The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [108]
“My pleasure. I’m gonna meet Doctor Aaron in engineering in a little while. Guess I’ll see you at dinner.”
Geordi turned off at the next juncture, and Will looked down at Deanna, impressed. “Maybe you’ve been right all along,” he teased. “Maybe command officers do need more counselor training. I have a feeling it’s going to be a real asset in your case, Deanna.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I’ll go talk to Taurik now—that is,” she said, turning to Will, “if you’ll take a rain check on that hot chocolate you were going to ply me with to calm my nerves.”
“Hey, I never said—”
“It doesn’t take an empath, Will,” she reminded him impishly.
By the end of dinner, Deanna’s head was swimming with more new terminology than she’d learned in an entire semester of astrophysics at the academy. No matter how many times she reminded herself that a commanding officer couldn’t be an expert in every field, she couldn’t help wondering if Doctor Aaron, or even Taurik, doubted her ability to lead this mission. The young Vulcan had apparently used the few hours after Deanna approached him to brush up on recent papers on planetary rings, and he had asked Doctor Aaron several intelligent questions, while Deanna’s own contributions to the discussion had been few and far between.
Outside the conference room, she pulled Geordi aside and quietly asked him to meet her an hour before her team’s departure the next morning to go over the equipment they’d installed in the runabout that afternoon.
The group broke up, and Deanna and Data walked to the senior crew quarters together. At the door to his quarters, Data invited her in for some hot chocolate, and she accepted, although she wondered if everyone on board thought she needed to be soothed. She sat down next to Data, whom she noticed had replicated a cup for himself, no doubt in an effort to be companionable.
She took a tentative sip, but the sweet beverage was still too hot. She blew on it, and over the rim of the cup her eyes wandered to the corner by the door, where an easel held an unfinished painting of a red-orange planet circled by yellow and gold rings.
“Data, I didn’t know you were painting again!” Deanna said. “I thought you’d given up. What made you change your mind?”
“I recently discovered an obscure aphorism regarding Pablo Picasso, which states, ‘If Picasso could, then I can.’ It is unclear to what the original speaker may have been referring, but it did cause me to reconsider. If Picasso could find ways to express himself within his inherent limitations, then perhaps I can learn to better express myself within mine. Human artists do not have perfect motor control, yet many of them can produce photorealistic art. If I keep trying, perhaps I can learn to produce art that is not merely a comingling of other artists’ styles.”
“I’m proud of you, Data,” said Deanna. “It’s not easy to keep at something you find frustrating.”
“Technically I am not frustrated, Counselor,” Data said. “But I understand what you mean.”
A small furry form demanded Deanna’s attention by rubbing against her legs. “And hello to you, Spot,” she greeted the android’s cat. “Data, may I ask you something?”
“Please, Counselor,” he said.
“I was wondering about your first command,” she said, absently stroking the fur between Spot’s alert ears.
“I see,” said Data. “As you may recall, my first command of a starship occurred on Stardate 45020.4, when we enacted the blockade to prevent the Romulans from supporting the Duras family in their attempt to overthrow the Klingon government. However, if you are referring to my first away team command, that occurred—”
“Data,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but actually I meant the experience of your first command. Not the physical details, but what it was like for you personally. Did you find the crew resistant to the idea of you as a commander?”
“Not particularly on my first away team command. My crew members were accustomed to my position among the senior bridge staff and were comfortable with my ability to command. However, my experience aboard