Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [92]
“Uncertain,” Worf said, sounding concerned. “Possibly tachyar artifact.”
“From what? There aren’t any pulsars around here, much less quasars.”
“Sensor diagnostics show normal,” Worf said. Behind him, the doors opened and Counselor Troi strolled in: apparently she did not consider that any order ending in “on the double” was addressed to her.
“Shield status,” Riker said.
“Ready to go up after transport,” said Worf.
Trapped, Picard thought. There would be no way out once they went up. He wished things had worked better, wished the away team were gone with what they had come for. If wishes were horses, we’d all ride, he thought, and did his best to calm himself: Troi was here, after all.
“Such nervousness,” said the soft voice beside him. She had sat down in her chair and was regarding him with considerable amusement. “Is it possible that you’re really beginning to be afraid about something? A historic event—”
“Shut up, Counselor,” he said pleasantly. Just the presence of her now made him angry, which was probably a very good thing.
The screen flickered again. “Engineering!” Riker snapped. “La Forge, what’s going on down there?”
No answer. “Engineering!”
Nothing.
Communications first, Picard thought, and kept his face like stone to stop the smile from getting out.
“Run the diagnostics again,” Riker said. Picard sat there watching him, and Riker turned toward him and stared, and the look in his eyes was pure murder. Picard moved never a muscle. Does he think I’m responsible somehow? he thought. Does he think I managed this to make him look bad? As an excuse to get him killed?
This may be getting more complicated than I thought. The small white form on the screen abruptly vanished.
Immediately afterward, the screen went dead.
Picard simply sat there and looked at Riker, letting him have the chance to cover himself. He didn’t take the opportunity: just glared.
Picard stood up. “It would appear that we have some systems functions that need to be seen to. Number One, take care of it. Have the security teams return to posts until we’re ready and the diagnostics come up clean. Phase two will have to be postponed accordingly.”
“Yes, sir,” Riker said, sullen.
“It’s fairly late in my shift,” Picard said, and hoped it was. At any rate, ship’s night was approaching. “I have some more work to tidy up in the ready room, then I’m going to go and get some rest. Call me if I’m needed.”
He went through the ready room doors and waited for them to close so that not even Barclay would get a look at the eventual private, utterly relieved grin.
CHAPTER 11
La Forge’s quarters were spartan. He didn’t spend much of his off-shift time there, preferring to spend his time among his machines, and his staff, both of which gave him more amusement by doing what he told them—or by his efforts at correcting them when they failed him—than anything he might do in private, and most of the things he did in company. The quarters were comfortable enough, as all the senior officers’ quarters here were, good for sleeping, if nothing else, and comfortably furnished, but otherwise unornamented.
Which was why he was mildly surprised to come in, at the end of his shift, and see Counselor Troi waiting there for him—sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him slightly.
At first sight of her, he was afraid. That was the wisest reaction to the counselor, for someone who had been as long aboard this ship as La Forge had and knew the stories that made the rounds.
“Mr. La Forge,” she said softly, looking up at him from under those dark brows.
“Counselor,” he said, beginning to feel a little more comfortable—though not much. So far he hadn’t felt the dreadful stab at his mind that all too many of the crewpeople had felt in their time aboard. She didn’t always behave that way, it was true: her moods swung in some impenetrable Betazed fashion, turning her very occasionally kindly, but more often deadly, or simply curious. The last mood was most to be feared. At such times she strolled through minds the way she strolled