"Perfect," said Riker. "Just who we needed to make a difficult situation just that more difficult."
Picard considered the matter for a moment, and then said, "I shall brief our guest on the change of plans." As he headed for the elevator, he called over his shoulder.
"Be of stout heart, Number One. We've handled the Borg. We can certainly handle Admiral Jellico." He walked out the door.
Riker turned to Troi and noted, "We aren't allowed to blow up Admiral Jellico."
"Regulations can be a nuisance," Troi said sympathetically. Then she seemed to brighten. "Don't worry. Perhaps he'll be sufficiently intimidated by your confident swagger."
Riker caught himself before he let his reply come out of his mouth, but he couldn't stop the thought, Some of us have reason to be confident, Counselor. Others of us, who—for example—were unable to helm theEnterprise for more than two minutes without crashing her, have far less reason to be confident.
As she sensed his feelings if not his words, Troi's mouth fell into a disapproving frown.
"I sense great sarcasm," she said.
Picard sounded the door chime, and a voice from within said, "Come." The door slid open and he entered the guest quarters. The room was mostly dark, with illumination being provided by a few choice sources of light including a lit mirror and a candle. To one side of the room, a man was seated in a most contemplative manner.
"Ambassador Spock," said Picard. "We have arrived."
Spock looked up at him, seeming to pull himself from his devotions with eflfort. He stared at Picard but said nothing.
"Admiral Jellico desired that the meeting be held on the Enterprise,"Picard continued, "Apparently there is an overabundance of activity on Deep Space Five."
"Indeed," Spock said after a moment. 'The place is irrelevant."
Picard felt, ever so slightly, a chill in the base of his spine. Morbidly, he wondered . . . if the Borg ever assimilated the Vulcans, would anyone be able to tell?
"Will you require anything before the meeting?" Picard asked.
"No."
"Very well. I will have one of my officers bring you when the time has come."
Spock inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.
No one had been more surprised than Picard when he had rendezvoused with the transport that had brought Spock to the Enterprise.Spock had been on assignment on Romulus. It was a measure of how seriously the Federation took the fall of the Thallonian Empire that they had requested Spock attend the Thallonian Summit. It had taken Spock no small effort to quietly extricate himself from Romulus. Still, Spock was one of the only people Picard knew of who had any familiarity at all with the Thallonians. It was only natural that his presence was desired at the summit.
He continued to gaze levelly at Picard. This was ridiculous. After everything that Picard had been through in his life, one would think that it would take a hell of a lot more than the stare of a Vulcan to leave him discomforted. Nonetheless, Picard felt as if he should say ... something . . .but he had no idea what. "We certainly have our work cut out for us," he ventured.
Spock was silent a moment more, and then he said, "Captain . . ."
"Yes, Ambassador."
"Vulcans do not engage in small talk."
"Ah" was all Picard could think of to say. Then he nodded, turned, and started to walk out. And then, before he could exit the room, Spock stopped him with a word.
"Captain . . ."
Picard turned, waited with a raised eyebrow.
"I find," Spock said with introspection and not a little bemusement, "that I am experiencing a degree of . . . anticipation . . . in working with you again. The human phrase would be that I am 'looking forward to it.' " He paused, contemplating it. " Fascinating."
"The galaxy is infinitely fascinating, Ambassador," observed Picard.
"So it would appear."
"You know, Ambassador," Picard said after a moment, "Mr. Data—who was once even more removed from emotions than you—has recently acquired them. You might wish to take the opportunity to talk with him about his newly refined perceptions. You may find them . . . equally fascinating."
"I shall consider it, should the opportunity present itself."
"I'll see that it does. Oh, and Ambassador . . ." He paused in the door.
"Yes?"
"This," and he waggled a finger between the two of them, "was small talk."
Then he grinned and walked out the door, leaving the ambassador alone in his darkness.
II.
RIKER REMEMBERED A TIMEwhen he had gone mountain climbing at the age of fourteen, explicitly against his father's orders . . . or perhaps, if truth be known, precisely becausehis father had forbidden it. He'd been halfway up a particularly hazardous peak when his pitons had ripped loose from where they'd been wedged into the rock surface. Riker had swung outward, dangling, one thin rope preventing him from plunging to his death. The moments until his climbing partner had been able to reel Riker in and help him get re-anchored had been fraught with tension.
It was that exact sort of tension that Riker now felt when he walked into the main conference lounge. The sensation that a vast drop loomed beneath all of them, and they were all hanging by one single rope,
Picard was already there, talking with Ambassador Spock and a woman whom Riker immediately recognized as Admiral Alynna Nechayev. Nechayev was some piece of work. She and Picard had first butted heads back when the member of the Borg collective known as "Hugh" was aboard the Enterprise.Picard had refused to infest Hugh with a virus which would have effectively obliterated the Borg, and Nechayev had raked him over the coals about it. And they had had any number of fiery clashes since then. Yet now there she was, in the flesh, and she seemed to be perfectly happy to chat things up with the officer she had so mercilessly dressed down before.
Riker watched the dynamics of the Picard/Spock/ Nechayev discussion, and it took him no time at all to discern what was really going on. He noticed that Spock was delivering most of his remarks or comments to Picard, treating him with respect and deference. It was only natural—or, if you will, logical—that Spock should do so. After all, Picard had put his own mind on the line to try and help Sarek, Spock's late father. Nechayev, by her rapt attention on the Vulcan, was clearly a major admirer of Spock's. That was understandable. The term "living legend" was overblown and pompous, but in the case of Ambassador Spock, it was also bang-on accurate. The fact that the living legend clearly regarded Picard so highly was obviously raising Picard in Nechayev's own estimation. She actually laughed in delight at some remark Picard made, and although it was obviously supposed to be something amusing, Picard nevertheless looked surprised at Nechayev's reaction.
Well, good. Picard had accomplished so much, and yet sometimes it seemed as if Starfleet regarded him with suspicion. Indeed, that they were suspicious becauseof everything Picard had accomplished. As if it were impossible to imagine that one mere mortal could have done so much. That it was . . . unnatural somehow.
In short, Picard could use all the support that he could get. If that support stemmed from Nechayev being a fan of Ambassador Spock, then fine.