By Michael Jan Friedman
There is a bar known as "The Captain's Table", the place those that have commanded potent vessels of each form and period can meet, sit back, and proportion a pleasant drink or with others in their calling. occasionally a brawl might get away yet it is all within the kin, roughly. simply consider, the 1st around of beverages is often paid for with a story... no matter if you are Jean-Luc Picard. For greater than 2 hundred years archaeologists and treasure hunters have dreamed of Dujonian's Hoard, a fabled trove of worthwhile old artifacts that can include expertise that may shift the galactic stability of strength. A dream was once all of the hoard seemed-- till a former Starfleet officer is going looking for the treasure and turns up lacking. Now each person from Romulans to Cardassians to an enigmatic girl starship captain is seeking Richard Brant, together with Worf and Captain Picard, who've long gone deep undercover on a mystery Starfleet challenge to rescue Brant, if he is even nonetheless alive...
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Extra resources for Dujonian's Hoard (Star Trek The Next Generation: The Captain's Table, Book 2)
First blood, then," he said. They raised their swords and advanced on one another. Before Picard knew it, he was engaged in a storm of clashing blades. The captain's opponent was clearly an expert with the foil, flicking it about with deadly accuracy. But Picard was no novice, either. He had studied in some of the most famous fencing dens on Earth, under some of the most exacting masters. Before long, he proved himself equal to any assault his adversary cared to mount. Then, after about thirty seconds or so, the fellow's attacks began to speed up.
But with a gesture, I assured him there was no urgency to my visit. I would stand there and watch while he completed the morning's exercises. Nor did I mind in the least. Mok'bara was as elegant a discipline as any I had encountered, and I had encou ntered my share. That said, I had no desire to take part in it myself. When it came to exercise, my tastes at the time ran more toward horsemanship and fencing. They still do, as you have seen, in part, for yourselves. When the ritual exercises were over, one of Worf s students-a young woman-asked him about a particular maneuver.
However, it occurred to him he knew almost nothing about this establishment. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. If Gleason had somehow fallen victim to foul play ... perhaps someone he'd met here on a previous occasion and offended ... Picard stopped himself. You're overreacting, he thought. A massive conspiracy aside, the place was too crowded for Gleason to have been shanghaied without witnesses. And not every bar was a playground for kidnappers and cutthroats, despite his experiences to the contrary .