Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [50]
Picard entered the observation lounge, which was a good deal bigger than the one on the Stargazer, and surveyed the faces of those who turned to look up at him.
His host, a large, red-faced man named Shastakovich, got up and extended a meaty paw. “Glad you could make it, Captain.”
“So am I,” said Picard.
He had received the invitation to beam over to the Excalibur only a little more than an hour ago. However, he had made it his business to attend.
In his message, Shastakovich had opined that the captains of the assembled ships would work together more efficiently if they got to know each other. And with the fleet divided by Captain Sesballa into wings for easier coordination, Shastakovich had opened his ship to all the captains with whom he would be teamed.
One by one, he introduced Picard to his colleagues, all of whom had preceded him there. Nguyen was a tall, slender woman with long, dark hair. Veracruz was stocky and balding with a neatly trimmed goatee. Krellis, a black and white striped Dedderac, was smaller and even more delicate than others of her species. And Minshaya, an Othetaran, sported a lush white beard that all but concealed the copper of his skin.
“Picard…” said Veracruz, looking as if he were sampling an exotic taste for the first time.
“Yes,” said the captain, his back straightening at the unexpected attention. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” said Veracruz, his gaze hardening as he leaned forward in his seat, “I’ve heard a great deal about you. For instance, that you’re too young and inexperienced to command a starship.”
It had the tone of a challenge. Picard had no choice but to respond in kind.
“People say lots of things, Captain. And others, who should know better, repeat them.”
Veracruz stared at him for a moment, his mouth a thin, hard line. Then he grinned and jerked a thumb in Picard’s direction. “I like this one,” he said.
Grinning even wider, Shastakovich clapped Picard on the shoulder. “So do I.”
Picard was openmouthed. “But…”
“But you were wondering if we would treat you like an equal,” said Nguyen, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Tell the truth now.”
“I…suppose I was,” Picard admitted.
“We’ve all heard good things about you,” said Krellis, her dark eyes gleaming. “That was why we were pleased when Sesballa assigned us to the same wing.”
“Good things,” said Picard, scarcely able to believe it.
“I know,” said Minshaya, his voice deep and sonorous. “You have been browbeaten so badly by Admiral McAteer, you have come to question your worth.”
“Before we go any further,” said Shastakovich, his bushy brows meeting over his nose, “we should establish something. What’s said in this room stays in this room—no exceptions. Agreed?”
“Of course,” said Picard. “My lips are sealed.”
“Then I can tell you this about Admiral McAteer,” said Veracruz. “He doesn’t like any of us very much. If he had his way, he’d ship us all off to desk jobs somewhere.”
“Except Greenbriar and Sesballa,” said Nguyen, “and a handful of his other favorites. He’d keep them around to set an example.”
Picard was comforted to learn that. “And here I thought I was his only whipping boy.”
“Not the only one,” said Nguyen. “Just his favorite. He can’t seem to get past your age.”
Shastakovich snorted. “Maybe it makes him feel inadequate by comparison. He’s very proud of how rapidly he became an admiral, you know.”
It had never occurred to Picard that McAteer might be jealous of him. Obviously, his fellow captains had analyzed the admiral a good deal more thoroughly than he had.
“Don’t let it bother you,” said Krellis. “Eventually, he’ll get used to your being around.”
“You were given your command by Admiral Mehdi,” said Veracruz. “McAteer knows he’s not supposed to mess with another admiral’s appointments.”
“Actually,” Picard said soberly, “he has done that already. He scheduled a competency hearing for me back on Earth.”
The other captains stared at him in disbelief. The only sound in the room was the muted