The Valiant - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
The commander nodded. He did. Still
The womans dark eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. Are you angling for a demonstration, Commander?
He chuckled. Cant you tell?
Santana looked at him askance. If youve spoken to our friend Eliopoulos, you know Im only privy to active thoughts.
I do know that, he admitted. And for the sake of expediency, Ill make no bones about it I would like to see a demonstration.
She seemed charmed by his manners. All right. One feat of mental dexterity coming up.
Gradually, her eyes took on a harder cast. Then the skin around them began to crinkle. It was clear that she was focusing on something, concentrating as hard as she could, though the second officer didnt know what kind of task she had set for herself.
Then he heard a tinkling sound and he looked down. Santanas drink was moving, levitating off the table, the ice in it clinking merrily against the sides of the glass.
As Picard watched, the drink gradually rose to a height of perhaps twenty centimeters. Then, just as slowly, it descended, eventually coming to rest on the table again.
He looked up at Santana. Impressive. He meant it.
She shrugged. Eliopoulos didnt think so. He kept waiting for me to send his station spinning through space like a top.
You have tops where you come from? Picard asked.
We are human, she reminded him. If you saw my world, Im sure youd see a lot thats familiar about it.
He found himself smiling. And a lot thats not , no doubt. To be honest, its the latter that intrigues me.
You want to know how were different?
I do indeed.
Santana thought for a moment. As Eliopoulos must have told you, we value our privacy.
He mentioned that, Picard conceded. But surely, thats not the only quality that sets you apart from us?
She thought some more. Were good gardeners, as a rule. And good musicians. Unfortunately, Im one of the few exceptions to the rule. I couldnt carry a tune if my life depended on it.
Anything else?
Santana shook her head. Nothing. Except for our mental powers, of course. But I think weve already covered that topic.
Not completely, the second officer said. You havent shown me much of your telepathic abilities.
She waved away the suggestion. Theyre not very impressive in comparison to my drinking glass trick.
Nonetheless, Picard insisted.
Persistent, arent you?
So Im told.
Santana sighed. Have it your way, Commander. Youll have to think of something, of course. Something pleasant, I hope.
Id be happy to, he told her. And he did as she had asked.
Santanas brow furrowed for a second. Then she said, Your mother was a lovely woman. And if Im not mistaken, a wonderful cook.
Picard was intrigued. He had created an image of his mother in his minds eye, but he hadnt pictured her preparing food.
Why do you mention her cooking? he wondered out loud.
The smell of her, Santana explained. She closed her eyes. I dont recognize it, but its some kind of spice. Sharp, pungent
Abruptly, the second officer realized what she was talking about. Cinnamon, he said. She would use it in her apple tarts.
Her eyes still closed, Santana inhaled deeply, as if she were in Picards mothers kitchen. And you liked those tarts, didnt you?
In fact, you used to think about them on your way home from somewhere.
School, he confessed.
She opened her eyes. Yes. School.
Extraordinary, said Picard.
Santana shook her head. No. What would be extraordinary is if I could read your mind like a book, finding any memory at all. They say some of our people could do that in the days when the colony was first founded. But we cant do it anymore.
Perhaps it was the look on her face, a little sad and a little dreamy, as she contemplated something she considered wondrous. Perhaps he had crossed some invisible threshold of familiarity. Perhaps many things.
Picard couldnt explain it. He just knew that he was intensely aware of how beautiful Serenity Santana was, and that that awareness was making his heart beat faster.
Then he saw her blush, and he realized that she had read