Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [7]
Riker lifted the glass to the light for a moment of appreciation. “No,” he said, and took a sip, closing his eyes to follow the burn all the way down. When he looked at Guinan again it was with a glint of humor. “But I’m sure going to enjoy it.”
“There’s always that.” She produced a bowl of bar peanuts to match the whiskey, filled two more requests, and cleaned up after a spill without ever apparently taking her attention from him. “Not easy, is it?”
“What’s that?” he said, thoughtfully sucking the salt from a peanut.
“Working with someone so important to your goals who’s also so rude.”
He raised an eyebrow. “All over the ship already?”
“No,” she said, and smiled a most serene smile.
Riker sighed, giving up. This was Guinan. She’d get it from him sooner or later. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” He sipped the whiskey, let it settle. Could hardly tell it was synthehol, at that. Bless those Ferengi. “Nothing I can’t handle, now.”
“Of course not,” she said. “But does it ever really get any easier?”
He lowered the glass to look at her. “Is this supposed to be helpful?”
“Maybe.” She doled out another set of drinks and then regarded him with one elbow on the bar and her knuckled forefinger thoughtfully at her full lower lip. “Sometimes,” she said, “just because you get used to something, doesn’t mean you should ignore the way it makes you feel.”
And then she was gone again, at the other end of the bar and leaving him to stare at the spot where she’d been, the words of question and protest unspoken on his lips.
Never mind. He had the whiskey, he had the peanuts … and his bearing—which did rather match Guinan’s unpalatable-looking drink, at that—kept away anyone who might make inquiries to his mood and especially to his latest assignment.
With one exception. “Commander,” La Forge said, spotting him at the Ten-Forward entrance and coming straight to the bar. “Problem?” Riker asked.
La Forge shook his head, then hesitated, and shrugged. “The shuttle refit is right on track, but…”
“Geordi,” Riker said, “I don’t blame you for wanting out, but I have to back the captain’s decision on this one.
We have to keep these people talking to us, and that means keeping them happy.”
“It’s not so much wanting out,” La Forge said. Guinan planted a drink before him and he picked it up without even checking to see what it was. “I’ll just have a couple of Tsoran security guards in my shuttle; you ‘re the one who’ll share space with Akarr and Worf and the main body of the security detail.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Riker muttered.
“I really think it would be wiser to have someone here start the mapping process, just in case negotiations fall apart.”
Riker gave him a hard look. “If the Tsorans found out we were making an effort to map the graviton eddies in their restricted space, you can believe that negotiations would fall apart.”
“There’s no reason they ever have to know. Lieutenant Duffy’ll be holding down engineering; he and Reg Barclay work well with one another. Let me put them on it—at least get a start.”
Riker shook his head, staring down into the drink. “These Tsorans are too … prickly. We can’t afford to take the chance.”
“With all respect, Commander, the Ntignanos can’t afford for us not to take that chance.”
He was right, of course. That the Tsorans had put up this much resistance to merely talking about use of the mapped corridor spoke of their disregard for other species in trouble. There was no assurance that, even placated by Federation kaphoora escorts and technical assistance, they would agree to the kind of traffic the evacuation would cause. In the end, it might well come down to mapping that space as quickly as possible, and commandeering the space corridor for the duration.
Not exactly the Federation’s style. The delay involved before such a