Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [10]
Ree stepped off the transporter pad and approached Riker, staring at the captain with large, vertical-pupiled eyes that made him feel like a field mouse caught in the basilisk stare of a barn owl. “I am Dr. Shenti Yisec Eres Ree. Permission to come aboard?” the Pahkwa-thanh said. His diction was nearly flawless, though Riker saw that a forked tongue, as well as twin frontal pairs of upper and lower fangs—barely visible amid the rest of his formidable-looking dentition—were the likely source of the overly sibilant esses in his speech. Riker also noticed that the doctor was emitting a strange odor, something vaguely akin to burnt toast.
Not wanting to appear put off in the least by the doctor’s appearance, Riker stepped forward and extended his right hand in greeting. “Permission granted. I’m Captain William T. Riker. Welcome aboard Titan, Doctor.”
Ree extended one of his own hands and grasped Riker’s with surprising gentleness. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain. I’m eager to get to know you better.”
As Ree made contact, Riker almost flinched reflexively. Ree’s manus was cold, with long, nimble digits that wrapped almost entirely around Riker’s hand. The hard claws tipping the Pahkwa-thanh’s fingers were, thankfully, filed down, but the overall experience of shaking Ree’s hand raised the hair on the back of Riker’s neck.
I’ll get you for this, he projected toward Deanna, carefully schooling his features into poker-tournament mode and focusing his attention on Titan’s chief medical officer.
To his surprise, Deanna acknowledged having “heard” him. That seldom happened, except when they were in close proximity, or in times of exceptional emotional stress. The instinctive unease he had experienced at his first sight of Ree—perhaps an atavistic human fear-reaction—certainly qualified, Riker thought.
What’s important is who he is, not what he is, Deanna quoted.
All right, lesson learned, he shot back. Clearly, despite his high-minded ideals and enlightened self-image, Riker could still be caught off guard by the unexpected, and by what he didn’t yet understand. He realized now that Deanna had set him up in order to give him a wake-up call about the challenges that Titan’s crew—including her captain—would have to face in learning to live and work together. Riker resolved to read Deanna’s files on the Pahkwa-thanh as soon as possible—as well as those of any other species represented among his crew about which he had a less than thorough familiarity.
Mastering his revulsion by sheer force of will, Riker withdrew his hand and gestured with it toward his wife. “This is Titan’s diplomatic officer and ship’s counselor, Commander Deanna Troi.”
Ree bowed slightly, though he did not offer his hand. “A pleasure.” He looked at Deanna more directly. “I look forward to discussing empathic theory with you, Counselor. Some of us Pahkwa-thanh possess empathic sensitivities similar to those of Betazoids. While I have no measurable degree of this talent, I still like to think that it is my empathy that makes me such a good surgeon.” He paused, then added, “It certainly isn’t my humility.” A dry laugh followed, sounding not unlike maracas being shaken.
Deanna beamed at him. “May I escort you to sickbay, Doctor?”
“That would be delightful,” Ree said, somehow hissing and clicking simultaneously as he spoke. Riker thought of drawers full of steak knives when Ree’s top and bottom teeth came into contact. “Since that is where I’ll be spending half of each ship’s day, I hope that I will bond with it immediately.”
Deanna led the way out of the transporter room, with Ree walking directly behind her, his head dipping to avoid hitting the doorframe, his claws clacking loudly across the deck as he moved. Out of Ree’s line of sight, Riker started rubbing his right hand—which he imagined felt strangely clammy after Dr. Ree’s handshake—when he “heard” Deanna in his thoughts again: Just deal with it, Will.
As he stepped into