Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [23]
She smiled as she thought about it. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you try it?”
He nodded. “All right-I will.” He approached her, taking her hand in his, and gazed into her deep green eyes. “I can’t imagine you looking any more beautiful anywhere—not at the Academy or anywhere else.” He hung on to her hand. It was soft and warm and just the slightest bit damp with perspiration. “How was that?” Cadwallader’s smile became a smirk. “Pretty good-except you got some of the words wrong. The first time, you said ‘performing-not “looking.”“
Riker feigned confusion. “Did I? I guess it just came out that way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now, that,” she said, taking her hand back with a flourish, “sounds like a line.” Crossing the room, she headed for the towel rack.
“Listenea[*thorn] he called after her, “I wouldn’t have to resort to such ploys if you’d have dinner with me.” His voice echoed from wall to wall.
Cadwallader turned around. “Are you asking?” Riker straightened. “I’m asking.”
She chuckled. “All right, then. But not tonight. I have a prior engagement.”
He watched her got to the rack and take down a towel. 4.ohT[*thorn] “That’s right,”. said Cadwallader, using the towel to dry her hair. “And so do you.”
Riker didn’t understand. It must have been evident in his expression, because she went on to explain. “Captain Picard’s feast,” she said. “Hasn’t he told you about it?” Riker shook his head. “No, I don’t believe he has.” Cadwallader shrugged. “It’s at 0800 hours. I’m sure he wouldn’t assemble all his officers and leave you out.” She paused. “Would he?” “I’ve been a little busy lately,” he said, trying not to sound defensive. “There’s probably a message waiting for me in my quarters.”
She toweled of some more. “Mmm. Probably. Unless, of course, he means for you to take charge of the bridge then.”
Riker couldn’t help but smile at the way she was baiting him. “I suppose that is a possiblity.”
Slinging the towel over her shoulders, Cadwallader headed for the doors. As she passed him, she patted him on the shoulder in a comradely sort of way.
“It’s all right,” she said, tossing the remark at him offhandedly. “If you miss dinner tonight, you’ll just be that much hungrier tomorrow.”
Riker watched her go, his smile spreading. He had a feeling he’d be hungry tomorrow no matter what.
“And that,” Simenon said, standing with Wesley in a corner of engineering, “is how your father and I held off a herd of charging thunalia on Beta Varius Four.” He smiled in his lizardlike way, remembering. “If either one of us had panicked and made for the caves, the other would have been trampled-or skewered on the beasts’ horns. And more than likely, both would have perished. But by standing back to back, we were able to keep them at bay with our phasers-at least until my transporter chief could beam us back up.” The Gnalish nodded proudly. “What’s more, we collected the data we went down for, as well as the tissue samples from which new thunalia could be cloned. And, in fact, were cloned. If you visit the preserves on Morrison’s World, you’ll see any number of thunalia roaming the plains-even though Beta Varius Four is now devoid of complex life forms.”
Wesley shook his head. “That’s great. That’s really great. Mom never mentioned that story.”
“Your mother may never have known about it,” Simenon pointed out. “We were all restricted as to the frequency and duration of our subspace messages. After all, there were hundreds of us aboard the Stargazer-all yearning for families and friends-and the subspace
equipment was occasionally needed for other matters, mission communications not the least of them. As I recall, your father always had this… well, interrupted look on his face after a packet went out. As though, given the chance, he would have said a lot more.” He harumphed. “Besides, I’m sure he had more personal things to discuss than an