Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [18]
As Worf and I took up positions on the replicator line, our meals having been casualties of the altercation, I leaned in to whisper a warning to my officer. After all, the Pandrilite and his comrades didn’t seem eager to forgive and forget.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on Corbis,” I told him.
Worf nodded. “I agree.”
However, Corbis would soon be the least of our worries.
Madigoor
DRAVVIN SHUDDERED. “NASTY, those Pandrilites.”
“They can be,” Picard replied. He thought of Vigo, who had served under him on the Stargazer. “On the other hand, I had a Pandrilite weapons officer who was gentler than you could ever imagine.”
Robinson grunted. “Not when it came to the enemy, I trust.”
“No,” Picard conceded. “Not then.”
“I knew a couple of Pandrilites once,” said Bo’tex. “Twin sisters. Lovely creatures, too. They had an intriguing little stage show on a station called Mephil Trantos …”
Hompaq held her hand up. “Spare me, Caxtonian.”
Bo’tex fell silent. However, he looked as if he would have dearly loved to say more.
“Captain Hompaq is quite right,” said Robinson. “This table is no place for the tawdry and the tasteless. At least, not tonight it’s not. Until the sun comes up or suns, as the case may be we’re dealing exclusively in remarks of delicacy and refinement.”
The Caxtonian looked contrite. But he also looked as if he would speak of his Pandrilites if only someone would let him.
“I’ve never actually seen a Pandrilite,” said the Captain of the Kalliope. “Are as they as big as people say they are?”
“Probably,” Dravvin replied.
“They’re not only tall, you see,” said Flenarrh, “but also extremely muscular. However, the most impressive thing about them is their diet.”
Picard recalled Vigo’s favorite dish. “That officer of mine used to like something called sturrd.”
Flenarrh nodded. “I’ve seen it. It looks like a pile of fine sand mixed with shards of broken glass.”
The Captain of the Kalliope made a face. “Sounds appetizing.”
Dravvin cast a sidelong glance at Hompaq. “Appetizing is in the eye of the beholder,” he noted. “Even Pandrilites like their food cooked.”
Taking the bait, Hompaq curled her lip at him. “Klingons prefer to cook their enemies.”
Picard knew it was a joke. So did the others, he imagined. Still, Dravvin looked too disgusted to come up with a reply.
“Now, then,” said Robinson, “let’s not get too far afield. Our friend Picard was regaling us with a tale, remember?”
“That’s right,” said Bo’tex, leaning forward with curiosity.
“Tell me,” Flenarrh asked the captain, “what did you mean when you said Corbis would soon be the least of your worries?”
Picard smiled sympathetically. “That would be getting ahead of myself.”
The Tale
AS WORF AND I were newcomers to the Daring, I had expected Red Abby to relegate us to scut work running diagnostics in engineering, perhaps, or safety-checking the ship’s half dozen life-pods. Apparently, that was not to be the case.
When the duty list was posted, we found that we had been assigned to the Daring’s bridge. Exchanging looks, Worf and I said nothing. We merely made certain not to be late.
When we arrived on the bridge, a place marked by gray-and-black metal bulkheads and pale green lighting globes, we saw Astellanax occupying the rounded captain’s chair. Red Abby herself was absent, no doubt getting some rest.
The Orion turned to me. “You, the jack-of-all-trades. You’ll be manning the helm.” He glanced at Worf. “And I’ll need you at tactical. Any questions, either one of you?”
We shook our heads from side to side. “No questions at all,” I said, for the sake of clarity.
Astellanax nodded. “Then get to it.”
I felt strange assuming any other post but the center seat. After all, it had been more than twenty years since I served as anything but the captain of a spacegoing ship.
Nonetheless, I did as I was bidden.
As I approached the helm, Thadoc unfolded himself from behind his console.