The Last Stand Part 16

"There's a big table near the back of the main room that seems to be the center of everyone's attention. Lots of people are sitting there. Know what else?"

"What?"

"There's a young couple sitting at the table, too."

"And?"

"They're the only ones here wearing a lot of red."

"Ah."

"Let's drift over thataway."

"Lead on, Dex."

Together, they moved slowly through the crowd, taking their time and nodding pleasantly at everyone who looked their way. No one questioned their presence.

The crowd was thickest at the room side of the main table, which was long and ran the width of the bistro at that end. The couple in red was sitting in the center of the far side, and each was talking with the people sitting nearest to them. The male suddenly looked up briefly and, spotting Riker, gave him an uncertain smile. Riker returned it with a broad grin. That seemed to rea.s.sure the male in red, who returned to the conversation he was having with the person on his right.

"I just made eye contact with the groom," Riker muttered to Troi.

"Do you still think this is a wedding party? Are you sure we're properly dressed for it?"

"Very funny."

"I thought we'd established that red didn't have anything to do with weddings," Troi reminded him. "Rosco thought we were already married, remember? This celebration must have something to do with the coming attack on the Lethanta."

"No, it doesn't," said Riker. "It's something else, something important to these people, and there's only one remaining possibility that seems likely. d.a.m.n. I wish I could use the tricorder just for a second."

"Let's try to get a little closer to the table," Troi said. "Maybe we'll overhear something."

Suddenly there was a cry of pain. "Ouch!"

Riker had stepped on someone's foot-was still stepping on it, as a matter of fact. He moved back quickly. "I'm terribly sorry," he apologized. "My fault entirely."

The foot belonged to a young male. "Hull, you could hardly help yourself in here," he replied in friendly fas.h.i.+on. He was slurring his words a bit. "What a mob!"

"You're very gracious."

"Gracious?" the young male said. He grinned. "That's not a word I hear very often, at least as applied to my own unworthy self. No, I'm just in a good mood, I guess. How do you happen to know the delighted dyad?"

He had to mean the couple in red. "We've worked together," Riker said carefully.

"Ah, too bad. You've gone ahead and mentioned work." The young male wagged a finger at Riker in mock warning. "Well, I won't report you to the porty palice-sorry, I mean the party police-as long as you promise not to do it again."

Riker chuckled appropriately. "All right, I won't."

"Excellent. By the way, I'm Wiggin s.h.i.+p's Defense Design Maker Journeyman, not that I want to talk about work." He bowed slightly.

"Pleased to meet you, Wiggin," Riker said. "I'm Dex Portside Sanitation Systems Supervisor, and this is my spouse, Pralla Portside Consumables Monitor."

"Oh, hull," Wiggin said, straightening. "I beg your pardon, Dex Portside Sanitation Systems Supervisor. I a.s.sumed-well, never mind. Blame the sinarrtha. I sometimes have a little too much for my own good." The young male bowed again, this time more deeply.

"It's a party, Wiggin," Riker said quickly. "Relax. Please think of Pralla and me as friends."

"Yes, please do," Troi said quickly.

Wiggin looked up. "Really?" He seemed surprised. "Well, if you shay so-say show, I mean. I'd be pleased to, actually. I guess it is a special day. I didn't know Agrell and Twesla knew, er, I should say 'were acquainted with,' supervisory personnel."

"We value all our friends.h.i.+ps," Riker said vaguely. "We're very happy for Agrell and Twesla, of course."

"We surely are," Troi said brightly. She decided to risk it. "They've waited a long time for this."

"I'll say they have!" Wiggin said, perhaps a little too loudly. Heads began turning in their direction. "Everybody stands around and waits while the wasted protocol board decides when and where we can eat, sleep, and break wind!"

"Let's leave," Troi said quietly to Riker.

"I agree." The drunken Wiggin had suddenly grown rather obnoxious, and Riker knew that the one thing he and Troi did not need now was to be noticed. They slowly began moving away from Wiggin, as if the press of the crowd were forcing them apart.

"Look!" Wiggin suddenly cried. A group of Krann were rising from their seats at a table not two meters away. "Come on, let's go sit down!" The young male darted through the crowd and claimed the table before anyone else had a chance. "Dex! Pralla! Come on! I got us a table!"

"Our newfound friend has gotten us a table," Riker said resignedly. "He'll probably keep yelling for us until h.e.l.l freezes over. Well, maybe sitting down with us will keep him quiet."

"Maybe we'll learn something from him," Troi added. "He's already rather defenseless, the poor boy."

"Think so?" Riker seemed amused by that.

"Dex?" came a plaintive voice. "Pralla?!? Where are you?"

"We really should go sit down," Troi insisted. "People are starting to stare."

"All right," Riker decided. "We'll stay with him for as long as it's doing us some good. We haven't really talked with any of these people yet. We might as well start with this one."

"I think this young man might be helpful," Troi said.

"There's a grand tradition in old spy novels where the good guys-that's us-pump drunks for information," Riker said.

"There is?"

"Yes, there is-even when the drunk is a phony, like our friend over there."

"He is?"

"I'm sure he is. I'm a.s.suming he's a plant and that our cover is blown. We ran into him too easily, and he's sticking around us way too long. We should play along and see what happens."

"Dex! Pralla! Where are you?"

"There he goes again," Troi said. "I gather we shouldn't let Wiggin know that we know that he knows-I mean-"

"You've got it."

"My, you're sneaky."

Riker grinned at her. "You knew that already. Let's rejoin our friend over there. And one more thing-"

"What is it?"

"Put 'when introduced by name' on the Do Bow list."

"Right." Together, they crossed the distance to the table where Wiggin was waiting for them. "Ah, there you are," he said, pleased. "Facilitator's been by already. I've ordered a couple of pitchers of green stuff for us, and there's a free meal ration that comes along with it. Special occasion, you know."

"Why, thank you, Wiggin," Troi said as she and Riker seated themselves. Wiggin winked at her. Troi pretended not to notice.

"'Green stuff'?" Riker asked. He'd already noticed that many in the room were drinking something that was colored a light, almost pearlescent green.

Wiggin gave him a strange look. "Sure, Dex," he said. "Green stuff. Standard alcoholic beverage, category three." He suddenly grinned. "Or four. Hull, I forget. It's my favorite, anyway."

"Of course," Riker said smoothly. "We usually call it something else, though. Hey, this is a pretty good party, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Wiggin said happily. "Not too many get held on the flags.h.i.+p concourse itself on Posting Day, but I hear Agrell is a systems a.n.a.lyzer who's on his way up. That's got to have greased some gangways for him. He's one lucky son of a tube cleaner-oops. Pardon me, Pralla."

"Quite all right," Troi said politely.

"There they are!" someone cried from the front of the bistro.

Riker and Troi looked around quickly. Riker kept his hand ready to slap his emergency recall signal. He glanced quickly at Wiggin. Riker half expected the young Krann to pull a weapon in an attempt to arrest him and Troi, but Wiggin merely looked annoyed and a bit dazed. For the first time, Riker felt a flicker of doubt about Wiggin's motives.

"Nice, quiet time we're having here," Troi muttered.

"Don't I know it," Riker said. "Excuse me." He stood and looked above the heads of the crowd for the source of the commotion. He quickly found it. An angry-looking group of four Krann had spotted Riker and were coming straight for him-and they were being led by Bitt, the male who'd given Riker the two empty pitchers to fill.

The party was definitely getting livelier.

Riker frowned. "It's our friends from outside," he told Troi.

"What friends?" Wiggin asked, clearly puzzled. "I thought you two came here alone-?"

Riker ignored him. "I'll take care of it," he told Troi. He rose from his seat, and, turning to face Bitt and his companions, stood by the table, waiting calmly.

Bitt was obviously, clearly, magnificently angry at Riker. His pale face was orange with emotion, and his aquamarine eyes flashed with anger. The Krann male, his several friends close behind him, pushed his way through the remainder of the crowd in the bistro and planted himself before Riker. Bitt's friends seemed merely irritated. They also seemed expectant.

"What's the matter, Bitt?" Riker asked mildly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Tube cleaner!" Bitt shouted into Riker's face. "s.h.i.+rker! What piece of wasted hull did they sc.r.a.pe you off, you functionless k.n.o.b?"

"I really don't think this kind of language is called for," Wiggin said, his eyes wide. "After all, this is a-"

"Quiet, wreckage!" Bitt roared, not bothering to look at Wiggin. "I'm talking to the garbage master here. Listen, you lump of used protein, you stuck us for a double pitcher back there, and I mean to collect!"

A gasp seemed to run all around the bistro, and the crowd quieted. The soft background music continued to drift easily through the sound system for a moment or two until someone finally thought to stop it.

The bistro was silent. "A double pitcher?" Riker asked Bitt. "Do you mean the two empty-ah. I see. Are you somehow under the impression that I intended to supply you with two pitchers of, uh, whatever had been in the pitcher?"

"You took them from me, slag," Bitt spat. "Then the facilitator came to me a few minutes later with two filled pitchers and a debit notice, and I see you sitting in here with this dead weight."

"Hey, wait a minute-" Wiggin began.

"Spin down, waste bag," Bitt told him. "You're not involved in this-yet."

"That's more than enough," Riker interrupted. He allowed his own expression to darken by tapping into his lingering resentment of an unfortunate and embarra.s.sing incident that had happened during his plebe year at the Academy. Riker's controlled anger welled up so strongly that Troi, sensing it, blinked at its suddenness.

"First, you are mistaken," Riker said bitingly. "Neither my spouse nor I ever intended to join you or your friends. Second, you thrust the pitchers on me. I incurred no obligation to you or anyone else. I did more than I had to do when I gave the pitchers to the facilitator and directed her to return them to you."

"Wait a minute," Bitt said. "That's not the way-"

"Quiet!" Riker barked. "Your breach of etiquette in this matter is obvious. Even a child knows better."

"'Breach of etiquette'?" Bitt cried, outraged. "You're babbling nonsense, shaft sc.r.a.per. You took the pitchers! Just who in hull do you think you are?"

Wiggin rose quickly. "How glad I am that you asked," he said. "Allow me to present my friends Dex Portside Sanitation Systems Supervisor and his spouse, Pralla Portside Consumables Monitor."

Bitt's color faded. "Supervisor?" he echoed in a small voice. His friends took a step back.

"And his spouse," Wiggin said cheerfully. "Dex and Pralla, I call them, seeing as how we're friends and all."

"But he isn't wearing his insigne," Bitt said weakly. "Neither is she."

"Are you now presuming to tell us how we're to dress off watch?" Riker said in a threatening tone. "I didn't intend to bring rank into this, but-"

"No!" Bitt said hastily. "Not at all, Dex Portside Sanitation Systems Supervisor!" He looked very worried indeed.

Riker pursued it. "Can't my spouse and I enjoy a party on this great day without some drunken idiot like you ruining it for us? What in-in hull is your designation, anyway?"

"Bitt Portside s.h.i.+p's Stores Accountant Journeyman," the Krann stammered. "Forgive me, Supervisor. I-I did not know w-who you were." One of the females with Bitt looked stricken.

"You were never introduced, Bitt?" Wiggin asked, marveling. "You didn't even know their names, and yet you think they were under some sort of obligation to buy you a round? It does appear that the breach of protocol isn't on my friend Dex's side, not at all."

"Quiet, scuttler," hissed Bitt.

"No, you be quiet," Riker grated. "Now listen to this. You've disgraced yourself, and you've embarra.s.sed our hosts on this great and special day. You will apologize to me, you will apologize to my spouse, you will apologize to our friend Wiggin for your last remark, and you will most certainly apologize to our hosts at the main table for this egregious disturbance you have caused."

Bitt paused. "Agreed," he finally said, tight-lipped. "Dex Portside Sanitation Systems Supervisor, I apologize to you for my conduct. Pralla Portside Consumables Monitor, I offer my apologies to you as well."

"I'm not finished," Riker continued. "You will now buy a round for everyone in the place."

"Everyone?" Bitt asked.

"Everyone," Riker replied. "Your friends will help you pay for it, of course. You'll pay half, and they'll make up the rest. You've all offended everyone here by your boorish behavior. Your friends partic.i.p.ated in your little game with us just outside, and they followed you in here to see a fight. They share your blame-and they'll pay, just as you will."