Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [52]
“Likewise, Ambassador. I’m intrigued by anyone who’s spent so much time with these people. I understand you were in place here before the current crisis arose?” He took a short turn around the room, discovered the monitor blank and not likely to be anything other, and ended up where he’d started, none the wiser.
“Shortly before. We’d had our eye on this system for some time, wondering if they might be ready to join the Federation. I volunteered to do a preliminary study here. And please, you should feel free to call me Nadann. Most of the Tsorans consider it throwing about unnecessary daleura to use titles constantly. They prefer to save that daleura up for a time when they can really nail you with it.”
“Sounds like a society in which no small grudge is ever forgotten.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps not, but they use hard feelings in a constructive way, rather than brawling them off in the streets.” She frowned, then, looking at the door as though by all rights it should be opening to admit someone. “I don’t know where Atann is. I’d understood that he’d be here. Though he won’t be, not at this point—arriving late under these circumstances would be an embarrassment. It’s just as well. I heard something this
morning I gather the Tsorans have been very careful to keep from me; I was hoping for a chance to discuss it.” Picard forgot all about the clashing decor. “Please do.”
“You can imagine that a ruler ship based on daleura-even one as entrenched as the ReynKa’s—does not tolerate dissent well. Even the apparent lack of support of key staff members has a far-reaching impact.” Nadann watched him closely, and when he nodded his understanding, assessed it as if to be sure she’d truly made her point. Then she said, “I don’t know who… but apparently there are some staff members who resent Alarm’s interaction with the Federation.”
Picard waited a moment. “That’s it?”
“Put it within the context of what I just said, Captain. For there to be enough contention that any word of it reached me is of great significance.”
He tried, but ended up shaking his head. “I think I would have to spend much more time here to truly understand,” he said. “But I’ll certainly take it under advisement.”
For an instant, he had the feeling he’d disappointed her. But then she smiled, and reached for the door. “We might as well meet Atann at the training center.” The heavily carved wooden door slid lightly into the wall at her guidance; an air current from the hallway rippled her garments.
“Sleeves,” Picard said.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re wearing sleeves. Counselor Troi told me about your experiment.”
“Ah, that. It got me nowhere—after a while it became obvious that no one had any intentions of saying anything, no matter how I ‘flaunted’ myself. I’m trying something new, now … it is utterly amazing the lengths
to which these people will go to avoid exposing themselves to embarrassment.”
“Is that your job here? To embarrass them?”
She gave him a moment’s assessment, and might well have responded to his challenging question with irritation. Instead she met him with confidence-backed humor. “My job is to make an unfathomable people fathomable. In order to do that, I need to learn their boundaries, to explore the scope of their reactions. How will we know how hard to push them on an issue unless we know the results? How will we know how to push them at all? Finding ways to embarrass them, to provoke them, to engender reaction other than the arrogant public face of the high daleura and the fawning responsiveness of the low daleura … yes, that’s all part of my job here.” She led him down the hallway—apparently deserted—and through a large events room, also deserted, aside from the few servants scuttling to collect glassware and linens. “It’s also the reason I was not suitable to enter into this charting matter as a negotiator.”
Ah. That did indeed make sense. She’d never been