Intellivore - Diane Duane [4]
“Exaggeration,” Picard said gently. “But Starfleet was a little elliptical about the details of this mission, and I take it you want us to get on with something urgent.”
“Everything is urgent,” Ileen said, giving Picard a look that suggested she was astonished to have to tell him so. “But, yeah, there are some sensitive aspects to this, and the sooner we’re on our way, the better.”
“You wouldn’t consider giving us a little jump on the mission briefing, would you, Captain?” Riker said.
“What, before Clif gets here?” Maisel said. “That would be most improper, Commander. Is dinner included in that offer?”
Riker chuckled; this time it was he who gave Picard the sidelong glance. Picard, straightfaced, said, “I wouldn’t like to make you work on an empty stomach, Ileen. Shall we say two hours from now?”
“You’re on,” she said. “I want to do a little polishing on my data, anyway. Later—”
And she was gone, leaving them looking once more at the torn golden veils of Kepler’s Star, and at Marignano, settling in to station-keep beside them.
“Social, isn’t she?” Riker said.
“In passing, absolutely,” Picard said, getting up again. “But her heart is out in the empty places; even this far out is too far in for her, I think. In the old days on Pathfinder, she used to complain that we ‘never got out of Earth’s backyard.’ “
“Not a problem she has now, I take it.”
Picard shook his head. “Not at all. Well, I confess I’m curious to hear the specifics of this operation. Starfleet said little more than that it might be long-term: we’re to evaluate and decide how best to cooperate with Marignano when the situation becomes clear.”
“I’ll have a buffet set up in one of the briefing rooms,” Riker said, getting up to go see to it.
There was a soft chirp from one of the panels. Worf listened briefly, then said, “Captain, Oraidhe has just come out of warp on the other side of Kepler’s Star. Captain Clif has sent a greeting and says he will be available to meet with you, and they will be here in about ninety minutes.”
Picard nodded. “Acknowledge the message with thanks.”
The captain turned toward his first officer.
“Go on, Number One; roll out the red carpet. Both these ships have come a long way, and we have a reputation for hospitality to maintain …”
Two hours later, the red carpet was out with a vengeance. The briefing room was full of department heads and bridge staff, a tidy buffet, and a slightly unusual feature: three captains.
Picard invited his bridge crew and senior officers to attend, mostly for social purposes. The serious briefing would not be until the next afternoon—all three ships were taking a day to rotate their senior crew onto alpha shift, for convenience’s sake.
Ileen Maisel had come over with her bridge crew, including another officer Picard knew, Storennan Grace, a short, stony-skinned Centaurrin who had also been on Stargazer with them. She introduced her science officer, a cheerful young woman named Frances Pickup, and her exec, tall, lanky Paul McGrady. As always seemed to happen at these occasions, some of Ileen’s crew turned out to know some of the Enterprise people: Pickup turned out to have taken some classes with Troi, years before, and another of Ileen’s people, her senior conn officer Kil Colgan, had once had a broken arm set by Dr. Crusher.
Then, a little later, in the midst of a welter of “Do you knows” and “Have you seens,” in came Captain Gohod Clif. Picard stood to greet him, very glad indeed to meet him physically at last; he knew him from reputation, and from the occasional conversation when the paths of their starships had crossed during missions. Clif shook Picard’s hand cordially. He was a big, tall, handsome man, broad across the shoulders and fair-complected, the characteristic skin dappling of a Trill host paler on him than usual, vanishing up into a shock of silver-blond hair.
“It’s been a year or two, hasn’t it?” said Picard. “During our last refit.”
“That’s right: I was in for a yearly debriefing.