Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!news.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (1/8?) Date: 13 Feb 1995 00:41:54 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 443 Message-ID: <3hm9si$k6j@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-090.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Hi all! This is my very first story posted to a newsgroup, so I hope I get it right. It seems to me to be the logical follow-up to such stories as _The Nexus_ by Virginia Boehn and _To Every Purpose_ by Melissa Wilson. If you haven't read them, do it. They're a lot of fun, and if you don't this might not make any sense. A word of warning: if you're not a Hopeless Romantic, DON'T READ THIS. There's very little plot, and I left the actual mission of the _Enterprise-E_ suitably vauge to minimize the amount of this that will be rendered non-canon when STVIII comes out. In the meantime, happy reading. Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, everyone, and everyplace in this story lock, stock and barrel. The story itself, for good or ill, is mine. ************** AFTERSHOCK copyright Amy Raduege, 1995 "Jean-Luc, she's beautiful." Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commanding officer of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_-E, smiled. Beyond the shuttle windows, the Nova-class ship was just coming into full view, sweeping away from them with an elegant grace that delighted him. Beside him, Dr. Beverly Crusher was smiling happily. Unconsciously, she slipped her hand into his, her lustrous blue eyes never leaving their new ship. Picard squeezed her fingers, trying to contain his own happiness. Things had turned out better than he had ever dared hope. The court-marshal proceedings had gone well; everyone had agreed that his crew had done everything humanly possible to save the ship, in light of the circumstances. The __Enterprise__ was his again, along with her now-highly-coveted command crew. Will Riker had been offered command of the _Aspire_, another newly-commissioned ship, but had turned it down to remain with the _Enterprise_. Again. Commanders Data and Troi had received special accommodation for their combined efforts to save the ship. Worf, too, had been honored. And Beverly... Jean-Luc's smile turned toward the lovely woman standing beside him. Things had worked out especially well with Beverly. He squeezed her fingers again, thinking of their delicate touch on his face, his back, his chest... "Isn't she lovely?" his chief medical officer asked, her eyes filled with the wonder of their new ship. "Very," he agreed, not taking his eyes off her face. Her eyes flickered toward him and away again, a small, pleased small tugging at her lips. "Jean-Luc, we have a christening ceremony to attend." He glanced quickly around the shuttlecraft, but Admiral Nechayev had gone into the aft compartment, and the pilot was much too preoccupied with her guidance systems to pay any attention to the two officers standing in the main cabin. "So we'd better make the most of the time we have," he said, brushing her cheek with his finger. Gently, he bent and kissed her, savoring the sweet taste of her lips, the warmth of her body beside his. When they parted, he smiled into her eyes, then turned toward the windows again. "Now, Doctor, none of that," he said playfully. "We can't have the Admiral getting suspicious." "Why the hell not?" she asked mischievously, her fingers brushing lightly against his uniform. Then, perhaps sensing his sudden alarm - Beverly could be difficult when she had a mind to be - she sighed. "Aye, sir," she said impudently, and then her gaze turned toward the ship. In companionable silence, they drifted toward their new home. "Commanding officer, _Enterprise_, arriving." Will Riker called the skeleton crew to order as Captain Picard and Dr. Beverly Crusher disembarked from the shuttlecraft. It was a tradition as old as water for the Captain to give a speech upon taking command, and this occasion was no exception. Captain Picard was prepared. His speech was short, brilliant, and to the point. "We have a galaxy to explore, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get to work." The First Officer fell into step beside his captain as the two of them left the docking bay. Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi followed. "How was France, sir?" Riker asked gently. He hadn't had the chance to ask before, with the court-marshal proceedings and all. "Did you and Dr. Crusher get all your family's affairs in order?" For a moment, the Captain's face looked wistful. "It was a mixed blessing, Number One." Riker nodded understandingly, wishing he could offer some comfort. "Home is the best place to lay an old life aside, Captain," said Deanna from behind them. She linked her arm fondly with Beverly's. "And the best place to begin a new one." Riker grinned back at her. Trust Deanna to say the perfect thing. "Well, I suppose you'd all like to know where we're going," Picard said. He made some attempt to hide his distaste from his crew, knowing that they would be no more pleased than he. They had a new ship, an entire galaxy to explore, and - "Our first mission is, I regret to say, diplomatic. We're to travel to Starbase 39- Sierra, where a delegation of bureaucrats is waiting." He paused again, weighing the consequences of his next statement. "It seems the Federation wants to show off its new ship." "You can hardly blame them, Captain," said Deanna Troi, comfortingly. "She is beautiful. Definitely something to be proud of." Picard smiled ruefully. "I recognize the importance of the mission, Counselor. I just hope something exciting happens along the way." "Captain on the bridge," the young ensign announced as the command crew left the new lounge. "You don't need to announce that so regularly, ensign," Picard said to her. "Everyone can see that I'm here." She stiffened slightly under the perceived reprimand. "It's in the regulations, sir." He sighed. "One thing I've learned, ensign, is that you can't always live by the regulations. They can limit you." He looked thoughtfully at her, but her seagreen eyes gave no hint that she'd received the lesson. "Lay in a course for Starbase 39-Sierra, warp 4.8," he ordered, heading for his chair. "Aye, sir." He settled in, shifting uncomfortably - these new chairs were unfamiliar. His eyes swept the lines of the new bridge, clean and elegant, the pride of Starfleet technology - and not yet home. For a brief moment, just the briefest of moments, he longed for his old ship. But such longings were futile, and he pushed them aside. "Engage." "You've briefed your command crew by now?" the Admiral asked. "I have, sir." He kept his voice carefully neutral. A wry twist came to Alynna Nechayev's lips. "I take it they were almost as pleased as you." "You might say that." The Admiral sighed. "All right, Captain. Time to lay the cards on the table. There's another reason we're sending you to Starbase 39-Sierra - one that doesn't have anything to do with diplomatic tours." "Really?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow. Admiral Nechayev's narrow face narrowed even more. "Yes. We've detected some unexplained activity across the Neutral Zone. Starfleet Intelligence suspects that the Romulans are developing a new weapon." "I see." He leaned back against his chair, considering. "Have I permission to tell my command crew?" "Not unless it becomes necessary. For all they or anybody else knows, you're simply touring the quadrant, showing off our finest. And nobody had better suspect otherwise, or things could turn ugly. Nechayev out." "How are the diagnostics coming, Geordi?" Data asked cheerfully. "Fine, Data," the chief engineer answered, putting down the diagnostic indicator. "I can't believe some of the upgrades we've got. Looks like Leah's been working overtime on that new warp engine. I feel like a kid at Christmas." "Captain Picard seems pleased with the new ship, as well," Data observed. "What about you?" Geordi asked. Data paused, looking wistfully about the vast area of engineering. "It is a beautiful ship, but - I find I miss the old _Enterprise_. She was, after all, home for seven years." Geordi sighed. "Me, too, buddy. Me too." "That was lovely," Beverly said, pushing her empty plate aside. "I love saltimbocca, but you knew that, didn't you?" "Of course." He left the table to pour her some more wine, then took her hands and led her to the couch. "As Captain, it's my job to know all the intimate details of my crew." She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "*All* of them, Captain? Why, it's only been a few wee-" "Worf to Captain Picard." Jean-Luc rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Worf?" "We're receiving a distress call from Bett'au VII, sir. It's coded priority one." He glanced at Beverly, saw the concern rising in her eyes. "On my way, Mr. Worf." "Req... major earqua..." Picard and his officers looked at one another in concern, trying desperately to understand the garbled message through the static. "thousands casu..." "Mr. Data, can you make anything out of this mess?" the Captain snapped. It took a deliberate effort not to look at his chief medical officer. "I can extrapolate, sir. It seems that Bett'au VII has been hit by a major earthquake, resulting in significant casualties." This time, duty required him to look at his chief surgeon. He knew her too well not to see the memories rising to the surface, to ignore the sudden pain in her eyes. "Is there any ship closer than we are?" he asked Data. The android shook his head. "No, sir." "I see." Briefly, he weighed the possibilities, the consequences of inconveniencing a handful of Federation dignitaries versus the importance of saving a planet. It took maybe half a second. "Commander, lay in a course to Bett'au VII, warp 5." "Aye, sir." As the other officers left the new observation lounge, Beverly raised her stricken eyes to him. "What was that you were saying about hoping something exciting would happen?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation. He grunted. "Be careful what you wish for. You might get it." Captain's Log, stardate 48952.7. The damage to Bett'au VII has proven far worse than any of us imagined. The tremors were caused by a sudden shift in the planet's orbit, something so completely unexpected that no one quite knows what to make of it. Geordi and Data are trying to assess the extent of the damage, and to determine if the newly-formed colony will have to be moved yet again. The medical teams are working overtime, trying to combat thousands of major injuries as well as the outbreaks of plague, psychosis, and poor sanitary conditions that are the inevitable consequences of such a disaster. "Damn." Dr. Beverly Crusher pressed her hand against her forehead, willing the dizziness and nausea to go away. Three of her staff had become sick already, despite the fact that she'd inoculated them against everything she could think of. And in the meantime, there were hundreds of wounded to be tended, sanitary systems to be reestablished, medical supplies to be replenished: all matters easily attended to if proper facilities were available. Beverly knew from first-hand experience what could happen when those facilities were not available. She passed a weary hand before her eyes and forced herself back to normal. She mustn't let the others see she was becoming sick, or Jean-Luc would pull her off the planet, and Beverly wanted desperately to tend these final cases herself. She smiled at the thought of the captain. Dear, sweet Jean- Luc, to know her own memories of Arvada III would surface at the mention of disaster. He'd instantly understood her need to be there, taking care of the suffering colonists. He'd even come to her quarters later, to be sure she was all right. She'd been pacing her rooms, anxious to arrive, and knowing that the _Enterprise_ could go no faster than the Federation-wide Warp 5 limit. Jean-Luc had taken her into his arms, soothing away her nervous anxiety with soft words and gentle caresses... She turned her attention to another colonist. "You'll be all right," she told the little girl, gently brushing the hair out of the child's face. "Just a broken leg. In two weeks, you'll be bouncing around again like nothing happened." This brought a smile to the child, but Beverly saw the shadow- clouded eyes of her mother and looked away. But something did happen, and it'll be a long time before you forget - if you ever do. The osteoregenerator hummed in her hands as the bone knit back together, then she patted the child's knees reassuringly and turned to the next patient. Another wave of dizziness washed over her, and she leaned heavily against the table. "Doctor?" asked the mother, alarmed. One of the medics, seeing his commanding officer leaning against the table with a trouble colonist supporting her, hastened to her side. "Dr. Crusher?" he asked, his dark features heavy with concern. "I'm all right, Soli," she said, trying not to be angry. The medic was new to the _Enterprise_, and obviously hadn't been warned not to interfere with her medical - or other - practices. "I just turned around too fast, that's all. I'll be all right in a minute." Soli looked at her with evident disbelief. "You've been working 'round the clock since this whole thing started. Maybe you should go back to the ship and get some rest." Airily she waved him aside. "Nonsense. There are only a few patients left; I'll finish them up and then I'll go back. It'll only take a few more minutes." "Well, all right," said Soli grudgingly. She was conscious of his eyes on her back as she tended the next few patients, but then her work absorbed her again and she forgot all about the incident. "So what are your plans for shore leave, sir?" Ship's Counselor Deanna Troi asked him mildly. "Oh, I was thinking it might be nice to visit a holosuite or two," said Riker, "And I hear there's a *great* jazz band on Ingral III. That's only about an hour away by shuttle. Do you and Worf have any plans?" Unconsciously, Deanna's gaze flickered up to the towering Klingon standing on the deck above them, a mysterious smile hovering about her lips. "We do," she said. "Geordi and I have plans to visit the zoo," threw in Data. "He says it will be a remarkable chance for me to revisit my childhood." He frowned slightly. "Although, since I never had a childhood, I am uncertain as to how I can 'revisit' it." Riker chuckled. "Was that funny?" Data asked hopefully. "Only mildly, Data." "Oh." Data was obviously disappointed. "Although I have succeeded in mastering several emotions, I am afraid that creating humor still escapes me." "You'll get it, Data. Just give it time." The turbolift doors hissed open and Captain Picard stepped onto the bridge. Since their recent trip to Earth and the launching of the new _Enterprise_, Riker thought he detected a new buoyancy in the Captain's step, a lightness of heart that had not been there before - particularly whenever a certain medical officer was nearby. A less observant officer wouldn't have noticed anything amiss, but Riker had his suspicions. "How goes it, Number One?" the Captain asked, settling in to his new chair. He squirmed slightly, if the Captain could be imagined doing so undignified a thing as squirming; the new chairs required some getting used to. "All's well, sir," Riker reported. He cast a conspiratorial glance at Deanna. "We were just discussing how we're going to spend our brief shore leave at 39-Sierra." "Enjoy yourselves," said the Captain. "It'll be a long time before we're anywhere near a starbase again, so make sure you get everything you need." "Do you and Beverly have any plans for our visit to the starbase, sir?" Deanna asked innocently. Riker hid a grin by pretending to smooth his beard. So he wasn't the only one who had suspicions. "No," said the Captain, unruffled. "I'll be dealing with that delegation of bureaucrats, and I have no idea what Dr. Crusher has planned." "I see," said Deanna, looking away as if it were of only the mildest possible interest to her. "Well, if you're looking for suggestions -" She was interrupted by the sudden blurp of the comlink. "Soli to _Enterprise_." "_Enterprise_ here," said the Captain. "Sir." There was obvious relief in Soli's voice. "Would you please beam two directly to sickbay?" Instantly, concern darkened the Captain's features. "Is one of the colonists -?" "No, sir. It's Dr. Crusher. She's fainted." The first thing that Beverly Crusher saw when she opened her eyes was the overhead sensor. The damned thing seemed unnecessarily bright against her weary eyes. The second was Jean- Luc's face, hovering over her with naked concern - and a little anger. She resisted the urge to groan. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. She pushed herself up, embarrassed to be lying unconscious in her own sickbay. She shook her head to rid herself of the last lingering traces of dizziness. "I think so." "Good." She could see the muscles of his jaw clench; she had to restrain the urge to caress the tension away with her fingertips. "Doctor, I think you should refresh yourself on medical basics. You can't do your patients any good if you're so exhausted you can't see straight." "I had work to do-" she began hotly. "Which you can't do if you're exhausted," he repeated. Then, seeing her temper rising, he laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Beverly. Please. Go to your quarters and lie down. Your medical team tells me they're almost done; the disaster is over, and no one has been lost since we arrived." "Thanks largely to the efforts of our medical team." "I know to whom credit is due," he said, looking gravely into her eyes. Poor Jean-Luc. He was really worried. She'd have to take better care of herself; it wouldn't do to have the ship's captain distracted because he was worried about his chief medical officer's health. She sighed and looked down at her trembling hands. If only she weren't so very tired. He crossed his arms before his chest. "Dr. Crusher, go to your quarters and get some rest, or I'll have you relieved and sedated." Momentarily startled, she looked up into his face. His expression was stern enough, but he couldn't quite keep the smile from reaching his eyes. "Hah," she said, swinging her legs off the table. "Nobody orders my medical staff around but me." "Would you care to challenge that?" he asked pointedly. "Not particularly." She hopped off the table with her usual vivacity, but the cursed dizziness swept over her again. Instantly, Picard's arms went about her, holding her upright. "Dizzy again?" he asked, and now his voice was actually alarmed. She couldn't resist the obvious reply. "Being in your arms always makes me dizzy," she whispered. The Captain tried not to smile and failed. His arms around her shoulders tightened imperceptibly. "Beverly, I'm really worried about you. You've been working around the clock for two days, and you yourself said there are a lot of highly contagious bugs running rampant down there. Promise me you'll go to your quarters and rest." She smiled. "Aye, sir, Captain, sir," she said, as insubordinately as she possibly could. He removed his arms from her shoulders as Nurse Ogawa came rushing up. "Dr. Crusher?" she asked anxiously. "I'll be all right, Alyssa. I just need to go to my quarters and lie down." She fixed Jean-Luc with a glare she hoped would fool her observant staff. "It seems I'm being ordered to get some rest." "That's probably a good idea," Alyssa said. Crusher smiled again at Jean-Luc and headed toward her quarters. "Alyssa." At the sound of her first name, Beverly's favorite nurse looked up. "Yes, Captain?" "Alyssa, can you tell me somthing?" Alyssa licked her lips nervously. "If it doesn't break medical confidentiality, Captain." "I see." The Captain crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Is Dr. Crusher ill?" She sighed with relief. That she could answer. "Not to my knowledge, sir." "Have you noticed any unusual behavior lately?" Alyssa cocked her head, considering. "She's been a little edgy since she first heard about the earthquake. But then, it probably struck a little close to home. Weren't her parents killed in some sort of disaster?" "Yes, they were." The Captain paced the empty sickbay, obviously more concerned then he would admit. Alyssa waited patiently, thinking about how she would feel if her own beloved Mark had just fainted on a planet far below them. Being a good nurse depended heavily upon keen powers of observation, and Alyssa was under no delusions about the feelings between her Captain and her boss. She just wished they'd admit to them and get on with their lives. But then, maybe she just wanted everybody to be as happy as she and Mark were. Picard stopped pacing. "Very well. Alyssa, if you do learn anything that you can tell me without breaking medical confidentiality, I'd appreciate it if you'd inform me at once." "Aye, sir," replied the nurse. "Well, that should stop most of the tremors, Governor," said Geordi. "We've reinforced the tectonic plates, and the gravitational alignment of the planet has stabilized. I still don't know what it would take, to knock a planet off-course like that." The Governor shrugged. She was Kempakan, a tall, blue-skinned race with protruding eyes. Geordi privately thought they rather resembled inebriated fish, but they made very, very good administrators. "Who knows? I just hope it isn't something that's a regular occurrence on this planet." "No way. The Federation does pretty thorough research before opening a planet up for colonization. Things just happen sometimes, though." The Kempakan shrugged again. "Well, we'll just have to hope it doesn't happen again," she said. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: aftershock Date: 14 Feb 1995 05:02:18 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 258 Message-ID: <3hpdgq$bjb@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-156.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6034 This is my very first story posted to a newsgroup, so I hope I get it right. It seems to me to be the logical follow-up to such stories as _The Nexus_ by Virginia Boehn and _To Every Purpose_ by Melissa Wilson. If you haven't read them, do it. They're a lot of fun, and if you don't this might not make any sense. A word of warning: if you're not a Hopeless Romantic, DON'T READ THIS. There's very little plot, and I left the actual mission of the _Enterprise-E_ suitably vauge to minimize the amount of this that will be rendered non-canon when STVIII comes out. In the meantime, happy reading. Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, everyone, and everyplace in this story lock, stock and barrel. The story itself, for good or ill, is mine. ********* AFTERSHOCK part 2 Captain's Log, Stardate 48953.8 We have arrived at Starbase 39- Sierra at last, where an envoy awaits the opportunity to inspect our new ship. Most of the crew, including the senior officers, will be enjoying an informal sort of shore leave, but I must remain aboard to entertain our guests. "So, what do you plan to do with your shore leave?" he asked, pouring his companion another cup of tea. "Hmm?" She looked up at him, her luminous blue eyes lost in thought. He loved to see her like this, relaxed and happy, wrapped in her favorite blue robe - actually, it was *his* favorite blue robe- and perfectly content just to be with him. "Oh. Shore leave. I hadn't thought much about it, really. There's still so much to be done. I wanted to review the new medical databanks, make sure everybody's records are up to date, and there's an article in _Molecular Exogenetics_ I keep meaning to read..." "Beverly." He took her hand. She raised her eyes to his as he squeezed her fingers. "I want you to go have some fun. Really. Just because I'm stuck on board this drafty old ship of ours doesn't mean you can't go to the base and have some fun." She laughed lightly at his feeble joke. "Why don't you find Deanna? You haven't spent much time with her lately, and she and Worf aren't scheduled to leave until late this afternoon." She smiled into his eyes. "You're right, of course. I haven't really taken any time since the disaster on Bett'au VII, and I *do* have some shopping to do. Will you have time for supper tonight?" She was already headed into the other room to get dressed. "Always." "Good." She reemerged a moment later, impeccably professional in her uniform, her long hair bound loosely against the back of her neck. "I'll see you later, then." And with a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, she was gone. "Anything in particular you're looking for?" Deanna asked, running a brush through her luxuriant curls. "Oh, I don't know," Beverly said from the Counselor's day room. "Wesley's birthday is coming up - although I don't know *how* I'd manage to get anything to him - and there are a few miscellaneous things I need. Mostly, though, I just want to get away." Deanna nodded. "You really could use the rest. You haven't taken any time off since you and the Captain came back from France, and three months without a break is really too long." It was meant as a gentle jibe, a sort of probe to see if she could fish anything out of Beverly about her new relationship with the Captain. It did not have the intended effect. She felt a sudden rush of shock, of disbelief, pouring from the adjacent room. "Beverly, what's wrong?" she asked urgently, watching all the blood drain away from her friend's face. Weakly, Beverly sank into one of Deanna's chairs, shaking her head. "Beverly, what is it?" She knelt down next to her friend. Frantically, Beverly reached out and clutched Deanna's hand. "Deanna, will you make one brief stop by sickbay with me? I think I may have some shopping to do after all." "Anything else I should know about?" Riker asked, taking one last perusal around the new bridge. Data frowned. "I see no cause for concern, Commander. Everything seems to be under control." Riker grinned. "All preparations for our bureaucrats well in hand?" "The Captain appears to be preparing for their arrival with great anticipation," Data deadpanned, but the flash of humor in his eyes was unmistakable. Riker's grin widened. "You're getting better all the time, Data." "Thank you, sir." "Is everything ready?" Worf asked, making a last quick check of the shuttlecraft. "Ready," Deanna confirmed. The Klingon glanced at her sharply; she seemed vaguely distant, and there was a soft, dreamy look in her dark Betazoid eyes. "Deanna, is something wrong?" "Wrong?" She turned her mysterious eyes toward him. Slowly, he saw her gaze come into focus. "No, nothing's wrong. In fact, everything's wonderful." He relaxed slightly. "I am glad that our trip pleases you," he said. To his surprise, a faint smile graced Deanna's features. "That, too," she said softly. "So how did your day go?" Beverly asked, carefully setting her bundles down on his desk. "All those bureaucrats didn't strain your temper too much, did they?" He crossed the room to give her a kiss and press a glass of wine - real wine, from his family's vineyards - into her hand. "Not terribly - for bureaucrats." He grinned suddenly. "For a group of tourists, though, they were awful." She smiled at him, but the smile faded quickly away, replaced by a far more thoughtful expression. Picard studied her carefully. He noted the smudges of exhaustion lingering beneath her vibrant blue eyes, the faint pallor of her porcelain skin. She just hadn't been herself at all lately. Maybe she still hadn't recovered from the effects of the earthquake on Bett'au VII. Or maybe she was still unwell, and hadn't told him. He couldn't bear to think about it any more. With his wine glass, he indicated the piles of packages stacked on his desk. "What's all this?" he asked, leaning over to inspect them. She stepped quickly in front of him, blocking his vision. "Oh, a few gifts for my oldest son," she said. "The rest is a surprise. What's for supper? I'm famished." She put her arm through his and drew him toward the table. "Oh... umm, braised lamb, new potatoes, and steamed carrots." "Mmmm, sounds perfect. Let's eat," she said. "Beverly, you haven't touched your wine." She bit her lip, looking suddenly uncertain and a little frightened. "I know," she said softly. "Medically speaking, it's not a good idea right now." Cold fear gripped his heart. Something was wrong with Beverly! If she'd contracted something on the planet, something the biofilters didn't scan for... He turned and pulled her tightly against him. For a moment, she simply clung to him, and he felt her trembling against him. They'd only just admitted their feelings for each other, after more than twenty years of timid silence; to loose her now would be unbearable. Picard held her, promising whatever powers there might be in the universe anything, anything at all, just as long as they kept Beverly safe. And then he realized she was laughing! Disgruntled, he removed his arms from her slender waist and stepped back. "What's so funny?" he demanded gruffly. "Oh, Jean-Luc, the look on your face just now! You looked like I'd just signed my own death certificate!" She laughed again, lightly, and kissed him. He was not amused. "Beverly, what the hell is going on?" Her bubbling laughter faded away, replaced by that hesitant uncertainty he had detected earlier. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said, "I have something to tell you." He waited, steeling his heart against whatever she might say. "Maybe you'd better sit down." Oh, _merde_. It was worse than he thought. His knees suddenly weak, he sank obediently onto the couch. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked directly into his eyes for the first time that evening. "Jean-Luc, I'm pregnant." The glass slid away from his suddenly numb fingers. Her eyes searched his face, but she must've been uncertain what she saw there, because she said, coachingly, "You're going to be a father." "A f-father?" he repeated. Her eyes filled with an odd mixture of concern and amusement. "Jean-Luc, are you all right?" "A father?" he said again. Beverly sighed. She crossed the room and knelt before him, laying her hands on his. "Jean-Luc. Are you all right?" "All right?" He looked at her in wonderment. "Beverly... I don't know what to say." "At this point, *anything* would be an improvement." "A child..." he mused. "I'm going to be a father. I never thought I'd hear those words, especially after Jason..." She waited, her heart in her eyes. He looked down at her, saw her pulse beating nervously against her throat. And he smiled. "I never thought those words could be so wonderful." And then she was in his arms, their lips pressed tightly together. He wasn't sure if the tears wetting his cheeks belonged to her or to him. They parted to gaze into each other's eyes. "This is where all the trouble began," she said, teasingly. He smiled, remembering that warm and fateful night in France, in his family's ancestral home. A home that maybe, perhaps, might yet again be filled with the laughter of children. A low, delighted chuckle bubbled up from his chest and escaped his guard; he was suddenly overcome with joy. "Marry me." "What?!" This was not precisely the answer he had expected. Gravely, he repeated, "Marry me." Still she hesitated. "Jean-Luc, if this is about us having a child together-" "I assure you it's not. Beverly." He laid a hand over hers, then changed his mind. He slid off the couch and knelt before her, taking both her hands into his. "Beverly, I love you.Being your husband, raising our child, would be the fulfillment of dreams I didn't even know I had. I promise you, no matter what your answer, I will love and cherish you both for the rest of my days. But please say yes. Marry me." The beauty of the stars spread out behind her paled in comparison to her smile. "Now, how can I resist a proposal like that?" she asked. "Is that a yes?" he asked, acutely aware of his heart pounding against his ribs. "Yes. Most definitely, yes." For a moment, he was too overjoyed to move or even reply. Then he let out a very un-Captain-like whoop, startling Beverly, and leapt to his feet. "Just a minute," he said, kissing her again, and vanished into the other room. When he returned, he held a small box cradled gingerly between his fingers. "I was going to give you this a little later," he said. "But, circumstances seem to warrant ..." He flipped open the lid. Beverly gasped. Inside was a simple gold ring, highlighted by the advent of a single diamond. "I know engagement rings are a little outdated," he said tentatively, looking critically at the gleaming stone, "but I was wondering if you might consent to wearing it? It belonged to my great-great-grandmother; we could say it was a family tradition, that you were humoring me by wearing it..." "Jean-Luc." At the sound of her voice, he stopped babbling and looked at her. She was smiling softly at him. "Jean-Luc, I'd be proud to wear it." Gravely, she held out her left hand. Somewhat nervously, he removed the ring from its box and slipped it onto her finger. "It fits perfectly," she said, sounding surprised. He grinned wickedly. "I know. I had it resized in anticipation of this event." She looked at him askance. "You're lucky my fingers aren't swollen. How did you know my size?" "I measured your finger while you were sleeping." Her expression changed to stunned disbelief, then surprise, and finally dissolved into laughter. "Well, life with you will certainly keep me on my toes, at any rate." "Or off of them," he agreed, nuzzling her neck. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!usc!math.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (3/8?) Date: 14 Feb 1995 08:08:57 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 231 Message-ID: <3hpoep$gkv@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-071.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6038 Hi all! This is still my first story ever posted, and it's turning out quite a bit different from what I originally expected. However, I still feel it is only fair to warn you that this is For Hopeless Romantics. If you like stories about big guns, high drama, sophisticated strategies, and so on, this is not for you. Otherwise, happy reading once again. Quintessential disclaimer about Paramount owning everything, everyplace, and everyone mentioned in the story. The story itself belongs to me. ************* AFTERSHOCK part three "Good morning, Doctor." "Good morning, Alyssa." Awkwardly, Beverly negotiated the path toward her desk, lowering her cumbersome bulk into the chair. Funny, the space had never seemed so cramped before. Now it seemed to get smaller with each passing day. "How are you feeling?" Alyssa asked, following her into the office. "Wonderful. Horrible. I just wish the morning sickness would go away." She patted her bulging belly, as the child within rewarded her attentions by giving her a firm kick. Alyssa grinned knowingly. "I know. I only had it two months with Matthew, and I thought it was never going to end." Beverly smiled. "I certainly would have thought it would give up by now. After all, the child'll be here in only a few weeks, and Jean-Luc -" She was interrupted by the cheerful blurp of the ship's hailing system. "Captain to Doctor Picard." At the sound of her husband's voice, Beverly Picard's heart flipped. "Yes, Captain?" she asked as Alyssa discreetly slipped from the room. "Doctor, there will be a staff meeting in the observation lounge in ten minutes. I'd appreciate it if you could attend." "Of course, sir." There was the briefest of pauses, and then Jean-Luc said, "Are you feeling any better?" His voice was softer, gentler, an unspoken arrangement between them that he was talking to her now as her husband, not her commanding officer. He was in the ready room, then. He never talked to her like that except when they were alone. "I'll be all right," she said, then gasped as their unborn child kicked her firmly in the ribs. "Just tell the baby to quit kicking me, and I'll be much better." "Come up to the bridge and I'll do just that." "I'm on my way." The other officers all stood as Beverly entered, an unconscious acknowledgement of her procreative state. Jean-Luc crossed the room and offered her his arm, gently lowering her into the seat beside him. "How's the kid?" Riker asked teasingly. Beverly smiled at him and pushed a stray strand of hair back from her face. "Just fine, thank you." She patted her belly. "Likes to kick a little much for my taste, though - I thought I'd *never* get to sleep last night." Jean-Luc laid a hand on her shoulder, an unconscious gesture telling her to keep their private life private. "All right, people, if you're done enquiring about the state of my lovely bride -" he smiled fondly at his wife - "we have some business to attend to." Instantly, his officers were all business. "I have some bad news," he said. "Bett'au VII has suffered another earthquake, accompanied by strong storms and severe flooding." He looked at his wife, who had suddenly gone deathly pale. "I'm afraid there were no survivors." Beverly put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wider than he'd ever seen them. He had to resist the urge to take her into his arms. But that wouldn't be appropriate; in this room she was the Chief Medical Officer, not his wife. Gently, he said, "We're the closest ship in the area. We're going to have to assess the damage." Weakly she nodded, her eyes drifting toward the obsidian tabletop. Picard turned his attention back to the rest of the crew. "I'm afraid it gets worse. Starfleet Command has evidence to suspect that the Romulans have developed a new weapon." "Metagenic?" Beverly asked, her face going even paler. Her husband regarded her with unmistakable tenderness, but his voice retained the Captain's control as he replied, "No. It seems they have developed a means to pull a planet out of alignment." There were low cries of disbelief and outrage around the table. "The amount of power required to move an entire planet would be considerable," Data said, though his voice was sick with horror. "Even the _Enterprise_ cannot generate so much." "And the effects on the planet's inhabitants would be devastating," Geordi added. "There'd be floods, storms, earthquakes of a scale to make your head spin-" And then he was silent, as he and the other officers realized what he'd just said. Feeling slightly sick himself, Picard nodded. "Yes. The Federation Science Council now believes that the disaster on Bett'au VII was deliberately instigated by the Romulans in an attempt to test their new weapon. Two other planets have been destroyed as well." His officers merely stared at him, stunned. "Our orders," he continued, forcing himself to keep his eyes away from his wife, "are to patrol the sector, ready to respond to the first sign of distress from any Federation planet. If we find the Romulans, we have the authority to take whatever action we deem necessary. The _Agamemnon_, the _Urania_, and the _Temin_ are on their way. In the meantime, let's spend the time heightening our sensor capabilities and *quietly* preparing the ship for an encounter with the Romulans." "Do you think it'll come to that, sir?" Riker asked, looking faintly uneasy. They all knew what 'an encounter with the Romulans' meant. "I hope not, Number One. I'm just trying to prepare for all extingencies." He flicked a glance at his wife, who sat in troubled silence. Riker followed his gaze. "Understood, sir." "No!" he roared. "Jean-Luc, I'm still the Chief Medical Officer. It's my duty to go down there, and I'm going, whether you like it or not!" She regarded him with dangerous fire behind her eyes. "Unless you plan to relieve me of duty merely because I'm pregnant?" He took a deep breath, making a determined effort to reign in his considerable anger. "You know I can't do that." "Then you have to let me go." He counted to ten in several languages at once, forcing his concern and his temper back under control. Once more, he tried reasoning with her. "Beverly, you're seven and a half months pregnant. Would you send any of your staff down unto an unstable planet riddled with disease under those conditions?" "No. But then, none of them are this ship's Chief Medical Officer. I am." "And you're the best in Starfleet. That doesn't mean, however, that you need to attend every disaster yourself." "Yes, but - this is different." She stopped pacing their quarters and turned to face him. "Jean-Luc, these people were my patients. I need to see what's been done to them, to confirm for myself that there isn't anyone left." She stretched a hand toward him, her voice and her eyes filled with supplication - not for his permission, but for his understanding. "Please." And in that instant, Jean-Luc Picard knew he would do anything she asked of him - not that he'd ever been able to deny her anything anyway. Reluctantly, he gave in. "All right. But take care of yourself. Let Riker and the others bring the bodies to *you*. They're dead; nothing you can do will help them now." He laid a hand against her cheek to take the sting away from the brutal words. "All right," she promised. "Here's another one," called Geordi La Forge, examining yet another body half-buried in the rubble. He sighed in recognition; it was the Kempakan governor, now looking more than ever like a fish out of water. Dr. Picard waddled over to him with almost no sign of her usual grace, attended soliticiously by Data. The android officer was fascinated by her pregnancy, following her about with childlike wonder and plying her with limitless questions, which Picard endured with remarkable patience. Her face hard as stone, Picard made the necessary adjustments in her log. "Let's go over there next," she said, indicating a collapsed building with her eyes. Wordlessly, Data and Geordi followed her. The ruin was once a school, and the bodies within were all young children. Geordi couldn't quite resist the urge be sure the doctor was all right. Picard's face was now deathly pale, and there was a slight tremor in her voice as she ordered Data to move this or that so that she could better inspect the bodies. And then she simply collapsed. Instantly, Data and Geordi were beside her, kneeling next to her in concern as she sat shaking on the cracked and twisted pavement. "Oh, my God," she said, over and over. Curiously, Geordi turned to the corpse she had just discovered. It was a little girl, wisps of blond hair floating gently about her still face. He could see nothing extraordinary about her. But Picard said, "She had a broken leg. I healed it for her; I told her it was going to be all right. And now it'll never be all right again. She was only six." La Forge was amazed to see tears pouring down Picard's face; she never lost control of herself like this, and the _Enterprise_ had encountered some pretty tragic things over the years. Then he remembered that raging hormones sometimes caused pregnant women to behave more emotionally than they normally would. Still, it was disconcerting. From the expression on his face, Data was concerned, too. "Come, Doctor," he said, gently easing the CMO to her feet. "I believe it is time we returned to the ship. There is nothing we can do here." "Anybody who'd be the deliberate participant in such an atrocity deserves... well, worse than anything I can come up with," Beverly spat, too angry to be reasonable. Jean-Luc simply put his arms around her. He knew his wife; he could almost see her remembering the thousands of death certificates she'd had to fill out - and there was nothing Beverly hated more than death certificates. Particularly those of the children. With the birth of her own child rapidly approaching, those deaths were just that much more painful. For a moment, she stood stiff and unyielding in his embrace, and then she crumpled against him and began to cry. "There were so many children," she whispered against his chest. "So many little ones who'll never have the chance to grow up." "I know." He stroked her hair reassuringly. She sobbed until she had no more tears, then stood leaning against him, drawing on his warmth and strength as he had so often drawn on hers. The baby within Beverly kicked them both, an affirmation of life in the midst of so much death. In spite of herself, Beverly smiled down at her protruding tummy, allowing the loving embrace of her husband and the promise of their unborn child to comfort her at last. When she looked at him again, Picard could see only the faintest of shadows in her eyes. But seeing shadows where there had been only light before filled Picard's heart with grief, and he promised himself that whoever was responsible would not go unpunished. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.moneng.mei.com!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (4/8?) Date: 16 Feb 1995 05:42:09 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 304 Message-ID: <3huojh$9u4@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f182-054.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6130 This is my first story ever posted. So far, all comments and suggestions have been helpful and encouraging, for which I am exceedingly grateful. A quick word: I know that in _Parallels_, Troi talks about two children she had with Worf. Speaking as a biologist, I just find that extremely unlikely. By definition, "the ability to produce viable offspring" means that they'd have to be the same species (barring genetic engineering). A technicality, I know, but it's one of my Personal Pet Peeves. Everyone is, of course, entitled to his or her own opinion. Typical disclaimer: Paramount owns every person, every place, and every thing mentioned in this story. The story itself, for good or ill, remains my own. Enjoy! AFTERSHOCK part 4 "It would be advisable for you to push at this time," Dr. Selar said calmly. At that moment, Beverly Picard sincerely wanted to push Dr. Selar - preferably out the nearest airlock. "What do you think I've been *doing* for the past six hours, Selar? Knitting?" Selar merely raised an eyebrow. Having spent so many years on the __Enterprise__, she was accustomed to the unusual declarations made by human women in labor. However, Beverly Picard was proving to be one of her more... inventive... patients. Beverly endured the rest of the contraction and sagged back against her pillows, gasping for breath. "You're doing just fine," Jean-Luc said, his voice low and reassuring. Tenderly, he stroked the sweat-soaked hair out of her face, caressed the tired muscles of her neck and shoulders. "It'll be over soon." She opened her eyes to fix him with a steely glare. "Soon? I'll tell you about soon." She was about to say more, but another contraction took her and she arched forward, out of the bed, then fell back again when it ended. Calmly, Deanna Troi dipped a cloth into some cool water and laid it against Beverly's forehead. "How does that feel?" "Like somebody's piloting a Klingon battle cruiser through my stomach!" She turned to her husband, clutching the front of his shirt; comfortingly he wrapped his arms around her. "Jean-Luc, I don't want to do this anymore," Beverly said wearily, leaning her head against his chest. "*You* have the baby. Bring it home when you're done. I just need to sleep." Picard kissed her hair. "I would do it for you if I could." She yawned. "I'm just so tired," she began, then cried out as another contraction took her. "Should it be hurting her so much?" Picard whispered to Deanna, horribly worried for his wife's safety. Deanna smiled reassuringly. "It's been a long time since Beverly's been through this," she said. "Her body is just protesting, that's all." Time wore on. The contractions grew increasingly intense, and his poor Beverly writhed on her bed, suffering under the onslaught of the powerful spasms. And then, suddenly, she began to laugh. "It's here," said Selar calmly, pulling the infant from its mother's body. A healthy squall filled the air. "Captain and Doctor Picard, I announce the birth of your daughter." "She's beautiful, Captain," said Deanna Troi, a radiant smile coming to her face. Delighted, Picard bent and kissed his wife, who smiled tiredly. Alyssa wrapped the newborn in a blanket and gravely presented her to her parents. For the first time, Picard held his daughter in his arms. He was amazed at how small she was, how delicate, how beautiful. And she was *his*. His and Beverly's. Wonderingly, he reached out and touched the crying baby's soft cheek. A tiny fist came up and grabbed, wrapping her little fingers around his thumb and his heart in that instant. Tenderly, he kissed the tiny head. "Jean-Luc, don't be such a monopolist. Let me see her," said Beverly. Smiling, he turned to his wife. Her hair was dishevelled and damp with perspiration, stains of exhaustion were forming beneath her weary eyes, and her clothing was smeared and splattered with the efforts of her labor. But she was smiling softly, and there was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before. She'd never looked more beautiful. Gently, he lowered their daughter into her waiting embrace, and then gathered them both into his arms. "Hello, little one," she said to the infant. At the sound of her voice, the baby stopped crying. Gravely, mother and daughter regarded each other. Picard was struck be the resemblance, already apparent; the baby had her mother's red hair, and a faintly doubtful look he knew very well indeed. The baby yawned a solemn hello, blinking tiredly after her eventful day. Beverly kissed the tiny head. And then they both fell asleep. "Good morning, sir. How's Jackie?" Riker asked. The Captain looked at him wearily, slinking tiredly into his chair. "She's fine, Number One, but her mother and I could use some sleep." He pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose and bit back an obvious yawn. "You'd think after three months, she'd be sleeping through the night. But she seems to think 'nighttime' is for grown-ups only." Then he fixed his First Officer with a speculative eye. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to babysit, could I?" Riker looked more frightened than if Picard had just suggested that he take on a Menthalion razortooth singlehanded. "Sorry, sir. I'm just not good with infants." Picard smiled ruefully. "I didn't think I was, either - until I had one." "How's Beverly?" Deanna asked softly from Picard's other side. As always, the mere thought of his wife bought a smile to Picard's lips. "Fine. Tired. A little temperamental. I think she's going stir-crazy, with only the baby and me for company and no work to distract her." "How long before she goes back on duty?" Riker asked. "A few more weeks. Selar's doing a good job as acting CMO, but it'll be good to have Beverly back at her post." He grinned. "Although my annual physical is overdue, and I somehow think I'm going to hear about it." Deanna smiled. "I was planning to visit her later." "Do that. She'll be thrilled for some company besides her grouchy old husband and a cranky infant." Deanna laughed. From tactical, Worf listened with disapproval. Since the Captain and Dr. Crusher had married, the tenor of the ship had changed. Everyone was... well, so *happy*. And since the birth of their daughter, things seemed to revolve around families and booties and baby-clothes. Of course, on a Klingon ship, there would be no families. A warrior could concentrate on a warrior's business, without the distraction of children underfoot. Worf frowned. No children underfoot also meant no Alexander. And, troublesome though the boy was, Worf loved his son. Having the boy around was worth some inconvenience. Besides, the little girl was cute, in a human sort of way. Perhaps after she got older, talk centered around her would die down and things would get back to normal. He could hope, anyway. "Oh, Deanna, please come in," Beverly said, looking enormously relieved. "Hello, Beverly. The Captain said you might like some company." Beverly smiled. "That was nice of him. He's right; I'm getting a little bored. Just a second, I'll get us some tea." Quickly she crossed the room and ordered two Darjeelings - Deanna felt an amused twinge at Beverly's private rebellion - and some cookies. "So, what's happening on the ship these days?" Beverly asked, placing the food between them. Deanna was unable to hide her surprise. "Hasn't the captain told you?" "Not beyond a need-to-know basis. I know that we're still searching for the Romulans, that they're still being elusive, and that two more planets have been destroyed in the meantime. He won't tell me anything beyond that. We'd scheduled some leave time after Jackie was born, but of course the situation changed all that. He still wants me to enjoy the last few days of *my* leave, though, and he's worried that I might get upset about the way things are going, throw on my uniform, and go marching up to the bridge to fix things." She laughed. "He's probably right." "Then maybe I shouldn't say anything, either." "No, please, talk to me. I love Jackie, but at this point it's a relief to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with someone that doesn't require diapers." Deanna laughed. "Well, as you said, we're still searching for the Romulan ships. Geordi thinks he's come up with a way to detect them even if they're cloaked - he presented the method at the staff meeting, but I didn't understand very much of it, to be honest. I don't think *anybody* did, except Data. Something about enhanced tachyons and compressed quantum singularities. But anyway, we haven't found anything. So mostly, we're just patrolling the area and waiting." She thought of her long hours on the bridge and smiled ruefully. "You really haven't missed anything." "Which explains why Jean-Luc has been so impatient lately," Beverly concluded. "He doesn't like sitting on a time-bomb." "Probably." The two women sipped their tea in companionable silence, which was interrupted by a baby's cry from the other room. "Lunch time," Beverly explained, jumping up from her seat. Deanna watched with some envy as Beverly nursed her tiny daughter, discreetly shielded by a soft blue blanket - one of the doctor's purchases at 39-Sierra, Deanna recalled. "It must be wonderful, having a child of your own to hold," she said. Beverly smiled softly. "It is. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to have a baby - lots of work, though," she added, shifting the child to her shoulder. "Let me." Deanna took the willingly-proffered baby into her arms, cradling her gently against her shoulder and patting the little back. Beverly watched them with mysterious eyes. "You should try that with one of your own." Deanna laughed wistfully. "Not me. Betazoids and Klingons aren't genetically compatible, and the idea of engineering a child just seems - well, a lot less fun than just... making one." The doctor nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, you have my number." Deanna shifted the baby down to her lap. "When are you going back on duty?" she asked, adjusting Jackie's dress. "Next week. I'm really looking forward to it, but I have to admit, it'll be hard leaving Jackie every morning." She stroked the little head affectionately. Then the ship rocked beneath them. "Mr. Worf, aim phasers and fire!" Picard bellowed, leaping to his feet. "Aye, sir!" Worf complied instantly. Picard watched the viewscreen, anxiously searching for any signs of damage. Streaks of energy ripped away from the __Enterprise__ and tore toward the suspected location of the enemy ships. From the apparently empty space in front of him, three explosions occurred. Two struck the port ship, which detonated immediately; the other was hit only once, and the _Enterprise_ personnel could see its struggles to maintain its position. "One enemy ship destroyed," Worf announced unnecessarily from above. "Sensors indicate significant damage to the second ship." "Is there a third?" Worf adjusted his sensors slightly. "Yes. It lies approximately three hundred kilometers off our starboard bow." The console bleeped at him. "Sir, they are hailing us." "On screen." Instantly, the indignant face of a Romulan general filled the screen. "What is the meaning of this?!" he roared. Picard's jaws clenched. Tightly, he said, "This is Federation territory, sir. If you fire on a Starfleet vessel, you may expect us to return the favor." The Romulan responded with icy fury. "We are defending Romulan territory! Do you expect us to stand by and do nothing while the Federation pulls inhabited planets out of orbit? Do you think we will not defend our people?" Picard felt a surge of indignation that the Romulans would accuse them of such things, and then the significance of that statement slammed into him. "What?" he asked, feeling the blood drain away from his face. The general leaned forward accusingly. "In the past seven months, six Romulan planets have been ripped out of their proper orbits and destroyed - all in this quadrant, all bordering Federation territory. Over seventeen billion people have been killed. Did you really think you could get by with such an atrocity?" Picard stared at him. "Sir, I must inform you that five Federation planets have been destroyed in this manner as well." The General snorted contemptuously. "Do you really expect me to believe you?" "What you believe or don't believe is not the point," Picard said, making a determined effort to keep his temper. "I will transmit the information now, if you'll receive it." The Romulan regarded him suspiciously, but Picard thought he saw the faintest gleam of curiousity behind the other's dark expression. His eyes narrowed. "Very well. Let us see if you can substantiate these - rumors." With a gesture, Picard ordered Worf to transmit the informtaion. The Klingon obeyed just as quickly as he had before, but with considerably less enthusiasm. Worf would rather fight the Romulans than talk to them. The general leaned forward, studying the materials now flashing across his viewscreen. When he looked up again, much of his anger had melted away. "It appears we have a common problem," he said. "I've reached much the same conclusion," Picard agreed. "Would you agree to meet with me and my staff aboard the __Enterprise__, General -?" "Valok," the Romulan supplied. "And you, of course, are Jean-Luc Picard. Your reputation preceeds you, Captain." Picard nodded tersely. "Will you come aboard, General Valok? It seems we have much to discuss." "It does indeed," said the Romulan. He considered it. "Very well. I and two of my aides will come aboard your ship. Valok out." "Worf, go greet them. Bring them up to the observation lounge." Worf headed toward the turbolift, but not before giving his captain a displeased stare. Picard sighed and tapped his combadge. "Picard to Troi." "Yes, Captain?" came the Counselor's pleasant voice. "Would you please report to the observation lounge? I think your services might be required." "Of course, sir." There was a moment's silence before Beverly's voice came over the link. "Jean-Luc, is there anything I-?" "Not now, doctor," Picard said, more harshly than he'd intended. Cold fear washed over him as he suddenly realized that the lives of his wife and daughter had been in serious danger, and only the Fate Riker claimed watched over ships named __Enterprise__ had saved them. That, and Geordi's extraordinary engineering abilities, abilities that had enabled them to detect the Romulans before it was too late. He swallowed heavily, trying to conceal his sudden trembling. "Number One, you have the bridge," he said to his First Officer, and retreated to the observation lounge to calm his nerves before Valok and his aides arrived. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!tadpole.com!uunet!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (5/8?) Date: 21 Feb 1995 04:50:26 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 216 Message-ID: <3ibrei$cf5@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f181-189.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6305 Hi all! Sorry for the delay. My computer and I were experiencing creative difficulties. Disclaimer #1: This story is for hopeless romatics and by a hopeless romantic. If you like subtle intrigue, lots of action, etc., you're in for a big disappointment - particularly in this section. :) Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, every place, and every thing mentioned in this story lock, stock, and barrel. I'm still responsible for the story itself. Happy reading! AFTERSHOCK part 5 Lieutenant Commander Data was having a bad day. Things began to go wrong the moment the Romulan ships decloaked. Since the launching of the _Enterprise-E_, no one had had the temerity to actually fire on the Federation flagship. The destruction of the _Enterprise-D_ notwithstanding, Data had begun to feel safe and secure on board its successor. Then there were the Romulans themselves. Though he'd had interactions with their race in the past, he hadn't realized they were quite so... aggravating. Their arrogance, their condescension toward a species that Data had always admired - well, it set his teeth on edge. And to top it all off, after somehow persuading General Valok and his aides that the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire faced a common threat, Captain Picard had laid the problem of *defining* that threat squarely in Data's lap. He'd looked forward to a nice, quiet evening in his quarters, practicing his violin or playing with Spot's latest batch of kittens, but that would have to be postponed now. He sighed heavily. "Something wrong, Data?" Commander Riker stood just down the corridor, a sympathetic grin on his face. Data grinned back, ruefully. "No, sir. I was merely lamenting the fact that my evening will not be spent as I intended." Riker's grinned broadened. "Just think how the Captain feels. He's got to inform Starfleet Command that they were *wrong* about the Romulans - and you know how Starfleet Command feels about being wrong about anything. And *then* he's got to go home to his wife." For a moment, Data was puzzled. Returning to one's spouse was generally considered to be a pleasant experience, particularly when there was a young child at home. Then he remembered the scene on the bridge. "Oh, dear," he said. "My thoughts exactly," Riker said, giving Data a conspiratorial thump on the shoulder. "The bachelor life for me, my friend." And then he headed off down the corridor. Data, for his part, resumed course toward the science lab. Suddenly, an evening spent with the computer didn't seem so bad. Captain Picard sighed and pushed his fingers against his weary eyes. Taking another sip of his Earl Grey, he continued his entry: "The Romulans finally agreed to accept us at our word, and acknowledge that we have a common problem. They have returned to their surviving ship, requesting time to brief their government." He took another sip of his tea. "Computer, encode and send to Admiral Alynna Nechayev, priority one." The bleep of the computer blended smoothly with the chime at his door. "Come," he called. The door opened and Commander Troi walked in. "Good evening, Captain," she said pleasantly. "Commander," he replied, remembering that Troi often took the delta shift to facilitate her other duties as ship's counselor. "Work about done?" she asked. He nodded tersely. "Only just." "Good. Then I can tell you to go home." He was somewhat taken aback by the firmness of her tone. "I'd advise you to go home at once, Captain," she said, and this time there was no mistaking the command in her voice. "Beverly was quite upset after she tried to contact you." For a moment, he could only stare at her. Then he said, "Oh, dear." "Precisely." "Was she terribly angry?" he asked meekly. Deanna smiled reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry about it *too* much. It's only natural to react with anger when someone you love has been threatened. However, given Beverly's particular temperament, it might not be wise to let it fester." He was already on the turbolift when he heard Deanna say, "Good night, Captain." Although it was very late, he'd hoped Beverly might be up, waiting for him. But the lights in the main cabin were out and the windows darkened, a sure sign that she'd turned in for the night - and that she was angry with him. For a brief moment, Jean-Luc Picard, who had faced down countless enemies, endured a multitude of attacks, and survived more than one "Captain Picard Day", seriously considered spending the night on his ready room couch. Then a soft baby's gurgle came from the bedroom; he sighed and headed in that direction. Beverly was sound asleep, their infant daughter playing on the bed beside her. Picard watched them a moment, delighting in the scene before him. Once, he'd never dreamed he'd share a home and a life with the former Beverly Crusher. Now, she lay peacefully on their bed, their child playing contentedly beside her. Jackie's head turned toward him as he approached. She gurgled once, regarding him gravely for a moment before returning to the serious matter of trying to stuff her toes into her mouth. He crossed to the bed and sat down beside his wife, studying her sleeping face. Never had he seen her so tired as she had since Jackie's birth, but he'd never seen her so happy, either. She was so precious to him. And their little girl, Jackie... He rubbed her little tummy and was rewarded by a delighted smile and what might have been a giggle. The thought of what might happen to them twisted his heart. Slowly, tenderly, he leaned forward to kiss Beverly's cheek. He hadn't wanted to wake her, only to reassure himself that she was there, real, warm and safe in their bed with their infant daughter playing in her arms. But she came awake at his touch, reluctantly blinking the sleep out of her weary eyes. "Jean-Luc...?" she asked vaguely, looking around as if she were faintly disoriented. "Wha -?" "Shhh. Go back to sleep," he whispered, caressing her arm. "I just wanted to reassure myself that you and Jackie are all right." She pushed herself upright and pushed the hair out of her eyes, blinking at him in confusion. "We're fine," she said. "Why wouldn't we be?" "The attack..." he began. "Oh, the attack," she repeated, and then remembered that she was angry with him. Her gaze swung into focus. "And what did you mean, just clipping me off like that? Just because I'm your wife, you don't have to answer my questions anymore? I'll be Chief Medical Officer again pretty soon, and you'd better not interrupt me like that *then*, or-" He stopped her by planting a firm kiss on her lips. He slipped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, stroking her hair tenderly. "Jean-Luc, what's wrong?" she asked. All trace of her anger was gone, replaced by compassion and concern. "It's just... hearing your voice made me realize what might've happened... how you and Jackie might've been killed by my actions. It frightened me. I've never had so much to lose before, not even with Nella Daren..." He cursed himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. The flash of pain in her eyes was unmistakable. Weakly, he smiled for her. "I'd forgotten how difficult it is to have someone I love under my command." Jackie squirmed, and Beverly laid a tender hand against the baby's downy head. "You've put me at risk before," she reminded him softly. He looked at her, saw the tears pressing against the backs of her eyes, felt her grief and pain as his own. He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "But never as my wife," he pointed out. "I'd never admitted to myself how much putting you at risk bothered me, how empty I'd feel if anything ever happened to you. Those others... they were all just affairs, empty and meaningless in the long run. But you... you're so much a part of me, I don't even know where I end and you begin anymore. I can't imagine my life without you in it - and Jackie," he added, feeling a thump against his thigh as the baby stretched. He reached down and lifted her up, holding her tightly against his heart. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to either of you," he said. Beverly only looked at him. Finally, she said, "I wish I knew what to say. We both knew that there were risks when we entered Starfleet; we just never realized we might be risking each other." Startled, he turned from his contemplation of his daughter to stare into her eyes. Yes, she was right: he was as much at risk as she. His position didn't require him to beam down to unfamiliar planets, didn't ask that he expose himself to all sorts of unknown disease or pestilence, but his life was in danger, too. Starfleet life was exciting, stimulating, invigorating - anything but safe. Jackie grabbed a handful of her father's shirt and earnestly attempted to stuff it into her mouth. "I think she's hungry," he said, passing the infant back into Beverly's arms. "She shouldn't be. I'd just been feeding her when you came in." "I think you'd been asleep for some time, actually." "Mmm." Picard reached out and rubbed Beverly's neck, delighting in the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, while Jackie slurped happily in her mother's arms. Slowly, she leaned against him, and gently Picard cradled his wife and daughter against his heart. "I guess we've made up," Beverly concluded as Jackie finished her meal. She lowered the infant to her knees and readjusted her nightgown. "I guess so," Jean-Luc agreed, kissing her neck. "Stop that," Beverly chuckled, pushing him gently away. The expression she turned toward him was serious. "Jean-Luc, this won't be the last time we have to face this problem." "I know," he said. "So what are we going to do about it?" He shrugged. "I don't think there's anything we *can* do about it. We'll just have to face each situation as it arises, and try to remember above all else that we love each other." She smiled at him, her face suddenly warm and inviting. "That's true," she said, leaning forward and kissing him passionately. Jackie cooed with delight. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!post.its.mcw.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (6/8) Date: 25 Feb 1995 05:44:13 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 306 Message-ID: <3img3d$dp5@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-110.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6508 Disclaimer #1: This story is by a hopeless romantic, and for hopeless romantics. If you are not one, this is not the story for you. Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, place, and thing mentioned in this story. The story itself, for good or ill, belongs to me. AFTERSHOCK part 6 Jean-Luc Picard awakened with a smile on his face. His wife lay curled close beside him, her long red hair spilling softly across his chest. Deeply content, he reached out and gathered her into his arms. She sighed and woke up. "Good morning, darling." "Good morning." He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled against him. The weight of her head on his shoulder was warm and reassuring, comforting in the midst of so much uncertainty. Her hand rested lightly against his chest, absently tracing little circles with her fingers. "I go on duty in an hour," he said. "I have to brief General Valok." She sighed. "I know." "Beverly -" Something in his tone must have warned her; she withdrew her hand and shifted so that she could meet his eyes. "What?" "Beverly - I know you've enjoyed some time off, taking care of Jackie, but... I don't suppose you'd be willing to come back on duty a little early?" She sat up and stared at him incredulously. "You really mean it?" "I do. Something about this whole situation just strikes me as... well, *wrong*. I can't put my finger on anything and say 'this is what's bothering me', but I feel the need to be prepared for any eventuality. I want this ship's Chief Medical Officer to be the best there is. Dr. Selar's done an excellent job, but, well, she's not you." Beverly's smile was radiant. "When do I start?" she asked. Data sighed. "How's it going, Data?" Geordi asked, entering the lab with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Data turned to look up at his friend. "Not well, I am afraid. I believe I am experiencing a new emotion." "And what would you call this new emotion?" "I believe it is frustration." "I see." Geordi took another sip of his coffee. "Then the question is: what are you going to do about it?" Data frowned. "In the past, I have often analyzed the reactions of my friends and colleagues. Captain Picard, for instance, most typically responds to a frustrating situation by maintaining an icy reserve. Dr. Picard, on the other hand, exhibits a disconcerting tendency to shout. Commander Riker swears, Counselor Troi employs Betazoid mind-relaxation techniques, and Worf kills graphic incarnations on the holodeck. However, I have decided to employ *your* particular methodology." "And that is?" There was no mistaking the amusement in the engineer's voice. "I have decided to forge ahead, as it were, and not relent until my goal has been accomplished." Geordi finished his coffee and set the empty mug in the disposal. "That's very flattering, Data. But in the end, you're going to have to find your own way to deal with these - more turbulent -emotions." Data nodded. "I know. But you have a lifetime of feelings to draw upon, and human intuition to guide you. I possess neither of those qualities." Geordi shook his head. "All right, Data. Whatever works. Now, what's causing your frustration?" The android swivelled back toward the computer display. "The Captain has asked me to find the cause of the destruction of the Romulan and Federation planets. Despite my best attempts, I have been unable to do that." "Well, what have you found so far?" "Very little." He called up a different image, this one a map of the sector, displaying all relevant systems. "The planets destroyed are of no particular strategic or economic importance, beyond that they all lie near the Neutral Zone. Most were simply colonies, two were scientific outposts, and one a recreational outpost for Romulan Senators." Geordi frowned, peering closely at the screen. "What about the *order* in which they were destroyed? Maybe there's a pattern here, something we can chart, and then predict where it'll happen next." Data entered a few commands, connecting the planets in sequential order. What was revealed most closely resembled Spot's favorite strand of yarn: tangled inextricably, and with no particular pattern. "Well, so much for that theory," Geordi sighed. "I, too, discarded that possibility. Then it occurred to me that perhaps it was some aspect of the planets themselves which enabled these disasters. But I can find only one commonality: they all contain a core of ferrous metal." "Iron, eh?" Geordi tapped his teeth thoughtfully. "What about the magnetic flux?" Data raised an eyebrow. Quickly, he called up the information. "The magnetic flux of each planet displays a small but significant disruption." "Enough to change a planet's orbit?" "Enough to shift the planet a few degrees," Data confirmed. "Yes, that would be sufficient." "Well then." Geordi leaned forward, studying the display with an almost palpable intensity. "What could cause that?" "No known natural phenomenon has such an effect." He paused, considering. "However, these patterns are reminiscent of an older method of propulsion, discarded by the Federation in 2132. It involved using magnetic resonance to fuel the warp drive. The project was quickly abandoned, however. It was deemed erratic, unpredictable, inefficient, and unstable." Geordi pointed to the sector map again. "That looks pretty unpredictable to me." Data sat shock-still for a moment, and then his fingers began to fly over the console. "What are you doing, Data?" "If I am right, I will soon have a possible explanation to offer Captain Picard." It felt good to be in uniform again, Beverly Picard decided as she finished brushing her hair. She loved her family beyond words, but somehow being a full-time wife and mother wasn't enough. She needed to get back to her duties. She emerged from the bedroom to find her husband finishing breakfast preparations, trying to balance two coffee mugs, a plate of croissants, a bottle of milk, and Jackie - all in one arm. The other was laden with Jackie's favorite blanket, diapers, and a stuffed bunny. "Here, let me help you with that," she chuckled, coming across the room to gather her daughter into her arms. "You don't need to do everything all at once, you know." His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "You look wonderful. I'd forgotten how good that uniform looks on you." She could feel a faint blush warming her cheeks. "Is that an appropriate remark from the Captain of this ship to his Chief Medical Officer?" she asked teasingly. "Probably not," he admitted. "But it *is* an appropriate observation from a devoted husband." She laughed lightly and set Jackie in her chair. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain." Their playful banter was interrupted by the chime of the door. "Come," they called as one. The doors slid aside to reveal Deanna Troi, looking more than just a little stressed after her night on the bridge. "Oh, good morning, Captain," she said, sounding a little surprised to see him there. "I thought you'd be on the bridge." "Not quite yet," he admitted. Then, shooting a teasing glance at Beverly, he said, "My wife had other plans for me this morning." "Oh." Deanna shifted her weight slightly, obviously unwilling to interrupt what she thought she was interrupting. "I was just wondering if you'd be willing to let me borrow Jackie for the morning. I'd like to take her for a stroll in the arboretum." "Sure," Beverly Picard replied. "She needs a babysitter anyway." "Babysitter?" Deanna asked, and then realized that the doctor was in uniform. "Going back on duty?" "By order of the Captain," she replied, giving Jean-Luc a tender smile. "Seems he wants his staff back in place to deal with this new threat." "A sensible decision," Deanna said. "I can take the baby, then?" "Absolutely. Just let me get her things." "She likes to be cuddled," she heard him tell Deanna, lifting his daughter out of her highchair and demonstrating. "She's just been fed; she'll probably take a nap fairly soon. But she's in a good mood this morning; you're lucky." Deanna received the baby into her arms with a curious expression on her face. "In some ways," she said softly. "That's it!" Geordi La Forge exclaimed excitedly. "Data, you've found it!" "This is merely the most likely explanation," Data replied calmly, though a broad smile illumed his face. "I could be wrong." Geordi wasn't listening. "It's the only explanation that covers everything. Data, you did it!" He slapped the android on the back, then wished he hadn't. Data's back was considerably more solid than the human equivalent. Data continued to look skeptical. "It is certainly possible," he agreed finally. "Now the question is: how will the Captain take the news?" The air of the arboretum was cool and refreshing, a pleasant change from the tensions of the bridge. Unfortunately, her three companions were less appreciative than she, and Deanna was beginning to wish that she hadn't thought it up. That was when things began to go seriously wrong. "An *accident*?" the Captain demanded incredulously. "That is correct, sir," Data replied, so calmly that for a moment Geordi wondered if the android hadn't removed his emotion chip for this encounter. "It seems that someone as yet unidentified has developed a warp drive similar to one discarded by the Federation many years ago. The primitive nature of this warp drive suggests that this may be their first attempt at interstellar travel. Further, the pathway of the destruction is erratic and unpredictable, suggesting that the ship is no longer under the strict control of its occupants." "An accident?" Captain Picard repeated. "Nine planets destroyed, billions of people killed, and you're telling me it's all because of some colossal *mistake*?" "Actually, it's kind of surprising this sort of thing doesn't happen more often," Geordi put in. "Achieving interplanetary travel is a difficult thing, and sometimes we really don't know the long-term consequences. I mean, look at how recently we discovered that our own warp technology is damaging the fabric of the universe. If we're encountering a new culture just venturing out into space...." Picard's face remained calm, but Geordi knew him well enough to see the thunder behind his eyes. "Can we track them?" Data considered. "A warp technology employing magnetic fields would leave a residual trace in the surrounding subspace. A minor modification of our forward sensors should enable us to follow their trail." For a moment, the Captain simply sat there. His expression did not change in the slightest, but Geordi had the impression that he was making a determined effort to get his temper under control. Then he nodded tersely. "Make it so," he said. Beverly Picard was in sickbay, going about her duties as Chief Medical Officer of the _Enterprise_. She tried not to smile in delight as she tended the minor hurts and ailments of the crew; they might mistake her joviality for a lack of respect for their injuries, instead of her joy at being back where she belonged. She recognized Jackie's outraged wails well before the doors hissed open. Beverly winced; her daughter had a powerful set of lungs, and was showing signs of developing the legendary Howard temper. The doors opened to admit a haggard-looking Deanna Troi, wearing an expression that said she wished she was anywhere but here. There was mud splattered on her pink pantsuit, and twigs tangled in her hair. Beverly raised an eyebrow, but she wasn't quite finished with her patient yet. Quickly, she finished healing the sprained ankle, then fixed the young ensign with a stern glare. "Next time, young man, I'd advise you to program a few less boulders into the river. White water rafting can be dangerous, and next time it might not be so easy to fix." The ensign grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He gave her a cocky salute - an outdated gesture if ever there was one - and slipped down from the biobed. Beverly pocketed her tricorder and crossed the room to her screaming daughter. "Now, what seems to be the trouble here?" she asked, gathering the disgruntled baby into her arms. She kissed the tiny head, bouncing the baby slightly to quiet her. "Hush, Jackie. There's nothing wrong with you." "No, she's fine," said Deanna wearily. "*I'm* about ready to jump off the port nacelle, but Jackie's fine." Beverly flashed her an amused glance and indicated her office with a nod of her head. "Why don't you come in and tell me about it?" Deanna followed her into the office and flopped unceremoniously unto the consultation couch. "Ugh. I don't even know where to start." "Don't be stuffy," Beverly said, patting her daughter's back comfortingly. "Start at the middle and work outward." Deanna did. "I should have known things would go wrong when Worf started grunting," she admitted ruefully. "Grunting?" "You know." She produced a fair imitation of Worf's unhappy grumbling. "He wouldn't talk to me. And then Alexander fell into the pond -" "That's how you got mud all over you, I assume." "- and I gave Jackie to Worf so that I could clean Alexander up, and Worf held her like she was an arboreal death adder, or some other venomous creature." Beverly couldn't help smiling at the image. "I can see how Jackie wouldn't appreciate that." "It's not funny, Beverly," Deanna told her seriously. "I'm sure it's not," she agreed, chuckling. "You," Deanna told her, "are no help at all." "Deanna," said Beverly, laying a reassuring hand on her friend's arm. "Don't be so upset. Jackie wasn't permanently damaged, and as far as I can see, the only thing you did wrong was handing her to Worf in the first place. Didn't you know that Worf dislikes babies?" "I do now." Deanna sighed wistfully. "It'll be a long time before I try anything like that again." Beverly shifted the baby in her lap. "Well, you're off duty now, so you can go back to your quarters and sleep. You'll feel better after that." "Mmm. That's really not fair, you know." "What?" "That." With one accusing finger, she pointed to the baby, who was now playing happily in her mother's arms. "Do you have any idea how hard I tried to calm her down?" Beverly laughed. "A mother's touch, I suppose." "Well, I think I'll go back to my quarters and take a nap. This day hasn't started out too well; maybe I'd better give it another try." At the moment, the Captain's voice came over the intercom. "Senior officers, please report to the bridge." Deanna sighed. "Well, so much for that nap." Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!post.its.mcw.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (7/8) Date: 25 Feb 1995 05:51:25 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 292 Message-ID: <3imggt$dp5@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f180-110.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6510 I don't know about the rest of you, but some of this came as a surprise to me. :) Disclaimer #1: The hopeless romantic stuff again. Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns every person, place, and thing mentioned in this story. AFTERSHOCK part 7 The _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp in a dazzling display of light and color, perfectly paralleling the movements of the Romulan bird of prey flanking her. The atmosphere on the bridge was strained, to say the least. The Captain held his chin in his fist, his brow furrowed and his jaw clamped tightly shut. Riker sat leaning forward, hands braced against his knees like a cat ready to spring. From tactical, Worf glowered over them all, a silent and foreboding sentinel. Quickly, Troi crossed the bridge and sat down; Beverly, after a worried glance at her husband, took a position just beyond Riker. "What's going on?" Deanna asked quietly. "We're tracking the enemy ship," Riker answered. "Alien ship detected," Data announced. "Fifty billion kilometers and closing." He entered a few more commands. "Coming into range visual range now." "On screen." The Captain rose to his feet, tugging his jacket into place. A breathtaking field of stars spread out before them, perforated by a small ship veering wildly from its course, if indeed it had a course at all. It zigged and zagged erratically, sometimes even looping through its own path, lurching forward at warp speed one moment, and shuddering to an almost-halt the next. Deanna felt sickened. The waves of hopelessness, of despair, of fear, emanating from that ship were almost overwhelming. She carefully raised her mental barriers, and the waves receded. "Captain-" she began. He didn't hear her. "Is there anybody even *piloting* that thing?" he asked, lurching to his feet. Data frowned at his console. "Sensors indicate fifty-two life-forms aboard the alien vessel," he confirmed. "More than that, I cannot say." "Captain -" Deanna began again, and then his attention was consumed by other matters. "Sir, the Romulan bird of prey is powering up their forward disrupter array," Worf announced from tactical. "At us?" He couldn't believe it. Why now, when they were so close to solving this mystery? "No, sir. At the alien ship." Picard bit back an angry curse. "Hail them." Worf tried. "They are not responding." "Disrupters are at a sufficient intensity to completely annihilate the alien ship," Data said. Picard clenched his jaw, fervently hoping that his next decision was the right one. "Mr. Worf, aim photons at the Romulan weapons banks and fire." "Aye, sir," Worf replied with a great deal of satisfaction. Bursts of energy ripped away from the _Enterprise_ and impacted with dreadful beauty against the Romulan ship. "Weapons systems destroyed, sir," Worf announced. General Valok appeared on the viewscreen. "Picard!" he demanded angrily. "What is the meaning of this?" "General Valok." He couldn't keep the ire from his voice. "I might ask you the same thing." The Romulan lifted his chin. "I will not stand by and let anyone destroy six Romulan planets and get by with it," he said coldly. "I assure you, Valok, that should we discover that these people committed these atrocities knowingly or willingly, they will answer to *both* our governments. But they cannot answer for anything if they are dead." "They have committed murder," Valok said. "In a Romulan court, that is cause for execution." "This is not a Romulan court, Valok. And you are not a jury." Valok's face was hard as stone. "I am a duly appointed official of the Romulan Senate, Picard. In this situation, I am all the jury required." "For Romulus, perhaps. You cannot, do not, and will not stand for the Federation." "The Federation is weak, Picard. You do not punish as crimes deserve. You are willing to let the deaths of thousands of children go unpunished." Valok's face was hard as stone, but something deeper lingered behind his eyes. "Children, Picard. How would you feel if it had been *your* daughter on one of those planets?" "I can't answer that," he replied, and then - "Are you saying -?" The general's face was filled with cold defiance. "Yes. My wife and daughter were on Ariaka when it was destroyed." He remained quiet a moment, and then added, "She was only six." Picard felt a wave of sympathy for the man. This was not a Romulan talking to a Terran, this was one father sharing his grief with another. Jackie was only an infant, just beginning to be a person, but already she was dearer to him than life itself. He could not resist glancing at his wife. Beverly sat still and passive in her place, but her face had gone pale, and her eyes were filled with shadows. Beverly knew she was thinking of the little girl on Bett'au VII, the little girl she had not quite been able to save, and another little girl she called her own. What would it be like, he wondered, to lose that little girl six years from now? Still, his fundamental beliefs would not let him go so easily, and the old adage 'an eye for an eye' tended to leave everybody blind. "I am sorry for your loss, Valok," he said quietly. "I cannot imagine what you must be going through. But I *do* know that destroying that ship will not bring your daughter back." "It will not," said Valok, colder than the depths of space. "But I *will* have my revenge, Picard." "Maybe," he agreed. "But not today." He made a short, chopping gesture at Worf, and the general's image disappeared from the viewsceen. Picard sighed, feeling suddenly older than the universe, and just as cold. And he still had work to do. He returned to the command center. "Mr. Data, can we establish communications with the alien vessel?" Data frowned. "Yes, sir. Their communication and sensor systems are primitive, but they do have visual capabilities." Picard nodded. "All right, then. Hail them. Let's see what they have to say for themselves." The image that appeared on the screen was only faintly humanoid. Large, slitted eyes regarded them distantly, the expression in them almost impossible to determine. Picard glanced at his crew, but none of them showed any signs of recognition. "Who are you?" it asked, its voice rasping and musical all at once, like velvet on sandpaper. Slowly, Picard rose to his feet. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_," he said. The creature regarded him from unblinking eyes. "What do you want?" it asked. Well, that was abrupt enough. "We wanted to talk to you about some planets you may have encountered," he said. The screen went blank. For a moment, Picard simply stood there, too stunned to even be angry. Then Riker said, "We must've hit a nerve." Worf growled. "They are too dishonorable even to admit their crime." "No, that's not it," Troi said urgently. "Captain, you must listen to these people. They're *terrified*." Startled, the Captain turned to her. "Terrified? Of what?" Troi's expression grew distant as she tried to probe the alien ship. "Of ... us. They saw us turn our phasers on the Romulans. And... they're far from home, lost... they don't know how to get back." So Data had been right. Mentally, Picard reminded himself never to doubt his officer again. Picard looked toward his other officers. Geordi stood at the engineering station, looking helpless. Riker's gaze rested on Troi, then slid away uncertainly. Worf looked like he'd just as soon destroy them all, and have done. And Beverly... She remained silent, but he knew her too well not to understand her expression: there's been enough death. He made his decision. "Hail them again, Mr. Worf." The image appeared on the screen again. "Leave us alone," the creature said. Picard shook his head. "Oh, no. I can't do that. Your technology is believed to be responsible for the destruction of nine planets in this sector. We cannot let you go without at least preventing the possibility of more destruction. And..." he paused, glancing uncertainly at the ship's counselor. She nodded encouragingly, and he continued. "We have reason to believe you may require our assistance." The creature hesitated. "You... would help... us?" "We will gladly lend whatever aid we can," he said. "Will you permit us to help you?" The creature now regarded him with unmistakable suspicion. "At what price?" Had they encountered the Ferengi? "Only that you let us learn more about your people, and that your solemn word never to allow such catastrophies to happen again." There was a brief pause. "That is acceptable." A very succinct people, at least. "Very well. Commander Riker, prepare an away team. Let's see what we can do." Riker nodded shortly. "All right. Geordi, Data, Worf, and Dr. Picard. Let's go." The Captain rose to his feet. It was the first time since their marriage that he'd had to let Beverly go into such a dangerous mission. Even on Bett'au VII, she'd been reasonably safe. These aliens could still be hostile, could rip the away team apart in a matter of seconds if they so chose. Part of him wanted to go to her, to stop her from going or at least to kiss her good- bye, but he knew that wouldn't be appropriate. She had her duties to perform, and he couldn't ask her to be less than what she was. Besides, she'd proven time and again that she was more than able to take care of herself. Beverly, however, sensed his uncertainty. She stopped as she passed in front of him, giving his hand a surreptitious squeeze. "I'll be all right," she promised, her voice carrying no further than his ear. Then she stepped onto the turbolift and was gone. The Captain settled into the reassuring embrace of his command chair and steeled himself to wait. The room into which the away team materialized was like nothing Riker had ever seen. The lighting was dim, the temperature far too high, and the ship seemed to lean in on itself. Even during their encounter with Gomptuu, the lines had been smooth and flowing, and so, vaguely familiar. There was nothing familiar about this ship. The creatures started as they appeared, shying away from them. They were considerably smaller than they had appeared on the viewscreen; even the tallest came no higher than his elbow. Riker put up his hands, showing that they were empty. (Hopefully, the aliens wouldn't recognize the phasers hanging at their hips for what they were.) "We're here to help," he said softly. Dr. Picard moved forward. One of the aliens was injured, or so it seemed: a bright, orangish fluid seeped forth from one of its limbs, and its color was a little less green than its compatriots. The creature shied away from her approach. "No, it's okay; I'm a doctor. I just want to be sure you're all right." With a smile that would have disarmed a Borg, she moved toward it again. The thing simply skittered further away. Dr. Picard heaved an exasperated sigh, flicking a reproving glance at Riker. "This is going to take a long time if they keep this up." Making sure that she had the creature's attention - it wasn't hard to do, all eyes in the room were on her - she turned the tricorder on herself, using it to show that it would do them no harm. Then she approached the alien again. It quivered, but let her examine its arm. Riker watched as she studied the readout, saw the unhappy frown on her face. "What is it?" he asked. "Their physiology's completely different from ours. It's going to take me a moment to see if the tricorder can come up with anything similar." She paused, thoughtfully biting her lower lip. "Ah, yes. Let's see. If I just make this go this way... Yes. That should work. Here." Riker had no idea what she was talking about, but he watched as Picard administered a drug into the alien's system. The creature stared at her, its eyes going very, very wide, and then it said something to its companions. Riker didn't quite catch the comment, but it must have been favorable, for suddenly the aliens were all crowding around the doctor, touching her face, her hands, her hair, with wondering curiosity. Picard looked faintly alarmed, but she made no move to resist. After that, the aliens seemed more inclined to trust them. They skittered away from Riker and Data, but they watched with wary interest as Geordi and the android set about repairing their warp drive, and they allowed Picard to treat their injuries, following her around like large, faintly reptilian puppies. "They must have been through hell," Dr. Picard said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "They're suffering from things as basic as broken bones and malnutrition. I'll have to see what I can do to get them some food." Then her face blanked. "But I have no idea what they eat." Riker shook his head. "Do you have a leader?" he asked the nearest alien. The thing shied away from him. Riker sighed. "Maybe you should try it," he suggested to Beverly. "They seem to trust you." She heard the frustration in his voice and smiled. "It's just because I healed them. People are always willing to trust somebody who's made them well." Riker grunted. "Could you tell me who's in charge?" she asked. The alien regarded her suspiciously for a moment. Then another voice said, "I am." The creatures parted to let another of their number through. This one was slightly taller than the others, slightly bigger of build, and it bore itself with an unmistakable air of command. Riker thought he recognized the alien who had spoken with the Captain. "I am X'Pet," it said. "I command this sad vessel." Beverly smiled. "I am Doctor Beverly Picard," she said, speaking slowly and clearly. "I'm the chief medical officer of the _Enterprise_. This is Commander Will Riker, our First Officer." "How do you do?" Riker said, feeling awkward and out of place. X'Pet bowed. "We are grateful for your assistance. We have been drifting a long time." "Well, maybe we can change all that. After we've fixed the problems here, we'll tow you home." He was surprised to see a melancholy expression cross the alien's face. "I am afraid that will not be possible," X'Pet said, and there was no mistaking the sadness in its voice. "We cannot go home again, for there is no home awaiting us. We are the last of the V'Shnar. Our planet was destroyed more than a year ago." Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!news.doit.wisc.edu!news From: araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu (Tinuviel) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: Aftershock, part (8/8) Date: 25 Feb 1995 18:21:56 GMT Organization: Division of Information Technology Lines: 184 Message-ID: <3insg4$5an@news.doit.wisc.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: f182-099.net.wisc.edu X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.6+ Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:6521 Whew! It actually turned out to be 8 parts! This is what happens when you don't plan ahead... Next time, if there is a 'next time', I will actually write the whole thing before I post it. :) Disclaimer #1: This story is by and for hopeless romantics. There is absolutely no intrigue, strategy, or such in this segment AT ALL. It's just wrapping things up. Disclaimer #2: Paramount owns everybody, everything, and everyplace mentioned in this story lock, stock, and barrel. AFTERSHOCK part 8 "Fifty-two people," the Captain whispered. "Fifty-two of an entire race." He remembered the horror he'd felt when he'd learned that Robert and Rene had been killed. When the old _Enterprise_ was destroyed. His world had literally come crashing down around him. But at least he could go home again, go back to Earth and France and all the places that he loved. The V'Shnar no longer could. "The technology which destroyed so many of our planets was also responsible for the loss of their own," Data said, his voice cool and pitying. "Thus, they discovered their mistake almost instantly, but they could no longer go home to repair it." What would it be like, he wondered, to be responsible for the destruction of your own planet? And nine others? "And they've been wandering about this part of the galaxy ever since," Riker added. "What do we do with them now?" asked Beverly. "We can't just leave them out here, with no warp, very limited power, and the Romulans determined to extirminate them. They wouldn't survive." "And they still must face the punishment for their actions," put in Worf. Geordi looked at him with disbelief. "You want to do something *worse* to them than give them the knowledge that they destroyed their own planet and nine others?" "There's been enough death," Beverly agreed. "I, for one, don't want to fill out any more death certificates for a good long time." "From the reports of the away team, these are a very timid, reclusive people," Troi added. "They didn't do this deliberately or maliciously. It was a *mistake*. A terrible mistake, to be sure, but an mistake all the same." "Ignorance is not an excuse," Worf began. "I tend to agree with the Counselor and Geordi," said Picard, waving aside the argument boiling among his officers. "We can't do anything worse to them than they've already done to themselves. Yesterday, I would have been willing to destroy them. Today, I am not. The time for vengeance is over. It is time to let them heal." Captain's Log, Stardate 49002.5 In accordance with the wishes of Starfleet Command, we have taken the V'Shnar ship in tow and are returning to Federation space. There, a board of inquiry will have to be joined, but given the circumstances it is quite likely that those few remaining will be given a planet on which to reestablish their species. In the meantime, we are learning all we can about this new culture. On a happier note, there will be a reception tonight to acknowledge the arrival of Admiral Alynna Nechayev. She has come aboard to aid in negotiations with the Romulans, who still believe the remaining V'Shnar should be executed, and to meet the fifty-two remaining. Counselor Troi has taken the preparations in hand, insisting that this will be a good way to release the tension that has been building up among my crew. Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood uncertainly in front of the mirror, readjusting the collar of his dress uniform for the thousandth time. "Stop that. You'll ruin the lines," said his wife, coming up to stand behind him. She smiled and smoothed the front of his jacket. "The designer put a lot of thought into these things." "Then the designer was either an idiot or a sadist," Jean-Luc replied, taking her into his arms. "You look marvelous." Unlike her husband, Madame Picard had the option of not wearing her dress uniform - an option she'd willingly exercised. Instead, she wore a stunning dark blue gown, cut low against the creamy skin of her shoulders and slit up one side, for dancing. Beverly grinned mischievously. "Why, thank you, Captain Picard." He sighed and released her. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. He shook his head. "Nothing. Old ghosts." Beverly laid a comforting hand against his arm. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her eyes dark with concern. Jackie, oblivious to the mood of her parents, waved her arms enthusiastically and laughed with delight at her accomplishment. Jean-Luc began to feel a little, just a very little, better. "It seems I have everything I could want," he told his wife, kissing her reassuringly on the nose. "Are we ready?" "All ready." Gently, Beverly gathered Jackie into her arms, taking the time to straighten her little dress before turning back toward him. "Let's go." The reception was in full swing by the time the Picards arrived. Geordi descended on them at once, gleefully taking Jackie from her mother's care, and several of the V'Shnar surrounded him, curious to see the baby. Admiral Nechayev stood nearby, talking to X'Pet, and the other officers were scattered around the room, laughing and talking and dancing. He saw the wistful look in Beverly's eye as she watched her friends moving through the slow and stately rhythm of the waltz. He repressed a grin; he had a little surprise for her. "Would you care to dance?" he asked his wife gallantly. Her delighted smile was all the answer he needed. He led her onto the floor and took her into his arms. He led her effortlessly through a complicated series of steps. "You've been practicing," she said, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "You noticed," he said, smiling in return, and then sighed heavily. "Penny," she said softly. "I was just thinking about the V'Shnar," he said. "One experiment run amuck, and now they have to start over. Is fifty- two enough to reestablish a species?" "It will have to be," she said. "But they've got our scientists and technology working for them, too; they'll make it. And families can grow at an alarming rate." She smiled teasingly. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "And will they be able to live, knowing what they've done? Will they be able to establish a home again after such a tragedy?" "Oh, I don't know," she said lightly. "*We've* certainly managed to recover nicely." Picard followed her eyes around the room. Riker stood not far away, a pretty ensign on his arm. Deanna coached Alexander through his first waltz, while Worf looked on with a peculiar tenderness on his face. Data was telling jokes - badly, but not as badly as he once had. And Geordi sat at the bar, dandling little Jackie on his knee. The sound of the baby's laugh floated across the room and brushed his ears like the promise of angels. Their baby. In the aftershock of losing the old _Enterprise_, of the death of his brother and nephew, Jean-Luc Picard had thought he might never feel whole again. So much guilt. So much wasted time. But Jackie had changed all that. Jackie... and her mother. The Captain turned his gaze back to his wife, smiled into her glorious eyes. Her face was radiant as sunshine. In spite of the number of people in the room, Jean-Luc leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We *have* done rather nicely at that, haven't we?" "I'd say so," she agreed, moving closer to him as the music slowed. Picard wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her body soft and warm against his. Picard felt a surge of contentment. His friends were all here. His family. He couldn't change the past, couldn't restore the worlds that were lost, but he could keep the memory of such things alive. And in the new _Enterprise_, perhaps they could prevent such tragedies in the future. And with that thought, he realized something. The _Enterprise_ had finally become more than just a ship, more than a huge vessel sailing through the stars. His wedding celebration had been held here, in this very room. His daughter had been born in this ship's sickbay. It was here she would take her first steps, say her first words, here she would learn to talk. Deanna would be her surrogate aunt; Geordi and Will and Data and Worf her uncles. The ship would be filled with laughter and friendship and love, everything that it should be. Safe. Familiar. Comfortable. Home. THE END. Amy M. Raduege |It is possible that blondes araduege@facstaff.wisc.edu | also prefer gentlemen. -Mamie Van Doren