Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [10]
“If you say so,” Riker said, shrugging.
“You think you’re feeling awkward,” Beverly said with a grin. “Wait until you see Deanna.”
“She’s on her way?” Riker asked.
“She’s coming down with Worf, but she keeps tripping on her robes. Fortunately, Worf’s there to assist her.”
“That is … fortunate,” Riker said. Picard heard the edge in his first officer’s voice, despite Riker’s best efforts to conceal it. The slowly simmering romantic triangle between Will, Worf, and Deanna was a source of private concern to Picard. So far the fledgling relationship between the Klingon and the counselor, along with her deep ties to Will Riker, had not interfered with the smooth running of the Enterprise. Picard hoped he’d never have to intervene in any of his officers’ private lives, but he remained acutely aware of the potential for friction.
But that was a problem for another day. Right now, another union took priority, namely the crucial wedding of the Green Pearl and the Dragon-Heir. “They’re going to have to be a little more brisk,” he said a tad impatiently.
“Don’t look so sour, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions, remember?”
“I will enjoy myself after the wedding,” he said.
“Until then, I am simply concerned that everything go well.”
“Before every wedding everywhere,” Beverly reassured him, “someone says that, and they mostly come off all right. There’s rather more at stake here, but it’s still just a wedding, after all.” The transporter-room door opened behind her, making a slight whishing noise. “Oh, here they are,” she said, turning gracefully to see the newcomers.
Worf had elected to stay aboard to insure the security of the ship and to watch for the reappearance of the G’kkau warship, so he still wore his regular duty uniform with the broad metallic sash glittering over one shoulder, but Troi was as spectacular as Beverly had promised. Her robes were styled similarly to the doctor’s, but the fabrics shimmered slightly and were colored deep blues and purples. She curtsied to the applause of the others.
“Thank you all,” Troi said, still kneeling, then muttered something under her breath. Picard distinctly heard the word “hell” escape the counselor’s lips.
“Something the matter?” Riker asked.
“You can stand back up now, Deanna,” Beverly said simultaneously.
“I would if I hadn’t stepped on my hem as I went down. Now I’ll fall over if I try.” Troi shifted slightly, and put out a hand to rebalance herself. “Damn,” she swore again.
“Fascinating,” Data observed. Picard wondered if he was intrigued by Deanna’s costume, her language, or the physics involved.
Riker stepped forward to assist Troi, but Worf was already closer to her. “Allow me, Counselor,” the Klingon said. He caught her arms and lifted her bodily, causing her feet to clear the floor by a couple of centimeters, before he set her upright.
“Thank you, Worf,” she said. Riker stood by stiffly.
Picard decided to defuse any tension even before it began. “Mr. Worf,” he said, all business. “Please report to the bridge. If anything resembling a G’kkau vessel shows up on our sensors, I want to know about it immediately.”
“Understood,” Worf said. The door whished open and he marched out of the transporter room. Picard and the rest of the away team took their places on the platform. Troi stumbled slightly stepping onto the cell. She tugged up the hem of her robes with obvious exasperation.
“The more I try to navigate in this thing,” she commented, “the more I appreciate nude weddings.”
This mission is not getting off to a good start, Picard thought grimly. “Ensign McKenna, energize.”
Chapter Three
RIKER BLINKED HARD. Even though he had successfully materialized on Pai, the shimmer of the transporter beam was still affecting his eyes. The large chamber in which he found himself glittered and twinkled with complex patterns of colored sparks that made his head swim.
“Oh, my,” Beverly said. “I should have dressed up.”
No,