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The Executive Council met in the dead of shipboard night. I wasn't an official member of the Council, though I attended all council sessions, seated in a corner of the room; it was a perspective I preferred. Jean-Luc sat at the head of the long wooden table, and there were four seats on either side. His table keypad glowed faintly in front of him, but the wall screens were dark. To his left was Constance, his wife---a nonvoting member. To his right was the bishop.
To Constance's left was Giordi LaForge, head of Maintenance; he was the bishop's man, no matter what the circumstances. Beside him sat Deanna Troi, the ship's quartermaster, an organized but thoroughly unimaginative woman. Next came Macha Hernandez, the chief engineer---she was thoughtful and intelligent, and I had more respect for her than for anyone else on the council.
On the opposite side of the table, to the bishop's right, sat General Hayden Wyse in full dress uniform emblazoned with medals and ribbons that were purely ceremonial---the man had never participated in an actual military campaign in his life. His eyes were slightly dilated, he licked his lips constantly, and his hands were afflicted with a discernable palsy; He was a Passion addict in the terminal stages. Next to the general was Cole Racine, the appointed representative of the First Echelon, the ruling circle of the ship's upper decks; he was a handsome but empty-headed man. Last was Christopher Pike, the oldest man on the Enterprise at nearly a hundred and forty standard years, and the ship's official historian (though hardly anyone ever read his accounts); he walked with the aid of a wooden cane that he claimed had originally come from Earth.
Scotty, the chief steward, came in with a tray of tea and iced fruit nectars; he served the drinks, setting cups and glasses before each member of the council according to their usual requests. He left pots and pitchers in the center of the table and retreated.
Jean-Luc was about to speak when the bishop straightened, leaned forward, and said, "We'll be making landfall soon, and I shall appoint the Away Team."
Jean-Luc was so stunned he did not know how to respond. I was just as stunned, as everyone else on the council. This was bad. The meeting had barely begun, and already Jean-Luc had lost control of it.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jean-Luc finally managed to say.
"We all know about the transmission," the bishop said. "We know we've adjusted our course. We'll be making landfall, and I just wanted to assume some of the burdens. You're a busy man, Captain, so I want to help. It's just that simple."
"No, it's not just that simple," Jean-Luc said. "First, we don't know what the environmental conditions will be like, and we won't be making landfall on a world we can't live on."
The bishop sighed. "My understanding is that the initial readings are very favorable. Is my understanding inaccurate?"
After a short hesitation, Jean-Luc replied. "No, your understanding is not inaccurate, but the data is very preliminary." He paused, and I knew he was angry, wondering where the bishop was getting his information. "But even if environmental conditions are favorable, we have no idea what the social conditions are---who, if anyone, is living there, and what the situation is. We need to discuss the possibilities so we can be prepared for whatever we might find. Our last landfall, if we all remember, was a major disaster. I'm certain you remember, Bishop."
I could barely keep from smiling. That last landfall, nearly fifteen years ago, was the bishop's disaster ---he tried to convert people who did not want to be converted. We were driven away by angry mobs eager to rend us limb from limb. Several of us were killed before we made our escape. But the bishop waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal; he had never accepted, or admitted, that he was in any way responsible for what happened.
"Nothing like that is likely to occur again. Those people were barbarians. I don't think we need to worry about the 'social' circumstances. Certainly, we'll try to contact anyone who remains, and there'll be specific plans, but those are logistical details which will be worked out over the coming days." He paused, obviously for effect. "What we do not need at this point, after all these years of failure, is timidity. We need an assertive plan of action----an exploration team ready and waiting, and then landfall. I'll take full responsibility for it. It's quite straightforward. If there's a problem, just say so, and we can have a discussion and vote."
Time and tension stretched interminably. Jean-Luc was livid, but he knew there wasn't much he could say or do. Finally, General Wyse spoke.
"Yes," he said, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands. "That sounds like a perfectly reasonable approach. My soldiers will provide the necessary protection; yes, I'll see that the arrangements are made. Yes, yes...." His voice trailed off as if he were speaking to himself, which he probably was.
The bishop looked around the table, his gaze ending on me, in the corner of the room. "Any other comments? Objections?" Nobody replied. They all saw how it was going. Besides, it was what everyone expected would happen eventually, assuming there were no surprises, and no one saw any percentage in coming to Jean-Luc's defense. At least not yet. The bishop turned his attention to Jean-Luc. "Captain?"
Jean-Luc shook his head. "No, I have nothing else to say for the moment."
"More at another time?" the bishop suggested.
"Yes," Jean-Luc replied. "Another time. And much more." But his words sounded hollow.
"Good. One final thing," the bishop said. "Two days from now is Sacred Thursday. I'm preparing a special sermon related to our forthcoming landfall. I expect you all to attend." With that, Bishop Worf rose to his feet and walked out, effectively ending the meeting on his own.
The other council members stayed seated, waiting for Jean-Luc to formally close the meeting. Most wouldn't look at him. Even Constance kept her gaze averted and stared at the table. He closed the meeting, and we left.
Jean-Luc, as could be expected, was unhappy with the way the council meeting went, and was especially unhappy with the way it had ended.
He and I and Constance went to his stateroom afterward, and when he asked Constance to leave, she glared at me with jealous hatred. She could not bear her regular exclusion from our private conferences, and I did not blame her---she had always wanted to consider herself an equal partner in everything, including the running of the Enterprise. This had caused so much friction between Constance and Jean-Luc that their marriage had become as shaky as his position on the ship.
When she had gone, Jean-Luc sat slumped on the wall couch and dimmed the stateroom lights. A dozen small orange globes near the ceiling provided the only illumination, casting moving shadows as they drifted randomly above us. I sat in the padded chair behind his desk.
"Bishop Worf is preparing to move against you," I said.
"He has been for a while," Jean-Luc replied as if that could minimize what was happening.
"Yes, but he can hardly restrain himself. He's no longer waiting for the opportunity, he's working to create the opportunity."
Jean-Luc said nothing, just seemed to sink further into thought, or despair.
For one of the few times I could recall, I had no idea what the captain was thinking. Was he completely unaware of what was going on, planning strategy and tactics to deal with the situation? Or was he somehow oblivious to the real dangers? Or, even worse, was he aware but incapable of responding to the threats? Was I seeing the beginning of his end?
Jean-Luc did have strong tradition on his side, and the First Echelon would be extremely reluctant to break with that tradition, if only because doing so might threaten their security. Though technically an elected position, in practice the captaincy was inherited and had resided within the Picard-Archer clan for several generations. Also, though it might not be true any longer, Jean-Luc had been a good captain for many years, as had his father and his great-uncle before him.
But the situation had deteriorated badly. Jean-Luc was losing respect and authority, and tradition would not hold sway any longer. Jean-Luc had no direct heir, his nephew was an idiot, and no one else within the clan displayed either the qualities or the desire to be captain, which meant the captain after Jean-Luc would be open to outsiders for the first time in decades. The situation brought out ambition everywhere. Especially in the bishop.
"The bishop wants to be captain," I finally said.
In response, Jean-Luc chuckled.
"I know that, Pavel. At first, I thought he just wanted to remove me and replace me with a figurehead that he could control. But no, you're right, he wants to be captain himself." He nodded. "The bishop is a fool."
That was the Captain Jean-Luc Picard I had known all my life, and I felt a little better when I heard his words, and his confidence.
I'm preparing for him," Jean-Luc said, looking at me with a sly grin.
"How?" I asked.
But Jean-Luc just shook his head. "My plans aren't completely ready yet, Pavel. The bishop will not move until after the landfall, when he'll attempt to either take credit for any successes or place blame for any failures. By then, I will be ready. I will let you know what I have in mind; you will give me your advice, and we'll be ready for him."
I had worried about Jean-Luc, but it was as if he needed to be faced with a real threat to stir him, to bring out his cunning and his political strengths. Now that I could see he was prepared, I felt confident again. I thought everything would be all right.
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