Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [109]
“A great feeling,” she said, “of dislocation, of stress. They did warn us that this would happen. An occupational hazard of the situation when we know that there are other … selves, like ourselves, out there. Curiosity is hard to stifle.”
“I would suppose so,” Picard said, “otherwise you would hardly be here.”
“Yes, well … It’s my business, after all, to keep an eye on the officers. To make sure they’re functioning at maximum efficiency. But there are a couple who have been having problems.”
He glanced at her.
“Yes. You and Beverly have had a little … disagreement, shall I call it?” She smiled a little at his sudden uncomfortable look. “It would have been difficult to miss. Her dreams were full of it.”
“Oh,” Picard said, abruptly glad that he had not been able to get any sleep. Heaven only knew what might have come out then when the mind was unguarded.
“The distress, the fear—it would be difficult not to feel them, especially in a sleeping mind. You should be careful how you frighten her, Captain. A frightened doctor can lose you crew out of carelessness … or spite.”
He walked away, feeling uneasy, knowing that the subject of Wesley Crusher was still between them. “Captain, perhaps it’s time for the two of us to come to some kind of agreement.”
“What kind of agreement, Counselor?”
“I’ll be frank with you. You are in deep trouble. Your mission is in crisis. Our timetable is already thrown considerably out of shape. Starfleet Command is not going to take kindly to this situation if it’s informed.”
“And you would have to inform them, of course.”
“Of course.” Her smile was the smile of someone who had been waiting for a specific position of strength for a long time and now finally finds herself in it. “We’ve been working at cross-purposes for a long time, you and I. I know that pride of yours—very few know it better. The mere fact of having to have a security officer whose authority runs near to yours annoys you. It always has.”
“There’s no point in being annoyed about something which is, after all, Fleet policy,” Picard said softly.
“Why, that’s quite true. And I’ve never had any doubt that you’ve been quite aware of that.”
“Never mind that, Counselor. Put aside the “soft words” for the moment. I believe that regulations in this situation require you to notify Starfleet … do they not?”
“Well, normally, indeed they do. But communications can always be”—she shrugged slightly —”delayed.”
“I would have thought that the present state of the ship’s computers would have guaranteed that,” Picard said a little sourly.
To his growing concern, she smiled at him. “Oh, there are ways around that. Many of my functions, for good and proper reasons, don’t have anything to do with the main computer or go through it—lest in an accident situation like this”—did she put a little more twist on the word accident than should have been there?—”the contents should be compromised. Now, on the other hand … a certain amount of delay to prevent misunderstanding can be quite helpful—and the situation may well resolve itself at that point.”
She looked at him almost coquettishly. Picard, finding himself actively hating the role he needed to play at this point, started to move slowly toward her, his hands behind his back, looking at her with an expression that suggested he might have some interest … an interest that was at the moment the furthest from his mind. “And what circumstances,” he said, “would be required to engender this “helpful delay”?”
He got quite close to her, looking down into those great dark eyes; they really were extraordinarily beautiful—With the skin he made him mittens, Picard thought carefully, made them with the fur side inside, ar made them with the skin side outside, ar he, to get the warm side inside, ar put the inside skin side outside.
“Well,” she said, “your little disagreement with the doctor … it’s been coming for a while now, Wesley aside. Certainly it seemed as if the