Part 8 (2/2)

”Mister Data-” Riker began.

”You can call me Data, sir,” the android interrupted. ”Everyone does. Shall I run a check of s.h.i.+p's systems, sir? The captain likes it done once every twelve-hour cycle.”

”Fine, Mister-”

”Data.”

”Right,” Riker said glumly. A computer as second officer of the Enterprise-he hated the thought of it. Logical computers were fine as far as they went, but they only knew what was programmed into them. They could not react spontaneously in new situations. He studied Data's upright back as the android sat at the Ops console running systems checks. What was Picard thinking of?

Riker rolled over in his bunk the next morning when the computer woke him at the hour he had requested. He groaned, wearily stretched his lanky frame and sat up. He had dreamt of her again, waking often because he knew it was a dream and he wanted to be free of it. But when he fell back to sleep, her lovely face floated to the surface of his mind, smiling at him. He had left her behind, transferring off the Yorktown without actually saying goodbye, running (he admitted it) from her beauty and the feeling he had for her. He was ambitious and wanted to move ahead, both in rank and in stars.h.i.+ps; and his logic told him he would move faster and further alone. When she had called him ”imzadi,” he felt he had to leave-and quickly. He wasn't sure of the word's exact meaning, but its general import was one of permanent commitment. He hadn't liked himself for leaving, but he had finally reconciled himself to that personal weakness. Still, he had never been able to sleep well when the memories in his rebellious mind brought back her image to smile at him.

The food slot delivered a breakfast of ham, eggs, b.u.t.tered toast and a steaming cup of coffee. He was halfway through it when the computer panel glowed on the wall and intoned, ”Commander Riker, please report to Captain Picard in his ready room. Acknowledge.”

Riker looked longingly at the plate and the cup. ”Acknowledged,” he said. ”Is the captain in a hurry, or is a ten-minute delay acceptable to him?”

He was able to get in another gulp of coffee and turn on his shower before the computer glowed again and spoke in its pleasant voice. ”Ten minutes is acceptable, Commander.” Riker's ”thanks” was lost in the splatter of his hot shower.

Picard was waiting for him with the offer of another cup of coffee. Riker declined and settled into the chair opposite the captain. ”It's been eleven hours, sir, since Q-”

”I'm well aware of the time, Commander. There hasn't been one untoward incident, but I can't forget his prediction that we'll face some critical test.”

”At Farpoint.”

”He mentioned it specifically.” Picard leaned forward and flicked on his viewscreen. ”I've been going over what we know about the Bandi, the planet, the station. Incidentally, I found your report very interesting. The Bandi's source of energy, for example.”

”Yes, sir. The planet's internal heat results in abundant geothermal energy, but it's about all this world does offer.”

”And it's your belief that this is what made it possible for them to construct this base to Starfleet standards?”

Riker nodded and referred to his own notes. ”We could a.s.sume they've been trading their surplus energy for the construction materials they've used. Before you arrived, Captain DeSoto had the Hood do several scans and transferred the results to our records here, and the Enterprise's current scans confirm many of the materials used are not found on this world.” He looked up at Picard and noticed again how closely the man listened. The dark eyes never strayed; his attention never wandered. ”The question is, who are they trading with? Our first contact team reported the Bandi were unsophisticated in terms of s.p.a.ce travel-”

”Which they still are.”

”Yes, sir, but I'm sure you are also aware the contact team received the a.s.surance they were the first interstellar voyagers the Bandi had met. So how have the Bandi been doing that offworld trading-if they have been-and with whom?” ”The Ferengi immediately spring to mind.” ”Deneb IV is rather far out of their territory,” Riker said doubtfully.

Picard smiled briefly and shook his head. ”Commander, I have watched the Ferengi operate for the past twenty-five years, and I can a.s.sure you if there is a profit to be made, the Ferengi will travel the length and width of the galaxy-twice-to do so.”

Riker had to give Picard the point. The Ferengi were a somewhat mysterious race, not yet confronted face to face by humans, but leaving their contracts behind as calling cards in many places humans were now venturing. Their existence had been first suspected fifty-four years before in a quadrant of the galaxy Starfleet had just begun to explore.

Since the Ferengi Alliance was constantly pus.h.i.+ng its boundaries outward, as was the Federation, conflicts were inevitable.

The Ferengi Alliance, as far as was known, was a union of planets under the domination of the Ferengi. Some information had leaked out over the years through prospectors, free-traders, and other itinerants that not all the races under Ferengi rule were happy. Some planets were simply in close proximity and unable to elude their influence. Some had been subjugated by armed might and were not strong enough to break free. Others were held by political ties or economic dependence. It was the economics that were key to the Ferengi.

In many ways, the Ferengi were akin to Earth's robber barons of the Nineteenth Century. They probably would have felt flattered if accused of greed. They embraced the making of a profit like a lover. All their dealings involved a contract and, inevitably, a profit for them. They were known to be hard and dangerous negotiators, but were also known to carry out a contract to the finest detail. In turn, they expected the opposite party to live up to the letter of a bargain in exactly the same manner.

There were some harrowing stories about the fates of those who tried to renege or cheat on a Ferengi agreement.

As a race, the Ferengi men encountered were described as small and slim humanoids with brown skin, enormously strong despite their size. They were totally bald, and their cup-like ears were set forward instead of lying close to the head. No one had ever seen a Ferengi woman, which perhaps was a comment on how little-or how much-they were regarded.

”The Ferengi could have contacted the Bandi without Starfleet knowing about it and made it a provision of the contract that their presence was to be kept secret,” Riker agreed.

”Or,” Picard said, smiling, ”perhaps it's like those incidents you describe in your report as 'almost magical' attempts to please us.”

”Those events did happen, sir. If I wasn't the observer, there was at least one other person to corroborate what the witness testified. I won't say the Bandi are adept at what could be called practical magic. I would say they appear to be.”

Picard briskly pushed to his feet as he said, ”And in time we'll discover the explanation. Meanwhile, none of it suggests anything threatening. If only every life form had as much desire to please. Ready to beam down? I'm looking forward to meeting this Groppler Zorn.” He keyed the door open and waited for Riker.

”I still feel there's more to it than just pleasing us, sir.” Riker stood and gestured for the captain to precede him onto the bridge.

”Like something Q is doing to trick us?”

As they emerged on the bridge, Riker was concentrating on Picard, and the sound of the turbolift doors didn't impress itself on him immediately. ”You met Q face to face, sir. Could he arrange something like that?”

”Farpoint Station is a very material construction, Riker. I'm inclined to believe what we saw from Q was an extremely powerful illusion.” Picard stopped and beckoned to someone. ”I've asked our s.h.i.+p's counselor to join us in this meeting.”

The captain stepped aside, and Riker's heart dropped.

She was as beautiful in person as he recalled her in his dreams-her cascading dark hair, her deep, black eyes, her gentle smile. Her small, perfect figure still made him feel gawky and overlarge next to her.

Picard was saying something. Riker forced his face into what he thought pa.s.sed for a neutral expression.

”May I introduce our new first officer, Commander William Riker. Commander Riker, s.h.i.+p's Counselor Deanna Troi.”

She extended her hand to him formally. She was not at all surprised to see him. Of course, Riker realized, she would have known of his appointment in the counselor's routine review of service files on new personnel. Was that why his dreams of the night before had been so vivid? Her nearness would have enhanced his unconscious perception of her.

Betazoids had a strong telepathic ability, but Troi's was diluted by her human blood. Often she could perceive the feelings and moods of other people, even aliens. However, someone with whom she was emotionally close could receive her projected thoughts clearly.

They shook hands, and her voice whispered gently in his mind. ”Do you remember what I taught you, imzadi? Can you still sense my thoughts?” What she said aloud was, ”A pleasure, Commander.”

”I, ah ... likewise, Counselor,” he stammered.

Picard eyed the two of them, intuitively aware there was something between them. ”Have the two of YOU met before?”

”We ... we have, sir,” Riker managed nervously.

So, Picard thought. He could guess something of the answer. No s.h.i.+p's captain objected to relations.h.i.+ps between officers. Riker, however, seemed somewhat uneasy. He wanted to rea.s.sure his new first officer. ”Excellent,” Picard said neutrally. ”I consider it important that my key officers know each other's abilities.”

”We do, sir,” Troi said quietly. Riker shuffled his feet.

”Shall we?” Picard gestured at the turbolift and led the way toward it.

Troi smiled serenely at Riker, and her voice touched his mind again. ”I could never say goodbye imzadi.” '

Chapter Seven.

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