Part 21 (1/2)
”That's right. Keep in mind their communications might be scrambled.”
Hirsch's contemptuous expression showed precisely what she thought of Sindareen scrambling capabilities. ”No disrespect, Lieutenant, but I thought you were going to give me something hard to do.” She dropped down to one knee, removing the large comm unit from her equipment pack and studying the frequencies registering over it. Her fingers flew over the touch padds.
”Got it, Lieutenant,” she announced after less than thirty seconds. ”Just need a few more moments to unscramble.” She smirked. ”Apparently they think we can't do it.”
”Enlighten them, Hirsch,” said Riker, ”as to the error of their ways.”
The Sindareen who had cut off Deanna and Chandra's escape was apparently the leader of the group. As was mostly the case with the Sindareen, his hair was tightly swept back and coal black. His skin was pale, virtually to the point of the chalk white shade of an albino. Although he possessed a mouth, it existed exclusively for eating. Speech issued from the nictating membranes on his long throat.
”Baytzah!” he snapped to others of his group. ”Zroah! What are you standing around for? Charoset, you and Chazeret get to the other room and clear that out. And you others-move! We don't have all day!”
The Sindareen were moving through the great museum, carrying with them large cases. They hurriedly pulled paintings off the wall, shoved glittering sculptures into the cases. Each action was greeted by gasps and audible protestations by the Betazoids-which were quickly silenced by the leader's subtle movement of his weapon in the direction of the prisoners.
”My dear Betazoids,” he said, sounding unexpectedly reasonable. ”I am called Maror. If you would be so kind as to cooperate, we can do this briskly and without serious difficulty for any of you.”
”But why!”
The uncontrolled outburst had originated from Deanna, who had said it without thinking. Chandra tried to pull her back into the relative obscurity of the crowd, but it was too late. She had attracted Maror's attention. Somehow, though, surviving the emotional trauma of being shoved, courtesy of a blaster in her mouth, had emboldened her.
Maror's gaze wandered along the lines of her body in a manner that made Deanna suddenly feel dirty. She derived the feeling purely from the surface, however. She found that she couldn't get an empathic lock on any of them, which was unusual and frustrating for her. The uncontrolled, and unwise, question had been a manifestation of that small but aggravating defeat.
”But why what?” asked Maror. Behind him the rest of his men continued with their task. ”Why should you not interfere with our little procedure?”
Deanna, keep quiet! Chandra's voice rang in Deanna's head. But she knew that wasn't possible. Her outburst had already attracted the Sindareen's attention. Besides... some part of her genuinely wanted to understand what in the world could be motivating these beings into these destructive acts.
She called on the image of her mother, who had never seemed intimidated by any situation. She squared her shoulders and firming up her voice, demanded, ”Why are you stealing our art treasures? They can't hold any meaning for you. They're works that spring from the hearts and minds of Betazoid artists.”
Maror made a noise that must have been the Sindareen equivalent of laughter-it was a more rapid fluttering of the membranes, unaccompanied by any noise other than the flapping sound. ”Are you really under the impression,” he asked when he had recovered himself, ”that we are going to sit around and look at the pretty pictures? Don't be ridiculous. What we have is a client who is a very avid collector, with a taste for one-of-a-kind pieces. And he is very wealthy, and very willing to pay whatever it takes to obtain those things that have struck his fancy. You should be flattered that your work has attracted his attention-he's very discriminating.”
And now whatever fears Deanna might have had were overwhelined by a fundamental sense of indignation. ”You would deprive a people of their cultural heritage just to satisfy the greed of an individual? What sort of beings are you?”
His mouth turned up slightly as he replied, ”Entrepreneurs.” Then he stepped back, clearly ending the discussion, or at least his interest in it. He tapped his wrist comm unit and said, ”Karpas. Report.”
Over the comm unit came back a voice, saying, ”There's a fairly large a.s.semblage on the street. Typical bunch of Betazoids-everyone standing around, trying to understand how everyone else feels about the situation, and n.o.body doing anything about it.”
”Yes, that is typical,” grunted Maror. ”Anything else?”
”Yeah. What appears to be a squad of Starfleet security men. Apparently they're taking charge of the situation.”
”Let them. I know their regs. As long as we've got the hostages in here, they won't dare make a move against us. Keep the engines primed. I estimate we have another three to four-”
But before Maror could complete the instruction, another voice broke in on the comm unit. ”Attention, Sindareen raiders. You are completely surrounded and cannot escape. Surrender is your only alternative.”
Deanna's dark eyes widened and she looked at Chandra, who immediately knew what was going through Deanna's mind. For the briefest of moments, Deanna wanted to shout out. ”Will! I'm trapped in here with them! Do something!” But fortunately, and wisely, she held her tongue. Riker certainly did not need personal involvement dragged into the middle of all this.
Maror, for his part, bubbled in fury. ”Who is this!” he demanded.
”Lieutenant Riker, of Starfleet,” came the stern reply. ”Who is this?”
”Maror of the Sindareen. So tell me, Starflect man... where's your s.h.i.+p? We didn't see it coming in, and there's none within light-years of here. We checked.”
”A s.h.i.+p isn't necessary to deal with this situation.”
”You flatter me,” said Maror sarcastically.
”No. I warn you. I have an entire squad of men, with more on the way. The entire area has been sealed off. You cannot escape. If you surrender now, your cooperation will be noted.”
”'Noted.' How nice. That will make a lovely tombstone: 'Here lies Maror. He cooperated.' I think I'll take my chances, Lieutenant thank you. Now if you're interested in taking chances. then I invite you to try and impede our departure.” Then Maror's voice grew cold and harsh. ”And you can explain the three dozen Betazoid corpses to your superiors! Do we understand each other, Lieutenant?”
Riker's reply was firm and unyielding. ”You will not escape.”
”You will not stop me,” shot back Maror. ”Now get off my comm unit.”
”We are scrambling your transmissions. You will not be able to communicate with your s.h.i.+p for as long as you refuse to cooperate.”
”Oh, really.” Without hesitation, Maror swung his weapon around and squeezed off a shot.
The blast struck Chandra in the upper thigh. She went down with a shriek that echoed throughout the museum and certainly was audible over the comm unit. Deanna dropped to the floor with her, Chandra clutching her leg and whimpering. An ugly carbon-scored gash was across her thigh.
”Did you hear that?” demanded Maror. ”I could have killed her just then! That is the extent of the cooperation you'll have from me, Lieutenant! The next time I fire it's going to be at somebody's heart, and I a.s.sure you, Riker, I hit what I aim at! Now unclutter my transmission or somebody dies in the next ten seconds-and that's on your head, Lieutenant Riker. Yours!”
There was only the briefest of pauses before Riker's voice came back. ”In the interest of cooperation, I'll put you back in touch with your s.h.i.+p. I antic.i.p.ate you'll extend further good-faith courtesies in the future.”
A moment later, Karpas's concerned voice was back on the air. ”They're going to give us trouble, Maror! Did you hear what they-”
”Of course I heard, you idiot,” snapped Maror. ”And what's more, they're going to hear. Namely, they'll hear everything that's being said over this frequency. I don't need them eavesdropping! Maintain radio silence except in case of extreme emergency! Maror out!”
He lowered his comm unit and turned to the Betazoids. Deanna had ripped a length of cloth from her sleeve and wrapped it around the b.u.m that was blistering the skin on Chandra's leg. She looked up at Maror with anger and defiance flas.h.i.+ng in her eyes. Maror, for his part, looked utterly calm, and again Deanna met frustration in being unable to get any sort of feeling for what was going through his mind. Something in his psychological makeup-in the makeup of all of them, in fact-rendered them impervious to Deanna's empathy. Or at least, for the moment it did.
”Your rescuers,” said Maror, ”are only going to make matters worse for you. I suggest you pray to whatever G.o.ds you believe in that the Starfleet security and their n.o.ble lieutenant are less effective than they think they are. Because their effectiveness will be measured entirely in the number of deaths that arise because of them.”
CHAPTER 24.
Riker turned away from Hirsch and looked at Tang with frustration. ”That could have gone better,” Riker said.
”it could have gone worse,” replied Tang. ”At least n.o.body's dead.”
”We have to determine what they want. What their demands are.”
”No, we don't. We know what they want,” said Tang reasonably. ”It's whatever is in this building. We know what their demands are-they demand we let them get away with it. The only question becomes, do we let them?”
Riker's face was set. ”No. We don't.”
”Even if people die?”
”We try to avoid that at all costs,” Riker said slowly. ”But the bottom line is that if we let them get away, we simply invite them to continue their activities at the expense and lives of other innocent people. It has to stop here and now.”