by Michael Jan Friedman and Christie Golden p.969 His away team, he noticed, was less circumspect about its enthusiasm than he was. Tall, gangly Lieutenant Cabrini, for example, was grinning almost ear to ear in the transparent dome of his helmet, and dark skinned Lieutenant M'ketwa was chuckling with pleasure. Ensigns Kirby and Moore looked--and acted, Picard thought with a bit of a frown--like Academy cadets on leave as they joined him on the transporter platform. "I realize today's mission will be of extraordinary interest to all of us," the captain told them, his voice muffled slightly by the confines of his helmet, "but let us conduct ourselves as scientists and not as schoolchildren, shall we?" They sobered up at once, causing Picard to regret the sharpness of his words. They were some of the brightest and most eager young people Picard had ever had the privilege of working with. Of course they were excited. They relished the opportunity to get at those ruins, just as he did. "After all," he added on impulse, "scientists are not compelled to come in from recess." His quip was rewarded by a surprised but pleased smile from Ensign Kirby as they dematerialized. p.972-973 The rite of Inseeing was the most revered celebration among his people. It was a time to stop, retire to the peace of one's own domicile, fast for three days and think about one's life. During this period, all attention was directed inward. The ritual Inseeing scarf, translucent enough to permit vision yet sufficiently opaque to perform a symbolic blindfolding, covered one's head and face at all times. It was said to be the height of all evil to harm someone while they wore the Inseeing scarf... or even held it in their hands. p.980 Was it possible that someone as powerful as his employer truly enjoyed a place like this? Or, the Melacron wondered, was this whole meeting some kind of set-up? Nedrach knew it would be easy though... hire a hungry assassin, let him undertake a dangerous mission for you, then lure him to this "Last Stop to Nowhere." (Now that he thought about it, the nickname did have an ominous ring to it.) And finally, while your hungry assassin is salivating at the thought of how rich he's about to become, have another assassin dispatch him. And who would suspect? No one. p.983 Bev, he thought. His bright, stable, yet passionate redhead. God, how he missed her. And little Wesley... he wondered what irretrievable moment of the toddler's childhood he was missing today. p.986 AS PICARD ENTERED the five-sided Grand Council Chamber on Debennius II, he decided that it was as beautiful as any venue he had ever seen. And y et, as he had been told, beauty was not its chief virtue. After all, the chamber had built to allow opposing forces to clash over and over again without violent incident. In that respect, it had to be a lot more than easy on the eyes. Looking up, the captain saw the overarching, transparent dome that let the natural light of the sun shine in, albeit through a glare-softening filter. When debates continued into the evening, it was Picard's understanding that artificial illumination would be employed--but it mimicked the sun's light so well as to be completely non-distracting. Even the chamber's walls were constructed of sound-absorbing materials. And its thick carpeting was designed to feel soothing to the feet--for those diplomats and observers who had such appendages. p.1020 Because of the planet's "society"--or lack thereof--there was no one to contact for permission to land. The commander was reminded of Earth's late nineteenth century, the "wild, lawless West," where a gun was all a man needed to get where he wanted to go. The ease with which they found a place to land and hide their small craft, all within a few kilometers of a main city, was actually rather unsettling. "Any disreputable type can sneak onto this planet," Crusher said. "But then," Tuvok told them as they concealed their ship with loose foliage, "so can a team of Starfleet officers." The commander looked at him. "In other words, I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." The Vulcan appeared perplexed--and maybe a little annoyed as well. "The reference escapes me," he said. "What it means," Crusher explained, "is that you shouldn't question good luck. You should just run with it." Tuvok sighed a little. "I see." "Don't you have any colorful Vulcan expressions?" asked the human. The ensign glanced at him. "No," he said flatly. p.1024 "There is a klaapish-klaapish'na house not far from here," said the bartender, his dark popeyes glued to the latinum. "The name of the place is The House of Comfort." Jack kept his expression as neutral as possible. He wasn't sure what a klaapish-klaapish'na house was, but with the name The House of Comfort, he could make a pretty good guess." Already he was formulating his next message to Beverly: Hi, honey. Hope you and Wes are well. My most recent assignment took me undercover to an alien brothel. Hope you understand the sacrifices an officer has to make in the line of duty...
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