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Riker turned slightly. "Worf, see to the transfer of our cargo to Thiopa."
"Right away, Commander."
Picard stood before Amba.s.sador Undrun.
"Thank you for your support."
"Thank you for your patience," Undrun answered warmly.
"Number One," said Picard, "I believe we have one more item to see to."
The first officer rose to his feet.
"To sickbay, sir?"
Picard responded with a nod and they strode up the side ramp. "Mr. Data, you have the bridge."
As the turbolift doors shut out the hum of bridge activity, Picard said, "What would you recommend to the Federation about Thiopa?"
"I think the Federation should look somewhere else for a reliable ally." "Agreed," Picard said. "The real tragedy, though, is the future of this world."
"Bareesh isn't really feeling the pain yet.
Maybe they'll change their tune when things get worse."
"Maybe. But will anything ever make the Sojourners change theirs?"
They arrived at Dr. Pulaski's office to find Mori pacing nervously, alone.
"Where's the doctor?" Riker asked.
Before Mori could reply, Pulaski entered from her lab. "Right here."
Mori's whole body stiffened with pent-up antic.i.p.ation. "Do you know-was Pulaski's mouth softened into a rea.s.suring smile. "It's not your father's body in that tomb."
The young Sojourner exhaled the breath she'd been holding and sank down into the nearest chair. The three stars.h.i.+p officers surrounded her, concern lining their faces.
"I thought you'd be happy to hear it." Pulaski began.
"I am, in a way," Mori said in a small voice. "He's not dead inside that pyramid . .
. but he might still be dead." She stopped, her eyes revealing confusion and something unexpected: shame.
Riker saw it clearly. "There's something else bothering you ... Whatever it is, it's okay."
She shook her head vigorously. "No, it's not. was She groped for the right words, or any words.
When she found them, they were whispered. "Part of me was hoping it was Evain buried there. Then at least I would have known."
Her shoulders began to tremble, but she a.s.serted control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "So I don't know. Not for sure. But I will find out."
"I believe you will," Picard said, helping her up with a fatherly hand. "We'll be leaving orbit soon. Time to send you home."
With the Enterprise's two commanding officers flanking her, Mori paused at the sickbay door. "Dr. Pulaski-thank you."
"You're welcome. And good luck."
On their way to the transporter room, they saw lanky Wesley Crusher and tiny Frid Undrun coming toward them around the curving corridor.
"Amba.s.sador Undrun," said Riker, "I didn't get a chance to thank you."
"For what?"
"Captain Picard told me how you tried to get the Sojourners to turn me loose. That took a lot of guts, going down there alone. Not a lot of brains-but a lot of guts." He smiled.
Mori tugged on Riker's sleeve. "Hey, that's the same thing you said about me."
"Well, you two have a lot in commonbullheadedness."
"A good quality to have," Undrun boomed. Then he smiled and added: "When tempered with some clear-headed common sense. In any case, you're welcome ... Commander Riker."
"I think I misjudged you, Mr.
Amba.s.sador."
"No, you didn't," Undrun said with a shake of his head. "But I've realized something I should have known before: not every obstacle can be hurdled with a computer a.n.a.lysis and a five-year plan."
Riker grinned. "Do you think you can nurture this newfound wisdom?" "I plan to try. I have to get used to the concept that experiences are to be learned from, not just filed away in mission-briefing reports."
"C'mon, Amba.s.sador," Wesley urged.
"We'll be late."
"Late?" Picard's eyebrow rose. "For what?"
"Wesley has invited me to address his cla.s.s in Problems in Cross-Cultural Contacts.
Maybe they can learn from my mistakes."
Wes pulled the diminutive diplomat along, saying, "Guest speakers don't get demerits for being late ... but I do!"
Once they reached the transporter room, Mori bounded up to the beaming chamber, propelled by a clear sense of purpose. "I can't wait to get back. I've got a lot of work to do."
Riker admonished, "Remember what the amba.s.sador just said."
"About learning from experiences? I will."
"You're going back to a dangerous world."
"I know."
"Your own people may not give you the support you want, to do what you want to do."
"Then I'll find it someplace else." She smiled. "And maybe I'll find my father, too."
Riker nodded. "Be careful down there."
"I will," she said. "And thank you, both of you."
Transporter Chief O'Brien tapped in the beamdown coordinates. "Ready, sir," he told Picard.
"Energize," the captain said.
O'Brien touched the control pad again, and Riker watched Mori's silhouette fade away until she was gone. Her life hadn't been an easy one, and the odds against finding her father and winning his freedom were too high to calculate.
Still, whatever tests she had yet to face, Riker had a feeling Mori would hold her ground.
Wnx No uand.mniAnlm mEED to return to the bridge, Picard and Riker took the opportunity to do something they both enjoyed-take a stroll through the Enterprise. As they pa.s.sed a small recreation lounge, a strident braying crashed into their ears at pa*ducing volume.
To Picard it sounded like a herd of bellowing beasts undergoing unspeakable torture.
Riker, of course, knew what it was instantly.
A second blast of noise virtually paralyzed them in the corridor. The moment it ended, Picard lunged for the rec-room door, with Riker just behind: The door slid aside, revealing no beasts being butchered just Worf, Geordi LaForge, and Data sitting on stools around a computer screen displaying what appeared to be musical notation. Each player cradled his own Klingon chuS'ugh.
Riker went pale. A whole orchestra?
As always, Picard retained his composure. "So this is a Klingon, uh-was "ChuS'ugh, was Worf said, his tone defensive.
Picard reached out with one finger to pluck a single string on Geordi's instrument. The engineer positively beamed at the reverberating noise.
"Isn't that the most amazing sound?"
"Amazing," Picard said with a wan smile.
"Geordi liked it so much," Data said, "that he had the computer manufacture two more, identical to Worf's."
"I thought Data should learn more about music," the chief engineer added, as if explaining the android's presence.
"Music," Riker muttered with a shake of his head.
But Geordi continued without skipping a beat. "And then I thought, since you didn't seem too excited about having a chuS'ugh in the s.h.i.+p's jazz combo, well, why do we have only one combo?"
"You mean ... a chuS'ugh combo?" Riker asked numbly.
"Hey, why not? Once we get good enough, we can have an old-time battle of the bands."
"I surrender," Riker said quickly, already backing out of the room. He and Picard escaped before the next sonic disruption from the rec lounge. They headed for the nearest turbolift back to the bridge. "I'm afraid you've released an elemental force,"
Picard commented, with a thumbed reference back toward the raucous rehearsal.
Riker chuckled. "Two in one day, sir."
"You mean Mori?"
"Yes, sir. You know, she really wanted a shot at the rest of those hoverjets."
"Determined young lady."
"Stubborn is more like it."
"That characteristic could serve her well," Picard allowed, "if properly directed."
"Or it could get her into trouble she can't get out of someday." "Like her planet?" Riker nodded wi/lly as they entered the turbolift.
"Bridge." The doors slid shut and the pod rose through. the s.h.i.+p. "People can get so d.a.m.ned selfrighteous-their answers are the only answers. Just b.u.t.ting heads at cross-purposes-can't they see they're destroying their own future?" Picard's expression turned philosophical. "Seems to be part of the maturation process for most civilizations, ours included. Takes a bit of luck to survive it." "The Sojourners seem so certain they'll come out on top, no matter what the sacrifice," Riker observed. "Sometimes the only way to win a battle is to avoid fighting it."
"That doesn't seem to have occurred to either side on Thiopa." With imperceptible deceleration, the lift came to a stop and opened onto the Enterprise bridge. Picard and Riker joined Counselor Troi, who was seated on the lower level. Wesley Crusher was at his console, enjoying a whispered chat with Ensign Lanni Sakata, the raven-haired young woman he'd found so distracting on other occasions. "I think I see a developing crush," Riker murmured to Captain Picard. "Mmmm. That's your department, Number One." 271 STAR TREK: THE NEXT
GENERATION.
"Captain," said Lieutenant White from behind the command seats, "we've completed off-loading of all relief supplies." "It'll be a relief to get away from Thiopa," Riker quipped, prompting a trace of a smile from Picard. "Amen to that, Number One." "Mr. Crusher," said Riker, drawing Wesley's attention. "I believe the Enterprise was meant for better things than playing nursemaid to freight drones. Do you concur?"
"Yes, sir, I do," Wesley replied with crisp a.s.surance. "Then set course for Starbase Seventy-seven. Let's get rid of those empty cargo carriers and get back to work." Wesley's slender fingers danced across his panel in a flurry of electronic tones. "Course plotted, Commander." "Thank you, Ensign.
Captain ... ?" "Engage," said Picard.
He settled back into the firm padding of the command chair, watching Thiopa's murky image recede as the great stars.h.i.+p made a graceful roll and left orbit. He wanted to feel that relief Riker had joked about a moment before, feel the tension recede much as the planet itself was being left behind. But he couldn't, not just yet. "Let's look ahead," he said. To the missing detail ... Riker discerned the double meaning. "Forward view," he ordered. Ensign Sakata touched her keypad. "Forward, sir." The main viewscreen switched from the troubled world behind to "the mystical cleansing clarity of star-strewn s.p.a.ce. Picard had noticed Wesley sneak a look at Lanni Sakata. Can't blame him-she's 272 Power Hungry lovely ... But now both Captain Picard and Ensign Crusher had eyes only for the stars spread before them. "Better, Captain?" Riker asked. "Much better, Number One." Picard's stern features glowed with the satisfaction of a man who knew where he belonged. "Ensign Sakata, ahead, warp factor four." At tempo allegro, the Enterprise swept toward the stars.