A Time to Hate

by Robert Greenberger

  She knelt down once more and checked her final series of connections. Green lights flashed back at her.

  The smile this time was deserved. Everything was in place and would last.

  She popped up again, barely containing her grin.

  “Green?”

  “All green, Lieutenant,” she replied.

  Porter’s smile matched her own.

  Porter and Hoang walked over to the completely rebuilt master control panel, and Hoang and Taurik flanked him. Everything was in standby mode; amber lights dotted the board. Hoang knew that Taurik’s work was exacting, but she worried just a bit about her own. She had been so distracted of late, it was screamingly apparent she really did need to take Counselor Troi up on her offer to help.

  “Lieutenant, I believe the honor should be yours,” Porter said, stepping aside.

  Hoang looked at him for a moment and then took two steps forward. Looking over her own handiwork, she nodded. Everything seemed right. Her left hand reached out and entered a command code. Four lights flashed confirmation. She then placed both hands on the board and began to enter the start-up sequences.

  Seconds passed and she studied the board. Lights moved, indicators rose, and then finally, the welcome sound of a deep thrum.

  “Power’s up,” Porter said with a whoop.

  “As expected,” Taurik noted.

  Hoang stepped back and watched. Things were definitely looking up. Finally.

  One of the security officers, a Gallamite she did not know, came running through the main entrance. With a grin, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You did it!”

  The various officers walked behind the Gallamite out into the fresh air. Hoang was amazed to see the sun was starting to come over the horizon. She watched the golden light against the sky, which was filled with billowy clouds. Dotting the horizon were the squat buildings of Tregor, and she saw they were filled with light. Light powered by the plant.

  “What’s that?” Porter asked, cupping his ear.

  “Cheers, sir,” Studdard said. “That’s a city full of people expressing their appreciation.” He flashed Hoang a grin.

  Hoang nodded in agreement. Things were definitely starting to look up.

  Chapter Eleven

  WILL RIKER ADJUSTED the collar of his dress uniform. He looked in the mirror, liking the way it draped over his chest.

  He didn’t like the reason for wearing it.

  Troi was right behind him, handing him the decorations he had received over his career. Absently, he accepted each one and affixed it over his left breast. She remained silent, letting him take things one step at a time.

  “Not bad for a career man, don’t you think?” he asked Troi.

  “I’d say there’s room for a few more,” she replied.

  “Thank you,” he said gently. He looked once more in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, and nodded in satisfaction.

  “Ready?”

  “Just about.” Riker paused, looking around his cabin, uncertain why.

  “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to,” Troi said in a voice full of sympathy.

  “I have to. No one else on board knows him as well. Knew him. Dammit.” Riker paced the cabin.

  “We didn’t speak a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of his accomplishments. They add up to one thing: he died as he lived, making sacrifices to secure the future. These people now have a future. And I…I have a future because of him.”

  Troi walked over, wrapped her arms around him, and hugged. The warmth felt good to him.

  “Remember when I said the other day how much I hate unfinished business?”

  She made an affirmative noise.

  “I never got to finish business with my father. And I don’t like that feeling. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

  “Marry me.”

  “I can’t bear the thought of not having you in my…what did you say?”

  “Marry me, Will. Please.”

  They broke the clinch and looked at each other; Will’s eyes were filled with astonishment. She took his hands and continued speaking.

  “Every moment you were searching for your father, I was thinking about you. I missed you. I watched so much loss of life here, saw people lose their futures. I don’t like unfinished business either, and it’s about time we completed what we started on Betazed. I want to be married to you, William Riker.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Will said. “About the need to build my future with you. You’re too important to me to let slip away. I so very much want you to be my life mate, to share the time we have left.”

  “We were meant to be together from the moment we met. Your desire for a career put us on hold for a long time,” Troi observed.

  “Too long.”

  “You see that now. You didn’t always.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, the answer better be yes.”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  She returned the grin. “Good. There, doesn’t that feel better?”

  “You don’t propose to all your visitors, do you?”

  “Of course not. On Betazed it’s strictly one spouse at a time.”

  Will nodded, squeezing her hands.

  “You have to promise me one thing.”

  “To love, honor, or cherish?”

  “No, after that. Seriously, I’ve thought about this a lot. The men in the Riker line aren’t all that easy on their women. Or children. You have to promise that the moment I act like my father toward the children—or you—you must hit me. Hard.”

  She giggled for a moment and then straightened her features. “Absolutely. You have my word that I’ll beat you to a pulp.”

  “Good.”

  Will took Deanna into his arms, all thoughts of the upcoming service banished. All he saw was her beautiful face, all he smelled was the herbal soap she loved, all he heard was her breathing, and all he felt was the rapid beating of her heart.

  He leaned down and kissed her.

  “When this is over, we should go look for a ring,” Troi said long moments later.

  Will’s eyes twinkled and he put up a forefinger. Quickly he turned and reached into a drawer. A moment later, he held out a small wooden box, etched with an intricate design. He dropped to one knee, and offered her the box.

  “You’ve been planning this long enough to find a ring?” Her voice was filled with admiration and confusion.

  “Truth to tell, Deanna, it’s only been seriously on my mind these last few days. But when Seer and I were looking for my father…we passed a jeweler in a small town. This caught my eye, and earlier today I asked him to secure it for me. He had it beamed up only an hour ago.”

  She looked at him, eyes glittering, happy. Carefully, she weighed the box in the palm of her hand and smiled. Then she used a fingernail to pry open the hinged lid and studied the contents.

  She smiled broadly.

  “It’s gorgeous!”

  Quickly she withdrew the emerald and diamond ring, studying the setting. The jewels were set in a three-toned golden metal, artfully intertwining.

  “And you knew my ring size?”

  Riker grinned. “A good first officer knows all pertinent details about the crew. It should fit. Go ahead.”

  Deanna slipped the ring onto her left hand and then admired it in the light. Will stepped forward, took her hand in his, and inspected the ring.

  “I think it fits just fine,” he finally said.

  She didn’t reply, just looked up and kissed him.

  Picard sat in his ready room, already in his dress uniform even though the service was hours away. He figured it was best this way, just in case he was summoned by Starfleet Command or the Council. To his right sat a stack of padds requiring his attention. He had asked Data to send him everything that normally required Riker’s attention. There was no doubt giving his first officer time was paramount.

  Since rising, he had seen to the commu
niqués from Starfleet and begun wading through the personnel reviews that had been completed by Troi and Riker before arriving at Delta Sigma IV. He was surprised, but not that surprised, to see the number of transfer requests. He knew some of the names better than others, and noted that Riker had amended Kawasaki’s request. He’d found the time to talk with her before they reached orbit here, and she had changed her mind about leaving.

  Riker strikes again. Picard nodded in approval.

  His door chimed, and he invited his guests in. Data and La Forge, still in duty uniforms, entered and were waved to seats before the captain’s desk. During all the troubles below, the starship had run smoothly, and he began by thanking them for their efforts.

  “We were just following your orders,” Data said.

  “And most ably, as will be reflected in my mission report. The last thing I needed was a distraction up here. Now tell me, Mr. La Forge, what’s wrong with the plasma injector?”

  La Forge explained about the manufacturing defect and the need for a brand-new injector. It was something that could not be replicated.

  “What did the sector quartermaster say about that?”

  Geordi shifted a bit in his chair. “Well, I didn’t ask him.”

  Picard’s eyebrows rose a bit.

  “I would have, but after my last few requests, I began to get the sense that he’s really stretched thin.”

  “I gather resupply, especially this far out, has been a problem.”

  “Yes, sir. We haven’t usually spent this much time out in the farther reaches these last few years.”

  No, we haven’t, but we are getting a taste of that now, thanks to the admiralty, Picard thought. “So, what solution have you devised?”

  “I’ve actually devised more than a solution, sir.”

  The eyebrows rose a bit more.

  “It’s an elaborate network of trading with other ships in the nearby sectors.”

  Picard nodded thoughtfully. “And how do you propose we get supplies from one ship to another. By shuttlecraft?”

  “Er, not exactly.”

  “How then?”

  La Forge looked at Data, who remained impassive. He looked back at Picard and swallowed. Whatever was coming was going to be unorthodox, Picard concluded.

  “A Ferengi named Dex has been contracted to act as courier between ships. He’ll be here tomorrow with the injector.”

  Picard was nonplussed. He quickly mulled over the elaborate network that had been erected and the notion of using someone outside of Starfleet to act as agent. No doubt that would gain all manner of attention when he filed his reports.

  “A Ferengi? And he can be trusted?”

  “Actually, Captain,” Data interjected. “This is exactly what the Ferengi specialize in. Geordi learned that the Ferengi’s craft was in need of repair as well as protection in this portion of space. They live by their commercial codes, and in this case Dex ferries the supplies for a variety of Starfleet ships, receiving repairs and our goodwill in return. Should something befall his ship, he will have a large number of starships predisposed to come to his rescue. He does gain much profit from this, although much of it is intangible.”

  “Dex’s vessel actually appreciates in value with the repairs,” La Forge added. “That’s tangible.”

  “I see,” Picard said, mulling over the plan. “How long has this network of yours been in operation?”

  “Since before we made orbit, sir. I needed a new quad and the Nautilus had one and, well, one thing led to another.”

  Picard was already several steps ahead of his chief engineer. He knew his crew, he trusted them, and he continued to value their judgment. The captain knew exactly the tangible and intangible benefits this program would bring the Enterprise. The goodwill La Forge and, by extension, Picard were earning at a time when goodwill was hard to find at Command.

  “This has the makings of something rather unusual,” Picard finally said. “And I can’t say I particularly approve of using a Ferengi courier without the knowledge of Commander Riker or myself.”

  “Under the circumstances, sir, we believed this to be an efficacious and sound program that we were certain you would approve.”

  “And I do approve it. A bit late, but this was fine thinking. However, in the future I would appreciate it, Mr. La Forge and Mr. Data, if you would make every effort to keep me apprised of such activities earlier so there are no surprises.”

  La Forge looked relieved and settled back in his chair. “It serves a lot of ships and keeps us in fine form. And when the Enterprise is added to that inspection tour, well, I don’t want to give them any cause for complaint.”

  Picard had pushed thoughts of the inspection out of his mind, but it bolstered the need for La Forge’s plan all the more.

  “Do we know when we will be added to the list, sir?”

  “Not yet, Data.”

  “In the future, we might look forward to Dr. Crusher as an ally.”

  Picard frowned and looked directly at his second officer. “What do you mean?”

  “Should Dr. Crusher accept the position of new surgeon general, she might come on future inspections tours.”

  “Yes, of course,” Picard said quickly.

  He sat back, stunned. While he knew that Dr. Fandau had made a written offer to her—per regulations, the doctor had to inform Crusher’s CO before making the offer—Picard had assumed by her silence on the matter that Crusher turned it down. But clearly she was considering it if she would discuss it with La Forge and Data. Why hadn’t she mentioned it to him?

  He put himself in her place. She had just seen Wesley, she had watched the ship and crew placed under unfair scrutiny by Command, and she had to be aware of time passing. It made some sense that she would consider the opportunity. And why not? he mused. She was qualified for it, even more so now than when she had held the post a decade earlier.

  All of Starfleet and the Federation would benefit from her taking the new position. Well, all save the captain. He felt the loss of family quite deeply, and disliked the notion of another loss. He’d lost crewmembers all the time, but not often from his senior staff. There had been Jack Crusher in the waning days of his Stargazer command. There had been Yar and Worf and Daniels. And now, maybe Beverly.

  He’d be happy for her. If this was what she wanted, he would not stand in her way. Privately, he wished her to stay. In so many ways she was a comfort, and he dreaded the notion of losing her.

  Chapter Twelve

  ALL BEVERLY THOUGHT about on the walk from her cabin to Picard’s was that now was the time to tell him about Starfleet Medical. After getting some sleep, she had finally looked at her private communications, and there was a draft of Yerbi’s formal retirement announcement. It was dated three weeks hence, which meant the rumor mill would be in full swing within the next week. She had that much time to make a decision. Crusher knew Yerbi had wanted to leave his post sooner, but delayed while she was preoccupied.

  Beverly had to weigh and balance her professional wants against her personal needs, and even though she had received feedback from Troi and La Forge, she still had not reached a decision. As she rounded a corner before arriving at the captain’s door, she felt a longing she normally ignored. But this time it continued to draw her, probably because a part of her mind was already imagining a life apart from the Enterprise and its captain.

  Picard bade her enter, and she saw the usual breakfast table set for just two. He seemed refreshed, although she suspected he was still strained. After all, the last few days had been hard on everyone, and there was still mopping up to do. She knew he was trying to handle some of Riker’s work, letting the man deal with his loss. Rather than assign the work to Data, he took it on himself, his way of showing respect for his first officer.

  They had all lost so much over the last few years, starting with La Forge’s mother going missing. Picard lost his brother and nephew to a fire. Worf lost his wife on Deep Space 9, Data gave away a part of himsel
f by surrendering his emotion chip. And now Kyle Riker was gone. And once again she felt the conflict between fleeing a stressful situation and the benefits of a fresh start.

  “Beverly?”

  She realized that she let had her mind wander, and Picard had noticed. With a smile, she took her seat and placed the linen napkin in her lap.

  “I’m fine, Jean-Luc. Just a lot of things to think through.”

  “No doubt,” he said. The tone got her concerned, subtle as it was. Only someone who had known him for decades would have picked up on it.

  “In your dress uniform already?”

  “Well, I needed to tend to some things, and I didn’t want to have to take the time to change later.”

  She poured herself a glass of juice. “What’s the word?”

  “The galaxy is quiet this morning. The afternoon, well, that’s another matter.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s no knowing when something will go wrong. Or when we’ll be given our next assignment.”

  “Of course. Well, I’ll take peaceful for the morning. That way, we’re less likely to be interrupted later.” Tell him, she scolded herself.

  “My decisions are never easy ones,” Picard said, catching Crusher off guard. He poured himself tea, placed a pastry on his plate.

  “Of course not,” she said, just to say something.

  “And once they’re made, I have to live with the consequences. Between assignments I can either brood and reflect or keep moving on. Sometimes those choices are easy, other times less so.”

  “Are you saying the seeding of my cure is one you will brood over?”

  He took a plate of fruit and studied it. “Actually, I meant giving you that order, forcing you to do something against your better judgment.”

  “All your reasons were valid ones, and you certainly won’t be alone in the brooding department.”

  “No doubt. But Beverly, this could fester and make our next disagreement more difficult. I value your counsel too much to let that happen.”

  Tell him!

  “The crew will never always be in total agreement with the captain’s decisions. We’re hundreds of people from dozens of worlds, so there are going to be times when we disagree. But still, you’re the captain; you get to make the hard decisions. I have to do the same on the operating table. Sometimes, I have to choose between letting a patient live or die. Of all the crew, I understand best.”