A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [109]
“Yes,” agreed Strak. “Though I will always remember A’klah.” He paused to reflect. “And that is the way it should be. All experiences are pathways to wisdom. Even the distasteful ones.”
“Indeed,” said the captain.
The Vulcan looked around at the crowd, then at the exit. “I trust you will not be offended if I take my leave of you. I find that I am not in the proper state of mind for a large gathering.”
“No need for apologies,” Picard told him. “I understand.”
With a simple nod, Strak departed.
But Picard wasn’t alone for very long. He felt a slender hand on his elbow and turned.
“I thought that that depressing Vulcan would monopolize you forever,” said Dani. She looked at him, perfectly deadpan. “Do you think it would be out of line to hug you in front of all these people?”
Picard could feel the color rising in his face. He cleared his throat.
“Perhaps,” he said, “it could wait for a more private moment.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “When I get the urge to hug you, you know I can’t help myself.”
He frowned. “Your father loved to embarrass me, too. Must you be such a chip off the old block?”
She laughed softly-but decided not to make good on her threat. Picard was grateful-particularly when he saw his first officer approaching.
“Captain,” said Riker, inclining his head just a bit, out of respect. He turned to Dani. “Miss Orbutu.”
The captain was a little surprised. He had been preparing an introduction in his head. “I didn’t know that you two knew each other,” he said.
“Actually,” said Dani, “we don’t.” She smiled pleasantly at Riker. “I’m afraid you’re one up on me, Commander.”
The first officer returned the smile-but a little ruefully. “We intercepted some of the Conflict broadcasts, and you were in one of them. We were able to identify you based on the likeness in your computer file.”
“I see,” said Dani. Was that a bit of wanting-to-forget in her voice? “But I’m still surprised that you remembered me. You must have seen a great many broadcasts.”
“After a while, yes. But I must admit, I went back to that one more than once.”
Dani was about to say something else when Riker preempted her.
“Your glass,” he said. “It’s empty. Would you allow me to refill it?”
“Well-yes,” answered Dani. “Of course.” She relinquished the glass.
His mission established, Riker made his way toward the bar.
Dani watched him go. “A charming man, this first officer of yours.”
Picard nodded. “The only man I would ever trust with the Enterprise when I retire-though that day is, of course, a long, long way off.”
Behind Dani, Data passed through the crowd. He hadn’t yet had the red dye removed from his hair, Picard noted.
Could it be that the android was enjoying this small conceit? What a perfectly human thing to do.
Not surprisingly, Data’s appearance brought back thoughts of the marshals. And of Ralak’kai.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dani. “Suddenly, you look grimmer than that Vulcan.”
Picard chuckled. “I was thinking of my friend-Ralak’kai. And his compatriots. I was wondering if our efforts had brought them very much closer to their goal.”
Dani shrugged, thoughtful now herself. “I suppose it depends on how well their Council can function without the Conflicts.”
The captain grunted. “Exactly right.”
By that time, Piker had returned with Dani’s glass.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he told her.
Picard lifted his own glass, still full of synthenol. “A toast,” he said. “To Ralak’kai. And all those like him.”
“To Ralak’kai,” said Riker.
They drank.
The sudden termination of the Conflicts-owing first to the reluctance of the memory-restored participants, and then to their departure from A’klah-had had a much more profound effect than anyone might have guessed.
The Conflicts had been the only thing that kept the minds of the “lower-caste” Klah’kimmbri occupied. It had been a vent for their daily anger and frustration. With their videoscreens dark, their lives disrupted, the people were willing to listen when street speakers like Ralak’kai offered an alternative.