ALL BEVERLY THOUGHT about on the walk from her cabin to Picard’s was that now was the time to tell him about Starfleet Medical. After getting some sleep, she had finally looked at her private communications, and there was a draft of Yerbi’s formal retirement announcement. It was dated three weeks hence, which meant the rumor mill would be in full swing within the next week. She had that much time to make a decision. Crusher knew Yerbi had wanted to leave his post sooner, but delayed while she was preoccupied.

Beverly had to weigh and balance her professional wants against her personal needs, and even though she had received feedback from Troi and La Forge, she still had not reached a decision. As she rounded a corner before arriving at the captain’s door, she felt a longing she normally ignored. But this time it continued to draw her, probably because a part of her mind was already imagining a life apart from the Enterprise and its captain.

Picard bade her enter, and she saw the usual breakfast table set for just two. He seemed refreshed, although she suspected he was still strained. After all, the last few days had been hard on everyone, and there was still mopping up to do. She knew he was trying to handle some of Riker’s work, letting the man deal with his loss. Rather than assign the work to Data, he took it on himself, his way of showing respect for his first officer.

They had all lost so much over the last few years, starting with La Forge’s mother going missing. Picard lost his brother and nephew to a fire. Worf lost his wife on Deep Space 9, Data gave away a part of himself by surrendering his emotion chip. And now Kyle Riker was gone. And once again she felt the conflict between fleeing a stressful situation and the benefits of a fresh start.

“Beverly?”

She realized that she let had her mind wander, and Picard had noticed. With a smile, she took her seat and placed the linen napkin in her lap.

“I’m fine, Jean-Luc. Just a lot of things to think through.”

“No doubt,” he said. The tone got her concerned, subtle as it was. Only someone who had known him for decades would have picked up on it.

“In your dress uniform already?”

“Well, I needed to tend to some things, and I didn’t want to have to take the time to change later.”

She poured herself a glass of juice. “What’s the word?”

“The galaxy is quiet this morning. The afternoon, well, that’s another matter.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no knowing when something will go wrong. Or when we’ll be given our next assignment.”

“Of course. Well, I’ll take peaceful for the morning. That way, we’re less likely to be interrupted later.” Tell him, she scolded herself.

“My decisions are never easy ones,” Picard said, catching Crusher off guard. He poured himself tea, placed a pastry on his plate.

“Of course not,” she said, just to say something.

“And once they’re made, I have to live with the consequences. Between assignments I can either brood and reflect or keep moving on. Sometimes those choices are easy, other times less so.”

“Are you saying the seeding of my cure is one you will brood over?”

He took a plate of fruit and studied it. “Actually, I meant giving you that order, forcing you to do something against your better judgment.”

“All your reasons were valid ones, and you certainly won’t be alone in the brooding department.”

“No doubt. But Beverly, this could fester and make our next disagreement more difficult. I value your counsel too much to let that happen.”

Tell him!

“The crew will never always be in total agreement with the captain’s decisions. We’re hundreds of people from dozens of worlds, so there are going to be times when we disagree. But still, you’re the captain; you get to make the hard decisions. I have to do the same on the operating table. Sometimes, I have to choose between letting a patient live or die. Of all the crew, I understand best.”

Picard chewed thoughtfully and then nodded.

“Friends, then?”

“Always.” Now.

A chime sounded, and Picard’s eyes darted to the door in surprise. “Come.”

Riker and Troi entered. Both were grinning, not something she expected from a man who had just lost his father. Well, she thought, at least it seems to be good news.

“Will, good to see you,” Picard said, rising. “Join us.”

“We’re not staying long,” he said. “We need to finish getting ready.” He paused, soaking in the moment, and Crusher was getting a flash of insight into their news. She was already beginning to smile.

“Sir, we’d like to inform you—”

“Don’t be so formal,” Troi said, jabbing him with an elbow. “We’re engaged!”

Beverly jumped from her chair, letting her napkin fall to the floor, and enveloped Troi in a long hug. Picard was already pumping Riker’s hand and offering congratulations. The captain then gave Troi a hug while the doctor gave one to Riker.

“Well, when did this all happen?”

“A few minutes ago,” Riker said. “It was time.”

“It was time years ago, if you ask me,” Beverly said.

“I keep hearing that,” Riker said.

Crusher then noticed Troi was already wearing an engagement ring and gave it a close look. “Well, this was certainly fast.”

“Will had it waiting for me,” Troi said.

“The smoothie,” Crusher said, giving him a pleased look. “It’s amazing.”

“From Delta Sigma IV, too,” Deanna added. “He arranged for it to be brought aboard.”

“I didn’t think Betazed traditions included engagement rings,” Picard said, taking his turn to study the ring.

“Usually they don’t,” Troi agreed. “However, this certainly honors my fiancé and my father’s culture.”

“How true,” the doctor said. “Are there any plans?”

“Not yet,” Troi said. “That will come in time. Obviously, we want you both involved.”

“Absolutely,” Riker agreed.

Picard smiled. “Well, later today we shall return here for a proper celebration. Does anyone else know yet?”

“No,” Riker said.

“We were going to tell the others after…”

“Of course,” Picard said with a nod.

A whistle interrupted something Troi started to say, and Picard looked at his desk. His screen was announcing an incoming call.

Crusher grabbed a piece of bright fruit and ushered the others out. “We’ll see you at the service,” she said.

No sooner had the others left his cabin than Picard swiftly moved behind his desk and sat. The good feelings seeped away quickly, and he arranged his features in order to deal properly with Starfleet Command.

As expected, he was greeted with the visage of Admiral Upton. The man flexed his bushy gray eyebrows once, then twice, and finally spoke.

“Captain, I understand from your reports that a cure has taken hold.”

“That’s right, Admiral,” Picard said.

“Am I to understand that this all stemmed from incomplete work at Starfleet Medical?”

“That is one way to look at it, but I wouldn’t,” Picard argued. “What happened here was unique and not something you’d find on a routine checklist.”

“I told you this would be a lousy mission,” Upton said, still looking dissatisfied.

“And it was. It took a higher toll on my crew than expected.”

“So I see. Nine dead, forty-five seriously injured. And you actually had non-security personnel swarming over the planet.”

“I wouldn’t say several hundred volunteers constitutes a swarm.”

“Volunteers?”

“Yes, Admiral. When it was clear we needed help to contain matters, I asked for volunteers. The response speaks for itself.”

Upton made a coughing noise, which Picard couldn’t interpret as a positive or negative assessment. Perhaps the admiral didn’t know, either.

“Riker’s a loss to our future planning,” Upton said, changing the subject.

“He made a choice, and sacrificed himself for his son. It says a lot about the man’s character.”

“It will complicate some of the brewing problems elsewhere.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

“No,” Upton said bluntly.

“Admiral, with all due respect. We’ve taken the assignments, and paid our dues. I would like to think this ship and its crew deserve better. We’re scrambling for proper supplies and support, and our morale has been shaken.”

“At least you didn’t bang up the ship, for a change,” Upton said. Picard recognized he was going to get nowhere with the admiral.

“Sir, the offhand way in which you’re talking about my crew’s sacrifices diminishes their contribution. Ever since the demon ship, we’ve all been suspect. And time and again, my people have risen to the challenge and excelled. They have exhibited superb competence, and my senior staff has kept them working toward our common goals. We prevented a world from destroying itself. I lost people along the way, people who believed in the mission. They, if not I, deserve your respect and consideration. It’s time for us to return to more strategically vital missions.”

Upton just stared at Picard, eyes smoldering. He was either going to give in or bust Picard back to ensign. Rather than prolong the argument and incur the man’s temper, the captain wisely thought it was time to back off.

An hour later, Picard exited the turbolift and began walking toward the conference room that had been refit for the memorial service. It was the largest one on the ship and would be used for the subsequent services to be held for the crew that had died. But first, the Federation’s tactical envoy was to be memorialized. As he walked, he felt a mix of unease from his conversation with Admiral Upton and joy for Riker and Troi.

In fact, coming from an adjoining corridor was Troi, escorting Seer of Anann, who towered over the counselor. He was dressed in some form of formal attire in muted yellows and oranges. They were chatting amiably, followed by Data and La Forge, both in their dress uniforms, as befit the occasion. Both nodded in Picard’s direction, and he returned the look.

“Protocol Officer, it’s nice to have you aboard.”

“My first time on a starship, actually,” Seer said.

“If you can stay, afterwards we can arrange a tour if you like.”

“That would be most gracious of you, Captain. I have meetings scheduled with Ambassador Morrow for after the service, but maybe we can work something out.”

“How are things below?”

“Calming down. The Council saw fit to use my plan, and it seems to be working. I suspect, though, we will be petitioning the Federation for some additional help.”

“Fortunately, we have an ambassador on hand to expedite things for you. I must say, I am glad your family was spared the worst of it.”

Seer nodded gravely. “My family, yes. My house, no. I will be devoting quite a number of days to roof repairs and repainting. At least, that’s what Dorina tells me.”

Picard grinned and was about to say something when Seer continued.

“May I ask, Captain, how did Riker elude us for so long?”

“Ah, yes, the great mystery. As you know, Kyle Riker was one of the Federation’s top tacticians. He therefore had access to the top-of-the-line equipment for all manner of work. He used a bio-signal inhibitor. Very sophisticated and usually used when conducting field work on potential first contact worlds. The range was expanded to include the commander as well.”

“Amazing,” Seer said, clearly impressed.

Picard gestured for them to follow him. They walked a short distance and then entered the conference room. A podium was erected in the right corner with a small spotlight, the Starfleet crest affixed to its front. Beside it was a coffin that gleamed in the light. A Federation flag was draped over most of it so the ends seemed to twinkle. Above the coffin, on a wall-mounted screen, was Kyle’s current service photo. The features were stern, the eyes slightly blurred because they had moved. He had clearly been uncomfortable having the picture taken. Row after row of chairs were being filled with crew, most of whom had served with Will Riker over the years. Picard’s eyes drifted over the assembled bodies, and he was pleased by his ability to name the vast majority of them. They were good people, and he took justified pride in their actions.

Seer took a seat at the side, beside Colton Morrow, who looked fully recovered from his injuries. At least one of the Federation’s envoys will make it back alive, Picard mused. The front row was for the senior officers with La Forge, Data, and Crusher all seated. Vale entered the room and seemed uncertain of where to sit. Picard beckoned her over, gesturing to a chair up front. She had more than earned her place with the others.

Finally, after another minute or two, Will entered. The happy glow on his face was gone, replaced with the mask of the mourning son. From what the captain gathered, they were just beginning to speak once more when the tragedy occurred. No doubt this severely complicated how Will now saw his father.

He tugged his uniform jacket tight across the chest and then strode to the podium. All eyes turned to him, ready to begin the memorial.