5 — The Captain's Table II
The elderly woman pushed the chair to one side and stood up. "Well, all this talking has made thirsty," she said. "May I get you refills, Captains?" she asked politely. She turned her gaze to Hompaq. "More warnog, perhaps?"
For someone who came from the 22nd century — a time that marked humanity's burgeoning hostilities with the Klingons — this woman was dealing with Hompaq's presence extremely well. Of course, living on Vulcan would give her their discipline.
Hompaq bared her sharp teeth. "Of course," she said.
"Coming right up," the woman said — as her story progressed, her English was becoming more colloquial.
Janeway looked at Hompaq curiously. They had not met on Janeway's previous visit, although the Klingon had been there. Yet she seemed … familiar with everyone. Was she from far enough in the future that she knew everyone's lives? "D'you know this woman?" she said. "Is she telling the truth?"
Hompaq bared her teeth once more. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you, Admiral," she said. "I am not like that p'tak Guardian."
Janeway didn't get the reference, although it sounded vaguely familiar. She dismissed it in favor of the issue at hand. "Well, even if it isn't true, it's a good story," she said.
Hompaq laughed loudly, causing several heads to turn. "That is just one of the things our people share in common, Admiral, the love of a good story!"
The elderly woman glanced at Hompaq. "Will you join us, Hompaq?" she asked pleasantly.
Hompaq frowned. "Why?" she barked. "I thought you didn't like Klingons?"
"That's not correct," the woman said. "I've met a number of honorable Klingons, and regret the conflicts that have developed between Earth and your people. Besides, I believe this place — whenever it is — makes the conflicts seem petty." She put the drinks on the bar and touched the Klingon's arm. "Do you want me to drag you to our table?"
Hompaq let loose with another rafter-rattling laugh. "Oh, I like you, old woman! I'm very glad the Empire did not annihilate humans!" She grabbed her tankard and sat down next to Picard. "So, continue your story," she demanded.
The old woman's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "I think for that I won't," she said. "Maybe I should just leave you all hanging."
Hompaq growled. "Try it and I will personally throw you in the fireplace."
"And I'll help," Picard said, a rare glint of mischief lighting up his patrician features.
"You can try," the woman said, her smile widening. "Besides, I'd guess you're several decades ahead of me in terms of your origins — you'll have many more stories to tell than I." She turned to Janeway and put a gentle hand on her arm. "Don't worry, young woman, I know of this Prime Directive you're thinking about, and even someone from my time understands the sanctity of the timelines. I have no interest in messing up your history."
Hompaq growled again. "I'm not Starfleet; I don't care about the Prime Directive. Tell your story — I'll correct you if you tell lies."
"Hompaq." Cap appeared at the table. "You know what I warned you about with Pike? Try it again and I'll kick you out of here so hard you'll ache for months."
Hompaq looked at Cap, and seemed to be weighing up her chances. Then she snarled, but in a friendly way. "It's a good thing I like you, Cap," she said, punching the man in the upper arm.
The elderly woman smiled serenely. "Now, where was I?" she asked.
"On the T'Plana-Hath," Picard reminded her, taking a sip of his brandy.
"That's right," the woman said. "Well, to cut a long story short …".