Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [25]
Nikolas sat down again in front of his casserole. “Not the friendliest individual I’ve ever met.”
Caber didn’t answer right away. When Nikolas turned to him to see why, he caught a glimpse of something hard in his roommate’s eyes, something like disapproval but stronger.
Then the moment passed, and Caber turned to him with a smile on his face. “I’ve seen friendlier. But you’ve proven my point. You said hello to a high-ranking officer. You addressed him civilly, without even a hint of sarcasm. And you got him to speak to you civilly as well.”
“If you can call that being civil,” Nikolas quipped.
Caber glanced at the exit through which the engineer had departed. “That was Simenon,” he said, “by all accounts the grumpiest, most mean-spirited officer on the ship. If you’re going to offend someone, it’s going to be him. And yet he left here without so much as a complaint. I’d say that constitutes success.”
Nikolas saw the man’s point. The technique had worked. And if Nikolas could approach Simenon, he could approach anyone—even the captain.
“And the best part,” Caber told him, “is you don’t feel you’ve kowtowed to anyone. You’ve still got your dignity.”
Nikolas smiled. He did, didn’t he?
“Thanks,” he said.
Caber smiled at him. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”
Chapter Eight
PICARD HEARD THE SOUND of chimes and looked up from his terminal. “Come,” he said.
The doors to his ready room slid aside with a soft exhalation of air, revealing the matronly, dark-haired form of Lieutenant Valderrama. Looking a bit tentative, the science officer came in and allowed the doors to close behind her.
“You asked to see me?” she said.
“I did indeed,” the captain replied. He swiveled his chair around to face her. “Please have a seat.”
Valderrama made use of the only other chair in the room, which was situated on the other side of Picard’s desk. It occurred to the captain that the woman was old enough to be his mother, and for just a moment he felt awkward addressing her as a subordinate.
Then again, he mused, a great many of his subordinates were older than he was. Just not by quite so many years.
“I trust you’ve settled in by now?” he said, feeling the need to engage Valderrama in conversation before he began to get into anything more substantive.
“I have,” the sciences chief assured him.
“Good. And your personnel?”
“Top-notch, as far as I can tell. I’m very much looking forward to working with them.”
Picard nodded. “Excellent.”
Valderrama seemed comfortable enough, both in her position and in his ready room. With that in mind, he put pleasantries aside and launched into the real reason he had summoned her.
Leaning forward in his chair, he said, “I hope you’ll understand if I speak bluntly, Lieutenant.”
Valderrama seemed to gird herself. She must have sensed this coming. “Aye, sir.”
“Other captains have not been pleased with your performance of late. They have reached the conclusion that you are coasting—that you could do better if doing better still mattered to you.”
Valderrama reddened. “They have said that, sir.”
“However,” Picard went on, “I don’t care what conclusions other captains have reached. On the Stargazer, you’ll be starting out with a clean slate.”
It wasn’t the kind of speech the lieutenant had expected. That much was clear from her bewildered expression.
He pressed on. “I fully expect that you will do an exemplary job here—a job of which you and I can both be proud. You will need to do no less, considering what we will soon be facing in Beta Barritus.”
Valderrama stared at him for a moment. Then she lifted her chin and said, “I’m grateful for your confidence in me, sir. I’ll try to be worthy of it.”
“I’m sure you will,” Picard replied.
Pug Joseph hadn’t slept very well. He had been thinking about his new security officer all night long, turning the problem over and over in his mind and dreading the moment when he would have to confront the