Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [21]
“Behold,” Macduff continued, “where stands the usurper’s cursed head. The time is free. I see thee compassed with thy kingdom’s pearl, that speak my salutation in their minds—whose voices I desire aloud with mine.”
The whole damned thing is a load of hooey, the admiral told himself. A waste of time. He couldn’t wait to see his colleagues back at headquarters and ask them what in blazes they had seen in this fiasco.
“Hail, King of Scotland!” bellowed Macduff.
“King of Scotland, hail!” Malcolm’s other pals replied.
Malcolm looked like a guy who had hit the jackpot but was trying not to show it. “We shall not spend a large expanse of time…” he began.
And I’ll spend even less, McAteer thought, as he got up from his seat, sidestepped his way to the aisle, and made a hasty exit to beat the crowd.
Making his way across the lobby, he marveled at his luck. He had hoped this evening would be a distraction from his more serious concerns, of which he had many. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out that way.
But then, some problems just didn’t seem to want to go away. They lingered like bits of bad dreams. And one of those problems was Jean-Luc Picard.
The admiral still didn’t think Picard was capable of commanding a starship. As far as he was concerned, the man was too green, too inexperienced. Had McAteer been in charge of this sector when the Stargazer returned to Earth, he would never have approved Picard’s promotion.
But he wasn’t placed in charge until a couple of weeks later. And by then Admiral Mehdi, one of his colleagues, had already plunked Picard down in the Stargazer’s center seat.
If Picard had been the only puzzle in McAteer’s life, it would have been bad enough. However, the sector with which the admiral had been entrusted was quickly becoming a cauldron bubbling with interstellar politics.
With the Ubarrak, the Cardassians, and any number of smaller players angling for position, armed conflict of some sort seemed inevitable. Certainly, the Federation thought so, or it wouldn’t have beefed up the number of ships at McAteer’s disposal.
When such powerful civilizations clashed, everything was placed in jeopardy. Lives were lost. Cities were destroyed. And all too frequently, careers were dashed on the rocks of unfortunate command decisions.
McAteer was determined not to let that happen to him—not after he had worked so hard to climb through the ranks of the fleet. But he wasn’t satisfied to merely stay out of trouble. He meant to leverage the situation to his advantage, so when the last shot was fired and the dust cleared, he would look even better than he had when the battle started.
With that thought in mind, the admiral walked out of the climate-controlled theater into the grasp of the city’s cool, moist air. The lights of San Francisco were dazzling, drowning out the stars.
Nonetheless, it was the panoply of stars that drew his gaze. After all, that was where his opportunity lay.
If I play my cards right, McAteer told himself, this bit of interstellar strife can turn out to be a godsend. It can propel me to the top, even sooner than I had planned.
But that would only happen if he was alert—if he recognized, secured, and made use of every possible advantage. So for the last few months, he had kept his ear to the ground.
Finally, he had heard something—an overture from a Zartani with a wealth of Ubarrak tactical data. McAteer knew that he had to have what the Zartani was offering. It was just what he needed to give the Federation a leg up on her adversaries.
But there was an irony involved—one that would undoubtedly have impressed the hell out of Shakespeare—because the Zartani wasn’t willing to trust just anybody. He wanted to work with one officer and one officer only.
And who, of all people, was that officer? Who held the key that would unlock the Zartani’s treasure chest? The admiral grimaced as if he had just eaten a piece of rotten meat.
Who else…but Jean-Luc Picard?
Now, there’s was a dramatic turn, McAteer told himself. There’s was a twist of fate worth waxing eloquent about. His advancement