Chapter 20

Captain Picard arrived in the banquet hall to find it already teeming with Ciapathians, and junior officers finishing the preparations. He looked around at the decorations in the hall, which he had to credit the operations staff for arranging. Still, it seemed quite odd indeed to have an actual banquet hall on board a star ship. He wondered what Jack Crusher and Walker Keel would say to such a thing. Imagining his old friends' reactions made him smile, but then a tugging at his hand made him look down and his smile abruptly faded. A small Ciapathian child was tugging at his hand and jumping up and down excitedly. He could understand just parts of what it was gurgling at him through the universal translator on his communicator.

"Picard!" Representative Del was striding over to him. "That is my youngest child Del the Eleventh," said the Ciapathian. It was the first time, Del seemed completely jovial and unguarded. He was in his element with all of these children, as much as Picard was out of his element.

"Oh," Picard grumbled, shaking the little boy's hand. "How do you do?"

The little boy gurgled something else up at him, and Picard laughed nervously turning back to Del. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what your son is saying..." he looked down again and the boy had now balanced on his foot, and was yanking his hand up and down in a ridiculous motion. He glanced around the room but no one seemed to have noticed his immense discomfort, which to him had now ballooned to fill the entire room.

"Oh!" Del laughed heartily and clapped Picard on the back. "Little Del would like to sit on your lap, at least for part of the dinner."

"Is that quite what he said, though?" protested Picard politely. "I thought I heard him saying something about needing to use the bathroom."

Del laughed again and shook Picard by the shoulder. "We shall see, we shall see..." He started to stroll away toward one of his multiple wives, and Picard tried unsuccessfully to follow, as Del Junior was still latched to his right leg.

"Del...no we shall not see. I have-I have no experience whatsoever with children, and are you not concerned you might be taking a risk leaving your son with me..."

"Ha, ha...I thought you were a brave ship's Captain...now in my culture this kind of thing is truly an honor. Now if he starts to fuss just jiggle him on your knee. He'll calm down soon enough," Del called back to him.

"Ow! Must you do that?" he said through gritted teeth as the child attempted to take a bite out of his hand. "Come now," he said as gently as possible, shaking drool off his palm. "Let's go and sit down." He noted with considerable distress that another of Del's children was already sitting in his chair.

"Mom, just let me go in first, by myself," Wesley practically begged his mother as they reached the outside of the banquet hall. He was sweating right through his tuxedo shirt and it only had the affect of making his cologne that much more noticeable. Maybe his mother had been right after all. Oh well, too late.

"I get it-you don't want to be seen with your mother. But trust me, I should go in first. If something goes wrong, I can always create a diversion," she offered cheerfully.

Wesley smoothed his hair back and watched as she preceded him into the room. "She's having way too much fun with this," he murmured.

When Beverly stepped into the room, she had expected to engage the Captain in one kind of argument or another in order to distract him from Wesley's tuxedo-given that he apparently disapproved of Wesley's new love interest. But instead she noted that he was already highly distracted, and that not one, but two bright pink Ciapathian children were crawling all over him. As she approached, she saw that another child, slightly older than the other two was seated next to him and was attempting to converse with the captain.

"Do you like to fly ships?" the little girl was asking him.

"Mmm hmm, yes," he answered for the fourth time.

"My father has no ship, but he owns an entire city."

"Well...good for him," Picard said, trying to pry one of Del's sons from his neck, while the little boy Del XI was still wriggling on his lap. Finally, he was saved, partially when Del's third wife came over to remove the dangling child (who he guessed was named something like Del the Tenth) from his neck. "Ah, thank you," he sighed as she hurried away.

"My father is Del," the little girl sitting next to him said brightly.

"Ah..." he said. "And what is your name then?"

"Del," she said as if the answer was obvious.

Picard frowned and drank from his glass of water. "Yes, well...I suppose I should have seen that one coming."

"Huh?" she asked.

Picard was about to respond when his eye caught on a familiar person approaching. He didn't know whether it was appropriate to be suddenly so happy that Beverly Crusher was headed straight for him, but he was happy. Perhaps she would agree to free him from the writhing child on his lap. All things considered she appeared to be in good spirits, which was a positive change from earlier in the day.

As if on cue, Doctor Petral entered and quietly seated himself across from Premier Fon some distance down the long table. At Fon's side was his beautiful teenage daughter, who Picard had seen in the halls of the ship the previous night. She stayed close to her father and looked decidedly unhappy. Riker, and the rest of the bridge crew entered as a group and found seats around the table. The seating was informal, as the point in Ciapathian culture was simply to eat and talk if the need struck. It was the first aspect of Ciapathian culture that Picard felt he could clearly relate to.

He smiled up at Beverly as she walked closer and sat down adjacent to him. "Hello, Doctor. Please join me."

Beverly sat down and placed her chin in her palm, looking at him with amusement. "Seeing you in this light...so relaxed with a young child on your lap-"

"I am hardly relaxed," he said tightly, his smile cracking slightly. "Relaxed is really not the word I would use, Doctor," he insisted as she continued to watch him with a strange expression.

She picked up a carrot stick and bit into it, pointing the chewed end at him as she crunched noisily. "Still...seeing you like this, well it makes formality seem kind of silly."

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, at least during dinner, please call me Beverly."

He sighed and unconsciously jiggled the boy on his knee. "Very well Beverly."

"See? That wasn't so difficult. And so now naturally I'll call you Jean-Luc," she added smoothly.

He could think of no immediate objection, and in any case, young Del the Eleventh slapped him in the throat at that very moment.

"Del!" shouted his older sister, also named Del. "Stop hurting the captain. He's letting you sit on his lap...you know father never allows you to sit with him, so you're very lucky. Don't ruin it for the rest of the children who might want a turn, Del," she scolded her brother.

"What?" Picard shook his head and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened his eyes, Beverly was silently laughing at him behind her elegant hand. "Finding this quite funny, aren't you?" Annoyed by her amusement at his expense, he carefully switched the boy to his right knee, at the same time shifting his gaze to the door.

"Oh good lord," he murmured as Wesley Crusher walked into the room. It's as though I am re-living every awkward teenage moment from my own youth all at once. He rolled his eyes toward Beverly, who to his surprise looked absolutely proud.

She glanced at him. "Did you have something to say about my son? Perhaps you would like to compliment the very stylish tuxedo he is wearing?" she asked, taking a leisurely sip of her wine.

Picard pulled the child to him for protection. She watched him expectantly, but he wisely remained silent.

Beverly watched as Wesley made eye contact with a young woman sitting next to Premier Fon. He sat down next to Geordi, but Beverly could still see that the young woman was giving Wesley the eye. It looked innocent enough, but it made her react in a way she hadn't expected. She felt suddenly protective of Wesley. He was still such a young person and naive in many ways. She was pleased to see that Riker was not laughing at her son, but when she turned back to Picard, she felt a little less sure of herself than before. "Wesley's...that young woman is Premier Fon's daughter?"

"Yes," Picard said quietly.

"Great," she said, as she sighed and took a longer sip of wine.

Picard started to chuckle, and Beverly turned to look at him. "What is it, Jean-Luc?"

"I was just noticing...how much Wesley is starting to look like Jack."

Beverly put down her glass. "Yes he is," she admitted, looking at him searchingly.

He was still looking at Wesley who was chatting with Data and Geordi about some kind of warp theory. "And yet, he's very much like you," he said in a far off voice.

She straightened and looked at him. "Really? You think so?"

He nodded. "Oh yes...he's very thoughtful, principled...brilliant of course..."

She paused. "How wonderful that you've noticed those things in him. I can't say that I can take credit for them but-"

"Oh but you can, and you should," he said, his voice suddenly full of emotion as he met her eyes.

She didn't look away from him, but smiled somewhat tensely as a familiar nervousness crept inward. "Alright," she agreed. "If you do something for me," she said quietly.

"Hmm?" He blinked, as he felt her palm slip onto his knee, which he had been mindlessly using to bounce Del the Eleventh up and down. His breath caught in his throat, feeling the firmness of her fingertips through his uniform.

"Please stop jiggling that poor child on your knee," she said with a real glimmer of amusement as she took in his startled expression.

Her hand rested on his knee lightly at first, but then it began to inch its way upward, before slipping around to his inner thigh. Her fingers caressed his leg so gently. "Jean-Luc," was all she kept saying, but the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand were enough to send him toward the edge. He didn't know whether he should stay there, or get up from the table. "Jean-luc," she said. "I need you." So he decided to stay and see if things progressed. Of course it was inappropriate. There were so many people there...and she had never behaved in this manner before. But if he didn't give in now, he might never have the chance to be this close to her again. No he didn't even care if he would regret it later. "Jean-Luc...I need you."

"Ah!" He sat up in his bed, soaked in sweat. He dropped his forehead into his hands. A damn dream. How pathetic. He sat there for a moment more before realizing that his communicator was buzzing next to him on the night stand. The clock said it was midnight. "Jean-Luc...it's Beverly. I need you to come to sick bay right away. There's something incredible...something important I need you to see. It's about the Tranans."