“No. Hold transport till I arrive. I’m on my way.”
He stepped out of the ready room, and Commander Riker, who was leaning over Data’s shoulder examining the console, looked up.
“The bridge is still yours. I’m going down to meet the new officers who are beaming aboard.”
Riker raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s unusual, Captain.”
It was true enough. Picard knew he had the reputation of being distant from his junior officers and crew. Sometimes he never met short-timers at all, and occasionally he went months before meeting newcomers. There was an especially infamous incident where a promising young officer had “introduced herself” by accidentally dumping a cup of hot chocolate on the captain’s uniform.
“It’s a new ship, Number One. Perhaps it is time for some new traditions.”
Lieutenant Hawk turned his chair to face Picard. “Captain?”
Hawk hesitated, and Picard nodded an acknowledgment. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“One of those officers is an Academy classmate and a friend of mine. Permission to accompany you?”
Picard hesitated for only a moment. Several of the new crew would be serving on the bridge. Hawk would make a good mentor, and he could act as a liaison to get them acclimated. “Granted.”
Hawk stood and fell in behind Picard as he stepped into the turbolift.
Picard shifted his feet slightly. He’d never been good at small talk with junior officers. Perhaps it was time to change that as well. “My compliments on your flying skill today, Lieutenant.”
Hawk grinned slightly. “I told you she’d hold together, Captain.”
“You’re proud of this ship, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been with the E since her keel was laid down in drydock, Captain. I’ve always heard plank-owners had a special bond with their ships, but I never really understood that until now.”
“I envy you in that, Lieutenant. The Stargazer was an old ship when I first lay eyes on her, and I even missed the shakedown on the Enterprise-D. Just once, I’d like to share that experience, but I’m afraid at this point in my life, I never will.”
“It could be worse, Captain. Even if I weren’t a plank-owner, I could spend the rest of my days serving on the E and be a happy man. She’s a good ship.”
“Indeed she is, Lieutenant. Indeed she is.”
The turbolift doors opened and they stepped into the corridor. Picard looked over at Hawk. “This classmate of yours?”
“Lieutenant Linda Addison.”
“Our new security chief?”
“Yes, sir. We were drinking buddies back in the day, and did some rock climbing together. We’ve fallen out of touch, but every six months or so one of us remembers to send the other a message catching up. Last I heard, she was headed for Vulcan to take some leave time.”
Picard nodded. Addison had served as a security officer on the Enterprise-D under Worf. With the Klingon now serving as strategic operations officer on Deep Space 9, his old job was open, and the newly promoted Addison had taken it.
They stepped into the transporter room. Chief Mun Ying stood at the console, a stocky man with thin black hair. “Ready to transport on your command, Captain.”
“Energize.”
Even the transporter, Picard noted, had a slightly different sound on the new ship. He felt a pang of regret for the old D. It seemed a much more common emotion lately.
The first group of six officers shimmered into solidity on the pad. Addison was not in this first group.
“Chief, bring the rest over at will.”
He turned to the new arrivals, who were all looking at him with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. “I’d like you all to remain here for the moment.”
The remaining two officers beamed over. He immediately recognized Addison: a tall woman, thin and athletic, dark-skinned, with short, curly auburn hair. Picard gestured for them to join the others.
The new crew members formed a single row, and without prompting they each assumed a formal posture. Picard stood silently and looked along the row, taking in each somber face. They knew, as he did, the importance and the danger of their mission.
He straightened his back and addressed them. “As you have likely deduced, I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Welcome to the Enterprise-E. You are privileged to serve on the flagship of the Federation. She’s a new ship, but she has a proud history behind her name, and a fine crew. I fully anticipate that she has great days ahead of her, and today, you are lucky enough to find yourselves in a position to share in that destiny. She deserves the very best from each one of you, and I expect no less.” He glanced at Hawk, who stood at his side, hands behind his back. “This is Lieutenant Sean Hawk, my alpha-shift conn officer. He knows this ship as well as anyone, and you will all—especially those of you assuming bridge and department head positions—find him an invaluable resource.
“The computer will guide you all to your assigned quarters where you can stow your personal gear. Report at 1400 hours and meet Mr. Hawk in the lounge for orientation and a tour of the ship. Keep in mind, Mr. Hawk is not your concierge. He’s one of my finest officers. Learn from him.”
Hawk raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing.
“That is all. Dismissed.” He turned to Hawk. “Make it so, Mr. Hawk.”
“Yes, sir!” Hawk turned his attention to the new officers as they filed out the door. He stepped in front of Addison and, smiling, put out his hand. “Linda, it’s great to have you on board. How was the rock-climbing on Vulcan?”
Picard watched as she smiled wanly, hardly returning his enthusiasm. “It was…a lot more difficult and dangerous than I anticipated. I don’t plan to go back.” She stepped around him. “I’d really like to get settled. I’ll see you at the orientation.”
She turned and smiled at Picard. “Captain. It’s an honor to be back on the Enterprise, even if it’s a different one.” Addison started to walk away, then hesitated. “Sir, I was observing on the Samson’s bridge during the exercise. Captain Adrian asked me if I was aware of any minor flaws in the Enterprise-E design that he might exploit.”
Picard raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I’m afraid I was less than useful.”
“You failed to mention there might be a minor weakness in our rear weapon spread?”
“I might have neglected that, yes, sir.”
“Interesting, since it was your analysis report at Starfleet Command that brought that weakness to my attention.”
She smiled. “Sorry, Captain. I must have completely forgotten in the heat of battle.”
Picard considered her answer. If she had simply forgotten, it indicated a potential problem, a lack of attention to detail. But perhaps she had deliberately misled Adrian, out of some sense of loyalty to Picard, a misguided attempt to help them win the mock battle.
“Well, don’t let it happen again, Lieutenant. By the way, you’ll be pleased to know that, based on your report, I’ve suggested that Starfleet make suitable upgrades to our rear torpedo tubes as part of the next major refit. Good work.”
“Thank you, Captain. I do my best.” With a barely polite nod to Hawk, she turned and left.
Hawk frowned as he watched her disappear through the transporter room doors, then shook his head in puzzlement.
“It appears,” said Picard, “that you have been out of touch too long, Lieutenant. Was your relationship romantic at some point? If this is somehow awkward, I can assign another—”
“Not at all, Captain. We were just friends. She’s, uh, not my type. Maybe I somehow offended her in my last message. I’ll deal with it.”
“Very well then.”
Hawk hesitated. “Captain, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about the lieutenant from anything you may have overheard in our conversation. I don’t know what happened on Vulcan, but I have never known Linda Addison to back down from any challenge, no matter how difficult. She’s no quitter.”
“I’m quite familiar
with her abilities, Mr. Hawk. However, I appreciate your endorsement. Now, you’d best go prepare for your orientation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Picard stood in the transporter room, allowing Hawk to leave first. He had no particular reason to remain behind, but he’d once again found himself in the middle of his crew’s personal affairs, and he was reminded why he’d always kept a certain professional distance, even from his senior officers.
Change, he reflected, was good, but he had to decide if it was worth the price.
CHAPTER
2
Returning to the bridge, Picard directed Riker and Data to the observation lounge for a post-exercise briefing. They seated themselves at the long, curved table. Data sat facing the windows, and his eyes seemed drawn to the vista outside.
“Status report, gentlemen.”
“Astrophysics is complaining,” said Riker, a trace of sarcasm in his voice, “that our violent maneuvering and weapons fire have interfered with their observations of the Pantera Nebula.”
Picard frowned. He stood and studied the gold-plated models of the various starships named Enterprise that lined one wall. The Enterprise-E was a magnificent vessel, but he was not entirely comfortable with the idea that, unlike the previous Enterprise, this ship had been designed as a warship first, and its capabilities as a scientific, diplomatic, and humanitarian vessel had been given a diminished priority.
War, to Picard’s mind, was the failure of diplomacy, and thus, it seemed that Starfleet Command was planning for failure. “The complaint is valid, Number One. The more we know about unusual stellar phenomena like this one, the greater the chances that we can use them to our tactical advantage. However, all our departments will need to learn to adapt to the new realities of our situation. It may be some time before astrophysics, or any other science department, will have first priority on the ship’s resources.”
Riker nodded. “I’ll discuss that with them at the next departmental briefing. Meanwhile, Mr. Data can give you a status report on the ship’s systems.” Riker glanced over at Data, who still seemed distracted by the windows. “Mr. Data?”
Data blinked, then looked at them like a sleeper awakening. “I am sorry. I believe I am having an emotional response to my observations of the nebula outside. Subjectively, of course, I realize that it is merely the planetary nebula surrounding a class-IV Mira variable star, a short-period variable red giant late in its stellar evolution, and a rare natural source of coherent microwave radiation. But emotionally I find it to be…beautiful. Should I put that in my report?”
Riker grinned slightly. “I’d save that for your personal logs, Data.”
Picard, however, was not so amused. “Mr. Data, I understand that this emotion chip is new and overwhelming to you. However, I caution you not to allow it to divert you from your duties. Even the most benign emotional reaction could be a distraction in a critical situation. I require your complete focus on the task at hand.”
Data looked hurt, and, Picard reflected, it was possible he actually was.
“Of course, Captain. I will endeavor to keep my emotions in check.”
Picard quietly sighed. “Don’t misunderstand, Data. Your emotions are not an impediment to your duties as a Starfleet officer. They are a tool, one that any good officer learns to use. This is still, in essence, a shakedown cruise, not just for the ship, but for its officers as well. Use this time to understand your emotions and how they affect you, and to make yourself ready for the challenges that lie ahead.
“Now, your report.”
Turning his chair away from the distraction of the window, Data composed himself. “The nebula environment continues to be a challenge for the ship. The extreme magnetic and radiation flux is taxing our shields, but they are holding well now that we have applied some regenerative tuning techniques adapted from the Maquis operations in the Badlands.”
“The high particle density,” added Riker, “is preventing us from going to warp in many parts of the nebula and has even limited our impulse velocities. However, Lieutenant Hawk has suggested some modifications to the main deflector that might mitigate the problem.”
Picard nodded. Mr. Hawk was having a busy day. It was about to get busier. “That sounds promising, Number One. Mr. Hawk will be occupied with other duties until about 1530 hours, but let’s put him in charge of those modifications.”
Riker tilted his head curiously. “That’s a challenging assignment, especially given his regular duties.”
“I’m seeing command potential in our young officer. Such potential is rarely developed in a realm of comfort and safety. Challenged he shall be.”
“Yes, sir,” said Riker.
“So it does seem we’ve learned something from this exercise.”
Riker replied, “I’ve been studying every log and historical record I can find on battles taking place in nebulae and other cloud phenomena, from the Battle of the Mutara Nebula, to the Tholian Hive Revolt, to the Betreka Nebula Incident, to the Maquis resistance, and I’ve been coming up with some ideas of my own. The Tholians once tried to use a Bussard collector to collect volatile gases from a class-9 nebula in order to—”
He was interrupted as Picard’s combadge chirped. “Captain, this is Ensign Molinero. We’re receiving a distress call from the Samson, sir. They’ve lost main power on their way out of the nebula, and they’re drifting. Their shields are on emergency power.”
“We’re on our way.”
The three senior officers rushed onto the bridge. Data quickly replaced a young ensign at the ops station.
“Plot a course for the Samson, best possible speed. Mr. Data, can we go to warp?”
“Not at this time, Captain. I am calculating the quickest route via impulse to an area of low density. Even taking some calculated risks, I estimate it will take us ten minutes to reach the Samson’s position.”
“Open a channel to the Samson.”
The speaker crackled with interference. There was no visual. Evidently the Samson’s main transmitters were down as well. Picard could hear excited voices as the bridge crew struggled to cope with the emergency. “Captain Adrian, this is Picard. What’s happening there?”
There was a moment of hesitation before the response came. “Main power just failed on us. No reason we can isolate yet, but we’re venting plasma from somewhere at an alarming rate. A blast of microwaves from the star blinded half our hull sensors, so we can’t localize the problem.”
“We’re on our way.”
Picard took the command chair and turned to Data. “Have astrophysics launch a probe on a tangential course immediately. If we can get a visual of the Samson, even from a distance, perhaps we can help them locate their leak.”
Data’s fingers flew across his control panel, relaying the order. He paused for the fraction of a second it took to receive confirmation, then looked up from his console. “Captain, the probe is away, but our sensors are detecting a flare event directed nearly square-on to the Samson’s position. A beam of coherent microwave radiation is building strength. Radiation flux is already climbing.”
“Roger, did you hear that? Can your shields hold?”
There was grim resignation in his voice. “Not for long.” A pause. “We’re going to have to abandon ship.”
“Captain,” said Data, urgency in his voice, “escape pod shielding will be inadequate to protect the occupants from the radiation. Only a ship’s shields will suffice.”
“Roger, you can’t use the escape pods. Get everyone you can into shuttlecraft.” Even as he said it, Picard had a sick feeling in his stomach. The Samson had three, possibly four type-6 shuttlecraft, and two or three type-15 shuttlepods. Even with emergency evacuation loading, well over half of the Samson’s two-hundred-twenty-person crew would be left behind.
“Captain, we are receiving visual from the probe.” Data tapped his console, switching the display onto the main viewscreen.
On the viewscreen, the Samson was a distant spot.
Data magnified the image, as Picard strained to find a detail that would identify the damage. But surges of microwaves hammered the Samson’s shields, turning them into a glowing ball, a miniature aurora of shimmering light.
As they watched, helpless, a stream of plasma shot from the sun’s writhing surface.
“I’ve already given the order, Jean-Luc. I’m staying on the bridge. Tell Becka—”
The plasma stream struck the Samson with unimaginable speed and force. There was a shriek from the speaker, then silence.
“We have lost the signal, Captain. A plasma stream from the flare has engulfed the Samson’s position. Long-range sensors are showing—” Data turned in his seat to face Picard. His voice caught in an uncharacteristic manner as he struggled to control his emotions. “Sir, long-range sensors show only debris. The Samson is gone.”
CHAPTER
3
The Enterprise swept the area repeatedly, but there was little to find. No life pods had been launched, and they would have served as little more than coffins if they had. But for a time, there was hope that some of the crew might have escaped in shuttlecraft and been able to move clear of the area struck by the plasma stream. As hours passed, that hope faded.
The entire time, Picard refused to leave the bridge. He felt a duty to his friend Roger Adrian. This grim detail demanded his full and uninterrupted attention. But he knew the search could not go on forever.
“Mr. Data, anything at all?”
Data swiveled his chair to face the captain. “Only small pieces of melted wreckage. Based on analysis of the surrounding nebula, I can account for at least seventy percent of the Samson’s makeup—duranium alloys and organics—in elemental form. It appears that she was largely vaporized by the plasma, and the loss of antimatter containment would have completed the process. It also appears that either she was unable to launch her shuttles, or if she did, they were unable to escape the flare and were vaporized as well.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation™: Slings and Arrows Book 1: A Sea of Troubles Page 2