Genre: StarTrek: The Next Generation

Title: New Civilizations

Summary: Riker sports new headgear.

Chapter 10

"Mr. Worf, did Commander Riker say he was on his way?" Picard's congenial tone had a recognizable edge.

"Yes sir." The Klingon was gazing at the view screen at the front of the bridge where Picard was shown larger than life.

He could see Picard, surrounded by a group of Kronatina, turn and looked at his grey furred hosts, smiling weakly as he said, "It's a bit uncharacteristic of the Commander to be tardy, but perhaps he's just being careful of his new, uh, companion. He'll arrive momentarily, I have no doubt." Returning his look to the viewer he smiled tightly at the Klingon who was standing in front of the command chairs, "At least, not yet."

Data spoke up moving his hand to the console in front of him, "I shall inquire as to his estimated time of arrival, Captain." The swish of the turbolift doors heralded the arrival of Commander Riker before the android could finish his intent.

Captain Picard looked relieved, but it was short lived.

The headdress, sitting atop Riker's head, looked resplendent and out of place. Riker's usually perfectly groomed beard appeared unkempt and his always spotless uniform looked wrinkled and soiled, as if it had been worn the day before and been slept in. The look in his eyes was even more out of place. Entering the bridge and striding down the ramp, he did little more than glance at the view screen, focusing his entire attention on Lieutenant Worf.

Within seconds, much to the Klingon's confusion, Worf was being confronted by Riker who was standing less than six inches away from him, face to face. Who better than Riker would know that to stand closer than battle sword reach to a Klingon, especially when on the bridge of a vessel, is to risk a deathblow? Worf knew that Riker's training for his tour aboard the Klingon ship, Pakh, had made that more than clear. Why would his commanding officer, his shipmate, his friend, challenge him? And there was no doubt that this man, a head shorter and a quarter of his body weight lighter, was challenging him for his right to be standing where he was, for his right to hold rank in Starfleet, and possibly his right to be alive. While Commander Riker wordlessly stood his ground, the Klingon, not daring to look away, stared back at the face that he hardly recognized. No sound, aside from the ever-present impersonal background noise of the Enterprise, was heard.

Suddenly, breaking the spell, the Klingon turned, walked up the far ramp, and took his post at the Security Station on the upper bridge. His posture, his face, had not changed.

As if nothing had happened, Riker turned to face the view screen. "Captain Picard," he said calmly. The tendrils swept gracefully across his shoulders as he pivoted.

Picard had watched this episode from the planet below in stunned silence. Recovering only some of his composure, he asked, "Number One, are you all right?"

Riker seemed to pull himself up a bit taller and tugged at his wrinkled blouse. "I am now, yes sir."

Unconvinced, Picard nodded once and suddenly seemed to realize where he was and what he was doing. "Well, good. I see you have the, uh, have made the acquaintance of the Kronatt?"

Riker's hand rose upwards, partly as if to caress the feathers, partly as a gesture of acknowledgement. "Yes, I have."

The faces of the Kronatina surrounding Picard crowded closer to the screen. A's'kahn'a, asked, "You are comfortable with the acquaintance?"

Riker paused, staring at the screen. His eyes snapped and he answered, "Comfortable? Well, I think I can say the experience is unusual, for both of us."

Picard said, "It's not interfering with your duties, I trust?"

Riker turned and made a slight bow to the captain. "No, Sir, not at all. I think I can handle everything, and everyone, just fine." his eyes dropped and switched from side to side as if he could catch sight of any of the ones he intended to handle.

The answer was obviously not what Picard had expected, so he tried again. "Well, I'm relieved to hear that. If Commander Riker should come to feel that he can't perform his duties properly, I hope that you," he turned towards the Kronatina, "will understand that he must remove the guest."

A's'kahn'a, who had been studiously examining something on the floor, said, "I hope S's'haht'a, who is my friend, will cause no inconvenience to your Commander Riker."

Riker spoke up, "I assure you, Captain Picard, my earlier impression of our guest has been changed. Our guest," he raised his hand again briefly, "is causing me no inconvenience. However, Sir, and Oh, A's'kahn'a, I would like to make a suggestion. I think more of my companions here on board should make the acquaintance of our guest and I suggest that Dr. Crusher be chosen."

If Riker had suggested that Dr. Crusher should be a candidate for having a baby fathered by a Ferengi, Picard could not have been more surprised. Face frozen in a diplomatic smile, his eyes dropped briefly, in a flurry of thought. Then, he looked up to A's'kahn'a. "Our guest is your friend. Perhaps you have a thought about this?"

"We would be most honored to make acquaintances with any who would be willing. We were honored that one so highly esteemed as Riker was first, but any associate of yours would be most acceptable."

The short speech, accompanied by the usual flurry of body movement, had given Picard time to recompose his watchful calm. "Thank you, oh A's'kahn'a. Commander Riker, your consideration is appreciated. If Dr. Crusher has reason to object, I suggest you choose another officer for the honor. Is that clear?"

Riker's eyes glinted. "Sir, I'll enjoy making the offer to Dr. Crusher."

Again, Picard looked in askance at his first officer, but couldn't think how to voice his doubts. Movement to one side caught his attention. "Ah, it seems it is time for one of their recreational breaks. We are all content then, with the acquaintance?"

A's'kahn'a no longer seemed interested, and the other Kronatina had broken out of the group and were wandering off.

"Well, then, Number One, I'll contact you later. Oh, one thing more, I suggest you change your uniform; you seem to have a bit of soil on that one. Picard out."

The screen changed to the ship's view the planet below. Riker stood at ease for some seconds, gazing at the scene, then, straightening up, he turned and began looking around the bridge, almost as if he were looking for something. His eyes stopped at each station, taking in the operators as well as the displays. At each, he lowered his brows and squinted slightly. Seeing no reaction as he glowered, his glare moved to the next area, his face relaxing a little until, at the station, he did the same again. When his gaze fell on Lieutenant Worf, his eyebrows darkly knotted together, and his head lowered.

Worf glanced up, caught the glare, and had to stop his body from tensing. The Klingon exhaled heavily, dropping his chin, and continued his surveillance of the console in front of him.

Satisfaction gleamed in Riker's face at Worf's reaction. Then, his eyes took up the excursion of the bridge once again, taking in the whole area until his attention was taken up by the ship's Power Control station. He stepped over to stand slightly behind and to one side of Ensign Ro, who was not so involved in the light duties of maintaining the easy orbit, that she couldn't help but be aware of the commanding officer's proximity. She tried not to straighten up but she did, ever so slightly, and tried not to act busier than the duty required, but she could not seem to stop her hands from making minor, unnecessary adjustments.

"Ensign, the Kron system is a double star, the mate of which is called Zrrakita. How long would it take to get there at, oh, say, warp six?"

The question caught the ensign off guard at first. Not because it was a basically simple question that one might ask a child, not a Starfleet ensign, but because it sounded like a genuine quest for information. Her training at the Starfleet Academy clicked in automatically and, since a junior officer doesn't question a senior officer in any non-threatening situation, she answered, "Forty six hours and nineteen minutes, Commander."

Data, at the Operations station, almost interrupted, but caught himself before he did. He had wanted to add the number of seconds to Ensign Ro's answer, but he realized in time that the additional information was not essential to this peculiar moment.

"And," continued Riker, "how long would it take at warp eight?"

Ro answered without hesitation, "Ten hours and three minutes, Commander."

"Warp nine point five?" He was oblivious to the crewmember's reactions, who were paying much more attention to the intercourse between the two than to their stations.

"Four minutes and seven seconds, Commander."

After a short pause, Commander Riker said, "Ensign, lay in a course for Zrrakita IV, warp nine point five, and engage now."

All of Ensign Ro's training fled from her and suddenly she was the headstrong Bajoran woman who had nearly lost her commission some time before. "What?" Her face contorted in frustrated anger, she turned, about to rise from her seat.

The rest of the bridge crew were now paying no attention whatever to their stations. If it were not for the ship's computer, which was always at the helm, the Enterprise could very well have gone bouncing along the planet's atmosphere like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond. As one, the entire mass of the crew focused onto their curiously acting Commander.

Worf, also caught up in the moment, voiced a booming, "No!"

This time Data didn't hesitate to interject calmly, "Sir, that is against regulations. We have not been ordered to that planet, nor is there any pressing business to attend to in that area."

Worf continued his objection, "We cannot leave Captain Picard without protection!"

Data continued, "Which, I believe, should even take precedence over regulations. With the Romulan ship in close proximity, we should take it for granted that they might bring harm to Captain Picard, if given the opportunity to do so."

Looking slightly bewildered, wide-eyed, Riker glanced around, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. Finally, he muttered, "Belay the order, Ensign. Continue as you were." He walked towards the command chair, turned with a swirl of feathers and glared moodily at the view of the planet on the screen.

As the electric mood of the bridge died down, one by one, hesitantly, the members of the bridge crew turned to their duties, but Data remained in his half-turned position. The android's face showed he was doing an internal review of the events of the past moments. A slight head movement revealed a change of internal connections and then Data looked up and said, "Commander? May I speak with you privately in the Captain's Ready Room?"

Riker looked blankly at Data for a second, and blinked before saying, "Of course, Data."

Once the door to the Ready Room had closed, Data said, "Commander, I wish to reiterate Captain Picard's inquiry of a few moments ago, is there something wrong?"

Staring a bit foggily at Data, Commander Riker said, "Why do you ask?"

Data spewed out the information. "First, because when Captain Picard asked, I am not so sure you answered truthfully. Second, I notice your appearance is not up to your usual standards of tidiness, giving me cause to wonder. I have observed, in the past, that when humans are physically ill, or they are going through an emotional turmoil, their personal appearance deteriorates. Third, you seem to be taking some sort of offense at Worf, for no particular reason, which is uncharacteristic of your behavior on the bridge. Fourth, because you ordered the Enterprise to be taken out of orbit which is against…"

"I think I get the idea, Data."

Data paused expectantly. When no further answer was forthcoming, he spoke again. "Sir?"

Will had been looking around the small room as if he had never been in Captain Picard's off-bridge sanctum. He stared openly at the chunk of fossilized coral, at the stylized picture of the Enterprise on the wall, at the bits of archeological oddments here and there, but Data's vocal prod brought his attention back to the matter at hand; he seemed a little bewildered, a little at a loss for words. He finally found his voice. "Well, perhaps I am a little distracted by this hat. I have this general feeling of frustration, you know?"

Data answered, "No sir, I do not think I can know, but I will take your word for it. If you are feeling badly, perhaps you should see Dr. Crusher."

At first Riker's face clouded over at the mention of being ill but quickly changed to a sly smile. "Data, I think you may have something there. I'm going to return to my quarters. You have the bridge." He started for the door.

"Does that mean, Commander," said Data, "That Worf is to be relieved of Picard's orders to take command of the bridge in your absence?"

Riker seemed to consider. "Mmm, no, that was a slip of the tongue. I meant you in the general sense of the word, meaning that I wouldn't be on the bridge. I mean that Mr. Worf has the bridge."

"Yes sir," answered Data brightly and followed Riker out.

As Data took his seat at the ops station, Riker paused just outside the Ready Room, and touched his communications insignia. "Dr. Crusher?"

"Yes, commander?" answered the doctor.

"Are you busy right now?"

"Yes I am. Can it wait?"

"I'd like you to meet me in my quarters. I have something I'd like to propose to you."

"Will an hour from now be all right?"

"An hour will be fine. Riker out." He smiled and murmured to himself, to Data's mystification, "Anticipation whets the appetite."

Riker took a strange path leaving the bridge; instead of turning right and walking up ramp to the turbolift, he walked left, in front of the command chairs and then up the opposite ramp, and passed behind Worf at the communications station. Though he didn't hurry, he noticeably slowed his pace at the top of the rise and absolutely dawdled behind the Klingon. Though Riker didn't look directly at the Lieutenant Commander's broad back, it was obvious that he was keeping careful watch in his side vision as his measured steps carried him past.

The Klingon, like everyone else on the bridge, was completely aware of this strange behavior. After the order to leave orbit however, Worf had no longer tried to fathom this man's behavior. He was secure in his sense of his personal safety and had observed another senior officer's consciousness of Riker's odd actions, so enough was enough. Only someone entirely acquainted with Klingon body language would have noticed he stood straighter and harder than normal as Riker casually oozed his way across the upper bridge. The automatic doors to the turbolift swished open at his approach. Just as he stepped in, Commander Riker tossed the statement over his shoulder, "You have the bridge, Mr. Worf." Somehow, he'd made it sound more like an insult than a transfer of command. The doors swished shut.

TBC to Chapter 11

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