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The ensign nodded. “We all would. However, big fellows like you tend to attract attention. Besides, Tuvok’s a Vulcan. From what I’ve been given to understand, those people can take care of themselves.”

The weapons officer smiled without much enthusiasm. “You’re talking about that neck pinch they use?”

“That,” said Cadwallader, “and other things. I’m just saying that Tuvok will be able to provide all the muscle they need. And if it comes to that, Commander Crusher’s no slouch either.”

Vigo grunted. “I suppose you’re right” He paused. “So there’s no chance at all that you’ll play a game? Not even one?”

The ensign shook her head. “I wouldn’t be much competition, sir. I figure I’m beaten before I start. Look, why don’t you find someone you haven’t played yet? Someone who doesn’t know how badly they’re going to lose?”

The Pandrilite nodded his big, blue head. “Maybe you’re right”

Just then, someone came to stand by their table. Looking up, Cadwallader saw that it was Gerda Asmund with a tray of food in her hands.

“Do you mind if I join you?” asked the tall, blond navigator.

“Not at all,” said Vigo, his eyes narrowing craftily.

“Have a seat,” the ensign told her.

Gerda put her tray down on the table and pulled out a chair. Then she glanced at her companions. “So,” she asked with her usual blunt efficiency, “what are we talking about?”

The Pandrilite considered his words for a moment Then he said, “Tell me, Lieutenant… have you ever played sharash’di?”

Picard sat back in his ready room chair and sipped appreciatively at his hot, steaming drink.

“What is the name of this delightful beverage?” Thul asked from the other side of the captain’s desk.

“Earl Grey tea,” Picard replied. “It is named after the man who crafted this particular recipe.”

“Wonderful!” the Thallonian remarked. “When these talks are concluded, I must negotiate with you to bring a supply back to my Emperor. I am certain he would enjoy it as much as I do.”

The captain smiled at his ally’s enthusiasm. “Governor,” he said, “if you and I can manage to conclude these negotiations without any blood being spilled, I will replicate and send you more tea than your entire Empire can consume in a year.”

Gerrid Thul chuckled at that. Then he sat his cup down in his lap and regarded Picard with a sly smile.

“Despite the drama in which you and I find ourselves embroiled” he said, “I must say getting to know you has been an unexpectedly pleasant turn of events. We work well together, I think.”

The captain returned the smile. The delicate, tart aroma of the bergamot in the tea teased his nostrils.

“I agree, Governor. Perhaps our teamwork on this matter will translate into something more momentous … say, a diplomatic relationship between your Empire and my Federation.”

“Perhaps,” Thul replied pessimistically, “but I would not place a very large wager on the possibility. My Empire is-shall we say-a good deal more insular than I am.”

That is a pity,” Picard told him. “Still, I am pleased by the way the talks are going now. Did you see the G’aha of Finance and the First Elected of Kiwanari Province actually laughing together?”

It was the first real sign of hope that the captain had received since his arrival on Debennius II. It is difficult, he mused, to sit down and share a laugh with your enemy and fire upon him the next day.

“The improvement is remarkable,” the governor agreed. “And it’s your efforts that have made it so.”

“Our efforts,” Picard amended. “There are those in the congress who couldn’t care less about some distant Federation. But the Thallonian Empire… that appears to be a different story.”

Thul shrugged. “And in some cases, the reverse is true. Perhaps we should say we have both contributed and leave it at that.”

The captain nodded. “I would agree to that.”

For a moment, the two of them sipped their tea in silence. Then the governor spoke up again. “You have a fine ship here, Picard. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of it.”

The captain