Ree stepped off the transporter pad and approached Riker, staring at the captain with large, vertical-pupiled eyes that made him feel like a field mouse caught in the basilisk stare of a barn owl. “I am Dr. Shenti Yisec Eres Ree. Permission to come aboard?” the Pahkwa-thanh said. His diction was nearly flawless, though Riker saw that a forked tongue, as well as twin frontal pairs of upper and lower fangs—barely visible amid the rest of his formidable-looking dentition—were the likely source of the overly sibilant esses in his speech. Riker also noticed that the doctor was emitting a strange odor, something vaguely akin to burnt toast.
Not wanting to appear put off in the least by the doctor’s appearance, Riker stepped forward and extended his right hand in greeting. “Permission granted. I’m Captain William T. Riker. Welcome aboard Titan,Doctor.”
Ree extended one of his own hands and grasped Riker’s with surprising gentleness. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain. I’m eager to get to know you better.”
As Ree made contact, Riker almost flinched reflexively. Ree’s manus was cold, with long, nimble digits that wrapped almost entirely around Riker’s hand. The hard claws tipping the Pahkwa-thanh’s fingers were, thankfully, filed down, but the overall experience of shaking Ree’s hand raised the hair on the back of Riker’s neck.
I’ll get you for this,he projected toward Deanna, carefully schooling his features into poker-tournament mode and focusing his attention on Titan’s chief medical officer.
To his surprise, Deanna acknowledged having “heard” him. That seldom happened, except when they were in close proximity, or in times of exceptional emotional stress. The instinctive unease he had experienced at his first sight of Ree—perhaps an atavistic human fear-reaction—certainly qualified, Riker thought.
What’s important iswho he is, notwhat he is,Deanna quoted.
All right, lesson learned,he shot back. Clearly, despite his high-minded ideals and enlightened self-image, Riker could still be caught off guard by the unexpected, and by what he didn’t yet understand. He realized now that Deanna had set him up in order to give him a wake-up call about the challenges that Titan’s crew—including her captain—would have to face in learning to live and work together. Riker resolved to read Deanna’s files on the Pahkwa-thanh as soon as possible—as well as those of any other species represented among his crew about which he had a less than thorough familiarity.
Mastering his revulsion by sheer force of will, Riker withdrew his hand and gestured with it toward his wife. “This is Titan’s diplomatic officer and ship’s counselor, Commander Deanna Troi.”
Ree bowed slightly, though he did not offer his hand. “A pleasure.” He looked at Deanna more directly. “I look forward to discussing empathic theory with you, Counselor. Some of us Pahkwa-thanh possess empathic sensitivities similar to those of Betazoids. While I have no measurable degree of this talent, I still like to think that it is my empathy that makes me such a good surgeon.” He paused, then added, “It certainly isn’t my humility.” A dry laugh followed, sounding not unlike maracas being shaken.
Deanna beamed at him. “May I escort you to sickbay, Doctor?”
“That would be delightful,” Ree said, somehow hissing and clicking simultaneously as he spoke. Riker thought of drawers full of steak knives when Ree’s top and bottom teeth came into contact. “Since that is where I’ll be spending half of each ship’s day, I hope that I will bond with it immediately.”
Deanna led the way out of the transporter room, with Ree walking directly behind her, his head dipping to avoid hitting the doorframe, his claws clacking loudly across the deck as he moved. Out of Ree’s line of sight, Riker started rubbing his right hand—which he imagined felt strangely clammy after Dr. Ree’s handshake—when he “heard” Deanna in his thoughts again: Just deal with it, Will.
As he stepped into the corridor, a voice once again issued from his combadge. “Bridge to Captain Riker.”
Watching Deanna and Ree disappear around a curve in the corridor, the captain tapped his combadge. “Go ahead.”
“Sir, we’ve just been hailed by the runaboutIrrawaddy , on approach from Earth. She’s requesting priority clearance to land in the main shuttlebay. Admirals Ross and Akaar are on board.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jaza. I’ll be right there,” Riker said as he headed for the turbolift, his poker face suddenly inadequate to the task of suppressing the frown that was creeping across his features.
A surprise visit from two of the most influential admirals in the fleet. Thiscan’t be good news.
Chapter Three
U.S.S. TITAN
It had been four years since Lieutenant Melora Pazlar had left her brief assignment aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise-E and until two months ago she hadn’t been back aboard a Federation starship. Her chief reason for staying so long in her native world’s microgravity environment was personal. But now she realized that she’d had another legitimate rationale for having steered clear of Starfleet vessels for so long: physical discomfort. Even in the specially designed uniform she wore, adapting to the “normal” shipboard gravity could be a chore.
The uniform’s exoframe servomotors let out a low, almost inaudible whine as Pazlar’s willowy form progressed down the corridor. She moved forward deliberately, her garlanic wood walking stick assisting the exoframe’s step-by-step redistribution of her weight. She saw a Vulcan and a Bolian approaching her, and politely nodded and smiled to them as they neared. She hoped she was concealing the constant pain and pressure Titan’s “standard” gravity settings caused her.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Pazlar,” the young Bolian woman said as she came to a stop alongside her Vulcan companion. Her smile displayed a wide mouth full of bright teeth.
“Good afternoon, Ensign Waen,” Pazlar said. Her mind raced, but she couldn’t remember the name of the middle-aged Vulcan male, even though she had met him several days earlier. She noted that he seemed disinterested in her, so intent was he on the padd he carried. “I hope your day is going well,” Pazlar said, at a loss to think of any other chitchat.
“Very well, thanks,” Waen said. “We’re on our way to the arboretum to see how Savalek’s new Kyloorchid is faring.” She gestured toward the Vulcan as she spoke the name, then back down in the direction from which they had just come. “I suppose you’re off to see what they’ve done to your quarters?”
Pazlar nodded. “I have to confess I’m a bit anxious about that.”
Waen leaned in closer, bringing her hand up to her mouth in a conspiratorial gesture. Pazlar doubted that she needed to bother whispering, since Savalek seemed absolutely absorbed by whatever was on his padd. “I heard some fairly loud swearing coming from the open doorway as we passed. I think it was that Ferengi geologist.”