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If only Id noticed his condition sooner.
The captain looked up, saw Riker was going to respond, and waved any comment off.
Have you shown this to him?
Riker shook his head.
I havent told him about any deaths. The Klingons arent making an issue of it, and I thought it best to wait until he had his full ... sense of reason.
How would Data react when he did find out? None of his shipmates perished, but that wouldnt matter to Data. Others died, and Data would have to deal with it. How? Logically, no doubt. The entire incident was an accident. But he still isnt quite back to his logical self.
Agreed. If we havent more pressing business planetside, lets get under way.
The captain flashed his eyes.
Have we more business, Mr. Riker?
The first officer shook his head.
No, sir. Dr. Hollitt has beamed down.
Picard allowed the slightest smile to pull at his lips.
Set course for Starbase Eighty-seven. Warp two as soon as shes ready.
Aye, sir, he said, hesitating.
Something, Number One?
Lieutenant Worf would like to see you, sir.
Picard shrugged.
Send him in.
The door opened and Worf entered after Riker walked past.
Lieutenant, Picard greeted.
Worf was stoic.
Sir.
The captain stared and waited a moment for the Klingon to make some statement or ask a question.
Can I help you, Lieutenant?
Picard said finally.
I am ready to return to duty, sir, Worf answered as he looked straight over Picards head.
Splendid, Picard said.
Worf glared down.
Oh, of course.
Picard smiled.
My apologies, Mr. Worf. You are returned to duty. The Hidran have dropped all charges, and I regret the misunderstanding.
Do not, Worf said, still laser-straight.
Even I thought it possible at one point that I had caused the amba.s.sadors death.
The captain nodded.
At ease, Mr. Worf.
Relaxing slightly, Worf came to parade rest.
Im recommending you for a commendation regarding your brave, albeit unorthodox action on Velex.
Thank you, sir.
Picard almost dismissed him, but decided to press one question before the Klingon returned to the bridge.
Mr. Worf, did you hear what I said to Urosk and Kadar once youd stabbed yourself?
The Klingons thick brow did not flinch, his eyes did not flicker.
I did, sir.
Picard rose, and tugged his uniform tunic into place as he walked around the desk, closing the distance between the two of them.
I said there were no Klingons.
Yes, sir.
No anger in that tone. In fact, nothing was in Worfs voice just now.
Picard glanced down at his boots a moment, then back up at that stern, ridged expression.
As a Klingon ... did that offend you?
The security chiefthe Starfleet officertilted his head and met Picards eyes.
As Worf, sir, it could not.
Authors Note There are a few people I have to mention for their help and support on this book. I know this stuff is boring if youre not listed, but I may just pick names at random at some point, so you might want to read anyway, just in case.
First and foremost I have to thank Gregory Brodeur. It would be too simple to say that I write the words and Greg plots the plotthe line is fuzzier than that. Lets just say that together, we are a writer.
I also owe my thanks to Gregs wife and regular collaborator, Diane Carey. Shes a mentor, a big sister, and she does what no one else can dokick me in the b.u.t.t when I need it most. Thanks for letting me on your ship, Di. Ill always owe ya.
No softer shout of thanks goes to my parents. Theyve supported me (in more ways than one) through the tough times, and Ill always hold them dear. Theyre better than parentstheyre friends.
A round of applause for Trek a.s.sociate editor John Ordover, please. He makes tough jobs easier (sometimes) and good books better (always).
Thanks also to Chuck Leibrand, who was stupid enough to listen to my early work, brave enough to tell me what he really thought, and smart enough to do it over the phoneout of throwing distance.
The same goes for Deborah Halford. Deb, I havent known you long, but in ten years I trust I wont be saying that. Thanks for your kind words, and thanks for your not-so-kind ones as well.
Thank you also to Pat Julius and Peggy Eaton for their friendship and support.
These are the folks who, in their separate ways, have added to this book, my life, or both. I am forever in their debt, or at least until I become rich and famous and can drop them for people who have power and influence, whichever comes first.
(Wonder if Ill getany Christmas cards now.) To end on a more serious note, I began work on this novel the same week a friend lost his battle with cancer. Thoughts of him and his fiancee will always be with me as I reflect that I embarked on a new and enjoyable struggle, as he and his family lost to an older and uglier one.
This book is written in memory of Vincent Lloyd Whitenight, and in honor of his fiancee, Stacie Eaton, who will forever remind me that humanitys strength is in its courage, in the profundity of its spirit, and in the resilience of its will.
Dave Galanter