The Red King - Michael A. Martin [136]
“I wouldn’t know about that, Chris. I still have all my teeth.” Troi grinned broadly, displaying them.
Vale returned her smile with almost equal wattage. “I know, Deanna. Have I told you how much I hate you for that? You obviously never worked in security.”
Troi stifled a guffaw behind the back of her hand as the turbolift whooshed open. She turned toward the sound and watched Bralik and Cethente moving out onto the bridge, the latter perambulating so smoothly on his four, outwardly splayed lower limbs that he almost could have been mounted on wheels.
Bralik stepped over to the bridge railing near where Jaza was working at the main science station. Troi noticed then that the Ferengi geologist had a bottle tucked under her arm. The bottle complemented the rack of delicately fluted champagne glasses that hung from one of Cethente’s four tentacle-like upper appendages.
Bralik immediately fixed her gaze on the bare spot on the bulkhead that Vale had pointed out. “Good. They’ve finally taken the suggestion box down. Looks like the decision’s been made. I just hope we haven’t missed the ceremony yet. When do the festivities start?”
Personally, Troi had had more than enough of ceremonies of any sort, after the recent memorial services for Chief Engineer Ledrah and Lieutenant T’Lirin. The latter, who had been lost during the Oghen evacuation, had been memorialized in a very brief but dignified service, per the Vulcan security officer’s own written directives.
But with T’Lirin’s memorial still only five days in the past, Troi could well understand the need that some of her colleagues might have for other, more life-affirming rites in the wake of so much recent sorrow.
Vale rose and crossed to the railing that ringed the bridge’s central section, approaching Bralik. “Ceremony? We hadn’t planned to make a huge production out of this, Bralik. It’s really not a big deal.”
Bralik’s eyes grew large. “Not a big deal? Not a big deal?” She raised the bottle and produced a gleaming corkscrew with all the panache of a professional stage magician. “Any time a starship gets its official motto installed is a cause for celebration. It’s like…” She paused, seeming to have to grope for an acceptable metaphor. “…like when a Ferengi business concern publicly unveils its mission statements.”
“ ‘Statements’?” Troi asked, rising from her chair. “Why do they need more than one?”
Bralik regarded her as though she belonged to some newly discovered variety of idiot. “There’s the one the company shows to the Ferengi Commerce Authority. And then there’s the real one that management shows its employees.”
Vale shook her head. “I still wouldn’t make too much out of this, Bralik. It’s just a dedication plaque, for crying out loud.”
Bralik snickered as she opened the bottle, which made a loud “pop” but fortunately did not shower the deck with the bottle’s contents. The Ferengi addressed Cethente as she accepted a glass from him. “ ‘Just a dedication plaque,’ she says.” To Vale, she added, “So why did you spend weeks agonizing over piles of quotes and epigrams from all over the galaxy?”
Vale hiked a thumb toward Troi. “My counselor says I work too hard. I needed a hobby.”
Seated, respectively, at the forward conn and ops consoles, Ensign Aili Lavena and Cadet Zurin Dakal exchanged amused looks with Lieutenant Rager, who stood nearby.
Bralik let the vapors from the open bottle’s neck drift toward her wrinkled nose. She made an approving face. “If you ask me, Commander, I think you’re just trying to play down the competitive aspect of this situation.”
“I wasn’t aware of any competition,” Vale said.
“Wasn’t the captain’s ‘Help Select Titan’s Dedication Plaque Motto Suggestion Box’ intended to be a competition?”
Vale shook her head. “I really don’t think so, Bralik. The captain just wanted to give everyone’s ideas a thorough hearing.”
“You’re only saying that because you want to soften the blow