“Anything else?” DeSoto said.
“Yes,” I said. “If I were you, I’d start looking for a new first officer.”
After picking my XO, there were other key positions I already had people in mind for. I contacted Cheva and asked her if she’d mind giving up Natasha Yar, whom I wanted for my chief of security. Cheva chuckled at the idea that she would turn down a request from the man who’d gotten her a command. The Enterprise was also one of the first vessels to have a ship’s counselor, and Deanna Troi, the young woman I’d met several years before on the Saratoga, was my only choice.
I also had to get Data away from Leyton. I offered Data a promotion to lieutenant commander, but Leyton didn’t want to let him go—he knew how lucky he was to have him. I had Quinn put in a call and it was done. I hired my blind pilot Geordi La Forge as my conn officer, and gave Ensign Worf a promotion to lieutenant, and suggested him to Yar as a security officer.
When it came time to choose a chief medical officer, I thought my decision had been made. Dr. Ailat had been on Earth at Starfleet Medical Headquarters since her time on the Stargazer. I’d told her years ago that if I got another command, I would be asking her back. I didn’t question this course of action until I came across a resume I didn’t expect.
Beverly Crusher. She had put in for duty in the Galaxy-class program because it made room for families; she had never remarried and had raised Wesley on her own. When Quinn had given me the news that the Enterprise would have families aboard, I was aghast—children on my ship. I was in no position to argue, I wasn’t going to give up the post, but it rankled me. Until, that is, the moment I realized it might mean I’d see Beverly again.
It occurred to me that she might not know I was captain, and if I offered her the position she might turn it down. And then there was the problem that Ailat might be expecting the position. It seemed irresponsible to alter my decision for such personal reasons. Beverly, though competent and skilled, wasn’t nearly as experienced as Ailat was. I decided to call Ailat; perhaps she wasn’t expecting me to make the offer. She was in her office at Starfleet Medical; I spoke to her via my computer monitor.
“You’ve heard I’ve been made captain of the Enterprise,” I said.
“Yes,” Ailat said. “Congratulations. You will need a chief medical officer.” “Yes,” I said. “I would love for you to accept the post.” I realized that I had to, in good conscience, offer her the job. She was the most qualified, and I’d had a long, comfortable working relationship with her. But my heart ached at what I was giving up.
“I am honored,” Ailat said. “But are you aware that Beverly Crusher is also available?”
“Wh-what?” I sputtered, confused, embarrassed. “No… I mean, yes, her service record came my way… but…” Why was she bringing up Beverly? Were Edosians telepathic?
“Captain,” Ailat said, “I served with you a long time.” Her tone was as flat as it always was. She looked at me with those strange Edosian eyes set apart in that giant orange skull. Edosians didn’t smile the way humans did, and certainly didn’t seem warm or friendly. But Ailat was taking care of me.
“I owe you, Ailat,” I said. I disconnected from her and immediately sent a request for Beverly Crusher to be posted to the Enterprise as chief medical officer. I stared at my computer console waiting for a response. There was still a lot of service records to look over, other posts to fill, but I couldn’t concentrate.
Finally, a message. A simple moment of joy.
“Position: Chief Medical Officer. Candidate: Beverly Crusher. Candidate accepted.”
* * *
“Here are your orders, Captain,” Quinn said, handing me a PADD. I was in the Admiralty Meeting Room with him and Admiral Norah Satie. Satie was one of Starfleet’s most senior admirals. Her presence was a testimony to the prestige of the command I was being given. I was set to take command later that afternoon; Halloway had finished his shakedown cruise, and brought the Enterprise to McKinley Station for final adjustments.
“Anything I should be aware of?” I said. Admiral Satie sat silently for a moment; her stare was penetrating, and it unsettled me.
“After you’ve solved the mystery of Farpoint Station, your mission is chiefly exploration,” Satie said. “You are headed into an area of space that we still have very little information about. And of course, there are security concerns.”
0“And, Captain Picard,” Satie said, “command of the Federation flagship is a vital responsibility. We’re giving it to you because we trust you to protect us from our enemies without and within.”
“ ‘Within’?” I said. “I’m sorry, Admiral, I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means, Captain, be vigilant.” There was definitely more to this than what she was saying, but she wasn’t going to elucidate any further. I took my leave and headed to the main San Francisco starport. I was surprised to see Tasha Yar waiting for me by a shuttle.
“Security Chief Natasha Yar, reporting for duty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I found her formality unusual; she seemed to think she needed to introduce herself.
“Yes, Lieutenant, we met on Carnellia IV,” I said.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” she said. I was incredulous.
“I watched you walk through a minefield. I chose you to be my chief of security because of it.”
“Sorry, sir,” she said. Her unique strength seemed to hide a bit of insecurity, at least around me.
“No apologies necessary,” I said. “Shall we go?”
We boarded the shuttle, and flew over San Francisco as I’d done many times before. Tasha however appeared amazed at the views.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“You went to the academy, surely you’ve seen it before.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve never gotten used to it. And I don’t want to.” I remembered then that Tasha came from Turkana IV, a truly violent world, a place where civilization had fallen apart.
“I understand,” I said. “I guess I take paradise for granted.”
“You’ve earned it, sir,” she said. “The example you’ve set in your career has raised the bar for the rest of us.”
I wasn’t used to hero worship, and my instinct was to put a stop to it. But her feeling seemed so genuine, I think I would’ve regretted discouraging it.
Tasha piloted us toward the Enterprise. McKinley Station looked like a giant metal crab that was gripping the ship from above. We went into one of the smaller shuttle bays, and Tasha led me out.
There was a relatively small group of crewmembers in the bay. As there was still plenty of work to be done so we could launch, both Captain Halloway and I had agreed to dispense with a grand “transfer of command” ceremony.
“Commanding Officer Enterprise, arriving,” Tasha said. The group stood at attention. I went to a small lectern that had been set up in the bay and read my orders aloud.
“To Captain Jean-Luc Picard, stardate 41148.0, you are hereby requested and required to take command as of this date. Signed Rear Admiral Norah Satie, Starfleet Command.” I nodded to Tasha.
“Crew dismissed,” Tasha said.
I walked over to Deanna Troi and Lieutenant Worf. “Welcome aboard, Captain,” she said.
“It’s an honor once again to serve with you, sir,” Worf said.
“Thank you,” I said. I noticed that not only Worf but the rest of the crew present looked at me with a kind of reverence I hadn’t before experienced. It was both satisfying and unnerving. “Resume your posts, stand by to get underway.” I left the shuttle bay and headed to my quarters.
As I walked the corridors, I was struck by the ship’s beauty. Even with the activity the ship had an inherent tranquility. It felt like the pinnacle of civilization. For a moment at least…
“Ow!”
I’d come around the corner, and something had hit me in the shins. It took all my willpower to regain my composure. I looked down to see what had collided with me: a b
oy.
A child. On my ship.
Merde.
“Harry!” A man in a science uniform ran over to us and helped the boy up. He then saw who his son had run into and looked genuinely horrified. “I’m so sorry, Captain…”
“It’s quite all right,” I said, lying.
“I’m Dr. Bernard, sir,” the man said. “This is Harry. Harry, apologize to the captain.”
“No,” Harry said.
“It’s quite all right,” I said, again lying. I left them quickly and headed to the turbolift. Once on it, I thought of my first day on the Stargazer, the frustration I felt at having to deal with Mazzara’s children. And now there were about seventy-five on this ship. I tapped the communicator on my chest.
“Picard to Lieutenant Yar,” I said.
“Yar here, sir,” she said.
“From this point forward, no children allowed above Deck Two,” I said. This, at least, was something I could do to limit my exposure.
“Aye aye, sir,” she said. I could hear a little confusion in her voice, but I didn’t mind.
I’d just posted a sign: no children on the bridge.
* * *
“Captain on the bridge,” Data said as I stepped off the turbolift.
My first view of the bridge was quite startling. It was large and comfortable. I initially felt ill at ease walking in such a large room; bridges in my mind were compact and efficient. This almost felt like a living room.
Data was at the ops station, Lieutenant Torres at the conn, serving there temporarily. Tasha was on the upper level at the security and communication station. Worf stood behind her, operating the defensive systems. I stopped by Data at ops.
“Good to see you, Mr. Data,” I said.
“It is… good to see you too, sir,” he said, as if unsure he was understanding what he was saying.
“For the future, you won’t need to announce my presence on the bridge,” I said.
“Aye, sir,” Data said. I felt the formality didn’t go with the setting. This place was to be our home. I then sat down next to Counselor Troi. She looked at me and smiled. There was something behind it.
“Something wrong, Counselor?”
“Nothing at all, sir.” She leaned in closer. “Your enthusiasm is infectious.”
I smiled, a little awkwardly; it would take a little getting used to being around an officer who could read my emotions so clearly.
“McKinley Station reports we’re clear to depart,” Yar said.
“Take us out,” I said.
McKinley Station’s crab-like claws lifted away, and the ship moved out of orbit. As I gave the orders for us to set a course for Deneb IV, I took in the room; we had the most up-to-date technology and an accomplished and gifted crew. I felt a great deal of anticipation for what awaited us. I was confident I was ready. My first encounter on Deneb IV brought home that my youth was long behind me.
Shortly after arriving in orbit, I stood on the deck of the hangar as a small shuttle came through the forcefield and landed. I stepped forward to greet its esteemed passenger, Starfleet’s most senior physician who was going to inspect our medical layout. I hadn’t seen him in a very long time, and was looking forward to our reunion.
“Admiral McCoy,” I said, “Nice to see you again.”
“Have we met?” He was much older, over 130 years old, white haired and stooped, but had lost none of his irascibility.
“Yes, I was in the honor guard, in Ambassador Spock’s wedding.”
McCoy grunted. I felt foolish; of course he wouldn’t remember me.
“I was quite a bit younger,” I said.
“Did you have hair?”
“I did,” I said. We stood for a moment in self-conscious silence. I realized he had no interest in talking to me.
“Someone going to take me around? I’m not getting any younger.”
“Of course sir.” I decided to assign Lieutenant Data to the task, and returned to my duties. A few years earlier I would’ve felt obliged to take such an esteemed man around myself, and suffer through an awkward interaction out of a feeling of obligation. Now, however, I spared myself the indignity.
Thinking back, some of my strongest memories of that first mission center around what the circumstance revealed about members of my new crew.
Commander Riker came on board, and immediately and enthusiastically fell into his role as my first officer. He was a man of action, reminding me of my younger self, and we quickly fell into a rhythm that was efficient and complementary. I also gave him the unenviable task of trying to make me look genial with children. Geordi La Forge took his place at the conn, and my bridge crew was complete.
My first encounter with Beverly, however, was a little less satisfying. Within days of assuming command, I was on the bridge when I noticed the turbolift doors open. A teenager was standing there.
“What the hell?” I said. “Children are not allowed on the bridge.”
Then Beverly stepped out of the turbolift. My breath left me. I remembered this feeling before. It was as if I was always surprised at how beautiful she was, that I couldn’t hold her true beauty in my memory.
“Permission to report to the captain,” she said. She was strained—this was difficult for her, too.
“Dr. Crusher,” I said. I suddenly felt I’d made a terrible mistake. As her captain, any hopes for a relationship with Beverly would be impossible. I had created a new purgatory for myself.
“Captain,” she said. “Sir, my son is not on the bridge, he just accompanied me on the turbolift.”
“Your son?” I said. I felt a fool. I knew Wesley had aged, yet locked in my mind was the image of him as a toddler.
“His name is Wesley,” she said. Of course I knew his name. How could she think I’d forget his name? Then I realized she didn’t know I’d been thinking about her since the day we parted. I felt the urge to apologize for my initial coldness, so I broke my own brand-new rule, and invited Wesley on the bridge.
As he left the turbolift, I had a moment of intense déjà vu. I remembered his father, stepping off the transporter back on the Stargazer. This boy had the same awkwardness. The more I looked at him, the more I saw my friend.
Jack was back from the dead. I hoped I wouldn’t have to see a lot of him.
* * *
“Thou art directed,” Q said, “to return to thine own solar system immediately.”
He strutted around my ship dressed as Christopher Columbus. His primitive costume belied his virtually limitless power; he’d stopped my ship with an energy force field that stretch to every horizon of space. He changed his appearance in a flash of light and was suddenly a marine from the ancient United States, expounding about the need for “a few good men.” A flash, and then he was a soldier from World War III, in battle armor sniffing amphetamines before he went into combat. All very dramatic, meant to intimidate us. Q had the power to do to us whatever he wanted. But he didn’t want to destroy us, he wanted to sit in judgment.
Any student of Starfleet history knows of the extraordinarily advanced beings in the Galaxy. The Organians, the Excalbians, the Metrons—all very much like Q, judging “lesser” beings, sometimes for what they considered the greater good, sometimes just for their own amusement.
On that first mission, Q promised that if we failed in discovering the truth about Farpoint Station, we would all be sent back to our home planets, confined for eternity. I had a lot of questions as to whether he could and would have carried out his threat if we hadn’t solved that mystery;1 as I look back, I’m convinced he would’ve regretted it. He’s enjoyed toying with me and my crew too much.
* * *
“Captain,” Riker said, “I’d like to talk to you about Wesley Crusher.” I had a regular morning meeting with Riker in my ready room. Though we would go over a wide variety of issues involved in running such a huge ship, I never expected Wesley to make the agenda.
“What about him?”
“He’s shown remarkable
aptitude at understanding the ship’s systems, with very little training,” Riker said. “I tested him on the flight simulator, and he’s as good a pilot as I am.”
“Please don’t exaggerate,” I said. Riker’s record as a pilot was exemplary—he literally had the best ratings of the entire crew.
“I’m not,” Riker said. “His score on the flight simulator was higher than mine.” I could tell that Riker was serious. “I think we should take him under our wing. He’d be an incredible resource.”
“Why is it necessary? We have a full crew compliment.” I was resisting the idea, although at that moment I didn’t understand why.
“Well, sir, one of the arguments for having families on board was the opportunity for Starship captains to identify potential academy candidates among the relatives of the crew. This appears to be one of those opportunities.” I envied Riker, his ability to get along so easily with everyone, while also not losing his authority. And I knew he’d formed a bond with Wesley. I was pleased about that, as the fact that Wesley was without a father was something that I took as my responsibility.
“I will think about it,” I said.
* * *
“Captain’s log, stardate 41263.4. For outstanding performance in the best of Starfleet tradition, Wesley Crusher is made Acting Ensign, with the duties and privileges of that rank.”
It was only a few weeks later. The young man had played major roles in a number of missions, and Riker’s suggestion stuck in my mind. I had Riker put him on a strict course of study, with the idea he would tender an application to the academy. And since he was now an acting ensign, he was allowed on the bridge. Riker gave him a lot of time at various duty stations, serving in a support capacity. Sometimes he would take ops. I soon forgot my initial resistance to training him, until one morning, when we were on our way to Starbase 74, and La Forge excused himself from his conn position momentarily. A crewman stood by to take his place, when Riker leaned into me.
STAR TREK THE NEXT GENERATION THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JEAN-LUC PICARD Page 26