Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [98]
Picard considered that as he placed his cup and saucer on his ready room desk. “You know, Commander, you took quite a few liberties during your stay down there. Not only with the high-tech ban, but with First Official Daran’s trust.”
“There was no other way, sir. And now that he’s had some time to think about it, the first official is coming to see that. Give him another few days and we’ll be firmly back in his good graces.”
The captain grunted. Optimism was a good trait for a first officer, and Riker had it in abundance. “And he suffered no injuries as a result of his fall?”
“Just some bruises, sir.”
“Good to hear. What about Larrak?”
“You mean his medical condition? Or what’s in store for him?”
“Both,” said Picard.
“Well, he’s going to be convalescing for a couple of weeks, until that leg can start to mend. Then he’ll stand trial for Teller’s murder, for killing the retainers in the amphitheater, and for violating the trade agreement. All in all, I’d say he’s going to be put away for a long time.”
“Put away, Number One?”
“The Impriman penal system is not as forward-looking as ours, sir. They still believe in long-term incarceration.”
That sounded a little barbaric, Picard thought. But then, it was their planet. They could do as they saw fit.
“Interestingly enough, Madraga Terrin will probably emerge from the trial unscathed. From the looks of it, the alliance with the Ferengi was a one-man operation. The other officials had nothing to do with it.” A pause. “That is, from the looks of it.”
“You’re skeptical?”
“There’s no proof one way or the other, sir. And I’ve got nothing left to bluff with.”
That was for certain.
“Kelnae?”
“It’ll never be proved that he ordered my assassination, though it’s pretty plain that he was the one. He’ll have his share of problems, though. The other madraggi won’t take kindly to the fact that he arranged the theft of Fortune’s Light. There’ll be sanctions—the kind that will give Rhurig a great deal of trouble.”
“And Kobar?” asked Picard.
Riker chuckled. “A real surprise, Captain. He showed a lot of character in the amphitheater—a lot of pride. I think he’s a better person than anyone has given him credit for being. He’s still trying to cope with a reputation he no longer deserves.”
“You seem to be quite an admirer, considering he had a knife at your throat not so long ago.”
“But he didn’t use it, sir, and that makes all the difference in the world. Did I mention that he’s severed all ties with his madraga?”
“No.” Picard found himself impressed as well.
“Kobar could have stayed with his father and continued to live the easy life. Even with all the problems Rhurig is going to face, the madraga won’t go downhill all at once. But Kobar doesn’t want anything to do with Kelnae’s machinations anymore; the old man went too far this time.”
The captain reflected on just how deceiving appearances could be. “Good for him. But what will he do? Cut off from his madraga, he’ll be penniless, won’t he?”
“Penniless indeed. That’s why I made … a suggestion.”
The words hung tantalizingly in the air. “All right, Commander, I’ll bite. What suggestion?”
“You see, sir, when I went to visit him in the hospital—to let him know that there were no hard feelings and to compare knife wounds—it occurred to me that the trade liaison post is unoccupied.”
Picard started to lean forward. “You didn’t.”
“I did, sir. After all, he’s demonstrated that his ethics are beyond reproach—a quality the Federation may find crucial if it’s going to continue relations with this planet. You’ve got to admit our credibility is somewhat threadbare at the moment. And besides, it may be intriguing to see how an Impriman deals with Imprimans.”
Picard smiled. He was glad that Riker wasn’t there to see it. “Commander, that is not your decision to make.”
“Of course not, Captain. As I said, it was only a suggestion.