The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [51]
Picard’s desk was cluttered with piles of books, yet her eyes were drawn immediately to a dull gray rock lurking amidst the disorder. It hunched half-hidden beneath the cover of an opened volume. “Am I disturbing you, Captain?”
Laying aside the thick textbook he had been reading, Picard said, “No, Guinan, come in.” Yet she could see that his eyes were still clouded with thoughts far removed from her presence in the ready room. She remained silent and watched as his distracted gaze moved downward to the desk surface and his hand strayed out to stroke the rough surface of the rock.
Age emanated from it in waves. At times, after prolonged contact with short-lived races such as Humans, Guinan felt herself to be an old woman; this small object reminded her that she was still a child in the universe.
“That’s a very unusual paperweight.”
“What?” When Picard caught her meaning, his fist closed over the stone. Several seconds passed before he reached the decision to tell her more.
“It’s called the Devil’s Heart.”
Yes, the stone was very old indeed. “I’ve heard of it.” She had heard other names for it as well, darker names that had laced through the mythology of her homeworld. That world was gone now, and so were her people’s legends.
The stone had survived.
Picard was rubbing the bridge of his nose. She studied the cast of his shoulders, then said, “You look tired.”
“Do I? Perhaps because I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.” He took a deep breath and recovered the sharp inquisitive look that usually resided on his face. “So, Guinan, has the wake in Ten-Forward driven you to the bridge?”
“According to Commander Riker, you don’t know anything about that.”
“The innocence of the young is frightening,” said Picard with a smile. “As a newly promoted lieutenant, I lost a month’s wages betting on my ship’s crew at the same floating poker championship. All we needed were five starships in the same place, so as soon as I saw the docking roster at Luxor IV, I knew someone would call for a championship game.”
“The crew were disappointed to miss the game.”
“I knew they would be.” The captain’s expression of geniality evaporated. “But we were unavoidably delayed.” His gaze flickered briefly to the Heart, but he offered no further details of their mission. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to visit Starbase 193.”
He stared up at her for a moment, then said, “Surely you know that I’ve canceled all shore leave privileges for the crew?”
“Yes, but I’d like to go anyway.”
Picard was not given to prying into her personal affairs. He grimaced before he asked, “For what purpose?”
“I’d like to see an old … acquaintance.”
Guinan had been about to say friend, but too much time had passed for her to make that assumption.
“I see.” From the thoughtful expression on his face, she realized that he had made the connection very quickly. “Very well, Guinan. You have my permission for shore leave.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Just as she reached the doorway of the ready room, Picard added, “When I first saw Camenae, I had the distinct feeling that we had met before. Now I realize that I was mistaken; instead, she reminded me of someone I already know.”
She smiled and slipped quietly out of the room.
As soon as he was alone again, Picard picked up the book he had been reading and resumed his study of its contents.
Surak … Ishaya … Garamond …
J’ross …
Familiar names and places met him at every turn of a page, yet the factual details of the pre-Reform era were difficult to separate from legend. Several dry accounts of Surak’s life contradicted the possibility of his stark walk through the field of dead on the plain of Ishaya, and only one of his contemporaries had recounted a version that echoed Picard’s dream of that pivotal moment in the philosopher’s life.
The confusion only deepened after the exodus from Vulcan. T’Sara’s foreword warned that her original sources for early Romulan history were impossible to confirm through other records. Those who had spurned the path of