“And what do we get out of all this?” Picard said. “I assume a deal has been made with the Tzenkethi somewhere?”
“Very perceptive of you, Jean-Luc. Yes, we’ve agreed to the presence of Tzenkethi observers in the Maqbar system. Starfleet has just leased four bases from the Maqbari.”
A deeper game indeed, thought Crusher. Something had occurred to her—something which she didn’t like much at all. “Admiral, why did you send me to Venette? It wasn’t because of my prior visit or my medical expertise, was it?”
Akaar had the good grace to look embarrassed. “No, Doctor. I wanted our delegation off-balance when Detrek became unreasonable. We had to ensure that Tzenkethi attention was diverted fully toward Venette and not anywhere near the Cardassian agent. I’m sorry, Doctor. But that’s the truth.”
“I see,” said Crusher. “Thank you for being honest with me, Admiral.”
She moved out of his eyesight and did not listen to any more of the conversation between Akaar and her husband. So, she thought, I was set up. Not only was my mission nonsense, but even when my role expanded, I was intended to fail. All those conversations with Alizome—the heartbreak, the worry, the fear of failure—and my superiors didn’t want me to be successful. Or, if I was, it didn’t matter. I was a distraction. What mattered was to keep Alizome busy wasting her time with me for as long as possible. What mattered was happening elsewhere.
She heard the comm channel close and turned to face Picard.
“Beverly,” he said cautiously. “I know you’re upset—”
“Upset? Jean-Luc, I’m not upset. I’m furious.”
• • •
Later, in their quarters, Crusher watched over René until he fell asleep.
Her husband hovered worriedly behind her, uncertain how to handle her in this mood. Eventually she took pity on him and sat beside him on the couch.
He took her hand, awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “You saved the day, Beverly.”
“Hardly.”
“Your handling of Alizome was superb—”
“Don’t patronize me, Jean-Luc,” she said—firmly, but not unkindly. “I understand what happened and I understand why. People like me, and Ilka, and Dygan—we don’t count. Not really. We’re here to carry spears. We’re here to obey.”
He started. “Beverly, that isn’t true—”
She put her fingertips upon his lips to silence him. “I made a mistake forgetting that,” she said. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
• • •
After Jean-Luc went to bed, Crusher sat awake for a long time, tired but far from sleep. A message had arrived from her sister-in-law. She watched it with relief, reveling in the domestic detail, far away from her own situation.
“I’m just so relieved to know that all three of you are okay. Hey, a strange thing happened yesterday. I was contacted by a Ferengi merchant looking to import wine to Ferenginar! No idea how he found me . . .”
Crusher silently saluted Madame Ilka. To friendship, she thought. To difference.
To trust.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Margaret Clark and Ed Schlesinger for support during the writing of this book, and to David R. George III and Dave Mack for correspondence and help during revisions.
Grateful thanks to the contributors to the online Star Trek wiki sites.
My love and thanks as ever to Matthew, who didn’t let a house move disrupt my writing.
About the Author
Una McCormack is the author of three previous Star Trek novels: Cardassia—The Lotus Flower (which appeared in Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume 1), Hollow Men, and The Never-Ending Sacrifice. She has also written two Doctor Who novels, The King’s Dragon and The Way Through the Woods. Her short fiction has appeared in The Year’s Best Science Fiction 2007 (ed. Gardner Dozois), Dark Currents (ed. Ian Whates), and Glorifying Terrorism (ed. Farah Mendlesohn). She lives with her partner, Matthew, in Cambridge, England, where she reads, writes, and teaches.
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ISBN 978-1-4516-8782-8
ISBN 978-1-4516-8784-2 (ebook)
Cover design by Alan Dingman
Brinkmanship Page 24