Full Circle, Part 2

Last week we met Captain Adele Blanchard and were a witness to her discovery that her own father had attended Starfleet Academy. We learned that Pierre Blanchard and his childhood friend, Jean-Luc Picard, planned to sabotage a banquet at the Academy in order to exact revenge on an upper classman. Now, read the conclusion of “Full Circle” and learn whether our two conspirators were successful in their plot.

=/\=

The evening of the banquet, Pierre met Jean-Luc outside his room. “I hope this scheme of yours is worth it,” he grumbled. “I could have had a date with Lise Elliott tonight.”

“I think your love life can stand a break,” his friend chuckled. “Besides, you might be able to find some girl in the fourth-year class who thinks you look handsome in your dress uniform.”

“Is everything ready?” Pierre asked.

“Yes, I was able to sneak into the hall and hide the wine in a place no one will ever find it.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. Our heads are going to roll if we’re caught.”

“Oh, come now, Pierre,” Jean-Luc teased. “It isn’t like you to get cold feet at the last minute.”

“Yes, but I’ve never had the nerve to pull off something as dangerous as this,” Pierre replied nervously.

“But when it works, think of how terrible McKenzie will look.” The two friends laughed, and headed off to the banquet.

=/\=

The evening wore on with the expected boredom. First, the Academy’s deputy commandant spoke, for what seemed like an eternity, on how proud he was of the senior class. It seemed like he was listing the accomplishments of each cadet. Then the president of the class spoke about how grateful the cadets were to have gotten the opportunity to become officers in Starfleet. Then some more people got up, so many that Pierre gave up trying to keep track of them all.

Whenever Pierre or Jean-Luc passed the table where McKenzie was sitting, they were very careful to fill up everyone’s glasses. The older student did not pass up the opportunity to rib the two younger ones about having to serve his meal. “I always thought that all you Frenchies made the best waiters,” he said, tripping Pierre as he walked past. Pierre fought the urge to level a swift punch at his antagonist, reminding himself that he would get his revenge later.

By the time the class president finished speaking, McKenzie’s face was decidedly flushed, and he was talking louder and louder. Pierre and Jean-Luc exchanged a knowing glance, assured that their plan was working. Before long, a security guard came to the table and asked McKenzie to keep his voice down. At first, the student in question complied, but eventually he got bolder. On the third request, he told the security guard what he could do with his phaser.

“I think you’d better leave, Midshipman McKenzie,” the guard said firmly. He started to take the student’s arm, but McKenzie had other ideas.

“I’ll thank you to take your hands off of me, you Glob-fly,” he retorted loudly. People at the neighboring tables looked up curiously. “What are you looking at?” McKenzie snapped.

With that, three teachers came to assist the guard in removing McKenzie from the hall. In response, the student started swinging, causing the table to crash to the ground. Another cadet at the same table, who had also had the benefit of the fine vintage, decided to help his comrade. Before long, half of the guests were involved in a fight of furious proportions. By the time the security guards arrived to clean up the mess, more than one cadet had been sent to the infirmary with varying degrees of injuries. The banquet hall was a shambles.

In the commotion, Jean-Luc and Pierre managed to slip back to their rooms unnoticed. Each cadet stuffed two empty bottles under his dress tunic, promising the other to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible.

=/\=

The next day, the deputy commandant announced that he was going to launch an official investigation of the “disgraceful incident.” The situation became grim when the security guards conducted a secret inspection of the residence hull. Under Pierre’s bed was found the incriminating evidence, a bottle that had formerly contained a fine French wine.

Pierre was sitting in his Life Support Systems class when a security guard came to his door. Immediately, the students started whispering to one another, wondering what was going on. “Midshipman Pierre Blanchard, you are ordered to come with me,” the guard barked. Nervously, Pierre got up and accompanied him to the commandant’s office. The young man could tell from the guard’s demeanor that he was in serious trouble. He also knew that, when he came face to face with the commandant, he would be unable to keep his secret. The commandant, being empathic as all Betazoids were, would undoubtedly uncover the whole story immediately.

When the door to the office opened, Pierre saw that the commandant was not in his office. With relief, he remembered hearing that the commandant had returned to Betazed to take care of some family business. Then, the young man’s heart sank when he saw what the deputy commandant held. “Mister Blanchard,” the man roared, “will you please explain how this came to be under your bed?” He held the empty bottle just inches from Pierre’s nose.

“I, uh, I put it there, sir,” Pierre said quietly. He felt like a cold hand had grabbed his heart and squeezed it.

“What was that, Cadet? I didn’t hear you,” the deputy commandant bellowed.

“I said I put it there, sir,” Pierre repeated, as he saw his dreams collapse around him.

=/\=

By the time that the deputy commandant was finished with Pierre, the young man was in deep trouble, and he knew it. He returned to his quarters and began packing. A concerned Jean-Luc came to his door and asked, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think you want to be around me right now,” his friend said solemnly. Pierre stared at the far wall, afraid to look the other cadet in the eyes.

“What do you mean?” Jean-Luc queried, sitting on the bed.

“Well, the other night I was getting rid of the empty bottles, and one rolled under the bed. I missed it, and the security guards found it when they searched my room this morning. I’ve been dismissed from the academy.” Pierre looked like he wanted to cry.

“Dismissed!” Jean-Luc protested. “They can’t do that! If anyone is to be blamed, it’s me. It was my idea, and it was my family vintage that was used.” He stood up and paced around the room, infuriated.

“I told them I put you up to it, that it was all my fault,” Pierre said. “I couldn’t see them giving both of us the boot. You belong here more than I do, anyway.”

“We’ll just see about that,” his friend exclaimed, leaving the room in a hurry.

=/\=

After leaving his friend’s room, Jean-Luc roamed around the academy grounds, trying to come up with a solution. He always felt at ease in the peaceful surroundings of the lawns and gardens around the academy buildings. However, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice that he was walking directly through a flowerbed.

“Hey, what are you doing?” came a gruff reprimand. “I’ve got my work cut out for me as it is, cleaning up the damage those fourth-year students caused after their banquet.” A man in a gardener’s coveralls looked up from his planting. Old Man Boothby was something of a fixture around the academy. While he tended his precious plants, he kept a sharp eye on the goings-on around him. Beneath a bad-tempered exterior was a man who was wise in the ways of the world, and he tried to offer advice occasionally to those cadets who took the time and had the patience to listen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Boothby,” Jean-Luc replied. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He looked in the direction of the gardener without really seeing him.

“I should say so,” the gardener retorted.

Jean-Luc took a seat on a nearby bench. “You see, I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake, and someone I care about is in trouble because of it.”

“Does this have anything to do with the ruckus the other night?” Boothby paused in his work and looked hard at the young man.

Jean-Luc soon found himself telling the whole story, thankful for the opportunity to get it off his chest. “And I just don’t know what to do now. I can’t let Pierre take responsibility for my mistake.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, young man. And besides, I think you already know the answer to that question, if you really think about it. That is, if you have the courage.” Boothby stood up, and brushed the dirt from his hands. “Now, I have to get back to work.” With that, he picked up his tools and walked away.

Jean-Luc sat for a moment, and then took a deep breath. In the space of a few minutes, the young man took a giant leap toward adulthood and the responsibility that came with it. He stood up, and walked purposefully toward the commandant’s office.

=/\=

Jean-Luc soon stood at attention in the commandant’s office. “So you see, sir, that’s what really happened,” he said grimly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, son,” the deputy commandant replied. “The Midshipman Picard that I know would never stoop to such a foolish and dangerous stunt. You have much too much integrity and pride in yourself to allow that. I appreciate your wanting to help your friend, but I can’t allow you to jeopardize a promising career. I never could understand why you wanted to befriend such an immature, irresponsible lout who had no business in Starfleet in the first place. Dismissed.”

Jean-Luc dejectedly left the commandant’s office. He walked the grounds for hours, trying to come up with some idea that would help his friend. When he finally got back to the residence hull, Pierre was gone.

=/\=

Pierre was the talk of the academy for several weeks after the near-riot. Those fellow cadets who had thought well of Pierre were for the most part silent, hesitant to bring ill will upon themselves. Jean-Luc always changed the subject when talk turned to Pierre. A feeling of guilt washed over him at these moments, along with a suspicion that he had let his friend down.

Jean-Luc tried for months to find out where Pierre had gone. He later discovered that his friend had roamed across the North American continent for a while, and then enrolled at Harvard University. For some time, Jean-Luc had been afraid to contact his friend, afraid of being rebuked, and at the same time afraid of not being rebuked. Finally, Pierre broke the ice, sending a note through a sympathetic instructor.

The two men remained life-long friends. Six years after graduation, Jean-Luc became captain of his own starship (one of the youngest men ever to do so), and Pierre received his doctorate in seismology. Each man went on to an illustrious career, one in Starfleet, and the other in scientific research. They saw each other as often as their busy careers allowed, and Jean-Luc watched with pride as Pierre’s daughter grew up and attended Starfleet Academy.

Then came the day when Pierre was killed while on a scientific mission. To Picard fell the sad duty of informing Ensign Adele Blanchard that she was without a father. After that, the young woman seemed driven to prove her family name, working harder than ever to make her father proud of her. Vindication came on the day, 44 years after her father lost his dream, when she was named captain of the U.S.S. McAuliffe and found it again.

=/\=

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Captain Picard got up and walked out the door onto the bridge. Commander Will Riker, his executive officer, looked up but did not say anything as the captain entered the turbolift.

Captain Blanchard was waiting when he got to the guest quarters. Together they walked down the corridor to the transporter room. Neither one spoke, afraid to spoil the moment. Upon entering the transporter room, Picard addressed himself to the technician on duty. “Dismissed, Ensign.” Without a word, the young man left the room. Picard walked over to the console, preparing to work the controls himself.

The younger captain stepped onto the transporter platform and stood for a minute. Then, as if changing her mind, she walked down and went over to Picard. How could she tell this man everything that was in her own heart, the gratitude for years of inspiration and friendship? She stepped close to him and kissed him first on one cheek, and then on the other, in the European fashion. Then, Blanchard again stepped onto the platform, her eyes speaking volumes. Standing at attention, she spoke with just a trace of emotion in her voice, “Ready for transport, Captain.”

“Commencing transport,” came the reply. Ever reserved, Picard allowed all of his pride and affection to show through his smile. After transport was complete, he straightened his uniform and returned to the bridge.

=/\=

After he returned to his ready room, Jean-Luc Picard wondered what would have happened if the commandant of Starfleet Academy had believed the young man who had stood up in defense of his friend. What kind of a career would he have had, if any at al, with a tarnished record? What about Pierre? If he had gone on to get his commission, what kind of officer would he have become?

One could argue that Fate had a hand in what happened long ago. Another man certainly would not have commanded the Stargazer and the Enterprise so illustriously. Or would he? And it could also be argued that, if Pierre Blanchard had gone on to a career in Starfleet, he would not have become a brilliant scientist, and might not have fathered a daughter who would grow up to become the captain that he could never be.

A person can never tell.

Join us next week as Adele Blanchard takes over command of her new ship, and finds that some members of the crew are not exactly thrilled to have her there.

copyright 2006, Jami Dustman and Nancy Biancarelli