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Disclaimer: Star Trek: The Next Generation and all its characters belong to Paramount Pictures; no infringement of copyright is intended. The story however belongs to me.
Just a Chair
It's just a chair, Picard kept telling himself. But still, it held a certain fascination for him. He stood in the center of the Enterprise's bridge, or at least in what used to be the bridge. All the other officers had already beamed up to the Farragut, which would take them to Earth; only Picard had stayed behind to take a last look at what had once been the place where he had most felt at home aboard the whole ship. Now it was nothing more than a big pile of junk, and in the middle of it all stood the command chair, slightly burned but otherwise intact. Picard lowered himself into the seat carefully. It was as comfortable as ever, and when he closed his eyes he could almost hear the familiar sounds of regular bridge activity. He vividly recalled the time when Wesley Crusher had manned the conn, eager to warrant the trust that had been placed in him. He was proud of what had become of his best friend's son, and he was sure that Wesley would find his own way in life. Another regular officer at the conn had been Ro Laren, and she too had made her own choices. Remembering her brought a feeling of failure to Picard's mind; he still wondered whether there would have been a way to keep her from joining the Maquis. Somehow he felt personally responsible for her defection and wished he could have convinced her to stay with Starfleet. Picard ran his hands over the now dead consoles in the chair's armrests. Very often he had wondered who would be sitting in his chair when he would be gone. Of course, it had never been exclusively his, he had always had to share it with others. Apart from the regular shift rotation, all of the senior officers had been forced to take command at some point over the years, even Troi and Doctor Crusher. Crusher's time as acting captain had actually proved to be among the most difficult situations in her career so far, trapped between the threat of destruction at the hands of the Borg and her determination to save as many of the Enterprise's crew members as possible. Only the metaphasic shielding had allowed her escape. Worf and LaForge had also had their chances to try the 'big chair', as well as numerous other Lieutenants who had overseen gamma shift. The two people who had benefited most from the chair's powers were undeniably Riker and Data, the second- and third-in-command. For Data this had meant growing beyond his programming, making decisions which could not always be based purely on logic, and being responsible for more than one thousand people who depended on his actions. He had been able to put this abilities to the test by commanding his own ship when the Federation uncovered a Romulan plot threatening the Federation-Klingon alliance; and he had performed the task with remarkable ingenuity. For Riker, being the officer in command had also proved to be a challenging task, and he sometimes had had to fight hard to keep his temper in check. Over time, however, the responsibilities had grown on him, and Picard was sure that his first officer was now ready for a command of his own, that he had actually been ready for it a long time and just had not wanted to leave the Enterprise. Riker's most difficult decision had undeniably been the instruction to fire on the Borg ship, thus effectively ordering Picard's/Locutus' death. Picard had actually watched him give the order, and his Borg-infiltered mind had analyzed Riker's decision as the only logical choice. Still, he shuddered at the recollection. For Picard himself, the chair first of all had meant getting used to having civilians on board. More than once had he questioned Starfleet's decision concerning that matter. It had not felt right putting them in any kind of danger, and although the Enterprise was mainly an exploratory vessel, danger could not always be avoided. Many situations had required him to make decisions he did not like; twice he had even been forced to initiate the autodestruct sequence to prevent the Enterprise from being used to an alien's liking. Once the ship could be evacuated in time, but in their encounter with Nagilum it had appeared as if they would all die in the explosion. It had not been an easy task for the captain to order his crew to their deaths, but he had been resolved not to let the entity use them for his experiments. Luckily the worst could be avoided in time. In other incidents, he had been fortunate as well; casualties had always been light. Even in their battles with the Borg, the Enterprise had escaped with minimal losses to personnel. But still he had mourned every single life lost. During the seven years of Picard's command of the Enterprise, there had been numerous occasions when he had been kidnapped or otherwise detained. More than once it had looked like he would not be able to return, especially when captured and altered by the Borg; and in those moments he had always wondered if he had done the chair's responsibilities justice. In particular during his torture at the hands of the Cardassians, he had questioned all his past actions in the intervals between the interrogations. But he had stood his ground, refusing to give in, and in the end he had won. So far, there had always been one way or another to overcome even the greatest obstacles, and Picard silently thanked whichever deity was holding a protecting hand over his fate and those of his crew. The Prime Directive had also played an important part in their dealings with different civilizations, probably the most important of all. How often had he sat there in his chair, pondering his options and silently cursing the law that bound his hands. Nikolai Rozhenko, Worf's brother, had once taken the decision out of his hands, saving the Boralaans against Picard's order of non-interference. Although he had been furious when finding out about Rozhenko's actions, Picard secretly had to admit a certain admiration for the man, and also relief at knowing that the Boralaan society would not die out after all; but it had made handling the Prime Directive even more difficult in the future. However, despite all the serious occurrences, there had also been light moments and even occasional laughter on the bridge. Picard still grinned at the memory of Q appearing naked in front of the command crew, being stripped of all his powers as well as his clothes. Of course the alien had made up for that humiliation at later times, and Picard was sure that her short experience as a dog was not among the things Beverly Crusher liked to remember. He, too, would rather forget certain incidents which had amused the crew for weeks afterwards; not the least of which being his wooing of Lwaxana Troi by use of Shakespeare, in order to reclaim her from the Ferengi. Sometimes, in particularly trying moments, he had attempted to shut himself off, to escape somewhere where no one could reach him. Far too often had he succeeded. But lately Picard had come to realize that opening himself up to others, to people who were close to him, actually helped him to resolve deeper conflicts. As a result, he had begun to reconsider his relationship with Beverly Crusher. After discovering the true extent of their feelings towards each other on Kesprytt, he had been willing to explore the possibilities of closer involvement. Her obvious reluctance had surprised and puzzled him, and he had actually been quite disappointed about her reaction to his offer. Maybe now that she no longer was an officer under his command (since he did not have a ship to command anymore), she would reconsider her decision. He sincerely hoped that that was really all that stood between them. Picard rose and cast one last glance at the charred remains of the command chair. What would come next? A new ship, a new command? Or a more planetbound assignment, probably as an ambassador? Would he ever have a seat like this again, so comfortable and yet at the same time so demanding? Softly shaking his head, he turned away. After all, it was just a chair, wasn't it? The end.
© 1995-2000 by Hester
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avid readers since October 5, 2000
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