Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [9]
“Yes,” she said, her expression sheepish. “Of course.” And came in to sit beside him, shedding her turquoise
lab coat and resting it neatly at her side. “I’m sorry. I got off to much too fast a start today.”
“Then here is your chance to remedy that.” Picard handed her a teacup—one of the modern ones, this morning, sleek and perfectly insulated—and she accepted with a smile.
After a sip or two and a few moments of companionable silence, she said, “What do you truly think of your chances of talking to the ReynKa, JeanLuc?”
“My chances of talking to him are excellent.” Picard offered her a small smile and admitted, “My chances of communicating with him seem less certain. If he’s anything like his son …”
“Akarr is a child, trying to get what he wants. Surely the ReynKa will deal with the larger issues, the lives at stake? Especially since we’re offering him and his son all the … daleura we possibly can?” But she shook her head. “Did you see the look on Will’s face in the conference room yesterday?”
“I could have seen that look with my eyes closed,” Pi card said. “And I’m not making any assumptions about Atann. I have great respect for Nadann Jesson, and the best she’s been able to do is keep then” minds open to continuing discussion—as far as I can tell, she hasn’t directly broached the subject of using the charted corridor, although certainly the Tsorans know that is why we’re here. And Atann … you know, I had the distinct impression that his intense interest in acquiring our assistance with the Fandrean shields had more to do with the future of the kaphoora hunts, and not much at all to do with Fandrean safety.”
She stared at him over her half-lifted cup. “Then … he won’t be much impressed with the fate of a planet he knows nothing about.”
Picard shook his head. “That is quite likely so. But if I can find some way to couch the issue in terms that he understands, that he respects … well, then I might have some chance.”
“And let’s hope this kaphoora goes well, if that’s what they care about.” Crusher sighed, her breath making little ripples in the surface of the tea. “I don’t envy Will this one. How many hours is he going to be stuck in a shuttle with Akarr?”
“Six to twelve, depending on the graviton eddies. In system, the eddies are of smaller duration but greater frequency; the patterns often change. They’ll have to check against the charted eddies every step along the way.” He regarded her a moment, the faintest amusement on his austere features. “I have every confidence in Will, Beverly—you know that. He’ll not only be fine, he’s likely to end up saving a small civilization along the way.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said. “He’ll be just fine.”
“Stand down!” Riker bellowed above the noise of the fight, charging into the back section of the opulently modified cargo shuttle to haul human and Tsoran apart from one another. He took a quick assessment of the situation —Worf, thrown in front of the uninvolved Tsorans, keeping them uninvolved and holding the two Enterprise security crew members in their seats by dint of his glare alone. Akarr—standing on the seat of his padded, double-wide chair and snarling Tsoran imprecations —and the remaining Tsoran, facing off against Ensign Dougherty, both of them bristling and bearing marks of the first clash. “I said stand down,” Riker repeated, feeling not a little like snarling himself as he inserted his shoulder between them.
Both participants took a fraction of a step back; Riker
scowled them back another as the Tsorans behind Worf subsided and Akarr himself finally stopped shouting orders. “What happened here?” Riker asked it of them all, but it was Worf to whom he looked.
And Worf could only look uncomfortably vague. “I do not know,” he finally admitted. “It started behind me.”
True enough, Worf had been placed in the front port seat, opposite the ReynTa’s extra-roomy accommodations. Three of