Three - Michael Jan Friedman [15]
Her gait was that of a woman of confidence. A warrior, as she had said moments earlier. And the doctor? He was different from her. He was just a man.
And not a very brave man at that.
Chapter Three
PICARD LOOKED AROUND the briefing room table and scanned the faces of his officers, whom he had just apprised of their mission to Mara Zenaya.
“Any questions?” he asked.
“Just one,” asked Paxton, the communications chief. “What do we do if the Balduk show up?”
Picard had given that some thought. “If they show up,” he said, “we attempt to discuss the matter with them. With luck, we’ll be able to negotiate a reasonable outcome.”
Knowing the Balduk as they did, his officers looked skeptical. The captain didn’t blame them.
“But if negotiations fail,” he continued, “we will not fight them. We will withdraw.”
He didn’t like the notion of retreat any better than his officers did. However, it didn’t make sense to risk the [41] lives of his crew for the sake of nonessential research, and research was the only thing at stake there.
There weren’t any colonies to protect in that part of space, or claims to assert. Just the anomaly.
“Which makes it all the more important,” said Ben Zoma, “to gather our data quickly and efficiently. That way, we know we won’t walk away empty-handed.”
There were nods around the table. Clearly, Ben Zoma’s comment had infused them with a sense of resolve.
“If there is nothing else,” said Picard, “you are dismissed. But keep me posted on your preparations.”
Again, there were nods. And on that decidedly positive note, the meeting ended.
Vigo arrived at the mess hall at precisely the time posted on the installation’s computer net. But as he looked around at the half-dozen round, black plastic tables in the room, he saw that some of them were already occupied.
In fact, he counted almost twenty individuals, both male and female, representing nearly as many species. He couldn’t help noticing that Ejanix wasn’t among them.
On the other hand, the other two weapons officers seemed to have arrived. Vigo could tell because they were the only ones in the room—besides him, of course—who were wearing standard-issue Starfleet uniforms.
One of the weapons officers was a human, a lanky fellow with a square jaw and a receding hairline. The other was a Vobilite, as evidenced by his mottled red skin and the curved tusks that protruded from either side of his mouth.
Vigo had barely made the observation when he found [42] Riyyen beside him with a tray in his hands. “I see you found your way,” said the engineer. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to your fellow ship officers.”
Vigo allowed the Dedderac to escort him across the room. As he did so, the weapons officers looked up at them.
Indicating the newcomers with a sweep of his black-and-white striped hand, Riyyen said, “Lieutenant Vigo of the Stargazer, this is Lieutenant Sebring of the Essex and Lieutenant Runj of the New Orleans.”
“Good to meet you,” said Sebring, getting up and extending his hand. “How’s life on the Stargazer?”
“Fine,” said Vigo, engaging in the handclasp so highly valued by humans.
“Do you mind if we sit down?” asked Riyyen, as polite as any other Dedderac of Vigo’s acquaintance.
“Not at all,” said Runj, his words slurred by the impediment posed by his tusks.
The Pandrilite decided he could wait to get his food. It wasn’t often that he got the chance to speak with other chief weapons officers.
“So,” said Sebring, shooting Vigo a conspiratorial smile, “what’s the deal with that twenty-eight-year-old captain? I forget his name.”
“His name is Picard,” said Vigo.
“That’s right, Picard. Are you okay with him?”
The Pandrilite sighed. “I am quite pleased. Whatever his age, he is the finest officer I have ever known.”
“High praise,” Runj observed.
“Of which he is eminently deserving,” Vigo said.
“Well,” said Sebring, “it’s good to hear all that [43] scuttlebutt about him is unfounded. Have you had a chance to see the Type Nine yet?”
“Not