Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [28]
“Bravo,” he shouted, as both of them slowed down -the captain going backward, his first officer going forward. “I see you’ve been practicing behind my back.”
Riker smiled through the mesh of his mask. “You make it sound dishonest,” he laughed.
“It is,” Picard rejoined. “But all’s fair in love and fencing, I suppose.”
As they took up their positions again, the captain found himself at a disadvantage. According to the rules, he had to begin again near the end line. If he retreated past it again, a touch would be counted against him automatically. But he’d be damned before he’d let that happen.
“En garde?” suggested Riker.
Picard nodded. “Indeed.”
No sooner had the word left his mouth than he feinted-an attempt to move his opponent backward and give himself some breathing room. But as before, Riker wasn’t buying it. He just stood there, refusing to budge an inch.
“There’s no shame in retreat, Will,” said the captain.
Riker chuckled. “None in being aggressive, either.”
Without warning, the bigger man lunged. But this time, Picard was ready for him. Sweeping Riker’s blade aside with a flourish, the captain brought his own back on line-just in time to plant his point in his first officer’s unguarded chest.
“Alas!” barked Picard, for a brief second once more an arrogant young Frenchman in his master’s fencing den.
Riker sighed as he took off his mask. His hair was plastered over his forehead. “Nice touch, sir.”
Removing his own mask as well, Picard inclined his head slightly by way of acknowledgment. “Thank you, Will. But next time, it might pay for you to back off a little … give me a false sense of security … and then come at me.”
His first officer nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
The captain tilted his head to indicate the replicator in the corner of the gymnasium. “Care to take a break?”
Riker looked as if he’d have liked to continue. But he said “Sure. Why not?” And tucking his mask beneath his sword arm, he followed his superior to the replicator.
“Tea,” said Picard, as he approached the device.
“Earl Grey. Hot.” He turned to his second-in-command. “And you, Will?”
“Mountain stream water. As cold as it’ll get without freezing.”
A moment later, the replicator complied with their requests. The captain removed the drinks, handed the frigid one to Riker and took a sip of his tea.
“So,” he began, starting off with a feint, “how is Captain Scott faring? I trust you left him in good hands?”
“The best,” said the first officer. “I’ve asked Geordi to take him under his wing.”
“Good,” Picard commented. “After all he’s been through, he deserves whatever help we can give him.”
Riker had fallen for the feint. Now it was time to move in-to pursue his ulterior motive in asking the younger man down here.
“Will, I had a visit in my ready room not so long ago. From Ensign Kane.”
He saw Riker stiffen slightly at the mention of the man’s name. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” he said. “And what did Kane have to say?”
“I think you know,” said Picard, though he went on to supply the details anyway. “That you’re being unfair with him. That you’re denying him a chance to sharpen his skills. That you, for some reason, resent him.”
The first officer met his gaze. “I do resent him,” he conceded. “I resent him a lot.” A pause. “But that’s not why I’m treating him differently from the others. Ensign Kane has a lot to learn when it comes to respecting his superior officers.”
The captain tried to read into Riker’s statement. “Ambition is hardly a crime, Will. Otherwise, we’d both be guilty of it ourselves. And for that matter, so would every officer in the fleet.”
“I’m not just talking about ambition, sir. I’m talking about arrogance. A lack of esteem for authority-for tradition.”
Picard frowned. “A severe enough lack to put him at the bottom of the duty roster?”
“That’s right,” said his Number One. But he wasn’t forthcoming with any details. And the captain wanted details.
“As you know,” he told Riker, “I graduated from the Academy with Darrin Kane’s father. I’ve known the ensign since