Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [0]
Deanna Troi stood at a viewport gazing at the stars. They were utterly still-cold, harsh light without a planet’s atmosphere to make them twinkle. Troi had sought out this empty corridor and its fine view of the stars. She wanted a few minutes to compose herself before going to the bridge.
The ship was orbiting the planet, Oriana. Generations of civil war had nearly destroyed the planet and its people. Troi wanted to take the unperturbed peace of the stars with her onto the bridge.
The ship’s counselor had to be calm, relaxed, ready to serve.
‘What are you looking at, Counselor?”
She jumped and whirled. “Worf, you frightened me.”
The Klingon officer frowned, which was a fearsome sight all on its own. “I did not intend to.”
Troi smiled. “I know.”
The frown deepened, causing the ridges on his forehead to wrinkle. He nodded. His emotions, as always, were close to the surface of his thoughts. The Klingon made very little pretense in his own mind. Unlike humans who often lied even to themselves, the Klingon thought what he thought, and did not care that she knew it. It didn’t make Worf uncomfortable to be around an empath the way it did some of the crew, Worf had no secrets to keep because secrets implied shame.
Troi appreciated his openness, She smiled. “You asked what I was looking at.” She motioned him to the window.
Worf stood beside her, hands clasped behind his back, broad shoulders filling the window. Troi knew she was not tall, but beside the Klingon she felt tiny. “Aren’t the Stars beautiful?” she asked.
He shifted, slightly. Troi could feel his puzzlement. “I do not understand.”
A human might have lied, but at least this Klingon said what he felt. “I was gazing at the Stars and thinking how lovely they are.”
Worf stared out into the cold blackness, the stars like chips of ice caught in velvet. “I see stars,” he said at last.
‘But don’t you think they’re beautiful?” She glanced up at him in time to see the same fearsome scowl.
‘They are stars. I suppose some might think they are pretty.”
Troi smiled. “I think they are.”
He nodded.
Troi could feel laughter at the back of her throat. But she swallowed it. You did not laugh at friends, especially when they were trying to be polite.
Captain Picard’s voice came out of empty air, “Counselor Troi, please report to the bridge.”
Troi hit her communicator. “I’m on my way, Captain.”
‘Worf here, Captain. Is my presence required?”
‘It would be most appreciated, Lieutenant.”
Troi felt the smile in the captain’s voice.
‘We are on our way, Captain,” Worf said.
Worf strode toward the nearest turbolift. Troi had to quick step to keep up with him. “We weren’t scheduled to speak with the Orianians for another hour,” she said, “What could it be?”
‘I do not know.” Inside the smooth whiteness of the turbolift Worf said, “Bridge.” The lift vibrated, then began to move.
Troi could feel Captain Picard’s agitation. He was worried.
She did not share her findings with Worf. She could read the emotions of everyone on board. It was simple courtesy not to reveal what she felt to others. It would have been like telling secrets you had learned eavesdropping.
The turbolift door whooshed open. The bridge of the Enterprise spread out before them, all graceful curves, neutral carpeting. It looked like an executive boardroom more than the bridge of a starship. A place for conferences not confrontations.
On the main viewscreen was the picture of a man. The skin was pale gold. The facial bones were high and delicate, almost birdlike. The face was dominated by huge liquid brown eyes. The large eyes and the delicate face made the man seem childlike. The effect was spoiled by his deep voice and the injuries to that lovely face.
The right side of his face was battered and bleeding. He held stiff one arm at his side. His pain hit Troi like a physical shove, She staggered. Worf caught her arm.
‘Are you all right, Counselor?” he asked.
She nodded. Troi realized that it wasn’t just the general’s physical pain but his anger. He was full of a great roaring outrage at what