Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [29]
“Perhaps not as well as you think, sir.” The first officer’s cheeks had darkened by a shade. He took a second or two to compose himself before speaking again. “Captain … when I agreed to become first officer of this ship, it was with the understanding that I believed passionately in certain things. Now, you can scrutinize the way I’m handling Ensign Kane or you can trust me to do my job. But if it’s the former…”
Riker didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
Picard eyed him. “You feel that strongly about it, do you?”
“I do, sir.” He stood hi s ground-just as he had on the fencing strip.
It was up to the captain to allow him that position or to try to move him-at the risk of losing him. Ultimately, it came down to this Should he move him? Was it or was it not his job to intervene?
Picard made his decision. “You do what you think is best,” he told his first officer. “As far as I’m concerned, the matter is closed.”
Riker looked appreciative. “Thank you, sir.”
“Ensign Kane …”
At first, Kane thought he was merely caught in the throes of a nightmare. Riker’s voice seemed to boom across a dark and foreboding landscape, starting landslides and making tall crags quake. And no matter where he ran or how he tried to hide, he couldn’t escape it.
“Ensign Kane…”
It was like thunder, cascading down from a steel-gray nest of roiling storm clouds … huge, deafening, crushing him beneath its weight…
“Ensign Kane!”
Kane shot upright. He looked around, his throat dry and hot with fear.
He was in his cabin, he realized. His cabin on the Enterprise, not the nightmare world of his imaginings. And that voice … it was Riker, all right. The real Riker. But why would …?
And then he caught sight of the chronometer on his desk, and he had his answer. He was ten minutes late for his shift-and still in bed. Tearing aside his blanket, he swung his bare feet out onto the floor.
Damn, damn, damn …
“Aye, sir. This is Kane. I’ve overslept, sir.”
“Really?” said Riker’s intercom voice. “I’d never have guessed.”
Darting across the room to his chest of drawers, the ensign pulled out a fresh uniform. His heart was pounding a staccato beat on his rib cage.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” he spat out. “I don’t know how it happened. I thought I asked the computer for a wake-up call…”
“You didn’t,” Riker pointed out. “I checked.”
Kane cursed as he pulled on his red-and-black garb. That did it. Bad enough Riker hated him; now he’d given him an excuse. The more black marks the first officer could put on his record, the easier it would be to keep him down.
Of course, it wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if he’d gotten to bed at a reasonable time. But he’d been so furious at his assignment to babysit the old man that he’d stayed up in Ten-Forward until the wee hours… tossing down the synthehol and thinking of ways to get even.
“It won’t happen again, sir, I assure you. I’ll be down to the cargo hold in just a couple of minutes.” The ensign hated the idea of having to kowtow to Riker … Of having to make nice. He detested it. But the man held Kane’s fate in his hands; there was no way around it.
“Don’t bother,” the first officer told him.
Kane had been pulling on one of his pants legs; he stopped in mid-tug. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I said don’t bother. You won’t be going to the cargo hold today.”
A smile spread over the ensign’s face. Don’t tell me he’s finally had his talk with Picard, he mused. Don’t tell me I’m finally going to get what’s coming to me…!
“Where will I be going, then … sir?” He pulled his pants leg up the rest of the way, but he was no longer in quite so much of a hurry.
He could almost hear Riker saying the bridge. In fact, he was so sure he’d be hearing those two wonderful, long-overdue words that he almost missed the words Riker did utter.
“Main shuttlebay. Deck Four.”
“What… ?” The ensign didn’t mean to blurt it out. But he did, and loud enough for it to be heard over the intercom system.
“Main shuttlebay,” Riker repeated. “Something wrong with your hearing, Ensign?”
“No … nothing, sir.”
“Believe