"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant," said Riker. "I wouldn't want to distract the minister from his new duties. He's a busy man." His grin grew wider and wider as he contemplated the blank viewscreen. "Oh, yes, a very busy man."
"And one final item," said Beverly Crusher as she ran a finger down the list on the data padd. She kept her eyes focused on the medical report as she spoke. "The last quake casualty-one Lars Trimble-was discharged from sickbay's critical care unit this morning. Since the medical facilities in Kirlosia received first reconstruction priority, the staff can handle a new influx of patients. Mr. Riker has already arranged to transport all Kirlosian patients back to the planet."
"Excellent," said Picard.
At the sound of his voice, Crusher glanced up, but the movement of the fish in the aquarium of the ready room drew her attention away from the captain's face.
"As soon as the away team has been beamed aboard, the Enterprise will break orbit. We should reach Tehuan in just a few days."
"Counselor Troi will be pleased to hear that," said the doctor, quickly rising from her chair. "Evidently the colonists are most anxious to return to their homes now ... now that the threat from the Ariantu fleet has been neutralized."
Crusher was already halfway to the door of the ready room when she spun around and added, "Oh, I have a message for you from Wesley."
"Yes?"
Her brow wrinkled in thought. Finally she shook her head. "It was something about graves and a pillar of state?"
Picard looked blank for a moment, then nodded. He quickly keyed in instructions to the computer and a book appeared on the screen. Picard scrolled through the pages until he found his place. He read the passage aloud.
"With grave aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies.
"From Book Two of Milton's Paradise Lost." Picard stared at the page. "It seems Ensign Crusher has not neglected his classical studies after all. But ..."
Looking up at the doctor, he cocked one eyebrow in silent enquiry.
This time Crusher did not avert her eyes. In a quiet voice she said, "I suspect it's a sort of ... apology. For doubting the wisdom of a starship captain."
"I see." He held her gaze for a moment longer, then cleared the computer screen. "Apology accepted."
Data never paused for breath. Once settled in a chair in the ready room, he delivered his mission report in stupefying detail without the slightest break that would provide an opportunity for a tactful interruption.
However, Picard was so pleased by the return of the away team that he listened to the narration of events on Kirlos without revealing any sign of impatience. Geordi interjected an occasional comment, but he also seemed willing to indulge the android. Worf's concession to the team leader was less enthusiastic but properly stoic for a Klingon; he stood unmoving in the background.
"Many Sullurh have already assumed key posts in the administration of the planet," concluded Data at last. "Given the large numbers of their race who were employed by the K'Vin and Federation embassies, the transfer of authority should proceed smoothly."
"Apparently Minister Gezor is not so optimistic," said Picard. He rushed on before Data could inquire further; there were limits to the captain's patience. "However, Kirlos is no longer our concern. It is time for us to move on."
"Agreed," rumbled Worf. His eyes drifted toward the doors of the ready room, then snapped back to Picard. "Sir."
The captain rose from his chair, formally signaling the end of the debriefing. "Commander Data, Lieutenant Commander La Forge, Lieutenant Worf. Well done."
Any pleasure Worf might have felt in the commendation was masked by his swift exit from the room, but the captain's praise brought smiles to the faces of the other two officers.
"Commander La Forge," called out Picard to keep the chief engineer from leaving with the android. "Geordi."
The captain walked out from behind his desk; he carried the arizite statue of the Ariantu warrior.
He held it out to Geordi. "I thought you might want to keep this, as a memento of Nassa Coleridge."
Geordi reached out slowly to touch the smooth surface. He drew back his fingers as if burned.
"Thank you, Captain. But it's ... too cold." Picard was afraid his offering had only hurt Geordi more, reminding him of the professor's death rather than her life, but then the young man smiled. "You keep it, sir. Nassa will get a kick out of knowing it's with someone who'll appreciate it."
"Er, yes," said Picard. "I'm sure she ... will."
He smiled back until the engineer had left the room, but once alone, Picard made a mental note to tell Deanna Troi about Geordi's strange manner of speaking about the professor in the present tense.
In any event, he had to admit to some relief at La Forge's refusal of the gift. Despite his offer, and it had been sincere, Picard had been loath to give up the statue. It might not hold any welcome associations for Geordi; for Picard, however, it was closely linked with the passage from the arizite quarries of Tehuan to the wormhole of Kirlos. Throughout that troubled journey the marble carving had been his talisman, solid to the touch while he struggled with intangibles.
The captain walked to the far end of his couch and placed the figure on an empty side table, then stepped back to judge the effect.
Just as he had suspected: the statue fit very neatly in that spot, centered in a soft circle of light that accentuated the veins of color running through the marble. Yet, despite its polished beauty, Picard pitied the unknown Ariantu warrior frozen in eternal combat, forever leaping forward to grapple with an unseen enemy.
Picard had fought his own private battle during the last few days-and won.
Epilogue.
FOR THE MOMENT, things were quiet again. Thul was alone in his house, sitting in a chair that had been undamaged by the tremors.
If he closed his eyes, if he ignored the cracked and broken things on his floor, he could almost imagine that none of it had happened. He could almost believe that Lektor had never come. That the explosions and the other incidents of terrorism had never taken place. That the Howling God mechanism had never threatened to hurl Kirlos into oblivion.
But he couldn't keep his eyes closed forever. And when he opened them, he knew it had happened. All of it. There was no escaping the fact-or the Sullurh's culpability for them.
They had created havoc. They had killed. They had caused misery and pain.
These things could not be erased. Maybe Federation law could not hold the Sullurh responsible for what they had done, but each individual could hold himself responsible.
And they would. He would see to that.
What had happened in this age of the Return would not be hidden behind the curtains of history. It would be remembered, passed on from generation to generation; and with each telling, the Sullurh would be redeemed a little-would grow a little wiser, perhaps.
For something like this must never happen again, he resolved. Not in our lifetime or any lifetime to come.
They had been given a second chance. He prayed they would use it wisely.