Part 23 (1/2)
Instead, Picard had suggested, now would be the perfect time to have that diplomatic gathering that had been suggested-by Guinan, he hastened to add-a notion that was unanimously, if somewhat cautiously, received by all sides. It was decided that the ideal place for the soiree was the Ten-Forward Room. It had a nice philosophical aspect to it-that place in the s.h.i.+p that was most forward, representing the future of the Klingon and the Kreel. It also had a very relaxing atmosphere to it. And best of all, Guinan, who had an incredible knack for putting everyone at ease, would be pouring out the drinks.
The Enterprise's inability to raise anyone on the planet was dutifully reported to Aneel, but he expressed an utter lack of concern over it.
”You have to understand, Captain,” he had explained, ”we don't carry those marvelous, highly-transportable communications devices, as you do. We have one communications area set up on the planet, and if no one happens to be nearby it, you won't get a response.”
”We've performed a sensor sweep as well,” Picard had told him. ”We can detect no life readings at all.”
”There is your proof then. They're probably beneath the planet's surface, in the middle of their explorations. Remember that the entire planet was extremely resistant to sensor scans.”
So, although he had misgivings about the situation, Picard had resolved to worry no further about it.
Deanna Troi slowed down as she approached the Ten-Forward Room. The party was already in full swing, and she could hear loud voices and chatting.
Parties always made the s.h.i.+p's counselor uncomfortable. At any large gathering, her empathic ability always made her feel as if she was under attack, as if a radio was turned up too loud and she was being a.s.saulted by sound. For Deanna, her empathic ability was always on. She had to make a concentrated effort to screen out the feelings of others-a simple procedure for a full Betazoid, but somewhat more of a strain for one of mixed blood such as she. A party was a burst dam of feelings, and she had to put a mental finger in the dike so as not to be totally washed away.
She would have preferred to skip such events. But as s.h.i.+p's counselor, it was her responsibility to, at least, put in an appearance, and also to be available for her people at all times.
Nevertheless, it was actually with some degree of relief that she found herself being flagged down by one of the Klingons from Kobry's group. He was in the hallway alone, nursing a drink, and he actually seemed pleased to see her. Now, which one was he again-?
It was as if he could read the question going through her mind. ”Sklar,” he said.
”Honorable Sklar,” she said.
He shook his head. ”No. Mere 'Sklar' is correct. This is quite fortunate, Counselor Troi.”
”Why is that?”
”I dislike parties. Too many opportunities for someone to slip a knife between your ribs.”
Well, that certainly accounted for the feelings of free-floating anxiety she was picking up from him. What an att.i.tude to have. ”I also feel ill-at-ease at such gatherings,” she admitted, ”although hardly for the same reasons. I should really go in though-”
”Why hurry?” he asked. ”It will be going on for some time. I do not have the opportunity to meet many other races. This is my first a.s.signment off my s.h.i.+p in quite some time. Please do me the honor of talking out here for a bit, where at least we can hear each other.”
She smiled. He was extremely well-spoken for a Klingon. ”Very well,” she said. ”At least for a while.”
”Thank you. I will admit something, in candor. You are very attractive and”- he looked down-”attractive women make me nervous.”
She stared at him incredulously. It certainly explained that still-free-floating anxiety, but ...
”Are you sure you're a Klingon?”
He looked up and said, in no uncertain terms, ”All Klingon.”
Inside, the party was progressing quite smoothly. Kreel and Klingons were still giving each other a healthy distance, but there didn't seem to be a lot of tension in the room. Guinan, behind the bar, was wearing a hat the size of Canis Major and cheerfully working on keeping everyone's gla.s.s filled. Clearly she was in her element.
Geordi who, with Data and Riker and a security man named Tuttle, would be heading down to the planet surface, was in a conversation with Aneel. ”Anything I should be on the look-out for, while we're down there?”
Aneel ran through, in his mind, the things that they had discovered down there. Immediately, he thought of the door that had killed Budian.
He stared at Geordi and decided he didn't like anyone whose eyes he couldn't see.
”Nothing of any real concern,” he said. ”Don't point anything at anyone.”
”Words to live by,” said Geordi.
From across the room, Jaan watched Geordi in deep discussion with Aneel.
When Aneel had first brought up the cure, Jaan had toyed with the idea of simply telling the captain and making sure that it was the first thing that the away team looked for when they went down. Aneel had squelched that thought real fast.
”We found it purely by dumb luck,” the Kreel had said. ”One-in-a-million chance. There's no guarantee that, unaided, anyone else will find it. Ever. Certainly not before you're moldering in the grave. Now, if you mention it to anyone, I can a.s.sure you that the Kreel will offer no help. In fact, I'll even deny that it exists. If, of course, you'd like to take your chances, go right ahead. But just how many chances do you think you've got left?”
It had been an argument that Jaan was unable to counter. So he had kept his silence and had prayed that his actions thus far to save his life would not have serious consequences.
But how could they? Everyone seemed to be getting on well enough. Certainly the Kreel now had hidden phasers tucked away in their breeches, but no one needed to know that. Things were progressing smoothly. The odds seemed very much against any weapons having to be drawn. No one had missed the phasers yet, and the last time he had pa.s.sed Chafin, the security man had been standing there still looking somewhat puzzled over what had gone on before. When he had looked at Jaan, it was with the same kind of semiblank stare one gives when one isn't sure whether something really happened or if it had just been dreamed.
Jaan looked to the other side of the room, and there was Data chatting with the Klingon amba.s.sador ... now, what was his name again?
”Honorable Kobry,” Data was saying, ”I'd like to ask you a question if that is all right.”
”Certainly, young man.”
Data brightened. ”You are the first person ever to call me that. Everyone else seems to be able to tell by my coloration that I am an android.”
”Are you?” said Kobry mildly. ”I never a.s.sume anything, particularly when it concerns albinos. Excuse me a moment, though.” He put his drink down on the table next to him, popped open his large ring, extracted a pill and swallowed it.
Picard, standing nearby, drifted over and said, ”Still having health difficulties, Honorable Kobry?”
”Oh no, Captain. As I mentioned to you, it's simply a medicine I take at food or drink times. Makes it easier to digest. Advanced years. You understand.”
”Of course,” said Picard.
”Now then, young man ... your question?”
Data said, ”Why are you always addressed as 'Honorable'?”
”Data!” said Picard. ”I think you could have phrased the question a bit more tactfully than that. You're implying that the Honorable Kobry is not worthy of that designation.”
”Am I?” said Data. ”It was not my intention. But you, sir, are not addressed as 'Honorable Captain', nor Commander Riker as 'Honorable Riker' nor Geordi as-”
”I perceive your meaning,” said Kobry quickly. ”You must understand that, to Klingons, names are very important. Those who are highly honored, like myself, always have such t.i.tles as 'Honorable' placed before their names in direct address. Others who have distinguished themselves in battle, or have reached extremely high rank, are given the ultimate honor of not having their names spoken in direct address at all. At least by other Klingons.”
”Why is that an honor?” asked Data. Picard himself was curious over that one.
”To speak someone's name is to establish a degree of familiarity,” replied Kobry. ”It gives you a certain power over someone with whom you talk, either bringing you up to their level or them down to yours. It's done to some degree on this s.h.i.+p. Those you consider your peers you address by given names. But you would not dream of addressing the captain as Jean-Luc, nor would I.”
”Why?” asked Data. ”Because you would not want to bring the captain up to your level, or you would not want to bring yourself down to his?”
And Kobry the diplomat and great thinker stood there, open-mouthed, temporarily brought to a halt by the innocent question. Picard graciously stepped in and said, ”Because it would imply a degree of familiarity that does not exist.”