The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [54]
“Very well,” Picard said. “That’s very generous of you, Presider Hek. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Captain Picard,” Hek replied, “but for what, I don’t know. One of the hospitality workers waiting just outside the door will escort the three of you back to the landing bay. If you need to contact me before our next meeting, just call.” He smiled tightly. “I’ll answer this time.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Picard said. “Until next time, then.”
“Until next time,” Hek echoed, and he and the six national leaders rose from their seats as Picard, Troi, and Worf filed out of the room.
When they had gone, Hek turned to his colleagues. “Well done,” he said. “That went better than we’d planned.”
Drappa looked puzzled. “I thought we were going to—”
“No,” Hek interrupted, holding up a finger. “Not yet. There was a last-minute change of plans, dictated by circumstance. It’s just as well, as this observer nonsense gives us a little extra time—which reminds me, Drappa. I want an updated report in my hands within the hour.”
“Yes, Presider.”
“We’re still on schedule?”
“Yes, we are,” the intelligence chief replied confidently.
“Good.” Hek held up his right hand, holding the thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart. “We are that close now, Drappa,” he said, smiling dangerously. “I don’t want any mistakes made.”
Chapter Eleven
“CLOSE YOUR EYES,” Beverly Crusher ordered, and Troi did.
The doctor closely studied Troi’s left eyelid under a lighted magnification lens she had swung into place.
“Hmmm. Captain, I don’t care what the analyzer says. This shading looks a little off to me.”
“Fix it, then,” Picard told her. “I trust your eye more than I do that analyzer, Doctor.”
Will Riker was sitting up on the next bed over, watching what was going on. He now looked like a Krann male. The bridge of Riker’s nose had been built up, but not much, and the filtrum above his upper lip had been filled in. His beard had been removed and its roots inhibited, and his skin color had been changed to a shade the color of rich cream containing just the barest splash of coffee. Riker’s hair was its normal color, but the irises of his eyes had been dyed a warm yellow. He, like Troi, was already dressed in dark clothing identical in style and color to the attire the Enterprise party had seen the Krann wearing during their time aboard the flagship.
Dr. Crusher set down the epidermal infiltrator she’d been using on Troi’s eyelid. “You can open your eyes now, Deanna,” she said after a last, long look. “I’m done.”
Troi now looked much like Riker, except that her skin was a touch darker than his, and her newly shortened black hair had been given golden highlights. The irises of her eyes were now a pale green.
Looking over, Troi saw Riker and grinned. “‘Light he was, and golden-eyed,’” she misquoted. “Will, it’s been years since I’ve seen you without your beard.”
“I’ll have it back soon enough, don’t worry,” Riker said, stroking his chin. “Feels pretty bare, though; it’s been a while. Too bad you didn’t see any Krann with facial hair, Captain.”
“They may not be able to grow any,” Picard said, “or the Krann might consider it out of fashion or taboo. We can’t take the chance of you being the only person aboard the flagship with a beard, Will.”
“Losing my beard is a small price to pay for galactic peace,” Riker replied bravely. “What a waste, though. Maybe I should have donated it to Data. He seemed a little uncomfortable when he left.”
“Oh, stop,” Beverly Crusher told him. “Data seemed pleased enough when I got through with him. Ro, too. Nice job, Bev.” She reached around and patted herself on the back.
“Don’t dislocate that shoulder, Doctor,” Riker said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Transporter room three to captain.”
“Go ahead,” said Picard.
“Commander Data and Ensign Ro have beamed down to the surface of Planet Three, sir.”
The captain nodded. “Very good. Bridge, take us back to our position off the Krann Fleet. Best speed.