Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [57]
Dakal shrugged his wide shoulders. “It seems to be where my strengths are, Lieutenant.”
“Then think again,” Eviku said. “Stick around long enough, Cadet, and we’ll make a scientist of you yet.”
Dakal smiled. “I’ll accept that as a compliment, sir. I do have a great respect for science, and I admire the enthusiasm of its practitioners. I’ve just never had much patience for the fine details.”
Norellis rolled his eyes. “Which is why you’re a far better candidate than I am to push buttons up on the bridge.”
Nodding, Dakal said, “With respect, sir, I prefer that you science specialists leave the driving to others.”
“Really,” Pazlar said dryly, at which point Dakal realized his misstep: In addition to her credentials in stellar cartography, the Elaysian was also one of Titan’s better shuttle pilots.
“Only so you specialists can concentrate on the really hard work,” Dakal added quickly.
“Excellent save, Cadet,” Dr. Cethente said. “You ought to make admiral in no time.”
“If Bralik were here, I’m sure she’d have a few choice thoughts on the subject,” Eviku said.
Pazlar chuckled appreciatively. “Bralik seems to have choice thoughts on every subject.”
“Where is Doctor Bralik?” Dakal asked as he finished the last of his sushi. “I had thought she would be joining us.”
Kent nodded past Dakal. “A few tables behind you, slumming with the yellowshirts.”
“I heard that!” came the sound of Bralik’s voice from across the mess hall, which prompted laughter from around the Blue Table. Ah, of course: Ferengi ears, Dakal noted. I must remember that.
“I have to admit,” Pazlar said after the laughter had subsided, “I never would have thought of politics as a field of scientific inquiry. I never thought much about it before.”
“Then it should be ripe for exploration,” Cethente chimed, unexpectedly taking up Dakal’s argument. The Syrath was not eating—at least, not in any obvious way; Dakal suddenly realized he hadn’t the faintest idea how Cethente took its nourishment.
“As interesting as all this is,” Norellis said, “I’m still skeptical that what we’re doing on Romulus can have any relevance to our mission into the frontier, assuming we ever get there.”
“Everything is connected, Kent,” Jaza said, speaking up again at last. “Even when you think it isn’t. Sometimes it’s obvious, sometimes it’s subtle, and sometimes it’s paradoxical. It may take generations to see those connections, and longer still to understand them. Or those things may simply come all at once in a flash of insight. You just never know. So don’t make the mistake of pursuing knowledge arrogantly. Keep an open mind.”
“Always good advice, Commander,” Norellis said with a nod, and drained his glass. Then he added with a grin, “But I’ll still take a subspace singularity over a Romulan political confab any day of the week.” He excused himself from the group, moving to join the table where Bralik was dining with Chief Engineer Ledrah and several members of the security department. Shortly thereafter, Pazlar, Eviku, and Cethente said their goodnights and left the Blue Table as well, leaving only Dakal and Jaza. Dakal decided this was the ideal opportunity to confront his superior head-on about his reference to Iloja.
“Did I pass your test, Commander?”
Finishing the last of his water, Jaza’s brow furrowed. “My test, Cadet?”
“You wished to see how I would handle a discussion of my culture, did you not?”
“No, I did not,” Jaza said mildly.
Dakal frowned. “Then why—?” Dakal stopped, realizing his emotions were taking hold. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Jaza leaned forward and, resting his elbows on the dining table, steepled his fingers before him. “Permission granted.”
“If you were not testing me, then why did you single me out as a Cardassian during dinner?”
“I didn’t, Cadet,” Jaza said calmly. “You’ve singled yourself out by constantly being on your guard against any sign of interest in you as a representative of your species. You deliberately avoid the subject, I believe, because despite Starfleet