Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
[Scene: Captain Picard’s Ready Room]
Seated at his desk in his Ready Room, Captain Jean-Luc Picard was relishing the mundane silence for once in what had felt like a while. His fingers steepled as he grazed through the latest ship reports displayed on his terminal. The hum of the Enterprise engines was a familiar comfort, a constant presence that meant they were progressing through space, even with the inertial dampeners, the veteran starship captain could feel the subtlest movement of their Federation starship. Jean-Luc Picard was held in high regard by Starfleet Command, experienced, accomplished, and just the man they wanted at the helm of their flagship.
This was a quiet moment, the kind he rarely got, and he intended to savor it until the chime of an incoming priority transmission interrupted his thoughts. In the privacy of his Ready Room he did not need to be the stern elder leader with a stiff upper lip, a professional with a hardened aura. He could indulge in expressing the disappointment of the interruption. He let out a hassled groan and a hushed “What now?” utterance to himself.
He straightened his uniform and tapped the control panel in order to place the queued call on his screen because priority one meant two things: urgent and often containing information not privy to the eyes of ears of neither the Federation public nor starship personnel, not even those serving aboard the Enterprise-D outside of those that were need to know, and only then, after their Commanding Officer, Picard in this case determined that they were indeed in a state of needing to know. He had straightened his uniform as priority one channels were most often used by brass, Starfleet admiralty although an occasional diplomat or bureaucrat at the behest of the Federation government would use a priority one channel.
The Starfleet Medical emblem appeared, then dissolved into the familiar face. It was that of an old friend, one that he had known for decades of his seasoned career. She also happened to have been a former shipmate aboard the Enterprise-D, his former Ship’s Chief Physician turned current Head of Starfleet Medical, Dr. Beverly Crusher.
Picard felt something shift in his chest, and it was not the synthetic implant that had been keeping him alive for most of his life. It had been months since he had last spoken to her, and the distance between them both physical and emotional was something he hadn’t quite come to terms with. “Doctor,” he addressed her with a bit of a raspy croak.
“Captain,” Beverly replied, her tone formal. Too formal. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then softened. “Jean-Luc.”
Picard inclined his head slightly and lifted the formalness in suit with her. “It’s good to see you, Beverly.”
A small, knowing smile flickered across her face, but it disappeared just as quickly. “I wish I were calling under better circumstances” she responded. Her facial expression shifting to one of concern and clearly her mind on something troubling that she was wrestling with as there was empathy in her eyes.
Picard’s expression grew more serious as did his tone of voice. Gone quickly was Jean-Luc, and in its place was the commanding tone of the seasoned Captain Picard, Commanding Officer of the Federation’s flagship, Enterprise. “What’s happened?”
She exhaled, a breath of weariness slipping through. “Captain, there is a medical crisis unfolding on a remote Klingon colony called Qo’lar. It is an aggressive viral outbreak. It is spreading rapidly, and the Klingon governor of Qo’lar has broken precedent by formally requesting Starfleet assistance in what I’ll presume is defiance of the Klingon High Council and High Chancellor K’mpec.”
That caught Picard’s full attention. “Yes, it would appear so” he affirmed and surprised by the action. “The Klingons rarely seek outside help. If they’re reaching out, the situation must be dire, and one this Governor of Qo’lar must feel worth risking his life for. The High Council will not be pleased with breaking rank. They may in fact find it to be dishonorable.”
“From what I have read, It is.” Beverly leaned forward slightly, the concern in her eyes was profoundly evident. “This virus is unlike anything we’ve seen before. It attacks the Klingons’ redundant organ systems, overwhelming their natural resilience. From there? The next target is their primary organ system. The mortality rate is climbing, and if it spreads beyond Qo’lar, the consequences for the Empire could be catastrophic.”
Picard frowned, absorbing the weight of her words. “And you want the Enterprise to intervene?” An accomplished diplomat in his own right maybe a right he did not have to be, Jean-Luc was already mulling over the fallout of a Klingon Governor requesting outside aid, especially that of the Federation. Klingon-Federation relations were far better than they had been in years, but it was still a tense and often distantly maintained relationship.
“I need you to transport Dr. Pulaski to Qo’lar,” Crusher confirmed his reading of the instructions that were now coming his way. “She has experience treating Klingon physiology, and frankly, her direct approach might be what’s needed to cut through any resistance from the local authorities and the broader Klingon Empire” she elaborated.
At the mention of Dr. Pulaski, Picard’s lips pressed into a thin line. He respected her medical expertise, but working with Pulaski had been… daunting. She was brilliant, but her bluntness and skepticism, especially regarding Data had been a point of friction amongst the crew, especially his senior staff. Still, she was the ship’s Chief Medical Officer now. This was her mission.
“I assume you would be handling this personally if you weren’t stationed at Starfleet Medical,” Picard said, studying her.
Beverly’s eyes flickered with something, perhaps regret? Frustration? “I would have wanted to,” she admitted. “But that isn’t my place anymore, Jean-Luc. It’s Pulaski’s. I just needed to make sure you understood the stakes of this mission.”
Not your place anymore? Jean-Luc echoed in his mind her cerebral phrasing, carefully chosen and pointedly spoken. Damn it, Beverly he thought to himself but maintained his composure. She chose to leave the Enterprise. He had not made her do so, had he? Surely, she could not have stayed. Turning down the opportunity to head Starfleet Medical with the rank of commander would have been career suicide.
A beat of silence passed between them, filled with words unsaid. He had not realized how much he had missed their easy rapport until now. Pulaski was competent, but she was not Beverly, not even remotely. The Enterprise had not quite felt the same since Dr. Crusher had left. He suspected she knew that as well.
“You care about this case,” he observed quietly.
“I care about all my cases, Jean-Luc,” she countered, but there was something else in her voice. “And I care about the Enterprise. I spent over a year on that ship, with that crew. Of course, I want to make sure they succeed.”
Picard hesitated. “And how are you?”
Beverly blinked at the shift in topic. “I...” She sighed. “Busy. Starfleet Medical is demanding, and I don’t have the luxury of long conversations or leisurely cups of tea in the observation lounge nor to chit chat over croissants for breakfast.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “You always did have a habit of drinking tea when you worked late” he said. He knew where that habit was picked up after Jack’s death aboard the Stargazer when Jean-Luc spent time consoling his deceased friend’s widow.
She smirked, shaking her head. “I see you haven’t stopped drinking your Earl Grey.”
“Some things are constant” he replied. There was a dulled sparkle in his gaze. “Others not so much” he added.
“Good to know.” There was warmth in her voice, a brief return to familiarity. But just as quickly, the moment passed, and the professional mask returned. “I’ll transmit all available data on the disease. You will have everything you need promptly, Captain, well before your arrival.”
Picard nodded. “I’ll ensure Dr. Pulaski is briefed immediately.”
Beverly hesitated again, her fingers brushing the edge of her desk. “Jean-Luc…”
He met her gaze. “Yes?”
“Be careful. The Klingons may have asked for help, but that does not mean they’ll be easy to work with. Pulaski is brilliant, but she does not always tread lightly.”
Picard exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, I can attest, she does not.” Does she ever tread lightly he thought. If she did, he was not privy to such an occurrence.
Beverly smiled, just a little. “Take care of yourself, Captain.”
He softened at that. “And you, Doctor.”
The transmission ended, and the screen went dark. Picard sat back in his chair, staring at the now empty terminal. The room felt quieter than before, hollower. He had spent the better part of a year adjusting to Beverly’s absence, telling himself that it was just another personnel change, another shift in the tide of Starfleet.
But in moments like these, he realized just how much he missed her and that continuing to tell himself it was just another personnel change was a fool’s errand, and a blatant lie.
He reached for his tea, now lukewarm, and took a sip. Then, setting it down with renewed focus, he tapped his combadge.
“Picard to Dr. Pulaski. Report to my ready room. We have a mission.”
A brief pause, then came the woman’s voice responding through the combadge, brisk and unmistakenly confident. “I’m on my way, Captain” she said.
As he waited for her reply, he exhaled slowly. Old wounds had a way of lingering, but duty always came first. And right now, duty meant saving lives whether or not he liked the way the universe had arranged the pieces.
Somehow, he suspected Beverly felt the same way.