Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [34]
“True,” Riker said. “Different time, different Enterprise.”
“That’s too bad,” Sam said. “I would have liked to have seen that. I’m sure it made things even more … unpredictable.”
Picard, who had been listening in on the conversation said, “We’ll do what we can to keep things lively.”
Sam grinned, then wiped at a nonexistent spot on the bar top. “Well, that sounds fine, Captain. I could do without the time travel and the Borg, though, so don’t go out of your way on either of those.”
“Duly noted.”
“You know,” Sam said, suddenly straightening, “that reminds me of something. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the storage area behind the bar and they heard the sounds of containers being shifted about.
Picard said to Troi, “I was telling Will about my conversation with Admiral Haftel. I’ve assigned Data and Lieutenant McAdams to investigate the mystery on Galor IV. I think they’ll work very well together.” Smiling, he added, “A veritable Nick and Nora Charles.”
Riker and Troi stared at Picard blankly.
“Nick and Nora Charles,” he repeated. “The Thin Man … ?”
Riker turned to look at Troi. “I’m guessing a detective novel.”
“Hmmm,” Troi agreed, sipping her hot chocolate. “One of these days, one of us has to give him something else to read.”
Feigning disgust, Picard sat back in his chair. “I don’t know why I even bother bringing these things up.”
Sam reappeared carrying a foil-wrapped parcel and a corkscrew. He peeled the foil away from the bottle’s neck, then removed the cork. “Normally, I’d decant something like this, but, for time’s sake, let’s just let it breathe for a moment.”
“Speaking of Lieutenant McAdams,” Riker said to Troi, “did I mention that she pinned me four times in mok’bara practice yesterday?”
“Yes,” Troi replied with mock disgust. “Four times. You told me. I think you enjoyed that a little too much.”
Riker raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders in a Who wouldn’t? gesture and finished his drink. “Well,” he said starting to rise, “I have reports to review—”
Sam reappeared with four glasses and said, “Hold on, Commander. Try some of this.” He poured a small amount of ruby liquid into one of the glasses and placed it before Picard, who held the wine up to the light and studied its color. Then, he expertly inhaled the bouquet, sipped and swished. Swallowing, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“That’s astonishing,” he said. “A Bordeaux, if I’m not mistaken. Comte de Vogue. Maison St. Gaspar?”
Sam nodded. “Excellent palate, Captain. Vintage?”
Picard took another sip and considered. “Very fruity. Very balanced. Long, elegant finish.” He pondered. “Either the ‘67 or the ‘65.”
Sam unwrapped the bottle and handed it to Picard. “The ‘65, Captain. I’m impressed.”
Picard took the bottle and examined the label. “This is extraordinary. My brother was friends with their grower and even he couldn’t get a bottle of this out of him. How did you get it?”
Sam wagged his eyebrows. “Bartenders have their sources.” He took the bottle and poured Picard another glass, then some for Riker and Troi, then himself. “Skol,” he said. Troi and Riker took theirs and sipped. Riker, never the wine enthusiast, cocked an eyebrow and said, “It’s good.”
Troi slapped his arm. “Whiskey has destroyed your palate.”
“Or refined it beyond this pale stuff.”
Picard wasn’t listening to either of them, but was beside himself. “Thank you,” he said to Sam. “But why … ?”
Sam recorked the bottle and set it down on the bar before Picard. “A gift,” he said. “For good works.”
Before Picard could say another word, Sam’s attention was drawn to a stir in the crowd originating near the doors. Picard, Troi and Riker turned, too, and saw Data and McAdams enter, arm in arm. Both were wearing civilian formal wear—Data a simple, but elegant evening suit and Rhea in a long midnight blue, floor-length evening gown.
The crowd parted before them