UNDERSTUDIES
by Pat Greiner
Dr. Beverly Crusher stared intently at the figure in front of her. His head and shoulders were wrapped in a dingy cloth pulled low over his eyes, and his stooped posture hid even more of his face, so she could see only his mouth, which trembled a bit. His hands were wrapped tight around the rough-hewn walking stick that seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright. One foot was just twisted enough to produce a slight limp when he walked. He looked entirely pathetic. He spoke. �I have no right to ask you for any favors. I must rely on your generosity, not my own worthiness��
�Stop, stop, stop!� She paused to soften her tone a bit. �Oh, it�s just � not right. You�re supposed to be pitiable, but that voice of yours �� She shook her head in mock despair. �I�m not sure any amount of costuming and physical quirks is going to overcome that regal voice of command.�
Jean-Luc Picard pushed the wrap back from his face as he straightened up and said with a shrug, �Can�t help it, I�m afraid. This is the only one I was born with.�
And I wouldn�t change it for the world, thought Beverly. I love the sound of your voice. Aloud she replied, �Well, we�ll have to work on that. You see, you should have let me cast you as Richard, as I wanted to. Really, you would have been so perfect.�
I would have been so mortified, he answered in his head. It was one thing to become the old beggar, a character so different from a starship captain that playing the role was a complete departure from his daily life. It was quite another to play the gallant hero with whom some might say he had traits in common. That was entirely too much like putting his own personal life on public display, a notion he was most uncomfortable with.
�All right, Madam Director. I promise to work on finding a suitably ingratiating voice before the next rehearsal. Now may I be excused to attend to the considerable reports Star Fleet seems to expect from me?�
�Of course. Martin and Serena should be here any minute to run the final scene. Tomorrow night, 19 hundred hours?�
�I shall be better prepared.�
�I have no doubt. And Captain � you really are going to be quite good.�
He left thinking it was fortunate she had no doubt, as he had enough for both of them. How the devil did he allow this woman to talk him into these projects?
**************
Several days later, Picard was in his ready room going over the latest crew performance evaluations when he received a communication from Star Fleet. Admiral Wallace appeared on his desk viewer. �Sorry to interrupt, Picard. I know what a leisurely life the captain of the flagship leads.�
�We certainly don�t find ourselves idle, Admiral, but there always seems to be a way to accommodate one more mission.�
�I haven�t said anything about another mission.�
�Ah. Then you called to update me on Star Fleet�s water polo league.� Picard knew that Wallace was as fond of that sport as he was of horseback riding, and the two occasionally bantered about their respective pastimes.
�Wallace�s Wallopers are currently holding second, but we�re closing the gap. And now that the important things are taken care of, let me fill you in on that new mission. We have an interesting diplomatic situation, Jean-Luc.� Wallace went on to detail the message they had received from a civilization just beginning to reach out into the galaxy. Unlike the aggressive or paranoid attitudes many cultures brought to their first interplanetary contacts, the Castolians seemed open, curious, and very positive in their expectations. They had sent an open invitation to any other space-faring peoples to make contact and visit their world. Star Fleet�s preliminary observations of the Castolian culture showed it to be very peacable, with only minor conflicts for the last several centuries. �They�re a very artistic people, Jean-Luc. Sort who�d rather go to a ballet � or whatever they have that�s closest to ballet � than a good polo match. The long and short of it is, we don�t want to send in someone who�s going to put them off with too much military posturing. This calls for a more sophisticated approach, someone who can appreciate what they have to offer.�
Here it comes, thought Picard, and returned his attention to the screen just as Wallace concluded, ��and there�s no one in that sector of space better prepared to represent Star Fleet than you, Picard. It will only take you a few days out of your way, and you have no pressing deadline at Star Base Seven.�
�It sounds like a fascinating challenge, Admiral. I trust Star Fleet is even now preparing to transmit all the relevant background materials?�
In less than an hour�s time, Picard was immersed in a file on Castolian philosophy and culture and growing excited at the thought of the opportunity to make Star Fleet�s first official contact with what appeared to be a gentle and accomplished civilization.
********************
Rehearsals were proceeding well. The cast was almost entirely off book, and Beverly had decided that night to turn off the computer�s auto-prompt function. �You�ll be fine,� she reassured her cast. �You�ve gotten to the point where you don�t really need it.� She picked up her PADD and took a seat at the far end of the room. �And I want to hear every word clearly from here!�
When they reached the old beggar�s scene, she was astonished at what she did hear. The forceful voice of authority was almost entirely submerged beneath a voice of infinite weariness, a voice of fate accepted and hope forgotten. In other productions, she had seen this role played as a broad comic caricature. But Jean-Luc played him with a poignancy that offset the rest of the comedy. Beverly found herself willing to believe that Richard�s single chance encounter with the old man could indeed change the course of his life, could make him appreciate the love he had almost lost. Amazing for someone who had so little time to devote to acting to be so good. Hardly surprising after all these years � she had found precious little that he could not do � but amazing nevertheless.
After his scene Picard circled around the outer edge of the room and came to sit near Beverly and watch the rest of the rehearsal. She took her attention from the stage long enough to give him an approving smile and mouth the word �wonderful� to him. Martin and Serena were hitting their stride in the next to last scene. Their characters bantered in a love-hate dialogue that had to be delivered quickly to make the most of the rhythms and repetitions built into it. This was the scene they did best, thought Beverly, the one where they spill out all their aggressions before finally falling into each other�s arms. But suddenly the rhythm of the scene deflated. Martin was struggling for a line. He eyes turned toward the ceiling, searching desperately for the help the auto-prompt had always provided before.
Suddenly the prompt came: �Why is it that you are always there for me, exactly when I need you least?� Jean-Luc smiled apologetically at his director. �Sorry, it just popped out.�
�That�s fine.� She paused, amazed that busiest man on the ship had not only learned his own part letter perfect, but had picked up the Richard�s lines as well. She shook her head in wonder and turned back to watch the stage. They were approaching the final scene, the one where they fall together, and where the feelings often fell flat. They were as unconvincing as lovers as they were convincing as antagonists. Tonight, as Martin took Serena in his arms and then stared distractedly over her shoulder at nothing, Beverly called the rehearsal to a halt.
�Richard, who is the love of your life? It certainly isn�t Melissa � you can�t even bring yourself to look at her! Okay, let�s choreograph a little affection into this scene. Richard, when you reach for Melissa, what are you feeling? She means everything to you. If you let her get away, you�ll never have another chance at this feeling.� Beverly left her chair and began to pace as she talked. �There is nothing more important to you at this moment � not life itself. Show me the urgency. Show me the desperation. And when you have her in your arms, what do you feel?�
�Satisfaction.�
�Satisfaction?� Good gods, was the man part Vulcan? �Joy! Relief! You feel warmth rush back into the veins that have felt for years as though icy winds blew through them. She�s your magic potion, your elixir of life, your philosopher�s stone. Show me the joy, show me the tenderness, show me the passion!� Beverly was aware that she was going far over the top in her own dramatic speech, but sometimes having a director who abandoned propriety made young actors feel freer to push their own limits. It was her own little bit of acting. Suddenly she was aware of Jean-Luc sitting just a few feet away. Show me the passion indeed, she thought. I�m one to talk. I had my chance and I ran from it like a shy schoolgirl.
�All right, take it from the moment when you take Melissa in your arms, and I�m going to talk you through the details. Let�s make the embrace almost a double take. You pull her to you fast and hard, then your mind catches up with your body and you let her go to arm�s length, you have to look at her again to believe this is really her, really here with you. Then pull her in again, but tenderly this time. Okay, give that a try.�
Their effort was much better, but Beverly missed a few moments of it when her eyes caught sight of Jean-Luc�s hand resting on his thigh. She loved his hands � strong and capable, and yet she had seen them show great tenderness when it was called for. As she stared at his hand now, she imagined how it would feel, warm and steady against the small of her back. Returning her attention to the stage, she knew what she wanted to see. �Richard, since Melissa�s back is to us and we see your hands, use that to communicate your feelings. Spread your fingers out across her back. Make your hands and arms a safety net for her � enclose her every way you can. Melissa, let us see just a moment of hesitation, then give in to your feelings. You have to act with your back � show us that moment when you give up your defenses and admit you love this man. Now, from the top of the scene again.�
And they were better. Much better. She was starting to feel very good about this production. After giving a few final notes and reminding them to look over some problem lines, she said goodnight to her cast. Jean-Luc lingered behind a moment as the others left the room. Looking at her seriously, he said, �Dr. Crusher, there�s something I�ve been meaning to tell you.�
********************
D�j� vu, she thought. But the conversation was not what she anticipated. Jean-Luc launched into a description of the Castolian culture. He was obviously impressed with their valuation of art and philosophy, and he did make them sound like a most appealing people. The welcoming ceremony which the Enterprise officers would attend was not to be a formal ritual or reception. �It sounds, Doctor, as though it will be more of an arts festival. I understand we will see musicians, visual artists, dancers, actors, I have no idea quite what all the performances are. Apparently this is a large festival that is some sort of recurring event. There will be much more going on than the part we will see, and a good portion of the population of the capital city is expected to be there. By welcoming Star Fleet at this festival, it is their intent to share with us a sort of sampler of their culture.�
�Well, that sounds more entertaining than some of the welcoming cocktail parties we�ve suffered through.�
�I thought you would find it a pleasant. And being among Star Fleet�s more artistic officers, I can think of no one better suited to play a major role in our first contact.�
�Flatterer. I would hardly say I�m much more accomplished than many other officers �,� but he cut off her protestation of modesty. �Beverly, you dance like a dream, you�re passionate about your theatre, you even arrange your flowers with an artist�s eye. It�s no good claiming you�re not an artist at heart. I�ve known you too long.�
�All right, what exactly is the role you want me to play in this production?�
�Actually, you�re to be the director once again. Or should I say, still? You see, the Castolians wish very strongly to experience our artistic culture to some small degree. They want to include performances by our crew as part of their festival.�
�And they want �� she paused, taking in the implication. �No, Jean-Luc, I don�t think so. This is an amateur performance. It�s community theatre, not the Rigellian Shakespeare Company.�
�That is just the point. The Castolians don�t have professional artists. In their society, everyone is an artist of some sort, regardless of what other job they may do. Sharing their creations is as integral a part of their culture as playing sports or gathering for meals is for people on earth. The performances we will see are not necessarily the best artists they have � they don�t view these things in a competitive light at all. By sharing our arts with them, we do them honor and demonstrate that we value some of the same things that they do.�
�It all sounds quite ideal, but that wouldn�t change the fact that it absolutely terrifies me. And I don�t have to be on stage. Martin and Serena are fairly new to all this. I have no idea how they�ll handle it. And what about your role? You can�t be in the performance and represent Star Fleet at the same time.�
�Exactly. That�s why I want you to serve as my second, as it were. While I�m off treading the boards, you will handle the official duties. Who better than the director to discuss the role of theatre in our society with them?�
�But it�s light romantic comedy. Not exactly the noblest representation we could give them.�
�Beverly, I believe I have heard you complain that all audiences want is comedies. So perhaps this is, if not noble, at least an accurate representation of us.� He smiled. �Better than giving them a performance of Klingon opera � that could be considered an unfriendly act by a sensitive culture. The research tells us that they run the full gamut with their arts, from quite serious philosophical pieces to light diversions. I�m sure they�ll appreciate your show as the entertaining piece it�s meant to be. No, Doctor, I�ve anticipated all your objections, I�m afraid there is no way around me. I would prefer to handle this as a request between friends, but I�m prepared to make it an order if I must.�
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted how unfriendly they must sound to her. He could already see her stiffen slightly and begin to turn away. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. In that moment they locked eyes, and another of those painfully familiar sparks arced between their hearts, felt by both, acknowledged by neither. Picard forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. �You know that, no matter how tolerant the Castolians may be of amateur art, I would not choose to send them anything I did not believe was worthy of representing Star Fleet. I have always had tremendous respect and admiration for your artistic side, and I would be genuinely grateful if you would contribute those talents toward making this first contact a positive one.�
Well, how could she say no to that? In fact, with his eyes on hers, with her breath stopped in her mouth, her being frozen for a split second as her mind leapt through ten different ways the next second might go � how could she say anything at all? With a wry smile and bemused shake of her head, she acceded to his request. As they left the rehearsal room, she thought, how the devil do I allow this man talk me into these projects?
********************
As the Enterprise slipped into orbit around Castolia a few hours before their appointed arrival at the arts festival, there was an almost festive atmosphere on board. The Castolians had invited as many crew members as could be spared from ship�s duties to attend the festival. And in addition to the cast of the play, several other crew members would be taking part. A string quartet was holding a last minute rehearsal in a meeting room on deck 14. A poet was choosing her final selections to read. A scupltronics expert was putting the finishing touches on a light beam piece he had created in honor of Castolia. And the cast of You � Again? had just completed their final dress rehearsal, to a standing ovation from their director and a small invited audience of close friends.
�You were marvelous,� Beverly praised. �If I ever had the slightest worry about taking this show to Castolia, it has been obliterated. Captain, are you prepared to remain in orbit for several weeks if they want us to extend the run?�
�I will be quite satisfied to do the single performance we�ve promised them. Always leave them wanting more � isn�t that one of your theatre maxims?�
Beverly answered with a nod, then returned to business. �I know we�ll be performing in the round, on an open stage. It�s a little different from what any of you have worked with before, so we�ll want to get in and see our space as soon as possible. I don�t know if anyone is performing on that stage this morning, but ��
�Doctor, I did anticipate your request. I spoke with the festival coordinator about that very matter yesterday. He couldn�t work out an actual rehearsal time on the stage, but he did say that if any of us wanted to tour the space we would be more than welcome. It�s an advantage I�m afraid I will have to forego, as I barely have enough time to change into my dress uniform before the Castolian ambassadors arrive for their tour of the ship. So I must rely on your description to orient myself.�
So it was that 30 minutes later, Beverly, Martin, and Serena found themselves walking through the most ebullient gathering of people they had ever seen. The Castolians didn�t just appreciate art � they loved it, they took joy in it, and they shared and participated with freedom and spontaneity. The stage space where the Federation cast would perform was a large, round, wooden stage ornamented with elegant carvings. Brightly covered awnings shaded the audience seating on all sides, with the stage left uncovered so sunlight flooded in on the actors. This will work well, Beverly thought. She had been concerned about whether Martin and Serena, as less experienced actors, would be thrown by the sheer unfamiliarity of the setting, but they seemed to have caught the spirit of exuberance that ran through the whole festival.
�Martin, this is going to be one of the most exciting things I�ve ever done!� Serena said excitedly. �I wish my family could be here to see this. Will anyone catch it in a holoflic I can send them?�
�I sure hope so. I�ll want my sister to see �� Martin stopped abruptly and swallowed hard, making a sour face. Then he caught his breath.
Instantly, Beverly became Dr. Crusher. �What�s the matter, Martin?� she asked as she automatically reached for her medical tricorder.
�I don�t know. Maybe it�s just butterflies. It came on awfully sudden �� Again, Martin�s words were cut off, this time by a violent cramp that doubled him over.
�Martin, could it have been that fruit you got from the booth down the street?� Serena asked? �I didn�t think that was a good idea.�
�You ate native fruit before we�ve run any scans for food compatibility?� Beverly was aghast that someone would break such a basic rule. �When?�
�While you two were looking at those textile displays �.oohhh,� he groaned as yet another wave of agony broke over his gut. �It smelled so good.�
�Dr. Crusher to Enterprise. Three to beam up immediately.� As she escorted him to Sick Bay, she thought that Martin�s reaction to the fruit was probably not life-threatening. Not his life, at any rate. But the life of the play � that was another matter.
****************************
�If you really don�t think we can bow out gracefully, it�s the only solution.� Beverly paced thoughtfully across the captain�s ready room. �I saw you feed Martin his line a few nights ago. You�re the person most familiar with the part besides Martin and me. And I don�t think I want to go on in drag.�
�Doctor, it�s one thing to feed someone a line, entirely another to do a full part.�
�I could insert a microreceiver just under the skin behind your ear. It will resonate directly into your bones. No outside sound at all. No one would ever hear the prompts. And I did say at the beginning you�d make a wonderful Richard.�
�Well, I can�t play both parts.�
�Of course not. Data could take the beggar�s role. No memory problems. And I�m sure that after watching the dress rehearsal, he can produce an excellent imitation of your role.�
�Why not simply put Data in as Richard?�
�There are very few things I think Data can�t do, but bringing the passion of a romantic hero to life may be one of them. And I think Serena might really be thrown off stride by working with someone completely new to the show. She�s going to be nervous enough as it is.� Of course, playing directly opposite her captain is probably going to scare the poor ensign half to death anyway, she thought, but kept that reservation to herself. �I really think it�s the best way, Jean-Luc.� She couldn�t resist a smile. �At least it�s a one-act. You�re lucky we�re not doing Othello.�
Again, he could only wonder how she talked him into these things.
****************************
Picard snapped his gaze sideways as he suddenly heard Beverly�s voice in his ear. No, not in his ear. In his head. �How�s that? Too loud?� she asked.
�Loud enough. You�re quite certain there�s no exterior sound?�
�None at all. Go over there and stand next to Nurse Ogawa. I�ll go into my office and transmit from there.�
He moved across Sick Bay and took up a position just inches from Alyssa Ogawa. �Hello! Can anybody hear me?� echoed loudly through his head. He glanced questioningly at the nurse, who responded, �Has she said anything yet?�
�She certainly did.� He turned and saw Beverly looking out through her office window with an amused smile. �Remind you of anything?� he heard in his mind.
He flashed on a bittersweet remembrance of their connection by the Prytt�s telepathic device, grateful that this connection transmitted only verbalizations, not thoughts. She certainly doesn�t need to know how nervous I am, he thought. Or how much I still wish she�d chosen to pursue a deeper relationship when our experience on Kes-Prytt opened that door for us.
Beverly came out of her office. �Are you ready, Richard?�
�As ready as I�m likely to be � at least, in the next half hour,� he replied.
�Well, go get into costume. Serena and Data will meet us in the transporter room in 15 minutes.�
*********************************
If there was one good thing about this whole situation, thought Beverly, it was that she had escaped some of the ambassadorial duties she did not enjoy. When Picard had explained their situation to the Castolian festival director, he had quickly assigned a technician to help Beverly make the necessary arrangements. He had set her up in a small room � evidently some sort of sound control booth which was not in use for their performance -- from which she could see and hear the stage, but where the audience could not overhear her when she prompted Jean-Luc. Will Riker and Deanna Troi had taken her place with the Castolian leaders as they watched the performance.
As it turned out, the captain needed far less prompting than one might have expected. He was hardly letter perfect, but he had the sense of each line, and more importantly, the feeling. Delivered in his rich, resonant voice, any words sounded good, she thought. And Serena proved to be adept at figuring out her cues, even when they didn�t come in quite the same words she was accustomed to. As the director, Beverly would normally have been watching crowd, assessing their reaction to the show. But she didn�t dare remove her eyes from the PADD containing the script � if Jean-Luc needed a cue, she would not have even a second to search for the line. However, her ears told her they were enjoying themselves, and that there were enough cultural similarities for them to appreciate at least the humor of the situation onstage, even if many of the puns and wordplay slipped by unnoticed.
As her actors approached the final surrender to each other and the embrace that closed the show, she allowed herself a glance up at the stage. Richard was staring at Melissa with an intensity that no one of any culture could misunderstand. He swept her tightly to him, then stepped back suddenly to arm�s length, stared at her while a look of wonder and joy overtook his face, then pulled her to him again, his fingers spread wide against her back to enclose her as completely as possible. As he held his leading lady in his arms, the captain heard in his head � as distinct as it was unintentional � a sigh that mixed longing, passion and regret. Then as he released her and they turned to take their bows, he heard a growing, fluttery sound � and saw that Castolians, like humans, thanked the performers with their hands � but instead of clapping, they rubbed their palms together as humans often did to warm their hands.
Beverly left her booth and quickly made her way to Will, Deanna, and the Castolian leaders during the �applause.� They were generous in their praise, particularly for the understudy who had risen to the occasion.
�We must go down and congratulate the players before they leave the stage,� they enthused. �Perhaps we can all walk through the festival to the banquet together.�
�I am sorry, but for the performers, the ritual of performance is not quite over,� Beverly interrupted. �Our theatre traditions call for them to leave the stage and change out of costume as quickly as possible � it�s considered unprofessional for them to greet audience members while they are still in character. If you�ll allow us this bit of tradition, I promise I�ll push them along to change quickly, and we will not be late for the banquet.� She knew that Jean-Luc could overhear the entire conversation, and trusted that he would prefer to pursue his own diplomatic duties in uniform rather than costume.
�Of course, my lady. We look forward to your return. Meanwhile, Commander, Counselor, will you accompany us on a stroll through the sculpture lane on our way to the hall?�
As Deanna and Will departed with their hosts, Beverly hurried to the stage and warmly congratulated all three actors. �Data, if only every actor had your memory! Serena, what a baptism by fire � and you came through beautifully. And Jean-Luc, you are truly remarkable!� A wicked smile crossed her face. �Now, let�s beam up before I give you your notes.�
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Serena and Data went their separate ways from the transporter room to their quarters. Beverly accompanied the captain as he made his way to deck 6. She couldn�t resist teasing him a bit. �Not bad for your first time through, Jean-Luc. But you did skip a few sentences in that long speech. And I�m not sure you couldn�t do that ending scene with even more passion.�
�More passion?� he responded as they reached his quarters. �Do come in, Beverly, and tell me more. I thought quite honestly that I got a good emotional response from the audience. At least,� he added, �the part of the audience that I could hear.�
Until that moment, Beverly had not realized that her involuntary sigh had been sent loud and clear. Caught off-guard by her sudden embarrassment, she glanced at Jean-Luc, and his expression stopped her breath in the throat. His usually guarded and self-controlled appearance was gone. On his face she saw an interplay of hope and hesitance. How badly I must have hurt him, she thought, remembering the night of their return from Kesprytt. I was too busy feeling my own pain to consider his. Is it really possible he could forgive me completely for all that?
�But one can never rehearse too much,� he continued without removing his eyes from her face. �I think there�s time to run that scene once more � in case I should ever be called on to step in again. But of course, my Melissa�s not here.�
�Well, the scene went well enough with one understudy. Perhaps we should try it with two.� Beverly�s gaze was locked as tightly on him. Suddenly she felt herself engulfed in his strong yet gentle arms. Then just as suddenly they were gone as he stepped back, keeping just one hand on her shoulder as he stared at her in joy and wonder � genuine this time, not acted � only to sweep her to him again. His broad hands seemed to stretch from the nape of neck to her waist, a safety net that would never let her fall. As his mouth found hers and their first hesitant kiss deepened into one of overwhelming passion, Beverly closed her eyes and seemed to feel herself floating in a field of stars. She swore she could hear the very blood rushing through her veins, sounding like the feathery applause of the Castolians. As he slowly loosened his embrace to back away and look at her once again, she swayed unsteadily in the current of passion that had swept them both away.
�That was a good rehearsal,� she managed to gasp.
He smiled tenderly. �And now we have a banquet to attend, as soon as I change clothing. But I do hope you�ll hold another rehearsal with me later this evening?�
She shook her head. �I don�t know, Jean-Luc.� His look was immediately stricken, but she continued. �I think we�ve been rehearsing long enough. Tonight may be time for the real thing.� He reached for her again, but she stopped him. �Now go and get changed. Creating a diplomatic incident by failing to show up for a banquet in our honor would hardly provide proper motivation for a truly passionate performance.�
He caught both her hands in his. �My leading lady � parting is such sweet sorrow.�
�That I would say good night til it be morrow.� She pulled one hand from his grasp and placed it on his chest, gently pushing him backwards. �Now get thee hence and prepare to be diplomatic. I�ll meet you in the transporter room in ten minutes.� As she reached the door of his quarters, she turned and looked at him once more. �But I do hope the Castolians aren�t too offended if we eat and run!�