Lost Era 06_ Catalyst of Sorrows - Margaret Wander Bonanno [41]
“Curzon, he’s a Starfleet officer,” Uhura said quietly, but not without a bit of steel. “He’ll go where he’s ordered. But one of my weaknesses, and unfortunately one that I’m known for among the younger generation, is my inability to force a junior officer to accept a commission he doesn’t want. I’ve found out the hard way that an unwilling agent makes a careless agent. And careless agents cost unnecessary loss of life.”
Curzon made himself comfortable on the deeply cushioned divan beside her and waited for her to taste the Izarian nectar.
“Curzon, this is exquisite!” she said, smiling for the first time since she’d arrived. She sipped again and settled back among the cushions, the sleeves of her flowing kikoy, with its red-brown-black pattern known as Footsteps of Fire, arranged like the folded wings of some exotic butterfly.
“So are you,” Curzon replied.
As if on cue, the Hamalki string music began its appearance on the small holopad built into the low table between them, filling the air with sounds and visuals that dopplered softly off the walls and wrapped around the two listeners in innumerable pastels and sprightly sparkles, guaranteed to soothe the soul and stimulate conversation and, perhaps, other things. Curzon touched the rim of Uhura’s glass with his own.
“To Benjamin Sisko’s greater enlightenment,” he suggested. “And to no unnecessary loss of life.”
Earlier that day, Uhura had kept Lieutenant Sisko waiting while she pretended to peruse his service record, aware of the impatience all but oozing out of his pores as he sat at attention on the other side of her desk.
Yes, sitting at attention was the only way to describe what he was doing, because when he’d first arrived and she’d told him to take a seat he’d said he preferred to stand. When she advised him he might be here longer than he’d want to be standing he’d sat, but reluctantly and on the edge of his seat, as if ready at the slightest provocation to spring out of it.
It’s all about communication! Uhura reminded herself. She’d been about to start communicating when Lieutenant Sisko jumped the gun on her.
“Permission to speak candidly, sir?” he said in that soft, almost musical voice.
“That’s why you’re here, Lieutenant,” Uhura said, closing the file she’d had memorized before he stepped through the door and folding her hands on her desk expectantly.
“Admiral, I’m assuming you asked me here to take part in a special assignment.”
“And why would you assume that?”
“Because I know you keep a file on each of your students who show exceptional ability, and I know I was one of them.”
Uhura suppressed a smile. “Humility doesn’t seem to be one of your problems, Mr. Sisko. And your communications skills will be an asset to this mission. But it’s your all-around ability to handle multiple stations and situations that I’m more interested in.”
“So you intend to commandeer me from Okinawa and assign me-temporarily- to another ship?” Sisko said quietly. “May I ask where?”
“You may not. If I decide to use you, once you’re sworn in, you’ll have sealed orders fed into your vessel’s conn. Essentially the ship will tell you where to go.”
“You’re giving me command of my own ship?” Sisko asked, puzzled. This was the last thing he’d expected.
“Temporarily,” Uhura said. “Just for the duration of this mission. And it’s a very small ship.”
“May I ask what ship?”
“Not at liberty to tell you that yet, either,” Uhura said.
“But I can safely assume the mission will be covert, and it would mean leaving my family behind. With all due respect, Admiral, I’d prefer you found someone else.”
“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Sisko,” Uhura said, her voice even quieter than his.
She saw his jaw working, knew he was trying mightily not to let his temper get the better of him. Like many a big man, he had learned very young that he didn’t need to shout or threaten; his mere presence was usually enough