All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
He said it as calmly as he could. “That we’re going to war with them. The Romulans, I mean.” He looked down at his hands, which were shivering ever so slightly. “No one’s come out and made an announcement, but I can see the handwriting on the wall.”
The counselor leaned forward and took her time responding. For once, his anxiety had some solid basis in reality, and they both knew it.
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Reg. I can’t tell you for certain that there won’t be a war. However, that’s only one possible result.”
Barclay frowned. “What about the combat-readiness reports? You don’t ask for those unless you expect something to happen.”
“Or expect that something might happen,” she corrected. “As of right now, we don’t know very much about the situation. We haven’t figured out where the anomaly came from or why the Romulans have such an interest in it. So we’re being cautious… until we do know.”
That made him feel a little better—but not much. “But what if the Romulans react to our reaction? What if they see us coming and decide we’ve… urn, misinter-preted what they’ve done?”
Troi’s expression remained a tolerant one. “There’s always that risk,” she conceded. “But I wouldn’t charac-terize the Romulans as an impulsive people… would you? It seems to me they’d think twice before initiating any hostile actions.” Barclay looked at her. “They sent thirty Warbirds to the Neutral Zone. If they’re not planning a hostile action, then why… ?” His fear rising to choke him, he found he couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Reg,” replied the counselor, “I don’t know how this will turn out. I’m just saying that, until we have more information, there’s no point in getting worried about it.” She smiled reassuringly. “Besides, you know that Captain Picard will do everything in his power to avoid an armed conflict.”
That much was true. But it seemed to the engineer that Picard might not have all that much control over the situation. Hell, he might not have any control at all.
He was about to point that outwbut a voice on the intercom system filled the room before he had the chance.
“Riker to Counselor Troi. The captain’s asked me to convene the senior staff in the observation lounge… immediately.”
The counselor seldom looked perturbed, Barclay told himselfi But she looked perturbed now. “On my way,” she assured her fellow officer.
The engineer felt as if somebody had cut the deck out from beneath his feet. “But… what about my session… ?” he asked her.
Troi took him in tow as she headed for the door. “We’ll continue as soon as we can.” she said. “I promise.”
Inwardly, he panicked. “But… I never got to tell you about my…”
The counselor stopped at the threshold. The doors to her quarters were already opening to let them out. “Reg,” she said, “I know that this isn’t easy for you, but try to relax. Getting yourself all keyed up isn’t going to make things better.”
“Try to relax,” he echoed, focusing on the advice as she guided him out into the corridor. “That’s a good idea.” But deep down, he had a feeling it wouldn’t work. Relaxing wasn’t one of his strong points.
And a moment later, it was too late to remind her of the fact—because Troi was on her way into the turbolift opposite her quarters. As the lift doors closed, he was left standing in the middle of the hallway, watching as other crewmen went about their business.
Easy for them to face what was ahead, he thought. They weren’t so petrified they could hardly breathe. Or stand up straight. Or see.
And it wasn’t just that he was scared of dying. He suffered from another, more insidious fear… the nightmarish idea that he would freeze at a crucial moment and be responsible for others losing their lives. He was afraid that if the pressure got too great, he might make a gibbering, useless spectacle of himself.
In other words, he was frightened of being frightened.