Part 19 (1/2)

”Absolutely,” Cobaryn pressed. ”I thought when I poked my haft where it did not belong, you would find my impertinence amusing. But, no-you took my question seriously. Admit it.”

The First Axe looked around the table at his peers. ”I did no such thing. I knew it was a joke all along.” He smiled, exposing his long, hollow fangs. ”But I decided to turn the tables and play a joke on you.”

And then Zhrakkas expressed his feeling of good fellows.h.i.+p the way any Middirona would have-by hauling his meaty fist back and returning the captain's blow with twice the force.

Cobaryn saw it coming, but dared not try to get out of the way. Not if he wanted to hang onto the respect of the Middirona.

The First Axe turned out to be even stronger than he looked. His punch knocked the Rigelian backwards head over heels. The next thing he knew, Cobaryn was sprawled on the floor-and his shoulder hurt too much for him to even contemplate moving it.

Seeing him lying there, Zhrakkas got up and walked over to him. Then he pulled the captain to his feet.

”I like you,” the Middirona said. ”Your people and mine will be two blades of the same axe.”

Trying not to wince at the pain in his shoulder, Cobaryn nodded. ”I certainly hope so.”

Connor Dane leaned back in his chair and studied the stars on the screen in front of him. They didn't look much different from any other stars he had seen, even if they const.i.tuted the part of s.p.a.ce now known as the Romulan Neutral Zone.

Dane's eyes narrowed. ”Let me get this straight.”

”All right,” said his science officer, a white-haired man named Hudlin. He was standing next to the captain with his arms folded across his chest, an expression of impatience on his wrinkled face.

”Our long-range scanners,” Dane began, ”have detected a wormhole out there in the Neutral Zone. And like any other wormhole, it's probably not going to be there for long.”

”That's correct,” Hudlin confirmed.

”But while it is there,” said the captain, ”you'd like the chance to study it at close range-even if it means entering the Neutral Zone, violating the treaty we just signed and risking another war.”

The science officer frowned. ”With all due respect, sir, we don't have to go very far into the Neutral Zone, and it's highly unlikely that the Romulans would notice us. As you're no doubt aware, the war served to thin out their fleet considerably.”

True, Dane conceded. Of course, the same could be said of the Federation. ”So you really don't think we'd get caught?”

”I really don't,” said Hudlin.

The captain granted. ”I'll tell you what, pal-I think you're in luck. You see, between you and me and the bulkhead, I don't give a rat's fat patootie about this Romulan Neutral Zone everybody's so impressed with. On the other hand, I don't give a rat's fat patootie about your wormhole.”

Bryce Shumar was three weeks out of Earth orbit when he finally found what he was looking for.

The Tellarite vessel on his viewscreen was a collection of dark, forbidding spheres, some bigger than others. The deep creases between them served as housings for the s.p.a.cecraft's s.h.i.+eld projectors, weapons ports, scanner arrays, and audio-visual transmitters, while a quartet of small cylinders, which spilled golden plasma from unlikely locations among the spheres, provided the s.h.i.+p with its propulsion capabilities.

More to the point, the vessel was far from any of the established trade routes. And from the time it had picked up Shumar's s.h.i.+p on its long-range scanners, it had done its best to elude pursuit.

Unfortunately for the Tellarite, there wasn't a starfaring vessel in the galaxy that could outrun a Christopher 2000. It hadn't ever been a question of whether Shumar's craft would catch up with its prey; the only question had been when.

Mullen, Shumar's first officer, came to stand beside the captain's chair. ”Interesting s.h.i.+p,” he noted.

”Ugly s.h.i.+p,” Shumar told him. ”Probably the ugliest I've ever seen. And when you run an Earth base, you see all kinds.”

The younger man looked at him, no doubt uncertain as to how to react to the remark. ”I have to admit, sir, I'm no expert on esthetics.”

”You don't have to be,” said Shumar. ”Some things are ugly by definition. That Tellarite is one of them.”

”Weapons range,” announced Wallace, the helm officer.

The captain leaned forward. ”Raise deflector s.h.i.+elds and route power to laser batteries.”

Forward of his center seat, Morgan Kelly manipulated her tactical controls. ”Aye, sir,” came her reply.

Just like old times, thought Shumar. He turned to Klebanov, his navigator. ”Hail the Tellarite, Lieutenant.”

The woman went to work. A moment later, she looked up. ”They're responding,” she told the captain.

”On screen,” he said.

Abruptly, the image of a porcine being with a bristling beard and a p.r.o.nounced snout a.s.saulted his viewscreen. ”What is the meaning of this?” the Tellarite growled.

The science officer stared at him, clearly more than a little confused. ”But you said I was in luck.”

”You are. You want to get a little closer to that wormhole? Be my guest. Just don't get me involved, all right? I hate the idea of having to explain something like this to a court-martial.”

And with that, Dane got up from his chair and headed for the turbolift. Naturally, he didn't get far before he heard from Hudlin again.

”Sir?” said the science officer, hurrying to catch up with his captain. He looked around at the other bridge personnel, who were looking on with undisguised curiosity. ”Where are you going?” he asked.