Ledrah put her hand over Bralik’s mouth, stifling whatever her next comment was. “Bralik shouldn’t have said anything, Commander. Just forget it.”
Keru’s mind whirled. The last thing he expected during dinner was to be told that a junior officer wanted to “court” him. Much less one in whom he had zero romantic interest.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Let me just say that I appreciate your efforts at matchmaking, however unorthodox they might be. But Ensign Norellis and I are not, and willnot, be involved in anything other than a professional relationship.” He stared intently at Bralik. “And if you’re his friends, you’ll find a way to tell him that, without being so unmannerly as to hurt his feelings.”
Bralik’s eyes locked with Keru’s, then moved over to Ledrah. The engineer finally removed her hand from Bralik’s mouth—whereupon the Ferengi woman began speaking immediately. “Sorry if we misjudged your preferences, Commander. Nidani is single, too, if she’s more to your liking. She also—”
Ledrah clapped her hand back over Bralik’s mouth, a look of murder flashing in her eyes.
Norellis reappeared, holding a tray with drinks for himself and Ledrah, as well as a second hefty tankard that appeared to be intended for Keru.
“Hey. What did I miss?”
“You are rarely exasperating, Will Riker, but when you are, you are in a verybig way.”
Troi plopped down on the settee in a huff.
“What?”Will asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea.”
Troi was glad that they were meeting in the senior counselor’s office rather than in their quarters. At least here, where her spirits were buoyed by the room’s soothing light-blue color scheme, an aquarium stocked with freshwater fish from a dozen worlds, and shelves crowded with hardcopy books and Betazoid art objects, she felt far more comfortable adopting a professional tone with her husband. She took a deep, cleansing breath through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth before continuing.
“Look, Will, you were the one who pushed for the inclusion of the mess hall, and you did so for all the right reasons. Chief among those reasons was that it would provide a social atmosphere on a ship that had not been designed with social interaction as one of its top priorities. But how can you expect the crew to develop an appropriate relationship with their captain if you won’t even eat with them?”
“I’m just concerned about it looking wrong,” Riker said, sitting down next to Troi. “I don’t want Akaar, or anyone else, to accuse me of being too familiar with my staff.”
Troi’s eyes widened as she released another puff of air. “I promise not to ask you to sleep with any crew members other than me, Captain.”
“Very funny. You know perfectly well what I mean about propriety. Besides, I thought we were talking about socializing in the mess hall.”
Troi softened her tone. “Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t. What’s this really about, Will? Akaar? You can’t allow his presence to undermine your command. He is on this ship for one mission, and one mission alone.”
“Sure,” Will said, his expression sour. “It just happens to be my very firstmission.”
“True. But once it’s over, he’ll be gone and you’ll have to live and work with everyone else on board for all the other missions that will follow. By then you and the crew need to have done some…bonding.”
“Bonding.”
She hated to compare captains, but felt he still needed some convincing. “Remember how your life was on the Enterprise?On two Enterprises?You played poker. You drank in Ten-Forward. You played in your jazz ensemble, with subordinates. You were a friend to the entire crew—or at least friendly to all of them. Captain Picard was almost neverthat way.”
He smiled at that. “No. But he mellowed over time.”
“But only up to a point. His command style was always very cool and reserved. Nobody on board doubted his leadership, his competence, and his genuine concern for every member of the crew. But only those of us who were closest to him saw him as a friend. To everyone else, he was only their captain, however exceptional. And hisstyle can’t be yourstyle.”
“But I was a first officer then, Deanna. Not a captain. I may have to put a bit more distance between myself and the crew than I’m used to.”
She took his hands in hers, and looked into his eyes. “Do you, Imzadi?Are you prepared to sacrifice the unique command style you’ve spent your entire career cultivating? I don’t think so. If you were, you wouldn’t have left so many of your fingerprints all over this ship already.”
He frowned. “Fingerprints?”
“Oh, please. A shuttlecraft named after Louis Armstrong?”
The frown melted, and flowed into an appreciative smile. His emotions felt like a rainstorm receding before a rising sun.
“Be their friend andtheir captain,” she continued. “Give them a chance to be loyal, and give yourself a chance to earn their loyalty. And their friendship. Not just their respect.” She smiled back at him, then said, “Don’t wait seven years to join the poker game, Will.”
He suddenly leaned in and kissed her, then pulled her into a close embrace. Thank you,he thought, and she heard it in her mind, and felt his love fueling the sentiment.
After several minutes, they disentangled themselves. He smiled. “Let’s head for the mess. Deal the cards, and see what happens.”
They stood and walked toward her office door. He stopped and caressed her hair. Earlier today, she had gotten the ship’s stylist to braid her luxuriant, reddish-brown mane into a dozen or so rows, twisting it into a single mass at the back. She felt that this style—which she had worn briefly during her recent honeymoon with Will on Pelagia’s Opal Sea—gave her a sleek look, while still allowing her to maintain a wholly professional demeanor.
“We would have had to go anyhow,” he said. “If for no other reason than to show off your quite alluring new hair-style.”
Troi chuckled, then pushed her husband closer to the door. “Flatterer,” she said.
Entering the corridor, they walked the twenty paces or so that separated Troi’s office from the mess hall. Before they could step inside, the doors slid open, and two engineers quickly exited and made their way quickly to the turbolift. Neither had acknowledged the captain’s presence, and both had looked nauseated.
“Wonder what’s wrong,” he said.
“Perhaps they ate something that didn’t agree with them,” Troi said, keenly aware that something had truly bothered the engineers. She gestured toward the buffet. “It certainly all looks good.”
As they made their way over to the buffet, Troi saw that Will was making eye contact with everyone he could. Since this was his first meal there in two weeks, it made sense that most of the people present were surprised to see him. She was happy to note that several crew members were already feeling increased respect for their captain because of his appearance here.
After serving themselves—she taking an Andorian tuber root salad with Betazoid oskoid fronds, he assembling something he described as an improvised Lycosan Reuben sandwich—they began looking about the room for seating. They saw several empty tables in one corner, although Akaar’s trio of Vulcan advisers was seated nearby. At another table only a little farther off, Dr. Ree squatted, his long, thick tail partially coiled beneath him, his chair pushed to the side to accommodate his long frame. His back was turned to everyone in the room.
“Let’s sit with Dr. Ree,” Will said.
Troi smiled, feeling a surge of triumph. Will had really warmed up to his CMO—as had many aboard Titan—though there were still some among the crew who remained almost viscerally troubled by his fearsome look.