CHAPTER 25: KNOW WHEN TO HOLD'EM
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Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley was enjoying himself. Not that he was winning at poker this night. He'd only won two hands, and both of them had been minor pots. No, his enjoyment came from watching that idiot of a cadet, Wesley Eugene Crusher, win. And win again. And again. Against four of his fleet's finest admirals who also had very elephantine memories. He then decided that he wasn't just enjoying himself. He was really enjoying himself as he watched Wesley rake in another tall pile of credits. The expressions on the faces of one man, one Bolian and two women were a treasure to behold.
He enjoyed listening to the Bolian, a rear admiral named Adrok lisp, "Mr. Crusher, by chance have you considered where you're going to be posted after you graduate?"
"I've been told that I'm going to the Enterprise," Wesley nicely answered, as he peeked at the two cards he'd just been dealt for a hand of Ferengi Hold'em. He was looking at two aces. And inwardly groaned as he observed the first communal card that was turned over on the blue felt. It was another ace. His luck was good tonight. In fact, statistically, it was too good. His mathematical id was getting nervous - very nervous. He glanced at the dealer, an Admiral Margarita Hildago-T'Veck. While it was possible that she might be in cahoots with Winston Holt Wiley, he did somewhat doubt it. For Admiral Picard had mentioned the lady over the years, and he got the impression that this admiral was a person that Jean-Luc Picard had admired and respected for a very long time. In short, she wasn't the type of lady to deliberately cheat at cards, even if it was in his favor. Even after two near-beers, Wesley was still rather alert with his mind calculating into overdrive.
As he won this hand too, Wesley began to consider all the possibilities of Winston Holt Wiley's machinations. This next hand, Admiral Wiley dealt. It was Jacks or Better. Wes threw his cards away in spite of the fact that he'd just been dealt a pair of queens. He then deliberately lost the next hand. And the next. And then it was his turn to deal. He went with Jacks or Better. And found himself holding a pair of aces, again.
Admiral Nakamura threw in the first bet. Though no one had said it aloud, this was probably going to be the last hand of the night.
It was an unwritten rule at Starfleet Academy Headquarters, especially in the so called admiralty 'god' suites, at the tallest tower of the building, that all admirals were to be gone by 0200 hours unless there was a crisis. And since Admiral Winston Holt Wiley's suite was the entire top three floors of the building, and even though his poker room was an interior room, it was considered to be a good day when his lights went off on time. For if his lights were seen to be on all night, then that meant that there was a problem somewhere…
So a dark tower indicated that all was well.
Even Wiley didn't usually break this unwritten rule.
It was now 0130 hours, Standard Federation Time. And Wesley Crusher had a decision to make. He matched Woody's bet, but didn't raise it. It was Alynna Nechayev who raised the bet, and then some. Again, Wesley matched it. And then Wesley tried to figure out why Admiral Winston Holt Wiley had even invited him to this game. For Jean-Luc Picard had warned him about the kind of deeply played machinations for which Holt was famous. Even Krebbie had passed on a word of warning or two as well. Wesley had figured that after dealing with the Q, Admiral Wiley would be a piece of cake. Now he was not so sure.
Wesley was dealt a third card. It was an ace. By this time both Woody and Rita had dropped out, leaving just Winston, Alynna, Admiral Adrok and himself.
Admiral Adrok spoke, even as he raised the bet by another hundred credits. "I've heard of you, Cadet Crusher. You were part of the Nova Squadron Scandal."
Wesley stifled his ironic laugh. He found it hard to believe that there wasn't an admiral out there that hadn't known of the Nova Squadron Scandal. "Something which I will regret for the rest of my life, Sir."
Adrok waited until after Holt dealt the fourth round of cards. "You know, you could be posted somewhere else besides the Enterprise… I could arrange it."
Wesley wasn't sure if he was being offered a warning or a bribe, but at this moment, he didn't care. For now, he was holding four aces. He matched everyone's bets, but didn't raise.
Suddenly Adrok shoved all his credits into the middle of the elegant 19th century burled walnut poker table with its Federation Blue felt top. "I'm all in," he announced as he shoved his credits into the middle of the United Federation of Planets logo on the center of the table.
"So am I," Alynna replied, pushing in her stack too.
Dreading what was coming, Wesley watched as Winston Holt Wiley moved in his chips.
So Wesley matched them, sighing as he did so.
Adrok laid down a full house - aces and eights.
Alynna gloated as she placed down her hand - a straight hearts flush.
Winston only cursed as he threw his hand face down onto the felt.
"Well, Cadet Crusher?" Alynna gleefully asked.
Wesley cautiously hesitated.
"Well?" Winston Holt Wiley drawled, intently staring at the young cadet.
Wesley continued to think. And then he threw his cards face down onto the table. "You win, Admiral Nechayev." For he'd heard a lot about this admiral over the years, and he knew it was not wise to make an enemy of her, if he wished to have a successful Starfleet career.
Wesley froze. For he was thinking about his future Starfleet career. And it seemed important, now. When had that happened? There was a disturbing twinkle in Wiley's eyes which seemed to confirm...something…
Almost blindly he picked up the glass that Wiley had placed in front of him as a farewell libation. He choked as he took a sip. It was real whiskey, instead of the non-alcoholic beer that Winston had served him earlier.
All Winston said was, "Don't you have classes in the morning, cadet?"
"No, Sir. I've got propulsion labs at the UP at 1200." Wesley put down his drink, and just looked at the old man. He was smiling now, as if he was very pleased about something. And then Wesley glanced over at the other admirals. All of them seemed pleased about something too. Slowly, Wesley picked up his glass, his mind racing even as he considered all of the impossibilities. He understood. Now... Wesley then raised his glass as if for a toast. "I know that this may be presumptuous of me, Sirs, Ma'ams; but I would just like to say one thing. Thank you."
Alynna Nechayev icily asked, "For what?" She sounded annoyed.
"Why, for the games we played." Wesley stared directly at the head of Starfleet as he said these words. He chuckled as he added, "It was quite an educational experience."
Wiley chuckled too. "You'll do, Cadet. You'll do." Wiley poured himself a final shot for the road. "Still going back to the Enterprise when you graduate, Cadet Crusher?"
"I'm not sure, Sir. Dr. Brahms has asked me to join her at the UP. She wants me to work with her in theoretical propulsions. I am considering it for more than one reason." When Winston raised his eyebrow, Wesley added, "I just thought that it would be nice to be around my Mom at least for a little while."
"And the Enterprise will always be there," Margarita Hidalgo-T'Vek warmly added.
The next morning, Wesley was still wondering if what happened at the poker game was what had really happened or if he was imagining things. He found himself sitting in the sequestered Adele Rose Garden near his dormitory. He wasn't that surprised when Boothby sat down next to him.
"Heard you lost last night."
"I was winning most of the night - until the last couple of hands, Mr. Boothby." Wesley glanced about the small, walled garden full of blossoming floribunda and long stemmed roses. "Does Jean-Luc know that you named this garden after his great-aunt?"
"No. But I had to name it after her. I promised the lady her prize roses would continue."
Wesley nodded. "Am I imagining things? Did the head of Starfleet really do what I think he did?"
"You mean, test your mettle in matters other than mathematics and games of chance?"
"Yes. He wanted me to lose. Even though I had the winning hands. Why?"
"Why do you think?"
Wesley grunted, then grumbled, "You remind me of Counselor Troi."
"Not a bad lady to be compared to, young man. Besides, in some ways, we both do the same thing - I like to listen too."
"And save lives?"
"Cadet, I wouldn't go that far. Let's just say that sometimes lives need to be guided."
Wesley didn't say anything for a while. Then he nodded. "Admiral Wiley wanted me to choose. Win the pots and have five powerful admirals pissed off at me for a long time to come thereby damning my Starfleet career before I even become an ensign - that is if I decide to become an ensign; or deliberately lose and appease their egos. And maybe one day actually have a command Starfleet career in spite of all the mistakes I've made." He glanced over at Boothby, still puzzled. "Why would the Fleet Admiral do that? What makes me so special?"
"Because Wesley Crusher, you already have the soul - and the heart - of a Starfleet officer. Then you came to the Academy as a cadet. Now, your mind just needs to catch up with where you were." Boothby patted Wesley's arm. "In spite of everything, you're going to be a good man, Wesley Crusher. Whether it be as a Starfleet officer or as something else. You choose. Winnie is just hoping that you choose to remain as a Starfleet officer. He wants you. And he knows that Starfleet needs an officer like you."
"I'm not an officer, Mr. Boothby."
"Trust me, kiddo, you already are. And you have been for a while now. You just don't realize it yet."
Wesley considered Boothby's words. "You can get away with calling him 'Winnie?'"
Boothby laughed. "I can recall when Winnie was a cadet. And I still can remember where all of his bodies are buried."
"Like you know where all of Admiral Picard's bodies are buried too. You, and Krebbie."
"Jean-Luc has called us both, forces for good, cadet."
"But does he really know all that you've done?"
"Let's just say, Mr. Crusher, that when Jean-Luc asked me to manage his properties when he inherited them from his Aunt Adele, which I was happy to do if only because of the greenhouses and gardens, he didn't really grasp all of the details involved."
Wesley laughed. "I definitely have to be there when Jean-Luc finds out about the extent of all of this."
"I believe that Krebbie is planning a welcome home party. Whether Jean-Luc wants it or not. Your Mother, on the other hand, will always enjoy intimate parties with close friends and new family." Boothby didn't have a watch to look at, but somehow he knew that it was approaching the time for Wesley to leave for UP. "You'd better get going, Cadet."
Wesley nodded, then looked about the garden again, before he stood up from the stone bench with the silly wyverns carved on the side.
"Cadet…" Boothby handed the young man some small shears that he removed from his apron pocket. "Leah Brahms loves roses. Cut half a dozen to take to her. It's the sort of sucking-up of which she does approve."
"I don't need to toady to Dr. Brahms."
"I know, Wesley, I know. Which is why she'll even be more appreciative of the gesture. She's one lady you don't ever want to get on her bad side. She doesn't act like it, but she's very diabolical, that one. When you mess with her engines - you'd better be in the right. Or else you'll think that Jean-Luc Picard is a pussycat in comparison to her."
Wesley only chuckled as he snipped six perfect apricot colored rose buds, then handed Boothby back his shears. The man took the roses from Wesley, and quickly removed all the thorns then handed the roses back to the cadet.
"Thanks. For everything, Mr. Boothby."
The ageless gardener watched as the cadet took the roses and started to walk away.
"Wesley…"
Wesley turned around.
"You've made the right decision - for now."
"How do you know what I've decided?"
"You're going to make a fine officer, young Mr. Crusher. You'll honor your father's name."
Wesley nodded accepting Boothby as a force of nature in his life. "I hope so." Like Guinan, it was better to give in when they confronted you with something. There really was no point in fighting the inevitable. He tapped his comm badge.
"I know so…" Boothby quietly added as he watched the cadet beam away.
Winston Holt Wiley slowly walked into the garden. Old war wounds were bothering him this morning. He sat next to Boothby.
"The lad's a brilliant tactician," he idly commented to his old friend.
"Yes, he is, Winnie. He figured out what you'd done."
"I'd have been disappointed in my own judgment if he hadn't. You can't be much of a gamesman if you don't even recognize the game you're playing."
"Looking for a new playmate, Winnie?"
"All of my other friends are getting too old. They need to be shaken up now and then. And I think that Wesley Crusher is the youth to do it."
"Give him about ten years of seasoning before you make him an admiral, Winnie. Let him live a little before you thrust the weight of the universe on his shoulders."
Winston Holt Wiley offered his friend a cigar. Boothby took it, then pocketed the devil's stick even as Wiley lit his own.
"He'll do?" Boothby asked.
"He'll do," the head of Starfleet replied, beginning to think for the first time, that he'd found the right person to become his eventual successor.
Boothby idly commented, "I heard that Ambassador Troi has been looking for you…"
Winnie groaned. "That woman is insatiable."
"So true," Boothby muttered under his breath.
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On the other side of the galaxy, Guinan sat on her bright pink upholstered davino, kicked off her shoes, poured out three drinks of a chartreuse colored liquid into orange colored glasses that were resting on a low, turquoise painted table, and then yelled at the computer, "Let them in."
She leaned back against her purple pillows with the large mir-i-bota patterns in tones of vibrant red and apple green. These pillows clashed royally with her canary yellow hostess gown. She didn't care. She liked her color choices to scream back at her. Now, she watched as Captain Riker and Commander Data entered her quarters. It was the first visit for both of them.
"Madam Guinan, it is kind of you to invite us to your quarters." Data looked about the room with avid interest, internally recording the vibrant color schemes intending to incorporate them into a future artistic creation. He was fascinated by her decorative choices. They were so different from any other decorative choices on board the Enterprise.
She motioned for them to be seated. They wisely sat down.
"Yes, Guinan. It is kind of you," Riker drolly added as he looked about the room as well. It was beyond the nightmare that he had imagined. "Curious, though. I could never find your quarters listed in my ship's data base."
Data helpfully piped up, "Captain, that is because they are not listed under the appellation of 'Guinan'."
"Why not?" Riker sounded grumpy.
"When Madam Guinan originally came aboard the Enterprise, the then-Captain Picard asked me to find her suitable quarters. Guinan picked out storage units on deck fifteen. And converted them."
"And you never changed their designation in the ship's computer, Mr. Data?" Riker tried not to reveal his irritation at this bit of news.
"I was ordered not to do so by Captain Picard," Data explained, wondering why this information seemed to be upsetting his brand-new commanding officer.
"Well, do so, now," Riker ordered.
"Good lord, you are turning into such a spoilsport with that millstone of a fourth pip around your neck, Will," Guinan observed as she handed the man and the android two of the drinks she had poured. "Don't do it, Data. It's safer for me not to be identified."
Riker considered Guinan's words, and decided to table the name change for now. Jean-Luc must have had a reason…
Guinan smiled at him as if she already knew his decision. The new captain didn't like that thought at all. No one should be second-guessing the captain.
Then Will Riker took a swig of his drink, gasped, choked, almost dropped the tumbler, and they strangled out the words, "What is this stuff?"
Data looked down into his tumbler, inspecting it. He sniffed it. And then he tasted it. "Captain, it is a balanced mixture of ethyl alcohol produced from the solanum tuberosum, with a sucrose fluid blended with two percent acetic acid… And there are elements that I cannot identify." Data sounded surprised. There wasn't much that he couldn't identify.
Guinan interrupted him. "Data, this is Kickapoo Joy Juice. No need to know more."
"A drink indigenous to a Native American Indian tribe?" Data asked, puzzled by the libation's name.
"Oh, is that where it came from?" Guinan took a gulp of the drink herself. She didn't gasp. "An ensign I once knew gave me the recipe. Of course, he is an admiral now, and prefers to mix the recipe with synthehol vodka instead of home brewing the real thing."
"You've a still on board my ship?" Riker quickly observed.
"Don't be a silly boy," was Guinan's quicker response.
Captain Riker duly noted that she had not exactly answered his question. So he wasn't going to bother to inform her when he would send security to look for her alleged still.
Riker took another sip of his drink. It did grow on one… "Is this why you invited us here? To drink this stuff?" Riker had recovered his voice.
"No." Guinan's smile was peculiar.
Now, Riker was nervous.
She finished off her drink, poured some more of it into her tumbler and then announced, "It's time that I told you the rules, Gentlemen. Explained them."
"Rules?" Data pondered her words, looked over at his captain who shook his head, and then asked, "What rules, Madam Guinan?"
Her stare drilled into Riker. "You want to be captain?"
"I already am." The captain of the Enterprise was beginning to sound a bit testy.
"Let me rephrase that, Will. Do you want to remain as captain?" she calmly asked, as if her captain's perturbation meant nothing to her.
"Madam Guinan," Data interjected, "Captain Riker is captain of the Enterprise." Even Data had detected Captain Riker's annoyance.
She glared at both of them.
"Yes," Will finally admitted. Will studied Guinan, wondering what her game was. "I suppose that you are going to tell me what it is that I have to do in order to remain as captain of the Enterprise?"
"Yup." Guinan drained her drink.
Will waited for a while until Guinan stopped her coughing. "So?"
"I'll make the same deal with you that I made with every other captain of the Enterprise."
"And that is?"
"Heed my advice, Will, when I give it. Or else." She saw the stubborn look forming on her new captain's face. "And yes, I've already told you this. I just wanted to emphasize my point. And to remind you that I don't give advice too often. But when I do, you had better pay attention."
He considered her words, the help she'd proffered during the Borg attacks, and remembered Jean-Luc Picard's absolute faith in the lady. "I promise that I will consider your advice, Guinan, whenever you offer it. I already have."
"Good. Now that this is understood, I should tell you what happens to captains who don't."
Cold chills of foreboding ran down Riker's spine, as Data naively asked, "And that is?"
"I marry them." She relished the expression on Will Riker's face.