Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [90]
Picard stared at the screen, then cleared it. What troubled him most was the matter-of-fact nature of the whole business. It had been carefully thought out and was no madman’s plan: the Starfleet here plainly had a good idea of the disposition of forces already and was simply making sure it had its numbers correct before moving. Their own forces were presently being redistributed to congruent areas in their own Galaxy so as to be ready, in a month’s time, for the breakthrough. Everything was in order, and quietly the wolves were gathering around the fold, waiting for the dark.
The door chimed. Picard cleared the screen again, then reached out to one side and picked up the book there: the Anabasis. It gave him a brief shock when he saw the spine, but he opened it and leaned back in the seat. “Come,” he said.
The door opened; Riker came in, with Barclay behind him. Riker turned to look at Barclay, frowning, but Barclay stood his ground.
“No, Mr. Barclay, it’s all right,” Picard said. “Wait outside.”
Barclay looked a warning at him, but saluted and went out; the door shut.
“Well, Number One?” Picard said. “Anything on Kowalski yet?”
“No, sir.”
“I think someone must have taken a phaser to him,” Picard said, trying to sound casual. “Probably a waste of time. Still, the counselor will handle it.”
“Yes, sir. Captain, you wanted a briefing.”
“Let’s have it then,” he said, putting the book aside and assuming a look of attention, which at the moment was entirely genuine. “Sit down.”
Riker did, looking at Picard with that odd smile again. “The ship is in good order, and the next phase will be ready in about two hours, as the counselor told you. Data analysis is just about complete, and the last threat work is being done in the computer. But I have other concerns.”
“Speak up, Number One.”
“Wesley Crusher.”
“He’s hardly of much importance.”
“On the contrary, Captain. This matter is already being talked about all over the ship. The crew are seeing what they think is a split in policy among the upper echelons of command—one so severe that you actually countermanded the counselor in a public place on a matter of security.” Riker tried to look grave, though Picard noticed that he didn’t seem entirely able to make that smile go away. “This is a very destabilizing kind of situation. Discipline aboard a starship is a delicate thing at best.”
When it’s enforced by the equivalent of the rack and the thumbscrew, I should think so, Picard thought.
“The counselor brought it on herself,” Picard said, doing his best to sound stern. “If she is going to go behind my back to violate my orders, she may expect to be called on it.”
Riker was silent for a moment, then said, “It’s a delicate kind of situation, at any rate.” Aha, Picard thought, you’re unwilling to come right out and say you think she was right. You still want my support—for the moment anyway.
“There is a solution,” Riker said, “which would put the crew’s mind to rest about … matters among their officers—and resolve the difficulty between yourself and the counselor very neatly.”
“And that is?”
“Call a court-martial. Empanel a neutral board. They’ll bring down the expected verdict—then Crusher can be executed according to the usual formula, and the counselor’s concerns will be addressed, and at the same time your hands will be seen to be clean of the … situation.” Riker smiled slightly. “It has advantages for you in that—”
“I’m sure that the reason you’re pointing out the advantages,” Picard said softly, “is that they’re actually more advantageous for you than for me. The counselor has been riding your case about it, has she?”
Riker flushed.
“Well. You are just going to have to cope, Number One. I have my reasons for sparing Crusher’s life at the moment.”
Riker smiled, that smarmy smile again, the one of which Picard was getting so very tired. “I’m sure you have, sir,” Riker said in the most insinuating tone of voice imaginable.
Picard was heading toward a slow