Stern was an old friend and knew about Garrett’s divorce and the agony Garrett felt over her and Jase having to live apart. Still, Garrett wasn’t really in the mood to rehash it all. So, instead, Garrett sipped, swallowed. “Not really. Thanks, though.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Anyway, that’s old news. A lot’s happened since then.” (The call had come a few days ago, but Garrett felt like she’d aged twenty years.) Garrett cradled her mug in both hands, enjoying the warmth that came through the stoneware. “So what’s on your mind, Jo? You gave Bulast the impression that this was some sort of emergency.”
“In a way.”
“Halak?”
“You could say that.”
“How is he?”
“He looks like hell, too.” Stern had a smoky voice that always reminded Garrett of dim bars. This was apt: Stern, like Garrett, took her bourbon neat. “But I’d say it’s a toss-up who looks worse, you or him. Of course, Halak’s got a lot of reasons. On the other hand, so do you. Other than the reasons we all know, like worrying about crew morale, having to make notification to next of kin, and whipping your acting first officer into shape…how is Bat-Levi doing, by the way?”
“She’s good,” said Garrett. “She was good at ops, and she’s good at being the XO. But I have to admit, I was a little concerned at first.”
“You mean, because of her looks.”
“Sure. But I was thinking more about her mental stability.”
“Another good reason for us to have a psychiatrist aboard this time out,” said Stern. “Anyway, the Vulcans have vouched for her. So has Starfleet Medical. Still, she’s a strange duck, though she’s damned sharp, I’ll give her that. But that’s why you look like hell? Worrying about Darya Bat-Levi?”
“No. Starfleet Intelligence.”
Stern groaned. “An oxymoron if ever there was one.”
“That’s a really old joke.”
“About what you can expect from a really old wreck.” Stern was fifty-one, ten years Garrett’s senior, and there wasn’t a thread of gray anywhere in the shock of wheat-colored hair that she habitually wore pulled back from her face in a tight ponytail that brushed the nape of her neck. A woman of strong opinions and acerbic wit, Stern was lean and wiry, with a square face and wide mouth. She wasn’t beautiful and knew it; she didn’t mourn that either. She had what she called her man’s hands: large, capable, adept at manipulating a laser scalpel. “So what do they want?”
Garrett filled Stern in on her conversation with Batanides. “So we’re to cooperate with Lieutenants Burke and Sivek, no matter what. I don’t get it, frankly. What could Halak know that could possibly interest them?”
Stern looked thoughtful. “It might be nothing more complicated than what Batanides told you. Maybe they just want to debrief him, hear what he saw or heard.”
“Then why search the shuttle? We already did that anyway.”
Stern made a face and drank from her mug. “You got me on that. So there’s another agenda. You get any clue about what’s between the lines?”
“Something about the Orion Syndicate and some other crime family, the Asfar Qatala, and red ice.”
“Red ice?” Stern ran a blunt finger around her mug’s rim. Her nails were flat-cut. “That’s bad business. And they think Halak’s involved?”
“How could he be? Anyway, it’s Starfleet Intelligence’s time to waste.” Garrett gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “So what’s going on with Halak?”
“Well, I think you can hold your inquiry in a couple of days. We have to wait for your two SI types to finish with their little dance anyway, right?” When Garrett nodded, Stern continued, “You know he might feel better if his captain visited.”
“Thisis why you called? Wondering why I haven’t been mopping my first officer’s feverish brow?”
“Partly.”
Garrett ducked her head over her coffee. “I’ve been busy.”
“That’s crap, Rachel,” Stern said mildly. “Sure, you’ve been busy. Hell, we’ve all been busy. But he’s your goddamned XO.”
Garrett felt a wave of heat rise in her neck. “I know that.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” said Garrett. She picked up her mug, put it down without tasting, picked it up again. “What?”
Stern’s face was impassive. “You want me to say it, or are you going to?”
“Say what?” (Stop playing dumb.)“Say what?”
“Cripes, Rachel, for a smart lady, you can be pretty willfully stupid sometimes, you know that? I’m talking about how you keep beating up this poor guy because he’s not Nigel Holmes.”
Garrett went rigid. “That’s ridiculous.”
(Liar, liar, liar.)
“Oh, crap,” said Stern. “You can tell yourself that if you want to, and since you’re the captain, I guess you can do any damned thing you please. But you’d have to be brain-dead not to notice that the two of you aren’t exactly chummy.”
“Chummy. I’ve beenan XO, remember? There’s no need for chumminess. It’s a job, Jo, just a job.”
“With responsibilities and delegation of duties based upon mutual respect and trust.” Stern held up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t get on my case; it’s in the manual.”
“Did it ever occur to you that our lack of chumminess might be mutual?”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” She had to admit that Halak was more than competent, and she had developed a grudging fondness for the man, though he could be exasperating the way he argued.
(So can you.)
They’d always argued in private, but still. Halak had a savage intensity she found disturbing. Never outright subordinate, but…Halak seemed to be watching her. Weighing her against some internal scale, judging her ability to command the respect and loyalty of her crew before deciding whether or not she was worthy of his.
(Or maybe it’s mutual. After all, Halak’s no Nigel Holmes.)
And she missed Nigel. Nigel Holmes had been with Garrett from the moment she took command of the Enterprisefour years before. She’d trusted Holmes; he’d saved her life on two occasions; and then she’d failed to save his. The Enterprisehad been too far away from Holmes’s shuttle when it came under attack from renegade Klingons, and Nigel had died.
Aloud, she said, “I think we’re like two porcupines, Jo. I’m prickly about Nigel, and Halak’s got whatever ghosts he’s carting.”
“So you haven’t made the poor guy’s life any easier.”
“I think I just said that.” Garrett felt the muscles of her jaw and neck tighten. “If you have a point, make it.”
“I thought I just did. Even before all this with Batra, it’s safe to say that you didn’t exactly trust or respect the man. I know, I know,” Stern held her palm like a traffic cop signaling a stop, “things aren’t looking too good for him right now. Frankly, when I tell you what’s on my mind…”
“There’s more?”
“Don’t get snide. All I’m saying is that you might be right not to trust him, but that’s not my point. My pointis that if you treat someone like a visitor you’d just as soon boot out the airlock without a helmet, it shouldn’t be a surprise if the guy feels he can’t come to you for help, or advice. Answer me this,” Stern leaned on her folded forearms, “did you ever, once, invite this guy to have dinner with you? Once?”
“What does that…?”
“Fine, I’ll take that as a no.And how often did you and Nigel have dinner? Or coffee? Or just plain talk?”
Too many times to count.“All right, point taken,” said Garrett. She toyed with her mug. “I’ll admit that it’s been very hard since Nigel…died. I just can’t get used to notseeing him on the bridge, that’s all. And it’s notwhat you’re thinking.”
“And what am I thinking?”
Garrett drew in a deep breath. “Come on, Jo, we’re both grown-ups here. You’re thinking love affair, right? Well, you’re dead wrong. We were very good friends, and that’s it. I was…comfortable with him, and it’s been a long time since I felt comfortable with a man.”