A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [9]
“That’s not the way it happened,” she insisted. “Certainly, the captain could have remained if he had wanted to.”
“You don’t think I was too cavalier? Too flip?”
“On the contrary. You were really quite gentle. Quite diplomatic. And I’m sure the captain understands.”
Riker sighed. “I hope so, Deanna. The last thing I want is for him to feel crowded by me. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Of course not,” she said. “You know, it is funny. You are so solicitous of his feelings sometimes-much more so than you need be.”
He shrugged. “I can’t help but put myself in his position. The captain has been commanding starships for a long time and doing a damned fine job of it. Then I come along, maybe a little wet behind the ears-at least by his standards. Suddenly, he finds himself sharing some of his responsibilities-and some of his prerogatives as well.”
“What’s more,” said Troi, “you’re a constant reminder that he is closer to the end of his career than the beginning. You’re a younger man, one with aspirations to command-aspirations you have never bothered to conceal.”
He looked at her, cleared his throat. “Exactly.”
“But don’t you think,” added the empath, “that he occasionally puts himself in your position-just as you put yourself in his? That he knows how difficult it can be to remain in the background, when one is capable of commanding one’s own ship? And how a first officer must walk a tightrope between saying too little and saying too much?”
Riker shook his head. “You make it sound so simple, Counselor. It’s one thing to appreciate the situation intellectually-and quite another to actually…”
“Commander?”
He turned in response to the voice. Wesley Crusher was standing just to one side of Data’s Ops console.
“Yes, Ensign?”
“I think we’ve got something, sir.”
Riker shot a glance at Troi and followed Wesley up the ramp to the afterbridge. He could feel his pulse speed up with anticipation.
“Exactly what is it you’ve got?” he asked, even before they reached the young man’s station.
“It may be that ion trail we’ve been looking for.” Wesley leaned past his empty chair and pointed to the scanner screen.
Riker took a look. What he saw took some of the edge off his optimism. “I’m no expert,” he said, “but it seems like a very low concentration. What makes you think it came from the research ship?”
“Well,” said Wesley, “it is a low concentration. But it’s all relative, sir. If we were in a sector with a lot of activity, natural or otherwise, I’d say that it meant very little. But this area’s been so clean up until now, I’ve got to believe it’s significant.”
Riker bit his lip as he studied the monitor. “Do you have enough information to project where the trail might lead?”
Wesley nodded. “I think so, yes.” He called up a representation of the Trilik’kon Mahk’ti system and it supplanted the ion data. “You see those two planets-fourth and fifth from the sun? The trail seems to lead somewhere in there.”
The first officer frowned. “That is, if it’s really a trail in the first place.”
Wesley looked at him. “Have we got anything to lose?” he asked.
Riker had to smile. “Good point, Ensign. Advise Mister Sharif of the coordinates and I’ll authorize a course change.”
“We won’t need much,” said the youth, his brow furrowing slightly as he made some quick computations on the screen. “In fact,” he added with a note of mild surprise, “a couple of degrees to starboard ought to do the…” He stopped himself, looked up. And saw how Riker’s eyes had narrowed in mock reproach. “Sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right,” said the older man. “But I think we’ll let Mister Sharif perform those calculations. After all, it is his job.”
“Aye, sir,” said Wesley. “I’ll pass the information on to the conn.”
“Thank you,” said the first officer. Leaving matters in the ensign’s capable hands, he descended the ramp again.
When he reached the command center, Troi was already seated in her usual spot. Riker sat down in the central chair-where the captain would have sat if he had been present.
“Lay in a course change,” he instructed Sharif.