Unification - Jeri Taylor [25]
The humanoid who appeared before him was not at all what Riker expected. He was grizzled and worn, a graying hulk who had perhaps taken on the aspect of the abandoned ships he oversaw. He looked vaguely surprised, as though he had been interrupted in the middle of something. A small frown knotted his brow; the characteristic Zakdorn folds in the skin of his face seemed draped in remonstration.
“I’m Commander William Riker of the Federation starship Enterprise,” said Riker, in an amiable fashion.
“Klim Dokachin here, quartermaster of Surplus Depot Zed-one-five.” The man’s tone was terse, unin-viting, offering nothing more than a statement of fact.
“We need some information about a Vulcan ship, the T’Pau,” continued Riker. “It was sent there a few years ago.” “Did you arrange an appointment?”
Riker was sure he looked as startled as he felt. The question was completely unexpected.
“Appointment? No…”
“Then I can’t help you. Communicate with Scheduling.”
And with that the transmission was abruptly ended and Riker found himself staring at a starfield. He was nonplussed. He turned to Counselor Deanna Trot for vindication. “Who does this guy think he is?”
But Troi’s dark eyes sparkled as she replied calmly, “The quartermaster of the surplus yard, Commander. With information you need.”
Riker absorbed that for a moment. It was Troi’s way of’ communicating that he would need to use a different tactic if he wanted to get information from this recalcitrant old bureaucrat. He drew a breath. “Right. Mr. Worf, reestablish communication.”
“Yes, sir.”
A moment later Dokachin appeared on the screen once more, somewhat taken aback at having been interrupted again. Riker gave him a friendly smile. “Mr. Dokachin—”
That was as far as he got before the man interrupted. “Ahchin. Klim Dokahchin.”
Riker took a breath. “Mr. Dokahchin, the information I need involves a matter of major importance to the Federation.”
“Yes?” Dokachin looked unimpressed.
“I’ll need access to your logs, your files…” he trailed off, but Dokachin made no reply. He plunged ahead gamely. “It won’t take long… my people can do the work.”
There was a lengthy pause. Dokachin stroked his chin, drummed his fingers, and looked at the ceiling. Finally, he announced, “I don’t let outsiders into my computer system.”
“Fine. One of your people, then …” Riker would have agreed to anything to overcome this annoying obstacle.
“Wish I had the people to spare. I don’t.”
Riker made himself stay calm, but he could feel his heart starting to punch a little harder. There was an edge to his voice as he asked, “Well, sir—what would you suggest?” “I don’t know. Contact me when you reach orbit.” And the starfield returned. Riker turned again to Trot, pulsing with indignation. “I don’t believe him.” But Troi’s beautiful mouth curled into a wry smile.
“He’s king of his particular hill, Commander. You’ll have to treat him that way.”
Riker stared at her, and didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “Counselor—a perfect job for you.”
And he sat. One of the requisites of command was the ability to delegate responsibility. This was one case in which he was only too glad to do so.
Counselor Deanna Troi stifled the smile that sprang to her lips when Will Riker passed the responsibility of dealing with Klim Dokachin to her. She wasn’t surprised, and she really couldn’t blame him—the man was irritating, no question. And he was the kind that an impatient man like Will would have a lot of trouble tolerating.
Troi didn’t mind being assigned the handling of Dokachin; it fell well within the boundaries of her responsibilities on board the Enterprise. One reason she enjoyed her post was the opportunity to rise to the unique challenges involved in dealing with alien personalities.
But the more races she encountered, the more she was aware of the constants. There were far more similarities than dissimilarities in the psyches of the multitudes of species she had experienced. Most responded to nurturing, kindness, compassion, and understanding.