Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [14]
Guinan nodded. “1 know exactly what you mean, Mr. Joseph. But I’m afraid that doesn’t change anything on this vessel. As long as I’m in charge of the Ten-Four lounge, there will be nothing harder than synthehol served here. Keeps the repair bills down.” She paused. “But how about an ice cream soda? I can whip up one of those in a flash-and no one has to be any the wiser.”
Joseph scowled. “You’re breaking my heart, you know that?” He held up his glass. “Look. I can go back to my quarters and fill this with the finest Maratekkan bran-dy.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “But that would mean I’d have to drink it all alone—when some of my closest friends in the world are sitting right there.” He gave her his best cherubic look. “Now, normally, I could see your point. Hell-you don’t want everybody drinking the good stuff, or what would happen in an emergency? But under the circumstances-these special circumstances—I think even the head of Starfleet would look the other way and pour me something interesting.” Guinan sighed. “You’re a tough man to reason with, Mr. Joseph.” “That’s what they tell me,” he said.
“And I must say, you’ve got a point there. You could simply go to your cabin and drink anything you wanted”
“It takes an astute person to put matters in their proper perspective,” he encouraged.
“But it strikes me that you might want a real drink a little too much.”
His expression hardened a little. “Eh? What d’you mean?” Guinan resumed her swabbing of the bar. “Just this—that if I had a problem, I wouldn’t keep it to myself. Especially when there’s someone willing to hear about it. Maybe even help me with it.” “Are you saying that I’m an alcoholic?” His eyes blazed. “There are no such people anymore— haven’t been or some time, in case you hadn’t heard.”
“They’re rare, all right,” she agreed. “But they do pop up occasionally. Even aboard starships.”
Joseph’s features went taut—so taut they looked painful. For a moment, Guinan had the uncomfortable feeling he was going to reach across the bar and grab her by the front of her garment. But it never happened. Gradually, the fury in his eyes cooled. “Thank you anyway,” he told her, putting his glass down on the bar. “I guess I’ll just have to seek my comfort somewhere else.” She watched thoughtfully as he left Ten-Forward. Riker, like everyone else at the table, was listening to Ben Zoma’s yarn.
“And then,” said Ben Zoma, turning to Troi, “your captain here had the gall to ask the Clobatians if he could drop them of somewhere.” Troi smiled. “Did he really?”
Picard shrugged. “It seemed like the only humane
thing to do. Without our help, they would have frozen to death.” Simenon snorted. “Naturally. You blew up their shuttlecraft.” “A last resort,” countered Morgen. “As you well know, Phigus. If the Clobatians had returned to their mother ship before we returned to the Stargazer … his
“We never would have caught up with them,” finished Cadwallader. “Exactly right,” said Greyhorse.
“And with the phasers they’d stolen,” Riker added, “they would have held the key to our weapons technology.
Morgen nodded approvingly. “You have a better appreciation of the situation,” he told the first officer, “than some of us who were there. his
Picard grunted. “At least someone understands the subtleties of command.”
Riker chuckled. “Thank you-both of you. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my appreciation and understanding and pack them off to the bridge right now. I believe Mr. Data’s shift ends in a few minutes.”
As he stood, Cadwallader got up as well. “That reminds me,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet Lieutenant Worf-for a tour of the communications sys-tem.”
“Communications?” echoed Greyhorse. “You’re a second officer now. A generalist.”
Cadwallader winked at him. “You know what, they say, Doctor. Once a communications officer, always