“Captain’s Log,
Stardate 47952.3:
“The
“I am full of misgivings about our
task. Not the least portion of my concern, I think, stems from the fact that
the
Picard hit the Pause button for his recorder, and the
computer obligingly waited while he briefly composed his thoughts. The time
stretched into a minute, then two; finally, as often he did, he decided that
brevity was the better part of valor, and tapped Complete.
Wait and see, he thought.
As he strode onto
the bridge, Will Riker rose from the center seat, and informed him, “I was just
about to page you, sir. The Ambassador's
dropped out of warp, and are ready to transfer passengers.”
“Very well, then,
Number One; I'll speak to Captain Thelen. Will you and Counselor Troi please
greet both our guests and our new officer in transporter room two?”
“Aye, sir,” was
his prompt reply. Troi spared a curious glance at her captain before falling in
a step behind Riker as he entered the turbolift.
The door had
barely closed, when she touched his sleeve and asked, “Will, why—?”
“ —isn’t the
Captain going to greet his guests?” he finished. After watching her bemused
smile at finding herself read so easily and well, he continued, “You already
know the answer to that, Commander
Troi.”
She pondered that
for a moment; then nodded in sudden understanding as she entered their
destination just behind him.
“Of course. We’re
on a fleetwide Yellow Alert and, tactically speaking, it would be inappropriate
for both of you to be off the bridge level at once.
“I don’t know why
I didn’t realize that immediately,” Troi chided herself.
Riker motioned
for Abbott to stand by, and turned back to her, all remnant of kidding set
aside.
“It’s because
despite the fact that you have the training and the rank, Deanna, you don’t
have the instinct. This is not an insult, or even an assessment of your
capabilities. It’s simply not the mode in which you usually think.”
Before a startled
Troi could protest or even make a response, Riker glanced back at the chief and
continued, “Energize.”
As she’d been
directed, Sera entered the Ambassador’s
Transporter Room Two promptly at 1230 hours, only to find Captain Mantovanni
and Commander Warrick already in place. The ship’s tactical officer, a
Lieutenant Cashman, stood next to the transporter chief behind the console,
wearing an expression she read as gradually subsiding dread.
Do not hasten your stride,
she told herself. You are not late.
“She doesn’t seem
impressed by your rank, Captain,” Warrick opined casually. “At least, not
enough to be on time.”
Sera raised an
eyebrow as she took her place, but offered no rejoinder at first. Again
propriety warred with impulsiveness within her, and again her father’s side
won.
In an absolute
monotone, Sera replied, “Logic would dictate, Commander, that if I am unimpressed with the captain’s rank, I am
even less so with yours.” As an afterthought, she added, “Sir.”
Cashman blanched;
the transporter chief quickly hid her face behind a cough, and continued
running her diagnostic.
Slowly, Warrick’s
rather impudent smirk turned into a genuine smile.
Mantovanni, who
had watched the exchange in silence, then announced dryly, “Whenever you and
As the effect of the
beam caught her, Sera thought she heard one of her two companions—she wasn’t
certain which—whisper, “Good to meet you, too.”
For a long moment
after the completion of transport, Troi waited for someone to move. Finally,
one of the two male officers coming aboard gently cleared his throat. The young
Vulcan female, a Lieutenant Sera MacLeod if memory served, seemed just then to
recall what everyone else already knew: according to protocol, as the
lowest-ranked officer, the initiative was hers.
She stepped forward smoothly, and
addressed herself to the waiting pair. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
“Permission
granted.” Troi noticed that Riker’s response was somewhat distracted, as if the
words had barely registered; he was already focused on the two men behind her.
MacLeod motioned
back to them as they stepped off the pad, and introduced them.
“Captain Luciano
Mantovanni and Commander Jared Warrick,” she announced.
After another
pregnant pause, Troi decided to step into the breach. “This is Commander
William Riker, the
It was more than
enough to get things rolling. For a few seconds, Troi ignored the shop talk
that ensued—she vaguely heard Warrick querying Riker on his handling of the
Borg incursion three years previously—and allowed the room’s sensations, and
especially emotions, to wash over her.
Both men had
struck her immediately through their body language as extremely intense and
forceful personalities—Mantovanni especially. The woman, Sera, seemed just the
opposite—insular in the extreme.
As far as their
empathic projections, though, all were somewhat atypical for their species.
MacLeod was uncertain, but covering it well—not extremely surprising for a
Vulcan/human hybrid, Troi supposed.
Warrick was
relaxed and in good humor, at least on the surface. There was something beneath
that, but an actual empathic probe would be intrusive in the extreme, and in
such a casual atmosphere, completely uncalled for as well.
When she turned
to her attention to Mantovanni, he... wasn’t there.
Troi’s eyes
widened slightly; she hoped no one had noticed. In her experience, even the
most level-headed and composed individuals projected something of their
emotional state, even Captain Picard; the only exceptions she knew were: Data,
for obvious reasons; races she couldn’t read, like the Ferengi; highly
proficient, mature Vulcans; and now, Mantovanni.
It’s a good thing Mother isn’t here, she
thought. She’d find him sexually...
irresistible.
“Deanna?” This came, as if at a
distance, from Will.
To cover her
distraction, Troi brushed her eye as if removing a lash, and then nodded to
Riker. “Of course, Commander.” She turned to MacLeod and smiled, motioning for
her to follow through the turbolift doors. As they departed, she began the
appropriate variation on her traditional introduction.
“I believe you
have orientation at 0900 hours tomorrow, followed by a physical at 1530, and
then you’ll report to Lieutenant Commander Data on the bridge to begin your
first duty shift at 0600 the day after tomorrow.
“Until then,
we’ll take some time, relax, and familiarize you with the
If Sera MacLeod
had known anything about Deanna Troi, she would have realized that the
attention she was receiving, though highly professional, was matter-of-fact at
best; and that the counselor’s concerns and interest were with the three men
headed for the bridge—especially the one about whom she knew nothing at all.
Casual
conversation had died away after they’d left the transporter room. The silence
on the turbolift was broken only by Warrick, who asked abruptly, “Is she solely
an empath, or does she exhibit occasional flashes of telepathic ability?”
Riker was taken
aback. “She’s an empath, so far as I know.”
Warrick examined
him intently as he responded, and Will got the distinct impression that his
answer was somehow being evaluated for veracity. He didn’t like it.
Mantovanni said
nothing.
It was
interesting. Will Riker was tall, with a quite an intimidating presence if he
chose to exert it. Yet he found himself, momentarily, feeling like the shortest
man in the room.
No, he thought. It’s not exactly that. I feel like I did at the Academy, when an
answer I gave the instructor wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t right enough.
Whatever it was,
he was certain that it wasn’t psionic or empathic in nature, though. It was
more like...
The lift doors
opened.
“Commodore on the bridge,” Riker declared.
Before anyone
other than Data could react, Mantovanni followed with a quick, “As you were.”
He shot a glance at Riker, who was already en
route to the ready room; and then exchanged looks with Warrick, who was
grinning wickedly.
He mouthed the words,
“At least someone respects your
rank.”
Mantovanni
whispered back, “As you were.” He
then raised his voice, and called out, “Commander Riker,” bringing him up short
even as he reached for the door chime outside Picard’s inner sanctum.
“Sir?”
“If you don’t
mind, I’d like you to put Commander Warrick in touch with your chief of
security; they’ll have some arrangements to make before we cross into the
Neutral Zone.” When Riker looked as if he might make a counterproposal,
Mantovanni continued, “I’ll introduce myself to Captain Picard.”
Thrown off his
stride, Riker replied, with a just a hint of uncertainty, “Very good, sir.” He
then gestured to Warrick, moving back towards the command chair, where Data
immediately came to his feet again. “This way, Commander. I’ll send for
Lieutenant Worf immediately.”
Mantovanni turned
back to the ready room door; and, in an odd gesture seen and heard only by
Data, instead of sounding the chime, he rapped gently, twice.
Unorthodox, Data thought, but strangely appropriate.
The door closed
on both captains.
Intriguing.