A Time to Love

by Robert Greenberger

  “Maybe,” she admitted, “but if the captain needs immediate support from us, I need someone up here who knows that board perfectly. Aiken hasn’t logged a single hour on the bridge.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m just a little disappointed.”

  She grinned at him. “With this ship and captain, there’s always going to be something. If it’s not Delta Sigma IV it’ll be something else next month. Have faith. You’ll see some action.”

  “And now I have to be careful of what I wish for, right?”

  “Could be. I’m going up for the rest of alpha shift. You get some rest and take beta.”

  “Aye, Lieutenant.”

  Vale took a deep breath, walked out of the room with Peart, and watched as he veered left down the corridor. She then headed for the nearest turbolift and within seconds was on the bridge, walking to the tactical station. Almonte, who was on duty, started to move away, but she gestured for him to stay. She wasn’t planning to be there long.

  The continent of Fith, Dorset-founded, seemed to be the one with the most problems. It was there the first murder occurred, and then on another part of the continent the second attack occurred, and now a third murder had occurred. She scanned the most recent reports from the Council, selected four areas that required help, and sent the coordinates to Juj. Without taking her eyes off the board, she watched as the transporters all worked at once, the power levels on the ship compensating for the sudden drain, and then saw the Starfleet insignia pop up in four places.

  The hard work was about to begin.

  Picard and Troi materialized in the Council chamber, taking a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. The Council seemed not to have moved, sitting at their table with adjutants and sycophants scurrying around. The noise was subdued, but the chattering continued unabated, like a swarm of insects circling a swamp. An apt image, considering the mess things had devolved into. The captain looked over at the screens behind the Council table and noted the various newsfeeds, all talking about the latest murder, no doubt.

  And still, the Council talked.

  From what he could tell, they had not acted with any universal policy, deploying peace officers only as dictated. Entirely reactive at a time when leadership was required. Chkarad, pleasant as he was, was clearly not the right man in the right position. How often had history tested a leader, and how often had the leader failed? Countless billions had died on Earth alone through inadequate leadership, dating back to the first conquerors.

  Morrow, who had been leaning over the table and whispering with a councillor, looked up and spotted the captain. He gave a short wave, excused himself, and walked over at a brisk pace. His clothes were less than crisp, a golden fuzz was evident around his chin, and his face was haggard. He seemed to be running on adrenaline.

  “What progress have you made?” Picard inquired.

  “Little, I’m afraid,” Morrow said glumly. “They seemed most interested in securing this building and then contacting their families to make sure they were safe. There’s been a great deal of idle speculation that has derailed substantive work. Then they slept wherever they could. I managed to grab two chairs and got some rest myself.”

  “Clearly not enough, from the looks of it,” Troi offered.

  “Good morning to you, Counselor,” Morrow said brightly, ignoring the observation.

  “Is our security holding up?”

  “Carmona’s been wonderful,” Morrow said. “He’s done a lot to make sure they feel safe here. If only the Council felt safe enough to get something accomplished.”

  “Then that is what is on today’s agenda,” Picard said with a decisive tone in his voice. He detested having to do the work of others, but the Council of Delta Sigma IV had been given protection and support and still they chose to do nothing. The captain’s talk with Speaker Chkarad had clearly failed, so he had to act on the other part of the threat—he had to step in. As the captain strode toward the Council, he fully expected his actions to be welcomed by those who continued to want to serve their people.

  “Good morning, Councillors,” Picard called out as he approached. He felt it necessary to project a stern voice, letting the Council chamber’s acoustics work to his advantage. No stranger to the stage, he was going to put on a one-time performance that he hoped would inspire these people. They didn’t have time for an extended run.

  “We expected you sooner,” was all Renks said by way of greeting.

  “I do have my own ship to tend to,” Picard answered curtly. He saw Troi and Morrow exchange surprised glances in the back of the room. Just as well they weren’t sitting closer to the dais, for they would urge him to speak gently, to proceed diplomatically. Ship’s counselors and ambassadors were both professional advocates of tact, which was normally a useful tool. But at this point in this case, the time for tact had long since passed. Protests had sprung up on every continent, most of them peaceful, but there had already been a few minor scuffles. It was only a matter of time before they escalated to brawls.

  “I want to strongly recommend you order curfews around the planet, lock down all the transportation hubs, and urge people to stay home. I know this will affect your economy, but so will all this senseless violence. If people let quarrels turn to fights or fights turn into riots, then the damage to your economy will be much, much worse.”

  Picard paused, letting his words sink in and studying Chkarad to gauge a reaction. The Speaker didn’t meet the captain’s eyes.

  “He’s right, Speaker,” one of the men said from behind them.

  “Act,” another said.

  “They won’t listen,” Chkarad said to no one in particular.

  “You need to sell it to them as the best course of action,” Picard said firmly.

  “And if they reject my orders?”

  “We’ll take this a step at a time. Give the orders, set the curfew time, and see what happens. Once we see if they listen, then we can redeploy your peace officers to any hot spots. My people can help enforce the curfew.” He disliked the notion of involving his crew further, but felt he had little choice.

  “I will try. Let me compose something for broadcast.”

  “Of course,” Picard agreed, sensing an overdue victory. “But keep it brief. And be quick, please.”

  The Speaker seemed to shuffle out of the room, seeking some solitude in which to prepare his message. Picard turned and got positive reactions from not only Morrow but several of the Council. One had even summoned an aide, and he could hear the orders to prepare for a global broadcast. Good, finally some activity.

  Troi looked over her shoulder, then at Picard, and then motioned toward one of the monitors. The captain walked over, keeping his distance, and listened to the murmurs.

  “It broke up on its own?”

  “No, someone dropped the spokesman and everyone scattered.”

  “Not like them at all, usually a hardier bunch.”

  “May I inquire as to the activity?” Picard asked, keeping his voice even.

  A Dorset man looked over his shoulder, stiffened a bit at the captain’s presence, and then gestured to the screen. “Here on Tregor, there was a protest rally.”

  “What were they protesting?”

  “You, actually.”

  “I see. Go on.”

  “Well, the speaker was whipping them up into a frenzy and suddenly he fell over. Not dead or anything, but knocked out. People just scattered, ending the event.”

  “What caused his collapse?”

  “Seems to be a concussion from a stone.”

  Picard blinked at that. So they were throwing rocks now? He watched the media feed on the monitor and saw the replay. The stone hitting the man at the base of the skull, the man falling forward, off the podium and into the crowd.

  “Captain!”

  Carmona entered the chamber at a run. His uniform was dirty and his face streaked with what Picard hoped was mud. The lieutenant jogged to the dais and Picard met him at the e
dge.

  “A riot has broken out. It’s like it’s alive—growing by the second.”

  “Is the Council in danger?”

  “The building is secure at the moment, but if the mob grows any larger, I can’t guarantee the situation won’t change.”

  “How many can you spare to quell things?”

  “Two, maybe three,” the officer replied.

  “You stay here, the Council knows you,” Picard ordered. “Deploy your people and stop the fighting. The Speaker is about to order something short of martial law. That should help.”

  With a nod, he headed back outside and Picard watched him, concern now overwhelming any sense of momentum he may have felt minutes earlier.

  Three murders sparking a protest was understandable, but a riot was something else entirely.

  “Testani’s on fire!”

  Picard turned and saw Morrow and a Bader councillor running to a screen to the right of the dais. He and Troi exchanged glances and approached the monitor, which showed tongues of flame rising above a cluster of buildings.

  Testani was a city.

  “We have a Ferengi ship approaching,” Peart called from tactical. “He says he is here by Commander La Forge’s invitation.”

  “That is true, Lieutenant,” Data replied. “Allow him docking access if he requires it. But, given the circumstances below, please make sure his stay is brief.”

  “I’m on it,” Peart replied. “I don’t recall us inviting Ferengi traders to visit.”

  “Normally we don’t, but I have business with him,” La Forge said from his station.

  “You lose a bet?”

  “No, actually, he’s bringing me a part I need from the Nautilus.”

  “I’m assigning a detail, for when he steps on board.”

  “Is that necessary?” Data asked.

  “He’s a Ferengi trader, and I don’t want him ‘sampling’ the equipment,” Peart said with a wicked grin.

  Date nodded in comprehension and returned his gaze to the forward viewscreen.

  La Forge tapped in a few final commands at his post and looked over to Peart. “He won’t cause trouble, and I need a favor from him.”

  “I’d make it quick if I were you,” Perim chided from her post.

  “I didn’t invite him for high tea,” La Forge said, heading for the turbolift.

  “That is wise, since we do not normally serve high tea,” Data said.

  La Forge chuckled to himself, remembering how unintentionally amusing Data could be without his emotion chip. As the lift brought him to engineering, he thought once again about the chip and its absence in Data’s life. They had been convinced his neural pathways were sufficiently evolved for the chip to be used on a full-time basis eight years earlier. He wondered if the pathways would continue to evolve or would regress with the chip’s absence.

  Once in engineering, he walked to a small supply room and tapped in the command codes granting him access to the dilithium crystals that were the lifeblood of a warp engine. Without the crystals’ properties helping to regulate the flow of anti-matter and matter, the balance would never be stabilized. The Federation had managed, over the years, to learn how to recrystalize used crystals and even synthesize dilithium, but it was a protected technology most other races had yet to develop on their own. So, for nonaligned people such as the Ferengi, the real crystals were still highly valued.

  Rubbing his thumb over the smooth surface, La Forge could easily see why these were valued prior to warp technology. They were brilliant when polished, flawless and tough to crack.

  Leaving a thumbprint to acknowledge the withdrawal of the crystal, La Forge left the store room and proceeded to the main engineering section. He strode over to Lieutenant Taurik, who was in command when La Forge was on the bridge.

  “Taurik, please have someone grab an extra chambliss coil and meet me at docking bay two.”

  “Of course, Commander,” the Vulcan replied.

  “Then, have someone run a full scan of the Ferengi ship that just arrived. I’ll need the report at the docking port.”

  Taurik nodded, cocking his eyebrow in a questioning manner.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I am trying to determine the use of a chambliss coil and a dilithium crystal, and I can see no practical use for these two items in concert.”

  La Forge smiled, hefting the crystal in his right hand. “No connection other than some old-fashioned bartering.”

  “Indeed,” the younger engineer replied.

  “When you run an engine room, Taurik, you’ll learn that improvisation is almost as important as knowing why things work.”

  He was met with a stony silence. La Forge thought about prolonging the conversation since the Vulcan showed a lot of promise but clearly needed some practical lessons. “Tell you what, let’s have a drink after the shift and I can explain it all to you.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Great, now get that part to the docking port,” La Forge called, hurrying to the nearest lift.

  Once he arrived at the docking port, La Forge realized he was late. An unpleasant Ferengi named Dex was already waiting for him on the deck, surrounded by two of Vale’s people. They towered over the slight, older Ferengi, who seemed ready to bolt back to his ship.

  “Is this how you greet guests?”

  “Sorry about that,” La Forge said by way of greeting. “However, things are a little volatile down below, so we have to be extra careful.”

  Dex seemed to cower further away from the guards. “Volatile as in shooting?”

  “Nothing aimed this way,” La Forge said in as friendly a manner as possible. “Now, do you have the quad?”

  “Of course I do,” the Ferengi snapped, finally eyeing the glittering dilithium crystal in La Forge’s hand. He licked his lips, finally putting his fears behind him. “And that’s my pay.”

  “Where’s the part?”

  “Inside my vessel. You’ll get it after we discuss the final price.”

  Folding his arms and trying to look unamused, La Forge waited.

  “Entering hazardous space, putting my ship at risk is worth a twenty-five percent premium. Ten percent for a rush delivery, another five percent for general sector tariffs. That should amount to at least a third crystal.”

  “I see,” La Forge said, trying to avoid tapping his foot in impatience. “Is that all?”

  “I think so,” Dex answered.

  Just then, an ensign arrived, carrying a box with the chambliss coil and a padd. She put the box down by La Forge’s feet and handed over the padd and stood at attention. Geordi almost immediately began scanning the padd’s report, ignoring Dex. After thirty seconds, he finally noticed the ensign remaining ramrod straight.

  “Anything else, Ensign?”

  “No, sir,” she snapped back.

  “Dismissed, then,” La Forge said with a sigh. You could always spot the newbies. Finally, he closed the report and exhaled loudly, slowly shaking his head.

  “Well, Mr. La Forge,” Dex prompted.

  “Here’s the thing, Dex,” La Forge began. “Because this is such a volatile part of space at the moment, we took the liberty of scanning your ship to make sure it could escape under fire if necessary…”

  “…but you said no one was firing this way,” Dex interrupted.

  “Well, you can’t be too careful. It seems your reactor is not up to specs and you have faltering shield generators. Looks like your landing gear is also fused, so you’re spacebound. All in all, I should have this vessel impounded, at least until things calm down.”

  “You can’t!”

  “I can,” La Forge continued. “And these friends of mine will see to it that you remain aboard, under our protection.”

  Dex stole a look at the larger of the two guards and stepped closer to the engineer.

  “Unless…” La Forge began.

  “I’ll do it! Whatever it is, I’ll do it!”

  “We need this item transported
to the Pegasus, back in the direction you came. In exchange, we’ll do repairs to your reactor and generators. Won’t take more than a few hours, and then you can be under way.”

  Dex eyed the gray box on the deck. He looked back at La Forge’s face and studied it.

  “I don’t know,” he stammered. “I can usually read a man by looking into his eyes. You, er, make that a bit difficult.”

  “This is the best deal you’ll get,” La Forge said, fighting off exasperation. “You get an improved ship and I get to help another Starfleet ship.”

  “I see, well then. I guess we have a deal.” He held out his hand, attempting to shake the way humans did. Instead, La Forge handed him the crystal.

  “There, payment for services rendered,” La Forge said. “These fine people will take you to a lounge where you can have something to eat and wait while we fix your ship.” He nodded to the officers, who returned the gesture and stepped toward the Ferengi. La Forge turned and started back to the bridge, but stopped when Dex called out.

  “How do you know you can trust me?”

  La Forge turned and smiled coldly at him. “Because, Dex, you wouldn’t dream of double-crossing Starfleet. We’ll get your transponder code, and we’ll hunt you down if the Pegasus doesn’t receive that part on schedule.”

  “Point taken.”

  The flight from the capital to Tregor took several hours, during which Riker grew more anxious. A part of him wanted to use the transporter and move around Delta Sigma IV quickly, but he also wanted to be a respectful guest and do things in a manner the locals were comfortable with. Fortunately, he liked Seer and liked him even more after seeing him with his family. As they traveled, Riker used the time to speak with Picard, Crusher, Troi, and Data, letting them know he was fine and getting their perspectives on the mission. It sounded like a lot of time and effort was being expended but not a lot was being learned.

  “Do you mind having Vale and her people on the planet?” Riker asked Seer after Picard had informed him of the unusual step.

  “I recognize the need for help, but I must admit I’m not happy we need to ask for it.”

  “Do you blame the Federation for the murders?”