Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [43]
“Away, sir?” Riker prodded.
Picard struck him with that glower. “Yes, I’ve been summoned to Admiral Farrow’s office.”
“That’s got to be it,” Riker accidentally blurted, and it took all his self-control to keep from clapping the captain on the shoulder.
“I don’t want to have this conversation,” Picard sighed. “No choice, I suppose …”
“Jean-Luc, it’s wonderful!” Crusher exclaimed.
And Deanna Troi smiled. “The ship is ours!”
Chapter 11
“Captain Picard, hello.”
“Good morning, Admiral Farrow. I’m sorry I wasn’t on hand to greet you when you arrived on the starbase.”
“That’s all right. Captain Bateson and Captain Scott were there. And I knew you needed some time to yourself after— what happened.”
Admiral Farrow’s sympathy fell hard between them as Picard entered the office. Was it particularly chilly in here? Or was his discomfort simply turning up the air conditioning? He wished he could avoid what was to come, for he had no idea what answer he would give the options posed.
Farrow was a big man, very blond and pink-faced, with a gap between his front teeth. He looked like something out of a Norwegian legend, and Picard knew the admiral’s record read a little like that. He had a slight accent, but Picard had never been able to place it and had never bothered to ask.
Right at the moment he certainly didn’t care.
“Have you seen the new starship?” the admiral asked as Picard sat on the plush antique-velvet couch.
“Just came from there,” Picard said, trying to sound pleased. “She’s quite a work of art. I haven’t had the chance to examine the technology quite yet, but …”
“But you’ll get to it, I know.” Admiral Farrow sat in the unmatched antique chair nearby, rather than in his desk chair, which would’ve been, apparently, more formal than he wanted to be at the moment.
“Would you like some coffee?” Farrow asked. “Oh—forgive me, Jean-Luc. With you, it’s tea, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but no, thank you. I’ve had some this morning. Even I can only take so much. Admiral … please put me out of my misery, will you?”
“Yes, so sorry. Jean-Luc, on behalf of the admiralty, with all our congratulations and appreciation, I’m pleased to offer you the rank of rear admiral. Now, don’t say anything just yet. You don’t need to accept right away; in fact we prefer you didn’t. We have a thing or two bubbling in Cardassian space. You might like to take charge of those.”
As his hands tingled as if frozen in time, Picard repeated, “Cardassian space? I’m hardly an expert on Cardassia—”
“But you have unique experiences that will play into the mission we have for you.” Farrow leaned forward, his pink face beaming.
“What kind of mission?”
“Leading a small team to Cardassia Prime.”
“I’m not a commando, Admiral. Why choose me for this?”
“We’ve been contacted by a Cardassian with whom we’ve developed a—relationship. She confirmed some things that have only been suspected until now. She asked for you by name.”
“This is entirely a mystery to me.”
“It’ll all make sense once you’ve read this.” He handed Picard a padd. The top line of text read “Picard—Cardassia.”
“Should I give you some time to absorb this?”
“No … no, sir.” Picard shook himself, careful not to accept or deny the promotion. “May I only say I’m sure Will Riker will make a superb captain for the new starship.”
Farrow sat back and crossed his ankles. “Yes, I know he would. But he’s not being given command of the new Enterprise.”
Visibly stiffening, Picard frowned. “Then who is?”
“Command will be going to Captain Bateson for the ship’s launch cruise.”
Well, there it was. Despite the records of Picard, Riker, and the EnterpriseD, forces in another favor had won out. How much had Morgan Bateson himself fueled those fires? He’d been here all these three years, able to influence forces involved with the design and future of the newest starship. Proximity could certainly have been a factor, while Picard and Riker were represented only by reputation. Not to mention a touch of notoriety.
Angry now, Picard put forth no effort to make his physical demeanor hide how he felt.