Unification - Jeri Taylor [21]
“if we are discovered near Romulus, it means death for all of us.”
“I realize that.”
K’Vada glowered at Picard, his heavy eyebrows almost meeting in the center from his scowl. But Picard’s composure was unshaken. K’Vada realized he would be getting no information from this man. He turned to his helmsman and snapped an order for him to set a course. Then he turned back. “Very well, Captain. We are on our way to Romulus.”
“Thank you, Captain. And I do hope your shoulder gets better.” K’Vada looked for a hint of sarcasm, but there was none.
Picard had realized within minutes of beaming onto the Klingon ship that Captain K’Vada was spoiling for a fight. He saw nothing to be gained, however, by giving him one. K’Vada looked to him like one whose days of warrior glory were probably behind him, and he had no doubt that the captain of the Kruge was rankling under the menial task of providing transportation for Starfleet personnel. He resolved to resist the impulse to rise to argument with the burly Klingon.
When K’Vada flung open the door to the quarters provided for him, however, Picard realized it might be hard to keep that resolve. Judging from the size of the room, K’Vada must have converted a storage closet into a bedroom. It was small, cramped, and bleak. A desk and two chairs were the only furnishings —that and a shelf recessed in the wall, which presum-ably served as a bed. It had a dank, unused odor, and Picard guessed it hadn’t been occupied in a long time.
“Here it is,” intoned K’Vada. Then, with thinly veiled sarcasm, “It may not be what you’re used to on a Starfleet ship.”
Picard took a breath and turned to K’Vada with an even smile. “Quite nice. Thank you.” He could see that K’Vada was disappointed in his response, which told him he was correct in adopting this mien.
Data had been inspecting the room with android calm. “Is this the captain’s quarters, or mine?”
“Both.” Picard couldn’t contain a surprised reaction at this. The room was cramped for one person; that two would share it was ludicrous. He saw a spark of victory in K’Vada’s eye. “We have limited space. We’re a military ship, not a pleasure craft.” “Of course. This will be fine.”
Picard noted that K’Vada was feeling better now that he’d scored a hit. The Klingon circled the room, enjoying their momentary discomfiture, pointing out the features. He smacked his hand on the shelf-bed, which bore no mattress, no pillow, no piece of bedding.
“You’ll sleep Klingon style. We don’t soften our bodies by putting down a pad.” Picard walked to the shelf and smacked it with gusto. “Good. I prefer it that way.”
K’Vada eyed him challengingly. “You’ll take your meals with us. And we don’t serve Federation food.”
“I haven’t had gagh in a long while. I’ve been looking forward to it. Fresh, if you have it.”
K’Vada refused to look at him. “I regret to say, Captain, that my patahk of a cook has not stored the freshest of gagh. I hope you would not be displeased to have it as I myself eat it.”
Picard inclined his head politely. “It would be an honor.” Picard sensed that K’Vada was listening carefully for the sound of any revelatory emotion— dismay or disgust—and he was careful to keep his voice neutral.
K’Vada turned to survey the room once more, then started toward the door. He hesitated, and Picard wondered uneasily what this gruff, threatened man had in store now. When K’Vada turned back to them, there was what passed for a smile on his face.
“One more thing. Our passage into the Neutral Zone is illegal and hence dangerous. I will require all nonessential personnel to remain in their quarters at all times.”
Picard felt astonishment rising in him and fought it back. Stay in these miserable quarters? He tried to keep his features composed, but from the flash of satisfaction in K’Vada’s face he knew he had not completely succeeded. “Surely you can’t mean the two of us, Captain. We are Starfleet personnel. We are accustomed to the dangers of combat.”
But K’Vada knew he had scored a touch, and he would not yield that slight advantage.