A Time to Love

by Robert Greenberger

  “Riker to Data.”

  “Enterprise here, Commander.”

  “We’re currently flying over a series of islands to the north. Can you conduct scans for any Bader or Dorset life-signs?”

  “One moment. We are detecting life-signs on three of the nine islands in the area.”

  The landmass directly beneath them was one of nine, or so Seer said. It formed a sovereign community and was inhabited primarily by Bader, although about a third of the people were Dorset. As one would expect, fishing was the mainstay of the economy. As they neared, Riker saw docks and ships of various sizes. A few were still out on the water, not far from the island.

  “Fly over before we land,” Riker suggested.

  “Aye, aye, Commander,” Seer replied.

  They flew once around the island’s perimeter, descending to get a good view. They spotted a rally near a dock, but it seemed small and generally peaceful. However the disease was being passed, Riker assumed that these people were protected by their relative isolation. How long that protection might last was unknown.

  “Should we land?”

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Riker said, going with his instincts.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s peaceful, they keep to themselves, and they’re fisherfolk. I don’t think he’s here.”

  “You have an instinct about this?”

  “I do. He’d been heading in this general direction, but this isn’t his destination. I think he’s looking for Alaska.”

  “Alaska. That’s your home, right?”

  “Yeah, and we need to find its analogous location here.”

  Seer thought for a moment and then asked Riker to call up information on Alaska on the tricorder. Riker complied and while the flyer hovered for a minute, the pilot studied the information, then compared it with navigational charts on the computer.

  “I think I’ve got it. One place, not far, has what you want.”

  “Fly on,” Riker instructed.

  Something soothing and cool.

  That’s all Troi had on her mind as she walked into Ten-Forward. While things continued to churn on the planet below, Picard had decided Troi could get some rest. There was little more she could do with the Council, and the hours exposed to the harsh emotions had definitely worn her down. She doubted she was performing at her best as day wore on and was privately grateful for the respite. Even though it was late based on the capital’s time, she figured she had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

  The lounge was busy since much of the crew had little to do while the medical and security staffs were pressed into service. Department heads had granted additional leave time, which was no doubt appreciated by the crew. Chatter seemed light and felt comforting compared to the roiling feelings on the planet.

  Jordan was bartending tonight, one of the few non-Starfleet crew these days. He was tall and handsome, though his good looks were marred by a prematurely receding hairline, giving him a sharp widow’s peak. His laugh carried across the room as Troi saw him share a joke with three patrons. The laughter sounded good, and she hoped to hear a joke herself. Ten-Forward was a reflection of its manager, and while Guinan had served with the Enterprise, it was serene and hospitable. Under Jordan, it was a little rowdier, and the crew responded well to it.

  As he spotted her, she gave him a welcoming smile. He was already reaching behind him for a glass. By the time she arrived at the bar, he was pouring something light green. He added two ice cubes, stirred the drink, and handed it to her.

  Without a word, she took a sip and grinned.

  “How did you know?”

  “You looked like you could use a Talerian fizz,” he said. “Well, actually, people were saying how tough it was down there, and I guessed.”

  “You guessed right,” she replied and leaned against the bar. “It is tough down there, and I think it’s going to get tougher.”

  “They find the commander’s dad yet?”

  “No.”

  “Dr. Crusher figure this out yet?”

  “No.”

  “Want to come back to my cabin after you finish this?”

  She smiled broadly. “No.”

  “Just making sure you knew what you were doing and your sanity remains intact,” he said with a laugh. Almost every time he served her, it included an invitation back to his quarters, and while flattering, both knew it was harmless. Jordan was young for her, and the entire crew knew she and Riker had reunited. And he was wise enough never to ask her when Will was anywhere within earshot.

  They chatted amiably about crew gossip, which she appreciated since it helped clear her mind. And, as ship’s counselor, she needed to keep her finger on the pulse of the crew. Jordan was an invaluable resource that she consulted on many occasions. It was he who recently pointed out to her that the crew was feeling unsettled after the recent encounters. She started paying attention to corridor conversation and sure enough, the crew was expressing their apprehension over their reputations out loud.

  The drink was everything she wanted and the conversation was diverting. As a result, she was acutely aware of her body relaxing, a sign of how tense things had gotten.

  “Excuse me, Counselor, do you have a moment?”

  The speaker was Dasan Malak, an unjoined Trill who worked in systems maintenance. They had spoken a few times in the past, usually about problems with his parents back home. He was stocky for a Trill and he wore his hair close-cropped, accentuating the dark brown spots that framed his neck and face.

  Troi, inwardly sighed, gesturing him toward an empty table near one of the windows. As they sat, she looked at Delta Sigma IV and imagined where Picard, Riker, and Vale were, all working into the late hours. She knew she needed her rest and wondered when they would get their turn.

  “How can I help you, Ensign?”

  “Can you help me accelerate my transfer request? I just found out about an opening on the Bonaventure that’s ideal for me.”

  “You’ve requested a transfer?” He was yet another one looking to leave a tainted ship—not at all surprising but disturbing nonetheless.

  “Yes, filed it this morning and then I got a com from a buddy from the Academy. It’s a senior technician spot that I would love to get.”

  “You’ve been doing exemplary work here, so why the desire to change ships?”

  “Well, I…that is…well, with the ship hated by Command…”

  “It’s not hated by Command,” she said emphatically. “We were cleared of all charges, as was Captain Picard. You’re letting rumors affect your judgment, which I think is extremely unfortunate. Before you do anything rash, I think you should at least sleep on it, and we can schedule a meeting when this is over.”

  He fidgeted, his hands running over his thighs, and he seemed ready to bolt from the chair. She sipped her drink, which suddenly didn’t seem as satisfying as before. Her quarters and her soft bed seemed more in order.

  “Reputation counts for so much, don’t you think? There are hundreds of techs on starships across the quadrant, so captains have to look past service records. It comes down to the written evaluations and scuttlebutt. It’s like Nafir, that troublemaker who transferred aboard a few weeks back. He’s a misfit and they didn’t know where to stick him so they gave him to the poisoned starship.”

  “And you think starship captains rely more on gossip than on a man’s record?”

  “And you don’t?”

  Troi paused. She wanted to give the official statement that of course only records mattered in such personnel decisions, but she’d lose his confidence by claiming something that no one believed. Of course scuttlebutt counted for a lot. She flashed back to the conversation she had with Riker regarding some of the crew transfers on and off the Enterprise and knew such gossip affected her impressions before meeting people.

  “I’ll admit it has a role, but every captain interprets such information differently. Captain Picard, for example, rarely lets such inf
ormation affect his decisions.”

  “But doesn’t Commander Riker make the majority of those decisions? He seems more likely to believe the gossip.”

  “If he believed all the gossip he’s heard over the years, I suspect we’d have a very different crew,” she said confidently. “Instead, he’s developed a strong filter and it has served him well.”

  The Trill paused, letting the conversation sink in, and he seemed to be considering his situation. Troi hoped she would prove effective because if more members of the crew bought into the belief that the Enterprise was an unofficially tainted ship, then it would become a disastrously self-fulfilling prophecy. As he considered, she thought back over Malak’s service record—specifically why he left Trill to join Starfleet—and also what she knew of the Bonaventure’s upcoming mission.

  “I can see why you’d want to take this transfer,” she said, “given where the Bonaventure’s headed.”

  He snapped his head up, startled. “What do you mean? I thought they were exploring Sector 212-B.”

  “They’ve just finished that. Now they’re being reassigned to Trill for the next nine months.” She favored him with a pleasant smile. “You’ll get to go home.”

  Not only did he not return the smile, but he looked downright depressed. “Uh, yeah, that’s great.”

  “So, shall I expedite the transfer request? It is, as you said, a great opportunity for you.”

  “Maybe not, Counselor, I, uh, need to think about this some more.”

  Malak rose and moved away, letting Troi consider herself victorious. The ensign had joined Starfleet in part to get away from Trill, and she doubted he would greet spending nine months there with any enthusiasm. He might still request the transfer, but at least he would consider all the options, not just the fact that he’d be leaving the “tainted” Enterprise. That was the best she could hope for until the current assignment was concluded.

  Reaching for the remainder of her drink, she glanced across the room and spotted Anh Hoang sitting by herself, looking out the window. The engineer was another cause that required her time and attention, but she was too tired to strike up another one-sided conversation. Instead, she watched Hoang’s posture, the half-drunk glass on the low table, and the way she sat in public but clearly invited no contact. Disturbing as Troi found this, she needed to get to her cabin.

  She nodded once, with thanks, to Jordan and strolled out of Ten-Forward, recognizing how much was left unsettled. It rankled her, but for a change, there was little she could do.

  Standing alongside Morrow off to the side of the Council chamber, Picard sipped at a cup of bittersweet local tea and watched the Council inaugurate its new Speaker, Jus Renks Jus. Immediately after the ceremony Renks started taking notes and passing on instructions. There was nothing elegant about his style. Instead, it was perfunctory, almost cold. Then again, given the circumstances, he just might be what was needed at the moment.

  “Population affected?”

  “Forty-seven percent is the current estimate,” an aide replied.

  “When we tip sixty percent, we can give up,” Renks said. Picard had no idea where the new Speaker came up with the number, but it made a certain amount of sense. By then, containing that much violence was going to be impossible, even if the full crew of the Enterprise were at the Council’s disposal.

  “Speaker,” Councillor Cholan began, “given the difficulties caused by this disease, we need to mete out some form of justice to those behind it.”

  “You mean the Federation? We can’t punish our own government,” Renks replied.

  “It’s not our government,” another councillor argued. “We are there by choice. This Council is your government. The Federation solved one problem and caused another.”

  “We still don’t know what caused this,” yet another councillor said.

  “We know that it began when Riker brought the test subjects back here,” Cholan insisted. “Riker must be responsible for this. Why else would he have fled?”

  “But the doctor has demonstrated that Riker wasn’t responsible when he arrived.”

  “He was, however, involved in the initial research to our problem,” Cholan continued more loudly. “I want someone held accountable for this!”

  Morrow looked at Picard with alarm. The captain remained silent, not willing to insert himself in the matter, content to let Renks lead. He suspected, however, the Council was not going to remain immune to the problem engulfing their world.

  Fortunately, they had not yet found Kyle Riker, so the demand for his head was a pointless one.

  “I think now might be a good time for us to retire for the night. Let them deliberate without us watching over their shoulders. You’ve had a very difficult day, Ambassador.”

  “Perhaps tonight I will take you up on your offer of a cabin.”

  Chapter Nine

  “NOW THIS IS MORE like it,” Riker said as the flyer banked around a snowcapped mountain. The snow covered much of the ground at the farthest northern edge, but as Seer brought the flyer around, the snow receded and brown tundra was revealed. There were scattered small villages, wild animals roaming, and to Riker it felt like he was home.

  Or close enough.

  “He’s down there.”

  “I’ll accept that,” Seer said agreeably. “But where?”

  “Good question. It’d have to some place he could have reached easily through some form of mass transit.”

  Seer checked the onboard computer and adjusted their course toward a small city. It was the most likely spot for a visitor to the region and from there, he could have headed in any number of directions. But they could start at the city and hunt from there. He requested permission to land at a small strip, and within minutes they were down.

  “It’s a little on the chilly side,” Seer said, checking the onboard sensors.

  “And you have no gear for it, right?”

  “It’s not like I woke up this morning, expecting to be this far north,” Seer admitted.

  “Of course not. We can purchase gear in town if we really need it, right?”

  “Sure. The Council’s credit is good everywhere.”

  “Everywhere but my poker table,” Riker quipped. The two emerged from the vehicle and went to check in with the control tower. Seer showed his credentials and began asking questions, trying to learn if, by luck, anyone saw a human nearby. No one, of course, had, but they were directed to the local peace officers’ headquarters.

  On the short walk, Riker noticed the bite of the cold, crisp air, and while he enjoyed it, he recognized he’d need gear to stay on the hunt for long.

  Inside the austere building, they were greeted with gruffness by the local officer in charge. The two men walked in and approached a small circular table with one uniformed woman behind it, who was engrossed in something on screen. She paid them no attention while the two stood silently. Seer clapped his hands loudly, generating enough noise to force the woman’s attention from the screen.

  “Help you?”

  “I am Seer, protocol officer to the Council, and I could use some help in locating a man.”

  “Well, if he’s single, he’s mine first,” she said, looking both men up and down in an appraising way. Riker returned the stare and decided she was too bony for his tastes, but would play along if necessary.

  “He’s a human…” Seer began.

  “Well, then, he’s yours first, they’re too much trouble,” she said. “He do something?”

  “Now that’s a good question,” Seer said. “We’re not sure, but he’s doing a very good job convincing us he might have done something. Once we find him, I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Well, haven’t seen a human around here,” she said, sneaking another look at her screen.

  Riker snapped open his tricorder and had it flash her a picture of his father. She looked at it carefully, biting the tip of a finger.

  “Nope, haven’t seen anyone like this. Except you,” she said to
Riker.

  “Well, I’m certainly not him,” Riker said, suppressing his annoyance.

  “Nope, beard’s too full, jaw’s all wrong,” she said, and immediately Riker revised his opinion of her.

  “He might be hiding up this way. Why aren’t you monitoring the rally?”

  “Got two of my people there already. They have all the right permits for the thing. Can’t say I agree with their point.”

  “Which is?” Seer asked.

  “Delta Sigma IV to withdraw from the Federation.”

  “Well then, I agree with you.”

  “Aren’t you worried this will spiral out of control like so many others?” Riker asked, more than a little exasperated.

  She bit her finger again, losing herself in thought.

  “Why I’ve got two people there. We’re a small place, so I’m here just in case.”

  At that, Riker nodded. He had to credit her with knowing her town better than he did. Still, he was concerned.

  She slowly turned to her terminal, read a few lines on the screen, and sighed. “Ever read Burning Hearts of Qo’noS?” Neither man replied, their expressions telling her plenty. Silently, she wiped the screen clear, then accessed a database. Riker watched as she quickly and efficiently entered coordinates, crosschecked information, and scrolled through screens. He disliked her style, but her mind seemed quite sharp, and he knew better than to underestimate her.

  “According to their latest report, the protest has drawn about fifty people. Lots of chanting, nothing violent at all.”

  “Maybe we should go see for ourselves,” Riker said.

  “We’ll need gear then,” Seer said, sounding less impressed than Riker. “Where can we go?”

  “Head out the door, take a left, go about two hundred meters, and there’ll be a really big, ugly building on your left. They have the best supplies. Happy hunting.”

  “You seem to be taking a very lax attitude, if you’re really aware of the problems our world is currently facing,” Seer said, barely hiding his contempt.

  “And sir, you don’t know what it’s like dispensing law up here. So, I’ll just do things my way and you can handle the protocol your way.” She stared at him, holding the look for several seconds until Seer blinked and stalked out the door.