Three - Michael Jan Friedman [11]
The man’s dark, Mediterranean eyes were smiling even if the rest of his face was not. But then, Ben Zoma wasn’t exactly the doom-and-gloom type.
“Interesting, isn’t it?” asked the captain.
“To say the least,” said his first officer. “With all the jockeying for power going on in this sector, with all the noise coming from the Cardassians and the Ubarrak and who knows who else ... you would think the Stargazer would be assigned to deal with at least some of the repercussions.”
[28] “Yes,” Picard chimed in. “Just like every other starship between here and the Beta Quadrant.”
“But no,” said Ben Zoma. “In his infinite wisdom, Admiral McAteer has decided to send the Stargazer—and only the Stargazer—on a scientific mission.” He sat down beside the captain on a stretch of polished, black desk. “Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
Picard leaned back in his chair. “Clearly, I’m not the admiral’s favorite captain.”
Of course, he and Ben Zoma had arrived at that conclusion some time ago. Weeks earlier, McAteer had attempted to discredit Picard by pitting him against the White Wolf, an elusive and seemingly unbeatable foe.
Had it not been for Cortin Zweller, an old friend of Picard, the captain would never have known of the admiral’s agenda. But Zweller had alerted the captain to McAteer’s distrust of him—a product, apparently, of his age and inexperience.
Picard frowned. It wasn’t easy being the youngest officer ever to command a starship.
Fortunately, he had Admiral Mehdi in his corner. It was Mehdi who had placed Picard in the center seat after the death of Daithan Ruhalter, Picard’s predecessor.
Mehdi hadn’t let himself be deterred by the fact that Picard was only twenty-eight years old, or that he had never had a chance to serve in the capacity of first officer. The admiral had made his choice despite all that.
But from McAteer’s point of view, Picard was too inexperienced to take on such a tricky assignment. And apparently, he wasn’t alone in that regard. There were officers at every level who questioned Picard’s fitness to do his job.
[29] At first, the expressions of doubt had bothered him. Now he found he was getting accustomed to them.
“Unfortunately,” the captain said out loud, “there is nothing I can do about Admiral McAteer. He is my superior. He can have me deliver flowers if that’s what he wants.”
“And probably will,” Ben Zoma returned, “if he thinks it’ll keep you out of the limelight.”
Picard chuckled, though he knew he was really laughing at himself. A sad state of affairs indeed.
“Well,” he said, “if we’re to conduct a scientific study, let’s at least make the most of it. I want all department heads briefed inside and out on the phenomenon.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll find more than McAteer expects and make a name for ourselves despite him.”
“Maybe,” his first officer allowed generously. “But it’s not very likely.”
Picard sighed. “You know, Commander, you could have lied to make me feel better.”
“I could have,” said Ben Zoma. “But I don’t want to sully an otherwise flawless reputation. Don’t forget—if the admiral gets his way and you’re stripped of your rank, I’m next in line for the captain’s chair.”
Picard had to laugh. If there was anything McAteer would have liked less than a twenty-eight-year-old in the captain’s chair, it was a twenty-seven-year-old like Ben Zoma. “The department heads, Gilaad. In the briefing room. Ten minutes.”
“Aye, sir,” Ben Zoma assured him. Then he left the captain’s ready room to carry out his orders.
[30] Picard glanced at his monitor one last time. Under different, more tranquil circumstances, he might have looked forward to a pure research mission, even enjoyed it.
Just not now, when the entire sector seemed to be balanced on a razor’s edge.
Finally, with a sound of disgust, he eliminated the graphic from the screen. Then he swiveled in his chair, got up, and headed for the briefing room.
Nikolas sat down opposite Lieutenant Obal in the Stargazer’s mess hall and surveyed his friend’s food tray. “Okay,