Part 14 (1/2)
Picard nodded resolutely. ”I understand perfectly, Admiral. We'll be there in ten hours.”
”The conference is taking place at the Polar Auditorium on Pargite. Bryant out.”
Louise Drayton scoffed, ”So the Enterprise is leaving in four hours? That just about shows the depth of your commitment.”
Picard stiffened to attention and declared, ”You are wrong, Doctor Drayton. We are committed to peace wherever we go, but the Enterprise is always a visitor, an outsider, and we cannot instill values that don't exist. Everyone can think of reasons to hate and spill blood, but only a few can think of reasons to make peace. If you and those poor castaways want to kill each other, we can't stop you. You have to be committed to ending the bloodshed.”
”We understand perfectly,” said Gregg Calvert, lifting his little girl in his brawny arms. ”I'm only one person, but I swear I'm going to do everything I can to bring peace to my world.”
Louise Drayton followed them onto the platform, averting her eyes from the gaze of Ensign Ro. The Bajoran was deeply disturbed about Drayton's argument with the captain-the woman almost seemed determined to cause trouble. The ensign shook her head and joined the others on the platform, reluctant to be leaving the Enterprise. She had a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. All signs were pointing that way.
Worf finally heard the slow drumbeat throbbing in the forest. Then the voices, most of them angry. The procession wound slowly through the stark tree trunks, a single line of mourners led by the drummers and their hollow logs. In the center of the line walked six Klingons close together, holding Balak's body over their head; they were followed by the last members of the tribe, who seemed to be arguing about something.
The big Klingon stared in amazement, along with Deanna Troi. He hadn't expected a funeral procession, and he strained to see who was being carried in the upraised arms.
”It is Balak,” said Data. ”He appears to be dead.”
The procession was headed their way, and they had already been spotted. Wary eyes darted in their direction, and Worf motioned his comrades off the mound to give them their holy place. Wolm and some of the older survivors were arguing at the rear, but they took on a respectful silence upon seeing Worf, Data, and Deanna. The crew members stood at the bottom of the mound as the youngsters struggled to carry Balak's limp body up the incline. When they started to drop the heavy burden Worf sprinted up the hill and grabbed Balak by the shoulders. With the big Klingon's aid they carried the dead sixteen-year-old to the top of the mound.
”Go now,” Maltz snarled at Worf.
Worf looked at the youngster, unable to decide what to do or say that would help to express his feelings and close the gap between them.
”Go now!” yelled Maltz.
Then Wolm turned to him, and he saw that one side of her face was horribly bruised. She whispered under her breath, ”Go, Worf. All will be well.”
Worf nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a handful of communicator badges, which he set reverently on the moist earth. ”These are for you,” he said. Wolm mustered a slight smile.
When Worf jogged down the hill to join Deanna and Data the android informed him, ”Captain Picard has requested that we return to the Enterprise. This would appear to be a good time to leave them alone.”
The lieutenant nodded and tapped his communicator badge. ”Three to beam up.”
Two minutes later the three members of the away team were standing in Captain Picard's ready room. Also in attendance was Will Riker, who was being briefed on the new mission along with recent events on Selva. Like the others, Deanna listened quietly as Picard outlined the situation in the Aretian system. Then she listened as Data related in detail their activities since transporting back to the planet the night before. The account ended at the funeral procession for Balak, about whose death they knew nothing.
The captain sighed troubledly and asked the android, ”How would you characterize your progress with the Klingons?”
”Satisfactory,” answered Data. ”Although unfortunate, the death of Balak will probably work to our advantage.”
”I see,” muttered Picard. ”I still don't feel right about leaving you on Selva while we're surveying the Aretian system. President Oscaras will not guarantee your safety, and I don't think he could even if he wanted to. Can you bid them farewell temporarily without endangering the mission?”
Deanna could tell that both Worf and Data were considering their responses, but she couldn't help but to blurt out, ”Captain, I believe the progress we have made needs continued reinforcement. To leave now would be a mistake unless there is a clear danger. And I don't believe any of us feel threatened.”
”Thank you, Counselor.” Picard frowned. ”That only complicates the situation. I'm saying that I don't trust either of the parties down there, and that's why I'm concerned. The Aretian system is six hours away, so the earliest we can return is in twelve hours. Unless you use the colonists' subs.p.a.ce radio system, you'll be out of contact with the s.h.i.+p.”
Worf replied, ”We understand that, Captain. Still, we do not want to leave when we are so close to solving the problem.”
The captain slapped the arms of his chair and declared, ”Then you'll remain on Selva. The Enterprise leaves...o...b..t at fifteen hundred for the Aretian system. Once there, I will propose leaving Commander Riker, La Forge, and several shuttlecraft to do the actual charting while we return here. That's the only way we can possibly be in two places at once.”
Deanna smiled at Worf and found the big Klingon smiling back.
”Won't we need Counselor Troi on the diplomatic mission?” asked Riker.
”I think not,” answered the captain. ”The Pargites and Aretians are ready for peace, providing their solar system can be divided in a fair and equitable manner. Ensign Ro should stay as well.” He looked squarely at the dispa.s.sionate android. ”Data, I'm only leaving four crew members on Selva, but they aren't four crew members I would care to lose. I'm counting on you to make the safety of the away team your prime consideration.”
”Understood, Captain.”
Ensign Ro sat stiffly in the guest chair in President Oscaras's office while Gregg Calvert paced the cramped enclosure from the bookshelf to the tiny window. Outside the window a crew of construction workers was welding together another galvanized corrugated rabbit warren. Raul Oscaras was self-importantly directing the work while Gregg Calvert fumed. He had requested a meeting at least an hour ago and had been kept waiting ever since. Ensign Ro stayed with him because she wanted to see how Oscaras would respond to calls for peace from his own security chief.
Finally the president swaggered into his office, huffing and puffing and wiping sweat from the back of his neck with a rag. He collapsed into his overstuffed executive chair.
”Okay, Calvert, you have my undivided attention,” he said with a sigh. ”What's so important?”
”Only two things,” answered the tall blond man, fighting to keep his anger in check. ”Today I found out we have a spy in our midst, someone who's been secretly meeting with the Klingons and giving them information about our defenses and our movements.”
Oscaras responded with a booming laugh. ”That's preposterous!” he said. ”n.o.body would dare venture out there by himself. And what would be the point of it? He would be signing his own death certificate.”
Gregg leaned across the bearded man's desk. ”As to the point of it, I don't know,” he admitted. ”But the spy is not just taking a stroll out there-she is masquerading as a G.o.ddess, using a halogen lantern and some kind of Romulan whip. She had s.e.x with the leader of the Klingons.”
”Please!” scoffed the president. ”You've been reading too many Gothic romances. A person from this community-a woman, you say-goes out alone disguised as a Romulan G.o.ddess? She befriends the Klingons, has s.e.x with them, and tells them what we're doing?”
”More than that,” said Calvert. ”According to an eyewitness from the Enterprise, she encouraged them to attack us.”
”Again, to what purpose?” growled Oscaras, the humor fading from his chubby face. ”How did she get outside, past the guards? And why would somebody arrange an attack on her own friends and neighbors?”
”I don't know,” muttered Gregg. ”But take this morning as an example. We were beamed to a specific place on the beach, twenty kilometers from here, and we weren't there fifteen minutes before we were attacked. We weren't making any noise or doing anything to draw their attention. How did they know we were there? Don't tell me they were just in the neighborhood!”
Oscaras glanced suspiciously at Ro. ”Well, members of the Enterprise crew are with the Klingons, and we did send the coordinates to the Enterprise well in advance. That's at least one other explanation.”
”But the same thing has happened time and time again!” Gregg protested. ”Before the Enterprise got here.”
”Save your breath, Gregg,” said Ro, standing. ”President Oscaras isn't interested in the roots of this problem or its solution. He wants to keep the hatred going so that he can maintain a dictators.h.i.+p over a terrified community.”
The burly man nearly jumped over his desk, he was so angry. He pointed a chubby finger at Ro and warned her, ”I don't need any advice from a Bajoran. You don't even have a home to protect. I asked for help from Starfleet, and all I get are a bunch of nonhumans who want to make friends with the savages and camp out in the woods. Ask any member of this community, and he'll tell you exactly what we need to solve this problem-a couple hundred armed men and the determination to hunt down every last one of those heathens!”
”I don't believe that's the solution anymore,” said Gregg softly.
”Okay,” growled Oscaras, ”if you've got a better solution, I'd be willing to hear it. But if it's a good idea, you should've told me months ago.”
”It is a good idea,” answered Gregg, ”but we weren't ready for it months ago. We should make friends with the Klingons, as the Enterprise is trying to do.”
Oscaras looked as if he was going to turn purple with rage, and his eyes s.h.i.+fted accusingly from Gregg Calvert to Ensign Ro. ”She turned your head, didn't she?” he sneered. ”Not a bad-looking woman, despite those things on her head. In some respects I don't blame you, Calvert. You and Ro are free to do whatever you want, but you're relieved of duty as security chief.”
”No!” growled the blond man, slamming his palms on the president's desk, causing Oscaras to flinch. ”It has nothing to do with Ro-I saw with my own eyes! One of them-the same one we kept chained up in a shed-saved our lives this morning. He warned us about the attack. They're not savages-they're confused and acting more out of fear than rational thought, just like us!”
”You're restricted to quarters!” ordered Oscaras, pointing to the door. ”Soon we'll be rid of the Enterprise, and we can go back to solving our own problems. I do make mistakes, and calling on Starfleet was one of them. I should've known they were too buddy-buddy with the Klingon High Command to help us. By the time the Enterprise returns, this problem is going to be over.”
Gregg Calvert pounded the desk with frustration one last time, then stalked out the door. Ensign Ro lingered for a moment in the doorway.
”You're wrong about Gregg and me,” she told the president. ”You're wrong about everything. And if you don't take that spy business seriously, it's going to come back to haunt you.”