The Dream
by Andrea Thompson
The captain was agitated. Counselor Troi sensed it the moment he stepped onto the bridge. Outwardly he conveyed a calm yet appropriately concerned aura. Of the crew, only Diana could detect the undertone. She studied him as he acknowledged Commander Riker's silent shake of the head indicating there had been no change of status in his absence.
Picard sat stiffly in the command chair, resolutely ignoring the counselor's gaze. His hands rested lightly on the arm's control panels and gently traced their outlines as he focused intently on the forward viewscreen. He strained to see that which the external sensors could not detect. Around him the bridge crew went about their duties with an almost mechanical quality. Their concern for the missing shuttle crew was firmly pushed to one side as they plunged themselves whole heartedly into the familiar routine of a standard search. The procedures and details served as a distraction to alleviate the anxiety.
The captain and his first officer had no such distractions. Riker was on edge. He detested inaction and the feeling of redundancy that a situation like this brought. He knew they were doing all they could, a methodical sweep of the area, but it just didn't feel like enough. He glanced across at the captain and not for the first time envied his patience. He emulated Picard's countenance and tried a mental relaxation technique Deanna had taught him.
Picard focused his thoughts on the mundane. He listened to the sycophantic whirring of the life support system continually adjusting and readjusting their environment, the chirrups and bleeps from the computer terminals and the sounds of Riker continually adjusting his position in his chair as he fought the urge to leap up and pace the decks. Underlying this cacophony he fancied he could feel the thrum of the warp core eager to release its mighty force on his command. The effect was like a well loved symphony, it invited him to a duet and lifted his heart in this difficult time.
Hours passed.
"We have completed the scan of section gamma 41. Commencing scan of section gamma 42."
Lieutenant Commander Data's statement punctuated Picard's thoughts and stirred him into action.
"Mr. Data, how long do you estimate it will take to complete the search?"
"Given the difficulty we are experiencing due to the proximity of Pulsar 451 and the possibility that sensor range could deteriorate as we move closer towards it I believe the minimum time required to complete the search is sixteen hours forty one minutes."
Data turned to observe the captain to gauge whether his reply had been precise enough. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Picard who gave a simple appreciative nod as a reply. Data, satisfied his new sub routine was functioning satisfactorily, resumed his duties and missed the indulgent smiles exchanged by the captain and Riker.
"Well, I don't know about you Number One," said Picard as he stood and stretched his back. "But I can't remain alert for another sixteen hours. I think it's time we let Mr. Data take over."
The first officer instinctively began to protest but thought better of it. He scratched his beard and stifled a yawn.
"You're right. All this sitting around is exhausting ."
It was a contradictory statement but Picard knew that for a man like Will Riker the un-utilised nervous energy he was generating would be gnawing him away from the inside. He needed a few hours to exorcise the vehemence in the gym or on the holodeck.
"Mr. Data, you have the bridge. I expect to informed immediately should you find something."
Picard and Riker strode towards the turbo lift. As they approached, the doors swished open and out stepped a resolute Dr. Crusher.
"Doctor, you're too late I'm afraid," said the captain jovially.
"What do you mean, " she retorted, immediately on the defensive.
The captain extended a hand towards the open lift door and motioned that they should continue inside. As the doors closed behind them he continued.
"Too late to storm onto my bridge and order Commander Riker and myself to bed." Beverly feigned surprise.
"Me? I was merely coming to see how the search was progressing," she lied.
"Oh, my apologies then, " conceded Picard and let the matter drop. Normally he would have relished the chance to bait the doctor but it did not seem right while crew were missing.
Riker noticed the change in mood.
"I can't help feeling responsible" he stated not for the first time. "I should have assigned a more experienced officer to lead the away mission. What was I thinking letting two young ensigns go off alone...."
"Will!" Picard interrupted. "You're forgetting that I endorsed you're choice. Ensign Torres and Ensign Roberts are highly capable young officers. It was a routine planetary survey and they are quite able to look after themselves. You've got to take a chance and let people work without a net at some point if you want them to progress. They wanted a chance to excel, you gave it to them and rightly so. Now let that be an end to it!"
The words came out more harshly than the sentiment he was trying to convey. This wasn't the time for moralising speeches. When the turbolift reached its destination Riker nodded and wished them a curt goodnight. Picard stepped out and paused smoothing his eyebrows as if to straighten them into some defined Starfleet formation while the other hand hovered hopefully at his side as if hoping to discover a previously uncharted pocket in the familiar uniform. Beverly, already several paces ahead, turned to see what was keeping him. She noticed his momentary unease and delicately raised and eyebrow as if to question him.
"Beverly," he said summoning all his charm and dignity. "Would you care to join me for a night-cap?"
This she could deal with. "Certainly Captain," was the reply and with the sweetest of smiles she took his arm and conveyed Jean Luc to his quarters.
Once inside , Picard delved around in the cabinet below the replicator and surfaced with a bottle of Cognac and a couple of balloon-like glasses.
"Forgive me if I feel like something a little stronger than tea," he offered as he poured two measures.
Beverly suspected that there was more to this than a couple of missing Ensigns. *Oh well in for a penny..* she thought and accepted, making herself comfortable on the sofa. The captain remained standing, gazing past her to the star field beyond the window.
"Out with Jean Luc!"
Inwardly the captain smiled. *How many times have I heard that phrase* he wondered. Probably too many times to count. Beverly was his sounding board, always willing to half the proverbial problem. Did she realise the special power she had over him. He couldn't be sure. And yet...
"Well!" His thoughts were interrupted and the gravity of the situation reasserted its self. The desire to unburden himself of his grievances poured forth and somewhat reluctantly he sat down.
"Will may blame himself for the failure of the away mission but I can't help feeling partly responsible myself, " he began uncomfortably. Beverly rested a hand on his knee urging him to continue.
"I was responsible for Ensign Roberts entry into Starfleet. In fact, you were partly responsible too for that matter. Do you remember that conference we attended on Dakkis IX? Beverly nodded vaguely and he continued.
"We had arranged to meet for dinner and you were quite late. I spent the best part of an hour chatting to a very eager young waiter named Carl Roberts. He'd spent almost quarter of an hour plucking up the courage to come over and talk to me but soon all the shyness vanished as he quizzed me relentlessly about my experiences."
Beverly was puzzled. "I don't remember any of this," she said.
Picard ignored her statement. He didn't know why he hadn't mentioned it. Maybe it was because he felt a little guilty. When the doctor had eventually arrived he was resentful of having to end the conversation he had been enjoying.
"I thought nothing more of it until several months later I received a communication from him almost begging me to sponsor his application to Starfleet Academy. Normally I would never consider such a thing. I barely knew him but somehow he reminded me of myself at his age, desperate to get into space..." his voice trailed off as if words were a poor medium to describe his youthful dreams.
Realising he'd lost the thread of the tale he was telling he continued.
"That was five years ago. To his credit and my relief he graduated top of his class and I requested him for a tour on the Enterprise."
The captain sat back and sighed a long low sigh as if he'd just revealed a dark and shameful secret but Beverly still did not understand.
"I don't see how that makes you responsible for the present situation. He was obviously an outstanding officer. Riker had faith enough in him to allow him to lead an away mission. And in any case we don't know for sure that they've come to harm."
The captain realised Beverly had missed the point he was trying to make and he slowly shook his head.
"It's not Carl I'm so concerned with. He has no wife and family relying on him. I know he would gladly lay down his life if it meant he could have a taste of the adventure of exploration, as would I. But Ensign Torrences is a different matter. I placed his life in Carl's hands and I'm not sure I had a right to do that. How can I tell his wife that she may never see her husband again because I wanted to give a promising officer a chance to prove himself!"
As soon as the words were spoken he realised their implications. Beverly flushed slightly with anger.
"Jean Luc! Just because people choose to have relationships it doesn't mean they care less about their duty and suddenly decide to play it safe. Every man, woman and child on this ship is out here because they want to be. You don't have the monopoly on dreams! Don't you think these people know the risks of life aboard a starship. It's a choice they have made just the same as the choices you have made!"
If she had had the chance Beverly would have stormed from the captain's quarters leaving him to dwell on her recriminations but she didn't get the chance. Mr. Data shattered the moment with his hail.
"Data to Captain Picard, we are in contact with the shuttle." They both leapt to their feet and Picard signalled they were on their way.
The captain and doctor eagerly exited the turbolift onto the bridge expecting to see the missing shuttle on the forward view screen but were disappointed to see only a sparkling star field. Picard strode to the center of his command and demanded,
"Report Mr. Data!" Data, totally oblivious to the captains confusion replied,
"It would appear that an instability in the shuttle's warp drive has precipitated the opening of an unstable worm hole, through which they have been transported to the Delta quadrant. We have launched a communications buoy through the worm hole which is now collapsing. I estimate we will lose contact with the other side in three minutes 38 seconds. We have audio communications only."
Data's synopsis was blunt and to the point. Picard quickly assimilated the information and determined his course of action.
"Mr. Worf open a frequency to the shuttle." Addressing the internal communications he also barked out an order to the chief engineer,
"Mr. LaForge, I presume you've been following the situation, I want a way to transport those men through the worm hole!" He knew he was asking the impossible but Geordie, as all chief engineers, was often able to manage the impossible. Worf announced that channel was open.
"Picard to shuttle craft, what is your status?" The reply came immediately,
"We're a bit disorientated Captain, but you should see the view! It's like we've died and gone to heaven! The stars are so different here, it's incredible!"
For a moment the captain was overcome with a desire question them but then he remembered his first duty.
"Mr. LaForge how are you coming along with the transport?"
"I'm sorry Captain but we're struggling at the moment, give us a couple of hours and we may be able to clean up the signal. Ahh, damn it!" Geordie's expletives were accompanied by a burst of static over the intercom.
"I'm sorry captain we just overloaded the buoy by routing the transporter through it. It was always going to be a long shot but I guess we fried it. I'm afraid we're out of options." The failure ran deep through his words.
On the bridge the crew turned to the view screen and watched in silence as the worm hole winked out of existence.
Picard was filled with mixed emotions. Relief that the crewmen were alive and in no immediate danger and sorrow for their loss. They were gone, never to return. From their families' point of view it would be as if they had been killed in the line of duty except they would never be able to mourn because no-one would ever know if they actually were dead.
His thoughts turned to his next task and suddenly he felt cold and numb. He must inform the Ensigns' next of kin. Of all the tasks bestowed on him this was surely the one he dreaded the most. He was sure if he tried he could recall every single time he'd looked someone in the eye and told them that their husband, son, daughter or wife was not coming home. Each time was as painful as the first and he took cold comfort from the fact it was something he'd never become accustomed to.
He felt the gentle touch of a hand on his arm.
"Captain?" He turned to face Counselor Troi, fully aware that she sensed what he was feeling and was glad to find himself perfectly comfortable with that. Long ago he had stopped trying to neatly tuck away unwanted emotions in her presence because ultimately it was a waste of effort and also because he had a suspicion that she found it amusing when he failed.
She spoke softly and evenly, "Ensign Torrences' wife is aboard, Lieutenant Janice Torrence. Would you like me to accompany when you break the news?"
Picard considered the possibility for a moment and then declined the offer. He stood and pulled down the front of his tunic with a couple of deliberate tugs. It was a gesture he knew was a source of mirth among the command staff but it was his way of reminding himself he was a Starfleet officer with a duty to perform as if he could smooth out the wrinkles of his personal discomfort.
"Computer! Current location of Lieutenant Janice Torrences?"
Picard stepped into the astrophysics lab and found the Lieutenant discussing a computer display with two technicians. He stood in the doorway expressionless as the crewmen hurried to make themselves scarce.
Janice stiffened and bravely forced herself to meet the captain's gaze. Without further delay he delivered the lines he'd formulated on the way down.
"The shuttle carrying your husband and Ensign Roberts has entered a worm-hole. As far as we know they are alive and well, however they are fifty thousand light years from Federation space. I'm afraid there is no possibility of retrieving them."
For what seemed like an eternity she stood and calmly digested the words. Picard mentally braced himself for her reaction.
The reaction caught him off guard. Janice's eyes lit up and a smile erupted across her face.
"But that's wonderful Captain. I thought you'd come to tell me they were dead."
He gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps you've misunderstood. In all honesty, there is very little chance that you will see your husband again."
The young Lieutenant was touched by the compassion reflected in her captain's eyes. She took his hand from her shoulder and squeezed it tightly between her own.
"I understand what you're saying Sir, and of course I will miss him dearly, but it would be selfish of me to be angry or sad. He and Carl are on the greatest exploration of their lives. Given the chance I'm sure they would have volunteered for a mission like this. They truly are going where no-one has gone before. I would have thought..."
"Go on."
"I was just going to say that, of all people, I thought you would understand, Sir."
The captain retrieved his hand and stepped back. For a moment Janice thought she had overstepped the mark the captain drew between duty and his personal involvement. She need not have worried.
The captain shook his head and softly whispered, "I really don't have the monopoly on dreams. If you'll excuse me I have some neglected duties to attend to."
The End
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