The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [21]
“Captain,” said Data from the helm. “I’ve computed the Choraii ship’s trajectory from our sensor readings. Course laid in.” He waited expectantly for further orders. If he felt any surprise at Picard’s hesitation, he did not show it.
“Ahead warp factor four, Mr. La Forge,” said the captain at last. He had waited until the decision was truly his, and not the ambassador’s. The result was ultimately the same. Yet not quite the same. “Mr. Riker, assemble the bridge crew in the observation deck. Lieutenant Yar, inform Ambassador Deelor that we are ready to begin the briefing.”
The visitor’s quarters were spacious, even luxurious after the smaller accommodations on board the Ferrel, but the ambassador was too preoccupied to make a comparison and Ruthe did not care.
Deelor studied his reflection in the bedroom area mirror, critically assessing the line of his black uniform. He was pleased to see that the synthetic skin covering his burns was too thin to show beneath the form-fitting fabric. Deelor was not a vain man, but he understood the subliminal underpinnings of authority. Any flaw could weaken his position.
Satisfied with his own apparel, he shifted his attention to the reflection of the woman behind him. “You need new clothes, too.”
“No,” said Ruthe, and curled up on the bed, pulling her cloak tightly around her. The garment had been newly cleaned, but the material was worn and the original dark color had faded to a lighter, uneven shade of gray.
Deelor knew her well enough to drop the issue. He returned to a previous topic. “And let me do all the talking at the briefing.”
Her face peeked out from under the folds of cloth. “I always do. Well, most of the time.”
“Yes, but it’s the times you don’t that worry me. Picard is not a stupid man; the slightest slip and he’ll pounce. So it’s very important …. ” He walked over to Ruthe, who had once more retreated into a formless ball. Sitting down on the bed beside her, certain that she could hear him, he continued. “It’s very important, for both our sakes, that he doesn’t learn any more than I want him to know.”
“Then why talk to him?” she asked with a muffled voice.
“I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.” He tugged gently at her elbow. “Come on. They’re waiting for us.”
From his position by the doorway, Picard watched as the conference lounge was filled to capacity by the members of the bridge crew. Lieutenant Worf reached the room early and was the first to file past the captain. He secured a seat with a wall at his back. The Klingon was followed by Data and Geordi; the android took control of the computer access panel and Geordi sat beside him.
“You’re early,” remarked Picard when Dr. Crusher crossed the threshold.
“It happens.”
“Here, read this while we wait for the briefing to start.” He handed her the Hamlin medical report which Deelor had provided. The doctor accepted the package and carried it to the table.
After a short lag, the second group arrived. Dr. Crusher glanced up from the pages of her printout in time to see her son enter with Tasha Yar and Deanna Troi. One hand rose in the air to beckon Wesley to her side, but she stopped in time. Picard was amused to see her cover the motion by scratching the tip of her nose.
“Where’s the ambassador?” asked Riker when he arrived. He was exactly on time. “And Ruthe.”
“Yes, they always travel as a pair,” noted Picard. “So who is she? An assistant, attaché, aide-de-camp?” Meaningless, interchangeable terms, but without them Ruthe’s presence was unexplained.
“Lover?” offered Riker. “They’ve turned down separate quarters.”
Picard shrugged. “For all we know, she’s his wife.” The doors parted at his final statement, revealing Deelor and Ruthe at the threshold. Picard wondered just how much of the exchange the ambassador had overheard.
“This is unacceptable, Captain,” said Deelor when he saw the large number of people grouped in the room. “Especially the boy.”
“I will not send my bridge crew on this or any other mission without a full understanding of the situation. That includes Ensign Crusher.