. “I’ve come to bring you back, Lwaxana.”
“Isn’t that funny?” Lwaxana said, answering Deycen’s scowl with a light laugh. “Deanna and I were just talking about this very thing. No, I’m staying right here, in my own home.”
“Your home is with Jeyal,” he said, as if speaking to a small obstinate child. “He told me you had left without his knowledge, and I was to watch for you here. You’re going to come to the embassy with me, and I’ll arrange for your return to Tavny.”
“You haven’t heard, then. Jeyal and I are no longer married.”
“Oh?” Deycen replied, raising one skeptical eyebrow.
“I found a new husband,” Lwaxana said, beaming. “His name is Odo, and he’s the chief of security on a Federation-run starbase. Jeyal was a witness to the ceremony, and he let Odo’s beautiful profession of love go unchallenged. You can ask him yourself if you like.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation™: The Insolence of Office Page 3