Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
Riker, with that boundless energy that seemed to reach out octopuslike into every corner of the bridge.
And the captain—most of all, the captain. It always amazed Wesley how the man could rule with a glance, transform the mood on the bridge with the slightest change in posture. It was almost scary.
Even now, as the ready room doors closed behind him, Picard commanded. Even in his absence, he had a presence.
Like Julius Caesar, Wesley realized, in the play he’d just finished reading. Even after his assassination, Caesar had seemed to remain on stage, to be as much a participant in Rome’s political maneuverings as any of his assassins.
But the captain did nothing without a reason. Why had he chosen this moment to repair to his sanctum? “There is a tide in the affairs of men …” Why had Caesar picked this juncture to withdraw to his tent?
No doubt it had something to do with the transmission from Starbase 89. The one that had come in for Commander Riker and not for the captain himself, as would normally have been the case with classified information.
Did the captain resent being bypassed? Did his indignation compel him to sit and brood in private?
No, that wasn’t like him. Caesar … er, Captain Picard was not a petty man.
Then why? Was he waiting for something? For Commander Riker, maybe—to come to him and reveal the nature of Starfleet’s message?
Of course Riker was under no obligation to do that. The message had been for him and him only.
However, the captain was giving him a chance to discuss it. He was relieving his first officer of the need to ask for a one-on-one meeting.
Yes, that sounded right.
On the other hand, there was always the possibility that Riker would not want to talk about it, that it was so personal he would prefer to keep it to himself.
But when he came up onto the bridge and found Picard absent, wouldn’t he have to inquire as to the captain’s whereabouts? And then, after being told that Picard was in his ready room, wouldn’t it be incumbent on Riker to at least check in with …
Suddenly Wesley could barely restrain himself from laughing out loud. It was brilliant—brilliant!
Whether the first officer wanted to share his information with the captain or not, Picard had maneuvered him into a position where it would be difficult for Riker to keep it to himself. Alone with his commanding officer, how could he not at least hint at the substance of Starfleet’s communication?
And Picard had created this situation with a simple departure from the command center. He had removed himself from center stage, but not from the drama.
It was a move that would have prompted even Caesar to sit up and take notice.
Wesley was pleased with himself. Things like quantum mechanics and warp-drive engineering came easily to him. But human nature—human drama—was something for which he was just beginning to develop an appreciation.
He wondered how many others on the bridge had perceived Picard’s intention the way he had. More than likely he was the only one.
Now all that was left to be determined was what Riker would do. Having digested his message, would he head straight for the bridge and Picard’s counsel? Or would he wait until his next shift started and then come up to the bridge, only to find the trap that the captain had set for him?
Wesley didn’t get his answer immediately—not that he’d expected to. Like any good play, he knew, this one would take time to unfold—hours, perhaps, if Riker decided not to cut short his rec period.
In the meantime Wesley busied himself with diagnostic checks of the various engineering functions. Normally his position and Data’s were reversed, with the boy sitting at Conn and Data at Ops, but the captain had wanted Wesley to become more familiar with the other stations on the bridge.
All the engineering functions checked out fine. Next, he turned his attention to the communications system, which also came through with flying colors—and noticed that Riker’s conversation with Starbase 89 had already terminated.
The minutes passed—dragged, even. But nothing