The Red King - Michael A. Martin [137]
Troi couldn’t restrain herself from chuckling. “So you must think you have a much better chance of winning this ‘competition’ than Commander Vale does.”
“Damned right I do, assuming all the entries get evaluated fairly. Of course, I probably don’t stand as good a chance as you do, Counselor. After all, I’m not sleeping with—”
“Okay,” Vale said, interrupting. Troi noticed that she and Jaza exchanged veiled, significant glances at that moment. “You don’t want to go there, Bralik, trust me. And another thing: I’ve read all the entries in this ‘competition,’ and yours didn’t exactly make our short list.”
Troi couldn’t get a reliable emotional “read” on Bralik, of course, because Ferengi brains were completely opaque to Betazoids. But she thought that the geologist looked genuinely wounded.
“Why?” Bralik asked.
Vale, too, was now having trouble holding back her laughter. “I’m sorry, Bralik. But ‘tip your waiter’ is not quite something I’d classify as a starship-worthy motto.”
Bralik shrugged. “That’s just because you Federation folk have a cashless economy. In the Ferengi Alliance, those are words to live by, believe you me.”
The turbolift opened again, this time disgorging engineering trainee Torvig Bu-kar-nguv, astrobiology specialist Kent Norellis, and Lieutenant Eviku, the Arkenite xenobiologist.
“I hope we haven’t missed the big unveiling,” Norellis asked, beaming at Vale and Troi.
Torvig waved one of his biomechanical limbs toward the bare spot on the wall. “Obviously not.”
“Then our wager is still on, Cadet?” said Eviku, tipping his long, swept-back cranium to the side as he regarded the Choblik engineering trainee.
“Our wager is still on,” Torvig said.
“Wager?” Cethente asked in a tinkling voice that sounded almost as though his rack of champagne glasses might have just learned to speak. “What have you and Mr. Eviku wagered on?”
Eviku’s eyes met Troi’s, and he flushed baby-blanket pink with embarrassment. “I know it’s not quite regulation, but I saw no harm in placing a small bet.”
Vale frowned. “A bet on what?”
“On the outcome of Captain Riker’s final decision regarding the dedication plaque motto,” Eviku said. Then he turned his piercing gaze upon the ostrich-like Torvig.
“Cadet?” Troi said.
“May I speak freely?” Torvig asked.
Vale smirked. “All right. But just this once.”
“I thought that Captain Riker might give preference to a motto written by a human author. Sir. That is the thesis of my wager with Lieutenant Eviku.”
“Because the captain is human?” Vale asked, nonplussed. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit, Cadet.”
“I understand, sir,” Torvig said. “However, your perspective is much the same as the captain’s, Commander. Thus you may have similar exosociological ‘blind spots.’ You, too, are human, after all.”
Vale nodded, a look of understanding crossing her face. “Ah. So you think Titan’s command hierarchy may have a built-in, systemic human bias.”
The Choblik seemed delighted to have been so clearly understood so quickly. “Yes, sir. Precisely, sir. I could not have said it better myself, sir.”
Eviku leaned forward, interposing himself between Torvig and Vale. “For whatever it’s worth, Commander, I took the other side of the wager. My thesis in this debate was that the captain would choose a nonhuman aphorism.”
Vale sighed. “That’s great, Mr. Eviku.” Under her breath, she added, “Remind me to put a special commendation in your service record for that.”
The turbolift shushed open yet again. Ranul Keru, Dr. Ra-Havreii, and Melora Pazlar—the latter leaning carefully on her garlanic wood cane—tried to step out onto the bridge. They all looked surprised to see the room’s aft portion so crowded.
“Whoa. What’s going on?” Keru said, still standing in the turbolift’s open doorway.
“The captain is evidently about to settle a bet for us,” Vale said, deadpan. “In front of an audience.”
“I think we still have room for a few more, Ranul,” Bralik said with a smirk. “Step carefully, though; it’s gonna be standing room only in here pretty soon. Start