Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [48]
Just then, his intercom buzzed. The captain fought an impulse to say “Picard here.” Instead, he answered, “Dixon Hill.” There was no response except for the whistle of the intercom repeating itself.
Of course, he thought, chiding himself for forgetting his time period—the intercom wouldn’t be voice activated. He found the intercom on the desk and hit the button.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Dixon, it’s Julia,” came the reply. “I just wanted to ask you if you would care to dine with me tonight. The commodore is having his weekly dinner and I wrangled you an invitation.”
“Julia, I’m afraid that—”
“The commodore sets an excellent table. In fact, it’s common knowledge that ships go out of their way to use the supply facilities here just to take advantage of his hospitality.” The doctor hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I’m afraid that we haven’t done a very good job of making you feel welcome. Please give us a chance to change that.”
Julia sounded sincerely concerned about his feelings, and Picard couldn’t afford to turn down the commodore’s invitation for fear of raising suspicions even further. “I would be delighted,” he said finally.
“Excellent,” she responded brightly. “I will stop by at seven-thirty. Good-bye, Dixon.”
Moments later, Harold appeared at the door, with a suit of civilian clothes. Undoubtedly, the commodore’s weekly dinner was too formal for Picard’s generic coveralls.
Seven-thirty. That gave the captain nearly two hours to sleep. Without wasting another second, he lay down, intending to make use of the time.
Julia arrived promptly at seven-thirty. When he answered the door, Picard didn’t recognize the doctor for a moment. Instead of her plain civilian tunic and trousers, she wore a simple but striking green dress. It matched her eyes.
Her short, dark hair was worn up, making her look quite elegant. Picard was suddenly grateful to her for sending Lieutenant Harold over with more formal clothing for him.
“Julia, you look wonderful,” he told her.
She smiled. “And you look very handsome, Mr. Hill.”
Returning the smile, Picard nodded. “I thank you for the clothes. They are an excellent fit.”
“I’m pleased. Shall we go?”
Outside, the captain saw that the sun was beginning to go down over the low, distant mountains, giving the sky a crimson cast. The sun itself was ringed with halos of subtly different shades between red and orange.
“It’s a beautiful world, isn’t it, Dixon?” Julia sighed. “When we first arrived, I watched the sun go down every evening for six months. I still try to make sure I’m outside this time of day whenever I can be.”
“It is spectacular,” Picard said honestly.
Julia maintained a slow pace, no doubt so that they could both enjoy the natural display. The captain found her eagerness to share things with a stranger quite refreshing.
The doctor looked at him. “Dixon, if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look much like a merchant captain.”
“Why do you say that?” Picard responded, keeping his voice neutral.
“Well, for one thing, you’re too dignified. Most of the merchant spacemen I have known have been, well … somewhat saltier.”
The captain nodded. Commercial shipping did tend to attract a gruffer and more earthy variety of officer than Starfleet.
He shrugged. “I always wanted to go to space. My father owned a vineyard, and strongly encouraged my brother and me to take over the operation. My brother did, but there was really nothing there for me. I always wanted space travel.”
“Why not Starfleet?” Julia asked.
He smiled. “I failed my Academy admission exams,” he answered.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It is true, nonetheless, I’m sorry to say.” It was, in fact, half true. The captain had failed in his first attempt to enter Starfleet Academy. But that failure had merely strengthened his resolve.