Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [80]
Though he was no less frustrated now than moments ago, Riker knew there was nothing to be gained by pressing the issue. The admiral was clearly saying that he would explain whatever he decided to explain when he felt damned good and ready to do so, and not a moment sooner.
“All right, Admiral.”
“It may surprise you to learn that I believe that your perception of me may be as much right as it is wrong,” Akaar said. “I am an old man, and I have served under many starship captains, and with many crews. Therefore when I enter any new command situation, or interact with a new commander, I suppose I do tend to subject him or her to considerable scrutiny. I can certainly understand how that scrutiny, combined with your own understandable apprehensions about facing your first command assignment—especially on this particular mission—could stir up feelings such as those you have expressed.”
Akaar shifted back in his chair, and suddenly looked even taller. “But I must tell you, Captain, that I find your command style to be wise, decisive, and intuitive. You have also made great strides with your crew. Usually it takes several missions for a crew to fully bond with its CO, but I already sense that your staff has developed a strong loyalty toward you…and I am not merely speaking of your fellow Enterprise alumni, or your wife.”
Despite his righteous anger over the cloaking device, Riker could feel the stress begin to pour out of his body like steam escaping from a volcanic fissure. He had expected Akaar to bellow angrily and pull rank on him, or perhaps even to threaten to strip him of his command for having taken such an insubordinate tone with him.
Instead, the Capellan seemed cordial and almost apologetic, even allowing Riker a glimpse of something akin to gentle humor. Riker felt that he was receiving something extraordinarily rare. With an almost stunning shock of recognition, he realized what that something was. It’s almost like getting praise from Dad.
Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Riker said, “Maybe I have allowed my perceptions of you to be colored by my own…apprehensions. And by the sensitive nature of this mission.”
Akaar extended a large hand. “I hope we have arrived at a mutual understanding, then. You should be satisfied that I am not a deskbound paper-pusher sent here for the express purpose of ‘busting your chops.’ And I will conclude, unless you give me reason later to further revise my opinion, that you are no neophyte in need of supervision. Now shall we move forward, Captain?”
Riker took Akaar’s hand and shook it firmly. “Agreed, Admiral.”
Akaar nodded his head curtly, his earlier grim smile now returned. “Before we break out into a Risan peace song, let me ask: Have you had any luck finding Vulcan life signs on Romulus?”
Riker withdrew his hand and frowned. “No, I’m sorry, sir. Not yet, at any rate. Scanning the Romulan homeworld for Vulcan life signs makes the naked-eye search for a needle in a haystack look pretty easy by comparison.”
“The biosigns we seek are more than likely in, under, or near Ki Baratan.”
“Ki Baratan and the surrounding area have come up dry so far,” Riker said, nodding. “I’ve had Commander Jaza and several of Commander Ledrah’s techs working on re-fining the resolution of the new sensor nets. But the central problem remains: distinguishing two Vulcan biosigns from those of several billion Romulans.”
Akaar’s brow furrowed, and he stared past Riker at the distant glowing limb of Romulus that was visible through the observation window to the left of the desk. “Your search may be complicated by the fact that one of those two Vulcans has been microsurgically modified to pass as a Romulan.”
“Your missing agent?” Riker asked. He remembered that Akaar had mentioned a missing intelligence operative during the first mission briefing, but the admiral hadn’t elaborated when he had later ordered the search for Vulcan life signs.
Akaar nodded, then looked Riker directly in the eyes. “Captain, it is very