The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [69]
“You’re discussing trade agreements, right?” Ro paced restlessly, too keyed up to sit down. “Maybe they figured they’d gain the upper hand by taking you hostage first. Use your safety as a bargaining chip to negotiate a better deal for themselves.” She looked at Barclay. “Unfortunately, that strategy doesn’t extend to us.”
Barclay’s reply caught in his throat as, to his surprise, Lwaxana stood up and began peeling off her clothes. “Ambassador…?”
“Just shedding a few layers,” she explained, as her sodden garments landed in a heap at her feet. Jangling bracelets and earrings soon joined the ruined finery. “These soaking rags were weighing me down dreadfully.” She blithely stepped away from the discarded clothing, wearing only a lacy silk chemise that barely covered her buxom figure. The protective cap upon her head clashed somewhat with her intimate apparel. “And I told you before, call me Lwaxana.”
“Yes, Ambass…Lwaxana.” Barclay’s face was nearly infrared. He chivalrously turned his back on the disrobed diplomat. That her unexpected striptease made perfect sense from a strictly pragmatic point of view didn’t make him any less uncomfortable. This was Counselor Troi’s mother, for heaven’s sake!
Lwaxana chuckled softly behind him. “No need to be embarrassed, Lieutenant. Why, on Betazed, nudity is considered formal attire in some circumstances.” She sighed nostalgically. “You should have seen me at my wedding. I assure you I was absolutely stunning.”
I’ll take your word for it, Barclay thought. He reluctantly turned around to face Lwaxana, while trying to look everywhere but. Ro smirked at his discomfort. He was suddenly very glad that Lwaxana’s borrowed cap kept her from reading anyone’s mind. The very thought of Betazoid weddings provoked some very vivid pictures in his brain, which he would just as soon keep to himself. This is awkward enough.
“That’s better.” Lwaxana started to slip out of the chemise, then reconsidered, perhaps as a concession to Terran modesty. She smiled at the two Starfleet officers. “Do feel free to get out of those wet clothes yourselves.”
Not in a million years, Barclay thought. He didn’t even like changing clothes in front of other men. “I think it b-best that I remain in uniform.”
“I’m good, too,” Ro declared.
Barclay thanked the Bajoran Prophets for Ro’s restraint. He was almost relieved when the unmistakable sounds of pursuit penetrated their hiding place, interrupting the awkward moment. They heard the bellicose frogs getting closer.
“Just our luck,” Ro grumbled. She wadded up Lwaxana’s discarded clothing and hid it in a knotty thicket of grass and shrubs. The golden jewelry sank to the bottom of a nearby puddle. “We’re playing on their turf.”
Barclay knew what she meant. The wooded swamp was the Tadigeans’ natural environment. An idea occurred to him: perhaps he could adjust the parameters of the program to give them more of an advantage? Maybe even switch to another scenario entirely?
“Computer, an archway, please.” Barclay didn’t want to shut down the Tadigean simulation right away, for fear of ending up exposed in a vacant chamber, but a holographic archway would allow him to access the controls to the holodeck from the safety of the secluded arbor. He could then superimpose another environment onto the imaginary swamp. He knew just the program, too.
Unfortunately, no such arch appeared. “Computer?”
“Let me guess,” Ro said dryly. “The voice commands are still down.”
So it appears, Barclay thought. “I guess I’m going to have to find the manual controls again.”
“Do you know where they are?” Ro asked. The constantly shifting scenery made it all but impossible to know where they really were in the holodeck. “I don’t have a clue where the exit is.”
He consulted his tricorder. “I think I can locate them.