Chapter 12

The subspace conversation had ended then and now Picard was still deep in thought. That is, until the door to his quarters beeped. Damn. He preferred to be alone when he needed to think. He glanced up and felt an unpleasant tightening in the back of his neck. "Come," he forced himself to call out. He stood up stiffly from his desk and smoothed out his uniform.

"Yes?" he called out again with undisguised irritation, as the doors swished open and Beverly Crusher stepped inside. She too had changed out of her stiff muddy uniform and unlike him she at least appeared relaxed. He watched as she walked over, and noted no limping or other difficulty. He was relieved that she hadn't been more injured by the attack in the cave.

She smiled at him. "Hello, Captain."

"Hello," he said, clasping his hands in front of him. "You are looking well. No serious injuries, I hope?"

She circled around for a moment and then stopped in front of him. "I'm feeling fine," she said. "Thank you for asking."

He nodded, and started to say something, but it came out as a quickly mumbled "Yes, of course."

She placed her hands behind her back and shifted her feet. She nodded downward. "How is your hand?"

He smiled. "Very well, thank you."

She frowned. "You never came to see me for medical treatment," she observed. She didn't sound the least bit irritated, which he thought was quite positive.

He shrugged his shoulders. "It was...it was really a minor injury you see."

She shook her head and shrugged back. "No I don't see. Why don't you let me take a look at it?"

"You don't have your med kit," he said.

"I was a doctor long before I owned a med kit, Captain," she said smoothly. She gestured over at his couch. "Why don't we sit down over here? It's more comfortable than standing here staring at each other."

"I am certainly not staring at you," he protested, and it came out more defensively than he intended. If she was offended by his tone, she didn't let on, and had already walked over to his couch and sat down. She looked at him expectantly, and he suddenly realized that it appeared that she was enjoying his discomfort. She slowly patted the couch cushion beside her. Annoyed at his own foolishness he walked over and sat down next to her stiffly with his hands on his knees.

She held out her hand, and he reluctantly raised his bruised hand for her to look at. She took his hand gently, and he tensed a little bit. Embarrassed he said, "Your hand is a little cold."

She smiled slightly but said nothing as she turned his hand over in hers, studying it. "I wanted to tell you...you did the right thing down on Trana IV."

He inhaled deeply and looked away. "I did the right thing for that moment," he said turning back to her. "It remains to be seen whether I will be able to continue to make the right decisions as far as the Trana people are concerned."

"Is that what we're calling them now?" she asked. He jumped a little bit when she traced her fingertips over his knuckles. She looked at him with some surprise. "Does that hurt?"

He shook his head no, quickly. It hadn't hurt, but the mere touch of her hand had an effect on him that he hadn't anticipated. His breath caught in his throat. "It's fine," he said.

She smiled faintly again and bent his wrist back and forth gently. "I can see already you are the type who doesn't enjoy visiting the doctor, Captain. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Most people absolutely hate going to the doctor."

He looked down and noted that there was very little space between his knee and hers as they sat beside each other. He cleared his throat. Was she nearly done? He was growing uncomfortably warm for some reason. Feeling her gaze on his face he turned to look at her. She had stopped examining his hand and was now just holding it lightly in her own.

"You were right," she said softly. "Your hand is just fine. Just a little bruising is all."

He looked down at their joined hands and then back up into her face. "Oh. Alright."

There was an almost surreal silence, and Beverly seemed to lean closer to him, but then suddenly she released his hand. Her face changed, grew more tense. "I should go." She stood up and folded her arms over her chest as a kind of shield, appearing just as uncomfortable as he felt.

She forced a smile. "You're going to hold a briefing soon on the Trana people?"

He nodded, but remained seated, not wanting to close the distance between them again. "I know that it seems callous, Doctor to just leave them there... but I've got to get through this initial meeting with the Ciapathians this evening. I have asked Counselor Troi to arrange for the dinner to be held tomorrow evening. After the meeting tonight if you would meet me at the holodeck we can speak to Rolani and the others and determine their immediate needs. For now I've arranged for food to be discreetly delivered to them on the holodeck."

She nodded. "Whatever you think is best, of course," she said evenly. "Good luck with the Ciapathians...and I will see you later."

"Thank you for coming by, Doctor," he said standing up as she exited.

Sometime later...

Picard, Riker and Counselor Troi stood in the transporter room awaiting the arrival of Premier Fon and Representative Del from the lead Ciapathian Delegate ship.

Although initially relieved by Picard's decision down on Trana IV, Will Riker was now just as worried as the Captain about what to do with the survivors, currently housed on holodeck one. Will supposed that he would have to trust that Captain Picard had some kind of plan. And now, the Ciapathians, proving to be extremely punctual, were already waiting at the designated coordinates when the Enterprise arrived. What the Enterprise crew had not been expecting was that the Ciapathians would decide to bring a quarter of their space fleet with them.

"Fifteen ships…seems like overkill to me," Riker said quietly, turning to address the Captain.

"Agreed, Commander," said Picard, not taking his eyes off of the transporter pad. Riker was right…to send an entire convoy of ships to a peaceful negotiation was an odd way to begin a relationship. However, there was no need for alarm. Picard had come to take cultural differences and perceptions in stride. He suspected the Ciapathians were attempting to send a message, but what that was remained to be seen. Although not at the forefront of his concerns, Picard also sincerely hoped that Del would not be bringing any one of his twenty-two children along to this meeting today. To his left, Counselor Troi had her eyes closed, and appeared to be in some kind of meditative state. As long as she was alert once the Ciapathians were in the room, he decided not to concern himself with her odd methods.

Deanna Troi meanwhile had been calming her mind for the upcoming meeting. To be faced with several new alien minds, in addition to the racing mind of Will Riker and the focused mind of the captain was going to be a challenge, she knew. She had warned both Picard and Riker about Premier Fon's arrogance during his interaction with Data, and had suggested that the Ciapathian leader might be hiding something. Of course the Captain had looked at her with his steely gaze and asked "what exactly is it that he is hiding?" And of course Picard found her response to be unsatisfactory. And there was the problem Troi now realized she would regularly face with her new captain; he was exact, and expected direct answers at all times. Deanna, while direct in her speech and as a counselor, often relied on sensing the emotions of those she was interacting with. And being a skilled empath was part training, part genetics, and never exact.

"The Ciapathians are requesting to beam over, Captain," said the Transporter Chief, interrupting everyone's thoughts.

About bloody time. Picard nodded. "Go ahead, Mr. O'Brien."