Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [23]
“I regret that circumstances have forced me to settle for other duties instead, Captain,” Worf said dryly.
“There are always other jobs in the fleet if this one doesn’t work out, Worf,” La Forge deadpanned to Worf. “I know that Titan already has a pretty darned good head counselor. But from what I hear, the exec position there is still open. Maybe there’s still time to change your mind.” He turned his blue-white optical implants back on Riker with an insouciant wink.
Riker allowed his smile to fall ever so slightly. Geordi would know if Christine had changed her mind about not taking the job. If I can’t persuade her this time, I’m just going to have to move on. Go through the candidate list again, and then settle for someone else.
He hated to settle. And he’d already been thwarted on this particular quest too many times.
“Actually my ongoing executive-officer audition is one of the reasons I’m here,” Riker said aloud. “Titan won’t ship out for almost two whole weeks, so I have that long to finish filling out my roster. But don’t worry. I’m not going to try to steal either of you again.”
La Forge chuckled at that, no doubt recalling that he had been Riker’s first choice for the exec job. Geordi had opted instead to remain aboard the Enterprise as chief engineer, a job to which he felt better suited. Worf, who had been prematurely invited to take Titan’s exec job by Admiral Ross, had looked forward to serving under Riker’s command…until Picard, following Data’s death, had sought Worf’s permanent assignment to the Enterprise. The change in circumstances had led Riker to make his second overture to Vale, which she proceeded to turn down again.
La Forge’s tone grew suddenly serious. “Do you think she’ll say ‘yes’ this time, Commander?”
Riker shrugged. “I’ll let you know. But if later you see me scowling in a dark corner of the crew lounge, order me another drink, stat.”
And with that, he stepped through the inner hangar doors and into the corridor that led to the rest of deck six. A few moments later he entered a turbolift, which he momentarily placed on pause.
“Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Christine Vale.”
The door chime sounded, startling her.
Seated cross-legged on the low sofa in her quarters, Christine Vale set the replicated hard-copy book she had been reading down on her lap. The volume, a biography of Thelian, the Federation’s president during the time of Cardassian First Contact, wasn’t succeeding in holding her interest. At last count, she’d read the same paragraph five times.
Is it already time?
“Come,” she said to the closed door. Already aware of her visitor’s identity, she moved the book onto the coffee table and rose from the sofa, only belatedly becoming aware that her boots lay in a heap beside her bed. Though her uniform was otherwise virtually inspection-ready, her feet were bare.
The tall form of William Riker stepped confidently into the room. “Hello, Christine.”
“Hello, Captain,” she said, trying not to let her lack of footwear make her feel awkward, even though she was entitled to be comfortable in her own quarters. She reminded herself that he had once seen her lying on a South Pacific beach wearing nothing but a skimpy swimsuit. But today we had a meeting scheduled, and I lost track of time. Not a very auspicious start for a prospective first officer.
Finger-combing her short, sandy-hued hair, Vale gestured to a nearby chair. “Would you like anything to drink, Captain?”
“No, thank you,” he said, taking the offered seat. “And you can call me Will. Why don’t you have a seat yourself?”
Nodding, Vale resumed her place on the sofa and tried very hard not to fidget. Silence stretched between them.
“So,” Riker said finally.
“So.”
Throats cleared. More silence followed. Once again, Riker was the one to break it. “Titan won’t head out for another thirteen days, Christine. I’d still like to have you aboard as my exec.”
She inhaled, then released her breath in a long, nearly inaudible sigh. “The last time you asked me to my face, I gave you