Q & A - Keith R. A. DeCandido [11]
The report was of less interest to Picard—it was fairly standard, all one would expect given that the Enterprise was on the ninth day of its journey to the Gorsach star system—than the style in which it was written. For the past decade and a half, Picard had been reading reports by Will Riker, which were as comprehensive but also written in a manner that Picard could best describe as affable or easygoing. The captain, at first, had been put off by the tone, but he had grown accustomed to it. His previous first officer—Gilaad Ben Zoma on the Stargazer—had always been by the book in his reports, using dry, simple sentences. Riker’s reports were more conversational, as if the commander was relating a story. Worf’s reports were Klingon—taciturn, brusque—a refreshing change of pace.
The computer suddenly spoke. “The time is seventeen twenty-five hours.”
Setting down the padd, Picard got to his feet and tugged his uniform jacket downward. “Thank you, computer.” It was time for the mission briefing.
He exited the ready room to the sea of so many new faces. At conn, Lieutenant Joanna Faur had replaced Sara Nave, who was killed during the Borg mission. Commander Miranda Kadohata sat at ops instead of the familiar pale face of Data. The counselor’s seat remained empty, but even if its occupant was present, it would be T’Lana, not Deanna Troi. Behind the also-empty first officer’s chair, Zelik Leybenzon stood ramrod straight at the tactical station, the latest in a series of tactical officers the Enterprise-E had gone through since it launched eight years ago.
The most familiar face on the bridge was Worf. Jean-Luc Picard was not a man given to whimsy. Yet he wondered what the other Enterprise captains would have thought seeing a Klingon at their conn. For a moment the captain wondered if he was going soft.
Worf rose. “Counselor T’Lana, Doctor Crusher, and Commander La Forge have been paged, sir.”
“Lieutenant Faur, you have the bridge.”
The dark-haired woman said, “Aye, sir.”
Entering the observation lounge, Picard swiftly crossed the room, barely noticing the stars as they streaked by at high warp. As he took his seat at the head of the table, he looked over to the models of all of the ships that bore the name Enterprise hanging on the bulkhead and wondered when he had stopped noticing. When had he stopped noticing how the stars looked? When had he stopped looking over his shoulder to make sure that his officers were following in his wake? And just what had Beverly put in his coffee this morning that he had suddenly gone nostalgic?
There was the culprit now.
“Captain.” Beverly favored him with her “professional CMO smile” as she took her seat to his left.
“Doctor.”
Worf took his seat to the captain’s right, with Leybenzon beside him. Both men looked like coils ready to spring. He expected that from the first officer, who, despite four years in the Diplomatic Corps, would always be a Klingon warrior.
By contrast, Miranda Kadohata seemed relaxed as she took her seat next to Beverly. The commander had performed her admittedly routine duties over the past nine days admirably. But then, Data would not have chosen her if she wasn’t up to his high standards for executive officer.
The doors parted, and Geordi La Forge and T’Lana entered. Simply put, Picard didn’t entirely know what to make of his new counselor. The short, striking Vulcan woman had spent the entire Borg mission taking a position contrary to his. True, T’Lana’s recommendations were logical and well thought out. It was also true that Picard’s willing transformation into Locutus could charitably be called borderline insane; he had regained his humanity only because of Beverly’s heroic action.
What concerns you, a voice nagged at the back of his head, is that she doesn’t completely trust you. That she dared to question your orders. That could be beneficial, in truth. After all, his crew trusted him so completely that when they faced the Borg in Earth’s past,