Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
There were encouragements to the contrary, but Picard seemed to remain unconvinced.
“I would just like to say how happy I am to be here,” he went on, “and how privileged to have witnessed the marriage of Beverly and Jack, who are very dear to me.”
Everyone in the ballroom nodded approvingly. Some even raised their glasses. But they withheld their applause, obviously waiting to hear more.
“Very dear,” said Picard.
Having lived on Earth for some time, Manathas had become as much of an expert on human expressions as he was on those of his own people. He could tell when a person was angry, or fearful, or amused by something, despite that individual’s best efforts to conceal it.
In the same way, he could tell when someone was disappointed with a turn of events. As the Romulan observed Picard, there was no doubt in his mind: this was a man carrying a considerable burden of pain and disappointment.
Sometimes it was difficult to divine the cause of a human’s emotional state. But not in this instance. All Manathas had to do was follow the direction of Picard’s gaze…
Straight to the bride, who was nestled in the encompassing arms of her new mate.
“I… wish them all the best,” said the captain.
The other guests seemed to expect more. But Picard didn’t say any more. Without warning, he raised his champagne glass and drank.
It was only then that everyone realized the speaker was done speaking. Gradually, a well-meaning murmur of agreement rose from his listeners, but it wasn’t nearly the enthusiastic response that had greeted Keel.
With a smile that had too much grimace in it, Picard retreated to his seat. And though he was patted on the back by his immediate neighbors as he sat, he seemed to know as well as anyone how lackluster his performance had been.
But then, he was in love with the bride.
Manathas was certain of it. And though he had no reason to take Picard’s part, he found himself sympathizing a little. He too had once lost a female he loved to another man. But fortunately for him, the other man hadn’t been his friend.
Picard and the groom were quite close, from what Manathas had gathered. What’s more, they served together on the Stargazer-or more accurately, one served under the other. So every day, the captain stood to be reminded of what he had lost.
And every day, he would have to conceal his pain, lest he destroy his friendship with both bride and groom.
However, there was a bright side to every darkness, and Manathas was quick to find one. As Picard settled into his chair, the Romulan picked up a chilled champagne bottle and moved in his direction.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said on arrival.
Picard peered up at him. “Yes?”
“May I refill your champagne glass?”
The captain seemed to consider the request for an inordinate amount of time. Then he blinked and said, “No. That will not be necessary, thank you.”
Manathas had hoped that Picard would say yes, and give him the chance to inspect the glass more closely. But it really didn’t matter. He could still achieve his objective.
“Sorry,” he said, securing the glass and holding it up to the light, “but there’s a chip in this. My apologies.”
The captain shrugged. “No harm done.”
“I will be back with a replacement in a moment,” Manathas promised. Then he took the champagne glass and withdrew as inobtrusively as possible.
It wasn’t difficult for the Romulan to make off with his prize. Picard’s gaze had already drifted in the bride’s direction again. And in the process, Manathas had been forgotten.
Making certain no one was watching, he emptied what was left of Picard’s champagne into another glass-one that had earlier been the property of the bride-careful not to disturb the smudge where the captain’s mouth had come in contact with the transparent rim.
After all, the Romulan didn’t want to lose the epidermal cells that the human had deposited there. Beverly Crusher’s cells, by contrast, were of no value to him. She didn’t command a starship, so she didn’t fit into the praetor’s plans.
Adding his new bit of booty