Chapter 53

Captain Jean-Luc Picard yawned widely - then snapped shut his mouth, sternly reminding himself that he was, indeed, a starship captain. The dress uniform helped; the stiff collar and scratchy braid chewed at his neck, irritating his skin just enough to keep him from drifting off as he stood before the transporter platform, awaiting the arrival of the new Federation ambassador - but it was not quite enough to offset the fact that he had been awake - for the second time in three days - for almost twenty-four hours straight.

Not for the first time he found himself envying Andile.

How does she do it? he wondered. Work almost around the clock - and then show up at conference at oh-three hundred hours, as wide-eyed, bright-smiled - and as mentally quick and sharp - as if she had spent the intervening hours sleeping, instead of churning out another fifty pages on the training manual, as well as a preliminary report on the power conduits she had checked.

Which were, he reminded himself, all negative - as Worf had predicted they would be.

He sighed, wishing the reports would have been more definitive - even if definitive meant she had found a problem. As it was, however, he found himself no more certain about the engineer now than he had been since their first meeting days before. Instead, he found himself wondering if the absence of a problem meant she truly hadn't found anything amiss - or if it was simply a pretense to continue her investigation until she found the opportunity she needed to sabotage the ship.

But then again, he argued with himself, if she was not the saboteur - if there even was a saboteur - it was highly unlikely that she would find the damaged circuit in the first few searches she made; after all, there were thousands of power conduits on the ship; the odds against finding the one malfunctioning one on the first try was...

Was...

He tried making the calculation in his head, but found his mind drifting instead, thoughts of numbers dancing through it, threatening to lull him into a doze...

He shook his head sharply, chasing off the chill of the room and the fatigue of the early hour - than yawned again.

"I'm sorry, Captain," the transporter technician apologized uncomfortably. "I notified you when the Federation vessel said the ambassador was ready to transport over - just as you ordered - and _then_ they suddenly said there would be a delay. They said it would just be a few minutes," she added, seemingly miffed at the foul-up on the part of the delegate's ship.

"No need to apologize, Ensign..." His voice trailed off as he tried to recollect the woman's name from his sleep-deprived brain.

"Figueroa," she replied, seeming to take no offense at the slight. Indeed, Picard added, she seemed amused by the realization that her captain was just as vulnerable to human failings as she was. "Ensign Rachel Figueroa."

"No need to apologize, Ensign Figueroa," he repeated. "You were following orders - correctly."

It was the ambassador's crew that had failed to follow their orders, he added sourly and silently; Starfleet had made it perfectly clear and utterly unquestionable that this rendezvous were to be as brief as possible, to further reduce the possibility that an enemy might be able to forecast their intended destination by analyzing their route. The idea that they had reached the rendezvous point, then signaled the Enterprise - and _then_ decided they had to wait - was exactly the kind of mistake that might make them vulnerable to discovery by an enemy ship.

But Federation ambassadors weren't bound by Starfleet regulations - and more than a few of those same ambassadors felt they weren't bound by any regulations at all. Had they done so, had they felt as dedicated to the good of the Federation as well as the good of the alien worlds to which they traveled, the Federation, indeed the entire quadrant, might not find itself in the dire straits that now held them.

That, he railed silently, was the problem with ambassadors; they were head-strong, self-obsessed... They did what they wanted, when they wanted, for the reasons they wanted... They didn't know what rules were for, and they didn't know how to follow them.

What the ambassadorial division needed - really needed, Picard mused, were a few good, ex-Starfleet officers, men and women who understood the need for compliance with rules - and yet were capable of thinking on their feet, and acting equally swiftly.

But, he added, grumbling to himself, those same Starfleet officers weren't about to be asked to join that diplomatic province; the very traits that made them estimable ambassadors in his mind's eye would have made them 'loose cannons' in the sight of the Federation's Diplomatic Corps. The last thing the Corps wanted was people who could and did think for themselves.

No, those officers were good men and women - they simply were not politic.

He was still musing over the idea - and the injustice - when Ensign Figueroa interrupted his reverie with the announcement that the ambassadorial ship had once again transmitted their readiness to transport the delegate to the Enterprise. Grumbling the requisite approval, he drew a deep breath, preparing to meet the delegate - and to move him through the standard greeting and introduction just as quickly as decorum - and his own exhaustion - would permit.

Forcing a plastic smile to his face, he stood at attention as the soft shimmer of lights began to form on the pad, then slowly coalesced into the form of a tall, lanky, human male...

Before he could stop himself, Picard felt his jaw drop - then happily bounded onto the transporter pad, a hand extended in welcome.

"My God!" he roared. "Jay! Jay Tillerman! What the hell are you doing out here?" he boomed, his joy at seeing the old and familiar face erasing every trace of formality - and fatigue - from his mind and his body.

The tall human took the proffered hand, shook it hard, then drew the smaller man against him in a smothering bear hug, pummeling Picard's back fiercely as he did so.

"Johnny!" the man shouted back. "Johnny Picard! So this is where you finally wound up!"

Rachel Figueroa bit her lip, refusing to let herself smile at the idea of the captain being called anything besides 'Jean-Luc Picard'. Turning her attention back to the board, she busied herself with its controls, studiously avoiding seeing or hearing anything else.

For a moment, the two men continued with the mutual back-thumping - then pulled apart, each beaming at - and studying - the other.

Time had been good to his old friend, Picard realized quickly - better than it had been to him.

Where his hair, what little he had left, had gone to silver years before, Jay's had stayed the same dark brown color and luxuriant thickness that had drawn women to him when they were roommates at the Academy - and while Jay's skin showed the wrinkles and lines that one would expect from years of exposure to the intense sun of his home planet of New Texas, there was something healthful about it, something that spoke of a life outdoors, a life in the sun and wind and weather - and not a life spent in the dark of space, under the artificial lighting of a starship.

Not that he would have changed places with the former Starfleet officer, Picard quickly added - but, he found himself forced to admit, Jay had aged a hell of a lot better than he had.

He grinned at his old friend. "My God," Picard repeated. "How long has it been, Jay? Ten years?"

"Longer than that," the other replied. "Almost twenty. The last time I saw you was back at that reception at Starfleet Command - remember? The one where you picked up the blonde with the..."

"Ah, yes," Picard interrupted, flaring red - and flashing a glance at the technician at the transporter console, who was, he was relieved to see, completely engrossed in her own work. "She had a remarkable mind," he added quickly.

"A remarkable mind?" Tillerman guffawed. "How the hell would you know? Your eyes didn't move higher than her neck the entire night!"

Picard's eyes rolled up in his head as he cheeks flamed once again, then he forced a smile to his face. "Indeed," he managed carefully, then said, "So what brings you out here, Jay?"

"I'm your new ambassador," the tall man replied.

Picard nodded. "I gathered as much - but I meant: I thought you had retired. The last I heard, you had left from Starfleet and had gone back to your family's cattle ranch on New Texas. So how did you end up here? And as an ambassador!" he added, the realization just beginning to sink into his mind.

And the absurdity of the notion. Jay Tillerman? he asked himself. An ambassador? In a crisis of this nature?

It was a notion beyond all imagination, he insisted to himself - or it was for the man he had known so many years ago.

Just, he reminded himself as he cast a second glance at the young woman looking pointedly at her transporter console, as it was beyond imagination that the captain of the Enterprise would have spent the better part of a Starfleet reception propositioning a beautiful woman.

But that was twenty years ago - and I was a different man then.

As Jay had been different.

Reminding himself not to judge his friends in the present with their actions of the past, he thumped the tall man on the back once again, then, reaching for the leather bag that had materialized beside the New Texan, gestured for him to lead the way out the doors - and out of earshot of the ensign.

"Well, there are only so many cattle you can herd, Johnny," Tillerman said as they passed through the sliding doors. "It's a good life - but it gets boring. After a few years, I began to realize I wanted something a little more. I wanted something to look forward to. When the Dominion War broke out, I tried to re-enlist - I figured a man with my experience would be good for something - but Starfleet had enough youngsters signing up they didn't need an old hand like me," he said with a disappointed shake of his head.

"The Federation, though - now there were some people who could appreciate the value of what I've learned," Tillerman continued.

Picard grinned. It was just what he had been telling himself, he thought; that what the Federation needed was a few ex-Starfleet officers, who understood the need for following orders - and who also understood the need for independent thought.

"You're going to _need_ everything you've learned, Ambassador," Picard answered, growing somber. "The negotiations ahead of you are going to be difficult - and the future of the Federation is riding on what you - and the other delegates - can work out. I don't envy you this job, Jay," he admitted.

But the rangy New Texan only grinned in response. "Oh, hell, Johnny, I've played high stakes poker before."

"But not with the stakes this high," Picard countered.

"The value of the chips doesn't change the rules of the game - or how a good player plays," Tillerman replied. "It's a matter of knowing what you're holding, figuring out what the others have - and then bluffing them into believing you have a better hand. It's not the cards and it's not the stakes, Johnny; it's the player," he reminded the shorter man.

Picard's eyes widened - but all he said was, "Indeed."

Tillerman studied him for a moment as they walked, then grinned. "You never were much for poker, were you, Johnny? Always had your head in the books, always studying... You know, I was a little surprised when I heard you'd made captain," he confessed. "I never thought you had it in you. Too much book learning - and too little of real life."

Picard forced a smile to his face in response, but he could feel the heat rising beneath his collar. "I've... gained some experience," he said at last.

"Glad to hear it, boy," Tillerman replied, thumping Picard on the back enthusiastically. "Glad to hear it!"

_Boy_? Picard thought to himself; you're only three years older than I am, he reminded the tall man silently - a fact that Jay no reminded him of countless times when they were at the Academy.

But at the Academy, that difference had made a difference; he had been a freshman, Jay a mid-classman - and the three years had been all the difference needed between the shy seventeen-year old boy and the far more worldly-wise twenty-year old man.

But that had been almost fifty years before, Picard thought; the differences in their ages now was nothing - except, perhaps, in Jay's mind.

He left his smile in place, but decided there was no reason to leave the topic there as well. Quietly changing the subject, he asked, "And your parents? How are they?"

It wasn't just an idle question; Amarie and Theodore Rubenstein-Tillerman - or Amy and Ted as they had insisted they be addressed - had been more than the parents of one of his Academy roommates; they had become a second family to the young, and very lonely, Jean-Luc Picard.

"Pretty good - for their age," Jay replied. "They retired from the ranch about ten years ago - Dad got thrown from a horse, and was laid up for two months. That's when he decided it was time to quit - and that's when I took over the place," he said.

Picard nodded - then looked up at his friend, perplexed. "But you left Starfleet twenty years ago! What were you doing in between?" he asked.

"Traveling - here, there. Ma always said that travel broadens a man's horizons - that why she wanted me to join Starfleet - so I could travel the galaxy at the Federation's expense. And what happens? I wind up at a desk!" he chortled.

"A desk?" Picard replied, puzzled. "I thought you had been given a posting on the Excalibur?" he said.

Tillerman grimaced. "I did - and I was there for a while. But Capt. Dozois and I didn't get along. I stayed for a year, got promoted to Lieutenant - then decided enough was enough, and requested a transfer," he said simply.

Picard stared at the man - then nodded, understanding at last. "_You_ requested the transfer. I see. Tell me, Jay, how many women had you proposed to this time?" he asked.

Tillerman looked back indignantly. "I didn't propose to any of them!" he retorted - then added with a wry grin, "It's just that a few of the female crewmembers thought that our relationships were progressing toward that fatal step. I thought it was time to make my escape... my departure," he amended, "before things became too serious."

For you or for them? Picard wondered. "I dread asking, Jay, but... how many is a few?" he pressed his friend.

Tillerman thought for a moment. "Thirty - I think."

"You think?" Picard replied, aghast.

"A gentleman doesn't count, Johnny," Jay intoned seriously.

"A _gentlemen_," Picard retorted, "doesn't seduce thirty women at one time! My God, when did you find the time?" he wondered. "My first posting as lieutenant, I didn't have time for anything beyond my duties!"

"You wouldn't," Tillerman chortled in reply. "Like I said, you always had your head in a book. You never could find the time to enjoy yourself. But I've got to admit, it wasn't easy; trying to keep them happy - and keep them from learning about one another..." Jay gave a shake of his head - but the grin on his face was anything but remorseful.

"It was hard work - but I managed, right up until the day I left - when they all showed up to see me off! Thank God the transporter chief was a kindred soul; he got me out of there just before the fight started," he chuckled.

Just in time to avoid the battle, Picard thought - but not fast enough for the event not to be logged into Jay's personnel file, he added, a wave of realization coming over him. Once that melee had recorded, it would have been a signal to every future captain who brought Jay aboard about the kind of person he was: a responsible officer, perhaps, but an irresponsible person.

No wonder he would have eventually wound up flying a desk, Picard thought sadly; no captain worth his salt would have been willing to risk the cohesion and harmony of a crew on the sexual predilections of a single person - and the specter that irresponsibility cast on his persona.

Fortunately, that was a long time ago, he told himself. Time and age would have slowed the man somewhat, he told himself - then glanced at his old friend and shook his head.

No; time and age might have slowed the physical responses of his friend - but it would have done nothing to alter the emotional needs his habits filled. Picard made a mental note to discretely discuss the matter with his senior staff - and made a second note to have Deanna Troi have a long talk with the man.

Not that it would help, he realized; Jay had been aware of his physical and emotional desires, even when they were roommates at the Academy. If he had wanted to change them, he could have long ago.

He simply hadn't wanted to.

For a moment, Picard felt a surge of pity for the man - then forced it back. Jay Tillerman had made his own choices in life - and he seemed unrepentant for them now. Indeed, he seemed happy enough for those choices. Trying to change that now would be pointless; worse, trying to change that now might be dangerous - both for Jay and for the Federation.

For whatever else he was, Jay was the Federation ambassador to these talks; the Federation Council had approved him, knowing what he was, despite - or even because - of those same traits.

He deleted the note to talk with Deanna - but mentally emphasized the reminder to warn his crew, the female portion in particular, about Jay's penchants.

"And your mother?" he finally said, changing the topic once again. "How is she?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Older, greyer - happier, too, now that she's got a handful of grandchildren running around the place," he added.

Picard gaze the tall human a startled look.

"Oh, not mine!" Jay laughed, seeing the surprised expression. "My sisters took care of the folks on that one. Jess has two girls, and Martha's got two boys and a girl. Or was it the other way around?" he puzzled. "Whatever," he decided glibly, "Mom's got a houseful of them now. I haven't seen her happier than the day she adopted you, Johnny!" he added.

Picard grimaced - not at the memory of the gentle woman - but at Tillerman's use of his nickname. "Jay, about that name..." he began hesitantly.

"What name?" Tillerman asked.

"Johnny," Picard said, disliking the name as much today as he had back at the Academy. "My name is Jean-Luc. I'd appreciate you using it," he added as gently as possible.

Tillerman's eyes widened in surprise - then he shrugged. "Whatever you say - Johnny," he added, grinning broadly again.

Picard sighed. He had never liked the nickname that had been bestowed upon him by his fellow cadets - but he had accepted it, suspecting that his insistence on the use of his proper name might alienate the others, might estrange the very people on whom he hoped he would come to depend in the near and distant future.

But the bastardization of the name had always bothered him when he had been a student - but more so now, looking back on the boy he had been - and the man he had become.

Had I been that desperate to fit in? he wondered. Was I that lonely, that insecure?

And am I that different now? he wondered, curious if his insistence on people using his full name just a reflection of that loneliness - a way to explain, to justify, why so few people were close to him - and a way to keep them distant.

Rationalization, he decided, borne of the early hour - and the long day before it. He glanced down the corridor, pleased to see the two Security guards standing outside the ambassador's quarters.

Tillerman saw them at the same time, then turned to confront Picard. "Trouble, Johnny... excuse me, Jean-Luc?" he said.

"No," Picard said firmly, "and I'm going to make sure it stays that way. I'm assigning guards to each of the ambassadors..."

"Who will keep us confined to quarters?" Jay concluded.

Picard smiled. "Hardly. But they will accompany should you wish to leave your room - and my first officer will call on you in the morning to arrange a tour of the ship."

"Female?" Tillerman interrupted.

Picard rolled up his eyes. "Cmdr. William Riker," Picard clarified, giving a slight emphasis to Will's first name - and watching a look of disappointment cross Jay's face.

"I don't suppose you could send someone else..." the ambassador began.

Picard forced a smile to his face. "Rank, as one of my engineers has reminded me, has both its privileges and its obligations. As an ambassador, it is _your_ privilege to be given the tour by my exec... unless you'd rather not take the tour," he added pointedly.

It was an effective threat, Picard knew; Jay Tillerman was not a man to stay cooped up in one spot any longer than necessary. It had been that need to roam from their shared quarters as much as his excessive sexual appetite that had been responsible for his frequent escapades at the Academy - and in Starfleet, Picard reminded himself. And given the options of staying in his quarters or getting a guided tour, even if it wasn't under the auspices of a female, wouldn't be a difficult decision for the Federation ambassador to make.

"Nah," Tillerman demurred. "You know me; I don't like staying any one place very long. Besides, I want to see what kind of ship they gave little Johnny Picard." Tillerman shook his head again. "The flagship of the 'fleet, they say. Hard to believe," he added with a sigh - then gave Picard a grin. "And anyway, I know there have got to be some women on this ship, somewhere - and knowing the kind of stickler you were for rules, I suspect they'll be more than a little anxious for a little action," he added, then turned, glanced into the open doorway of his assigned quarters - and gave an appreciative whistle. "Ambassador's quarters, eh? Nice. Plenty of space for doing some personal negotiations - if you know what I mean," he said, playfully - and painfully - jabbing Picard in the ribs with his elbow.

The captain ignored the blow, a frown coming to his face. "Jay, the members of my crew..."

"I'm just yanking your chain, Johnny!" Tillerman retorted, obviously delighting in teasing the smaller man. "I thought after all these years you'd have developed a sense of humor - but I guess not," he added disapprovingly. "You're as serious - and as dull - as you were fifty years ago, Johnny."

Tillerman reached for the leather bag that Picard had been carrying, then entered the room, followed by the captain.

"If there's anything else you need, Mr. Ambassador..." he began, only to be interrupted by the tall New Texan.

"Nothing - short of you getting a sense of humor, Johnny," the man replied seriously - then gave a grin. "But I don't expect that's going to happen - so I better limit myself to asking if there's someplace I can get a drink on this ship," he said hopefully.

Picard was about to object - then silenced himself. Jay was no longer his roommate, about to violate an Academy regulation once again. He was an adult, a Federation delegate - and above all, not one of Picard's crew.

"The replicator can provide you with synthehol," he informed the ambassador pointedly, "but if you'd care for something stronger, your guards can escort you to Ten Forward - the ship's lounge," he said as evenly as he could manage.

Tillerman smiled. "And they're open this late?"

Picard nodded smoothly, deigning not to remind the man that a ship operated around the clock - and someone was always in the process of coming off duty and in need of the relaxation the lounge provided.

"Indeed," he replied. "Then if there's nothing else, Ambassador...?"

"Nothing else that _you_ can do for me, Johnny," Tillerman replied, the unsaid message blatantly obvious in his voice.

Forcing himself to ignore the remark, Picard nodded. "Then good night, Ambassador."

" 'night, Johnny," Tillerman managed just as the doors shut.

Drawing a deep breath, Picard let it out in a slow sigh - then made a quick mental note to discuss the situation with his senior officers at their morning meeting - and to discreetly get a warning out to the members of his crew as well.

Not that the women - and the men - who served aboard his ship were under his directives regarding their choice of sex partners, he insisted to himself - but somehow he doubted Jay would be as open about his intentions as his crew would be. There would be hints, suggestions of a future, perhaps even promises... Picard shook his head; he wasn't about to see any of them used unknowingly by Jay Tillerman.

Then again, he added, this was something that might not be able to wait until the morning; if Jay did go to Ten Forward...

Picard stopped, then grinned to himself. If Jay were to go to Ten Forward at this hour of the morning, there weren't too many crewmembers, male or female, who he would encounter.

Indeed, there were only two who came to mind who even might be there at that moment - and for the life of him, he couldn't imagine either of them needing his help in handling Jay Tillerman, he added, grinning at the thought of Jay's first contact with the female contingent of the ship coming in the person of Lt. Andile.

Now _that_, he thought with a grin, was something he would like to see.

Of course, he added, a bit disappointedly, they had both been on duty as long as he had - and while Data might not need sleep, Andile certainly did.

As he did, he added with a tired sigh. Turning, he left the new ambassador to settle himself in his quarters - and headed down the corridor to settle himself in his own.