The Brave and the Bold Book Two - Keith R. A. DeCandido [4]
“It’s a weapon. The only weapon we’ll ever need. Trust me, B’Elanna. Have I ever lied to you?”
Knowing full well that he hadn’t, B’Elanna could only let out a growl. “Fine. So what does the stupid thing do?”
For the first time in many months, Tharia smiled.
“I’ll tell you when Chakotay arrives.”
Chapter Two
CAPTAIN ROBERT DESOTO knew he was in trouble the minute he realized that his first officer was threatening his territory.
The extremely wide, almost disturbingly toothy smile of Lieutenant Commander Dina Voyskunsky flashed across the table of the Hood’ s lounge at the captain as she placed a black stone down in a position that cut one group of his white stones off from the rest of his pieces. Suddenly, what seemed to be a solid, secure group of stones was now in serious trouble. Either it was going to wither and die, or he was going to have to struggle mightily to survive.
Regardless, it was quite possible that the move had cost DeSoto the game. And Voyskunsky knew it. The first officer had a thin face with a disproportionately wide mouth. She also had wide teeth that DeSoto, in his less charitable moments—like right now, when she was beating him at Go—thought would be more at place on a horse than a human.
“Your move, Captain,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
DeSoto sighed, and gazed over the Go board. He could resign the game, of course—that was the proper thing to do when one was defeated and knew it. And DeSoto did know it.
Under any other circumstances, he would, of course, resign, but he wanted to at least try to get some of his own back, even though intellectually he knew better. It wasn’t worthy of him—but what the hell, he was the captain, he could make an idiot of himself if he wanted.
Besides, there was a possibility, however slim. Thirty-five years in Starfleet had taught him that there were always possibilities. You just sometimes had to look really hard for them.
“I must once again thank you for teaching me how to play this game.” Voyskunsky grabbed her glass of synthale, moved as if to take a sip, then realized it was empty and put it back down.
“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you want. You know I was the captain of the Academy team my junior and senior years? In fact, all four years I was there—”
“You won two out of four Federation championships,” Voyskunsky said in a singsong tone. “You’ve only told me three times a day every day since I beat you the first time. That was, in case you’ve forgotten, eight months ago, and I’ve beaten you—”
“Regularly ever since,” DeSoto said, taking some small pleasure in being the interrupter this time, “I know, I know.” He ran a hand through his rapidly thinning brown hair. I’m going to be as bald as old Jean-Luc soon, he thought, referring to his old friend Captain Picard of the Enterprise. Sooner if I keep playing Dina.
DeSoto’s mother, Captain Mirabelle Brodeur, had been an amateur champion player of the ancient Earth game of Go, which dated back at least three thousand years. Originated in China, where it was called Wei Chi, the game was deceptively simple. One player got one hundred and eighty-one black stones and went first, the other got one hundred and eighty white ones and went second. The board was a grid of nineteen horizontal lines and nineteen vertical lines. Each player took turns placing a stone on an intersection, with the object being to secure the most territory. It was the precursor to many a tabletop war and strategy game, but where they had come and gone—and in some cases improved, particularly with the development of holographic technology—Go remained a vital and popular game. It also had remained all but unchanged over the millennia.
Brodeur’s husband, Dr. Hiram DeSoto, a civilian physician, had never evinced any interest in the game, but their son did. By the time Robert DeSoto reached his teen years, he had become renowned—first at his local school, later at