Unification - Jeri Taylor [2]
Picard stared at Brackett in astonishment, and she could not resist a wry smile. At least now she had his attention.
Chapter Two
COMMANDER WILL RIKER was so wrapped up in his thoughts as he strode the corridor of Deck Eleven that he ran right into Ensign Gretchen Naylor. Their shoulders bumped and he snapped out of his reverie to find the tall brunette with pale green eyes looking at him in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir, I should have been more careful—”
“It’s my fault, Ensign. I was a million light-years away and I wasn’t watching where I was going. You okay?”
“Just fine, sir.” She smiled and held his gaze with her amazing eyes, and the tall, bearded officer found himself wondering if Ensign Naylor had engineered this little mishap. He realized he had been noticing her quite a bit lately, though always in the most innocuous of circumstances. She had been in Ten-Forward, the ship’s lounge, a few times when he was there, and in Engineering when he had held a consultation with Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge. She wore a gold uniform and might be assigned to any area of ship’s operations; he realized he had no idea what it was she did.
“What’s your post, Ensign?” No reason not to familiarize himself with the crew of the ship; that fell well within his duties as first off~cer. It was only Naylor’s green eyes and her generous, full-lipped mouth that made him feel as though this were a more personal inquiry.
“Security, sir. I work with Lieutenant Worf in R and l—recon and intelligence.” Her smile was direct and straightforward, lacking any hint of innuendo. Riker liked that smile. His mind shot forward to the two of them in Ten-Forward, heads bent together in quiet conversation, Naylor’s mouth parted as she listened, little tendrils of dark hair falling forward as she leaned toward him…
“Very well, Ensign. Carry on.” Riker heard himself dismissing her and saw a momentary flicker of something—disappointment?—in her eyes. He nod-ded and walked on, wondering if she stood and stared after him, perplexed by his abrupt departure. He didn’t look back to find out.
Now was not the time to indulge in a shipboard flirtation. He knew himself well enough to know that his feelings were particularly vulnerable at this point, and an innocent friendship might rocket out of control. That was dangerous on a starship, a small community where everyone knew everyone else. An intense love affair could go wrong, leaving an uncomfortable residue; on a ship millions of light-years from port such a situation could create the kind of friction that spread like the Circassian Plague and under-mined morale and efficiency. Riker had learned iron self-discipline in order to avoid such troublesome situations.
For he was feeling restless again. That was the most precise term he could find for the vague miasma that overcame him from time to time. It wasn’t intense, it wasn’t dire, it wasn’t profound. Just unsettling.
The first thing he always noticed was a slight tendency to become distracted. Sitting on the bridge, hearing the routine cadence of orders given and received, he would find that he had missed a few minutes of activity because his mind was in an Alaskan wood, hearing the crunch of his footsteps on icy snow.
Craving for certain foods was another symptom. He would be almost overcome by longing for hot oatmeal with cinnamon, a bubbling potato casserole, or steaming split-pea soup—all warm, filling dishes that his father used to make on cold winter nights.
And then, inevitably, his mind would turn to thoughts of his own command.
It was a matter Riker thought he had resolved, and it annoyed him that it kept creeping back, like an irritating sound that can’t be completely blocked. His decision to stay on the Enterprise as first officer was a conscious choice that completely satisfied the rational part of his mind. His reasons were sound and he had comfortably come to terms with them.
Why, then, this nagging refrain? Why this occasional