Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [57]
Fine by Riker. Whatever it took to get the job done. If he had to play the role of the bad guy … why, he’d find some way to relish it.
With this bunch, that wouldn’t be hard.
“JeanLuc, what are you and your people up to?” The admiral’s tone was slightly suspicious, her face impatient, even in miniature on the screen in Picard’s ready room. “We don’t have time for shuttle malfunctions, we don’t have time for diplomatic tap-dancing with the Tsorans. Haven’t you read your own chief medical officer’s report on the projected Ntignano fatalities? This is a serious situation!”
“And I can assure you, Admiral Gromek, I’m taking it quite seriously. I have personnel down and missing in an intensely dangerous environment, and I take that seriously, as well.” No real news from La Forge at last contact, either—Worf was still gone, and the communications problem still unresolved. “I’m acquainted with Dr. Crusher’s report, and I receive constant updates on the status of the Ntignano sun. But the Tsorans are… difficult. We’re doing our best to draw them out, but frankly …”
“Don’t mince words—you’re only wasting my time.”
Picard shrugged. So be it. “They don’t want to come out and play, Admiral.”
Admiral Gromek stared at him, her face gone stiff with disbelief. “Did I hear you correctly, Captain? They don’t want to come out and play? “
“That’s the gist of it,” Picard confirmed. “They’re stonewalling our attempts even to open conversation about the charts. Their excuse is the situation on Fandre, but frankly, I think that’s all it is—an excuse. They like being in the position of having something we want. They’d like to prolong that situation as long as possible.”
“We don’t have time to stroke their egos over this,” Gromek said. “Figure out how to get their attention, Captain Picard, and then get those charts.”
“Understood,” Picard said, and nodded, holding position until the screen blanked out. Then he pivoted away from the desk to go look at the rippling stars. Understood, by damn. Better than either the admiral or Atann would be pleased with, no doubt—thanks to Ekenn and the tour, and the chance to absorb a great deal of daleura in action.
But first… the web-probe project. He’d expected a report from Barclay and Duffy before this. And since he hadn’t gotten one … this was one project he wanted to check out in person.
Picard found Barclay hunched over a schematic on deck nine, occupying a cartography work alcove, frowning deeply and utterly unaware of his entrance. As he hesitated, searching for the right moment to speak without sending the skittish diagnostics engineer across the room, Duffy came charging in from the direction of the torpedo launch bays.
“The launch log shows everything went—” he said, and faltered to a stop. “Captain!”
Barclay jolted upright. “Captain!”
“Lieutenant Duffy, Lieutenant Barclay,” Picard said evenly. “You were saying?”
Duffy completed his entrance in a much more restrained manner. “I was just checking the launch logs. Didn’t want to check them through the system, because
that would be traceable, and we’re trying to keep a low profile.”
“I appreciate that. Is there some problem?”
Duffy looked at Barclay, and Barclay looked at Duffy, and finally Barclay said, “Well, you see, Captain, we’re trying to—that is, we need to… well, yes.”
“Yes, there’s a problem,” Picard confirmed in question, never quite sure when Barclay started to ramble.
“I’m sure we can handle it,” Duffy said. “Lieutenant Commander La Forge’s new program is a work of art, Captain. It’s just that—”
“I’m sure,” Barclay interrupted firmly—and then stopped short, as though he’d startled himself, “I’m fairly certain, I mean, that, uh, given time—”
“Time,” Picard said, “is the one thing we don’t have. If I didn’t make that plain enough before, let me do so now. Whatever the problem, gentlemen, I suggest you address it.”
“Just a minor adjustment in the probe synch tracking,” Duffy said. “I still think it happened in the launch. We’ll take care of it, Captain.