Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
The counselor smiled to herself. Perhaps, she thought, we have something in common after all.
Chapter Thirteen
GUINAN PULLED OUT a piece of cloth from under the bar and took a swipe at its polished surface. It reflected her image back at her.
She wasn’t smiling, she noticed. But then, this place didn’t feel like home to her—at least, not yet.
Ten-Forward, the lounge she had managed for Captain Picard on the EnterpriseD, had been her pride and joy. Through hard work and attention to detail, she had made it a place where anyone could feel comfortable, regardless of their rank or station.
When Ten-Forward was ripped to shreds along with the rest of the EnterpriseD, Guinan hadn’t dismissed it as a loss of materials. She felt as if her heart had been torn out of her.
After all, a lounge like Ten-Forward wasn’t just another venue on the ship. It was a place where friendships and love affairs began, where births and marriages and promotions were celebrated. As far as she was concerned, it was a living thing, with a spirit and a sensibility and a soul.
Sometime after the death of the EnterpriseD, Picard had been given command of the Enterprise-E—and he had assumed the job of outfitting another lounge. The captain had done his best to pattern it after Ten-Forward, bringing in the same kinds of furnishings and even many of the same waiters and waitresses.
Everyone seemed pleased with the results. It was only in Guinan’s estimate that the place didn’t feel quite right.
Of course, she was just a visitor these days—someone who had hitched a ride with the Enterprise en route to Earth, where she had business with the Federation Historical Society. And it was only over Picard’s objections that she had taken a shift at the bar—for old times’ sake.
Guinan sighed and took another swipe at the bar with her cloth. Maybe with a little time, the place would grow on her.
Just then, Ben came over with an empty tray. He was one of the waiters Picard had brought with him from the EnterpriseD.
“How’s it going?” Guinan asked him, stowing her cloth back under the bar.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I like it better when the place is hopping.”
“It’ll be hopping soon enough,” she told him. “We’ve got a shift change coming in fifteen minutes.”
Ben smiled. “In that case, let me get my order in. Lt. Sovar will have a synthale. Lt. Rager asked for a Gamzain wine, no spices. Lt. Robinson is in the market for—”
“Now, why didn’t anyone tell me about this place?” someone growled all of a sudden. “I mighta come here insteada wastin’ my time in sickbay.”
Turning, Guinan saw a powerful-looking figure in blue and yellow enter the place. Plunking himself down on a stool right in front of her, he gazed directly into her eyes.
“Howzabout some service, Darlin’?”
Guinan recognized the fellow as Wolverine, one of the visitors the Enterprise had taken on recently … friends of the captain, she reminded herself, so it wouldn’t do to disembowel one of them with a mixing spoon.
“Service?” she echoed calmly. “Oh … you mean a drink.”
The mutant looked at her askance. “This is a bar, ain’t it?”
“It certainly is,” she told him.
“Well, I’m lookin’ fer somethin’ good an’ strong.”
She nodded. “One good-and-strong, coming up.”
It only took a moment to make the mutant’s drink. Pushing it across the bar to him, Guinan watched him slug it down. Wolverine frowned.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“Geez louise,” he said. “You call this a drink?”
“Actually,” she replied, “It’s the strongest stuff we serve around here.”
Of course, that wasn’t quite true. But Guinan didn’t want to start a riot in the place.
Wolverine seemed to wrestle inwardly with his next remark. “That’s a cryin’ shame, then,” he said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the officers seated at the table behind him. “This may be fine for yer Starfleet types, but I’m in the market for something with a kick.”
“A kick,” the bartender echoed.
“Uh huh.” The mutant thought for a moment, then hit on something.