A Hand In Fate. Beverly Crusher, CMO of the Starship Enterprise sighed as she listened to her best friend and CO, Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He scowled down at his croissant, applying butter in short angry strokes. His obvious annoyance piqued her curiosity and, as she always did, she decided to do a little digging. “So tell me…what’s wrong with him? You’re acting as if he’s some sort of…monster.” The Captain’s eyes lifted from his contemplation of his breakfast and he took a moment to settle his anger. “Beverly look, I’ve heard things about him…unpleasant things. He’s not the sort of officer I want on this ship, albeit even as a short stint as an observer.” Beverly sipped her coffee thoughtfully and chuckled. “Admit it Jean-Luc, you don’t want a Commodore looking over your shoulder in any event. What you resent is that Headquarters deemed it necessary to send an observer in the first place. I happen to have heard a few things about Desmond Harris and from what I can tell, he’s quite an accomplished officer.” Shoving his plate to one side, Jean-Luc picked up his coffee and glared at his CMO. “Well I’ve heard different.” The Doctor, warming to the task of baiting her best friend, leaned forward and cupped her chin in her hand. “Have you ever served with him?” The Captain sighed and shook his head. “I’ve not had that pleasure, but friends of mine have informed me he is a tyrant…a stickler for rules, unbending on matters of protocol and rigid beyond the norm. I tell you Beverly he will be a disruptive influence on this ship.” Unused to hearing her Captain be so negative about any officer, especially a superior one, she decided to drop the subject. That was until Jean-Luc added one final comment. “And he’s quite the ladies man Beverly. You’d be well advised to stay away from him.” Now her own anger bubbled up. Looking directly into his eyes, she kept her voice soft. “You wouldn’t be trying to tell me I can’t make up my own mind on this would you?” Noting the soft timbre of her words and the hardness in her blue eyes, Jean-Luc held up his hands. “All I’m doing is warning you. All right?” Somewhat mollified, Beverly sat back and brushed some crumbs off her lap. “Very well I will take your concerns under consideration. When is he due to come aboard?” Jean-Luc stood and dropped his serviette on the table. Tugging down on his tunic, he stretched his neck slightly. “This afternoon. The Endeavour will rendezvous with us and he will transfer then.” Seeing that breakfast was over, Beverly stood then, on an impulse, stepped up to her friend and rubbed his arm. “Don’t worry about me Jean-Luc. I’m a big girl…I can take care of myself.” He dredged up a smile and snorted when she gently punched his shoulder. They left his quarters to begin their day.
1