Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [77]
Picard’s mind had begun to run in small circles. The Klingons here … not allies, but a conquered race? He could barely imagine such a thing. What kind of power did the Empire have to reduce them to this? And then, more dreadful still, the words No one left to try. Why else would we be here?
There were a hundred questions Picard wanted to ask about that phrase, and none that he dared utter just now. “Mr. Worf, all this is very old history. How does it affect your honor here and now?”
“Captain, it hardly matters. My whole planet was “discommended” nearly a century ago now, when the Earth fleets first beat our own spaceforce back into our own space, cutting us off from our ally worlds and then destroying them. It was the last time our fate was in our hands, and we threw it away.” Worf looked dreadfully resigned: it was the face of a man discussing a cause lost before he was born, and unlikely ever to be found. “It hardly matters now.”
“It matters very much,” Picard said. “Especially insofar as it affects your … efficiency.”
Worf looked at him rather oddly. “I serve and am content to do that. And mostly I am left alone, and that contents me as well.” The resignation and the pain again … it was almost more than Picard could bear. “But I thank you for your show of concern, Captain. It is very—” He actually stumbled over the word, as if it was one he had never considered saying to the man he spoke with. “Very kind of you.”
“A matter of efficiency only, Mr. Worf,” Picard said as briskly as he could. But he was lying, and he knew from the look on Worf’s face that Worf knew he was—and that something was going on in the captain’s mind that had never been suspected there before. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Worf said, and plainly meant it.
He strode ahead, making for the turbolift.
Picard watched him go and swallowed hard. The determination in him was growing to do something, something about all this … something to put it right.
But what?
CHAPTER 9
“Mr. Barclay,” Picard said as they came to the turbolift, “I don’t know about you, but assassination attempts make me sweat. I wouldn’t mind a shower and a change.”
“Yes, sir,” Barclay said as they stepped into the ‘lift. “Deck eleven.”
The ‘lift took off. Barclay eyed the scratch on Picard’s chin. “You were lucky to get away with so little, sir. Please be more careful.”
Picard’s mood was not entirely sanguine. “Is that strictly professional concern? Is there anybody on this ship who would really care dreadfully if I died?”
“We wouldn’t like to lose you, Captain.”
“Ah, but you get perks for taking care of me. Isn’t that so?”
“Captain, you’ve never been less than generous. Some people say you’ve been more generous than you had to be.”
A virtue at last? Picard thought sourly. Or just my counterpart making sure he gets value for his money?
“And then there’s Dr. Crusher, of course,” said Barclay as they stepped out of the ‘lift.
Picard nodded. Here as in his own Enterprise, old family connections, old tragedies, got talked about just as everything else. If there was anything he was certain these two ships would have in common, gossip was it. “Yes, of course. Well, never mind. At the moment, I guess we should be grateful there aren’t more attempts—eh, Mr. Barclay?”
“Yes, sir,” Barclay said ruefully. “But that’s what we’re here for … we’re as much of a deterrent as anything else.”
“Point taken,” Picard said as they came to his quarters. “Keep guard, will you, Mr. Barclay? I don’t care to be disturbed just now.”
“Yes, sir.” Barclay stationed himself by the doorway. Picard walked in, paused, touched the control to lock the door as it shut. Interesting, he thought, that he didn’t check this space out before he let me in. Apparently the captain’s quarters are expected to be secure. Or else someone has them under scan. The thought made his hair rise again. Could everything that had happened so far be an act, masking the fact that someone had seen