The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [5]
“Nah,” said Riker with a dismissive wave.
“This is a routine pickup. We’ll be on our way back before you know it. The trick will be to make sure we don’t arrive too soon. We may have to find some excuse to slow down our return trip, a way to ensure a proper entrance … say, five minutes before the championship begins.”
His confidence was infectious, and he noted with satisfaction that Geordi had started to smile at the dramatic image Riker had conjured; Worf never smiled, but at least he had stopped snarling.
Unfortunately, Troi still looked dubious; Riker wondered if she could sense the uneasiness beneath his bluff. To his relief, she played along anyway. “Will, what about Captain Picard? Won’t he suspect that something is going on?”
“Oh, I’ll take care of the captain,” said the first officer without blinking an eye at the ethical contortions that simple statement might involve. “All you have to worry about is improving your game.”
Springing out of his chair, Riker flourished the deck of cards that he had kept nestled in the palm of his hand. Data was right on cue, as well, whipping out his dealer’s visor and a stack of chips.
“We have just enough time for a practice round.”
Riker shuffled the deck back and forth in an arc through the air like a juggler. “Ante up, my friends, ante up. We’re going to be the next poker champions of Starfleet!”
In the normal course of events, Picard resisted the temptation to read while on duty; his love of the written word was so intense and his concentration so focused that he never trusted himself to pay sufficient attention to the demands of command when he held a book in his hand. Just as a proper gentleman never shared his affections with more than one woman at a time, he confined his reading to his leisure hours.
On this mission, however, Picard had decided that a review of T’Sara’s texts would help prepare him for his impending interaction with the scientist. After the briefing session with his senior officers, he had retrieved the Vulcan’s books from his cabin and carried them off to his ready room. He even went so far as to sit on the sofa, rather than behind his desk, but he did so with the firm intention of only glancing at a few of the more recent forewords.
Reading her spare yet elegant prose, he was newly reminded of T’Sara’s ability to present brilliant insights as if they were self-evident truths and to use logic to convince and persuade with a skill that was almost seductive.
For a Vulcan, she possessed a keen understanding of her very emotional subjects.
When the door chime pulled him back to the present, Picard noticed with a start that he had been immersed in Oral Histories from the Andorian Middle Kingdom for over an hour.
And the chime had been ringing repeatedly.
“Come.”
The doors snapped apart and the ship’s first officer barreled through the opening. “Captain, are you al—” Riker skidded to a sudden halt. His worried fro wn transformed into a knowing smile. “Oh, you’ve been reading.”
“Guilty as charged.” Picard sighed and tossed the book aside, only to automatically pick up another in its stead; this second choice had vellum pages that were thickly covered with the patterns of an alien script.
“We’re within hailing distance of Atropos, but we haven’t raised the campsite yet.” Riker canted his head to one side in order to read the title on the spine; his lips tried to form the words, but failed. “I didn’t know you could read Vulcan, Captain.”
“I can’t.” Picard’s eyes skimmed down a page. “At least, I shouldn’t be able to … but occasionally, as I look over the text, I gather a hint of meaning in certain words and phrases.”
“A legacy of your mind-meld with Ambassador Sarek?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Picard set down the book on a side table with an exaggerated care that bordered on reverence. “This volume belonged to him; it was a gift to me from Perrin after his death.”
One of the traits of a good first officer, as well as a good friend, was knowing when to share silence. A few minutes later they