Part 5 (1/2)
”I'll do it,” he said. ”I won't be going back to Pod Eighteen, will I?”
”No,” answered Joulesh. ”Would you be afraid for your safety?”
Sam smiled. ”Around here, I'm always afraid for my safety.”
”Eat,” said the Founder, sounding like a friendly relative. He wasn't exactly androgynous, but his masculine traits were underplayed. Sam imagined that he could just as easily present a pseudo-female facade. The creature was fascinating to study, up close, and it was all Sam could do not to ask him to morph into a chair. He tried to imagine what it was like on their home planet, where they merged into a sea of their kind called the Great Link.
Sam fought the temptation to ask this advanced being why it was so important to conquer the Alpha Quadrant. He supposed it was the same arrogance that had driven Europeans to conquer the Americas or Carda.s.sians to conquer Bajor-a certainty of their moral and intellectual superiority.
With the slightest nod from the Founder, the Jem'Hadar guards suddenly picked up the basin and carried it out of the room. The Founder walked after them, and the two Vorta brought up the rear of the entourage. This left Sam alone with Professor Grof, plus enough food for a barracks.
”They're not much for good-byes,” remarked the human.
”I think the Founder was tired,” said Grof. ”He probably has to revert to his liquid form soon. Dominion upper management is spread very thinly through the Alpha Quadrant. Besides, they got what they came for.”
”Me?” Sam asked incredulously.
”Yes, but you could have shown them more respect. This is quite an honor.”
”So everyone tells me.” Sam glanced around the room. ”Can I speak freely in here? Are we being watched?”
”Don't bother bawling me out,” said the Trill. ”You were going to tell me that I'm a traitor, a collaborator, and so on and so forth. You're going to say that we ought to escape, or sabotage the artificial wormhole. Well, let me tell you-what we're building here will last longer than either the Dominion or the Federation. The war will be a footnote to this invention. I'm on the side of science, and what we're building is going to revolutionize the galaxy.”
”At what cost?” asked Sam. ”You would destroy a federation of hundreds of planets for a machine? Whose side are you on? Are you a prisoner here, or are you one of the jailers?”
Grof scowled and lowered his voice. ”I'm both. I want to see my work to fruition, and I'm not going to let politics stand in the way. I would like to take my findings to the Federation. In fact, I hope that this work brings both sides together, and ends this stupid war. Meanwhile, I'm still a prisoner. Would I welcome a chance to escape? Perhaps at a later date, but only if it's foolproof.”
Sam picked up a slice of yellow melon and took a bite. The delicious juice ran down his beard. ”You're obviously doing something right to have all of this handed to you.”
”I'm just doing my job,” snapped Grof.
At that moment, Sam decided not to trust Enrak Grof, who seemed entirely too wrapped up in his own self-interests. Sam would plan his escape without the Trill, unless his partic.i.p.ation was absolutely necessary ... and foolproof.
”What's the s.h.i.+p like?” asked Sam.
”It's a Carda.s.sian antimatter tanker, specially equipped. You start training on it right away. You will need additional crew of six, and Joulesh and I have prepared a preliminary list of names. We have everyone we need right here.”
”I'm sure of that,” muttered Sam.
Grof ignored his sarcasm and went on, ”We need two specialists in material handling, a tractor-beam specialist, and a senior transporter operator.”
”And Taurik. I want the Vulcan.”
”That leaves one more,” said Grof. ”Me.”
Sam blinked at him. ”You're going along on this mining expedition?”
”Everything depends upon it,” answered the Trill. ”Now that their engineers have been proven wrong, it's up to us to finish the job. And show them how valuable we are.”
”How dangerous is this going to be?”
The Trill smiled. ”Only as dangerous as we make it.”
”It's too dangerous,” insisted Will Riker. ”Captain, please, I beg you to reconsider.”
Captain Picard, who was lying on an operating table in sickbay, closed his eyes and tried to block out the concerned voice of his first officer. He concentrated instead on the sound of Dr. Crusher and Nurse Ogawa preparing their instruments. It sounded like fine silverware in use at a banquet.
”Captain, we have many other people who could do this mission,” insisted Riker.
”Nonsense,” said Picard. ”We're so shorthanded that every able-bodied crew member is indispensable. The fact is, you can captain the s.h.i.+p, making me more dispensable than the majority of the crew. I also have the most expertise working with Ro Laren, and she can be a bit p.r.i.c.kly.”
”She's one of the reasons this is so dangerous,” growled Riker with frustration.
”I'm sure Mr. La Forge and I can handle whatever she throws at us.” Literally and figuratively, Picard thought, recalling her formidable fighting spirit. ”And Data will keep us on long-range scans.”
”What if he loses you in the Badlands?” Riker persisted.
”Nothing is without risk, Number One. If we need rescuing, we'll release our subs.p.a.ce beacon with a coded distress signal.”
”Still, Captain-”
The captain finally opened his eyes and gazed sympathetically at his first officer. ”You won't be able to talk me out of it, Will. The truth is, I need a break from this. .h.i.t-and-run fighting, and you're better at it than I am. If I can investigate Ro's story, I'll feel I'm making a difference.”
”I hope this isn't a wild-goose chase.”
”I hope it is,” said Picard gravely. ”A false rumor-even a trap intended to catch us-would be preferable to finding an artificial wormhole in Dominion control. If we find that it actually exists, then the fate of the Federation rests upon our actions, right here.”
Riker scratched his beard. ”I suppose it's pointless to tell you to be careful in the middle of a war, but be careful.”
”You, too.”
Beverly Crusher strode over to the table and shook her head. ”Captain Riker, your persistence will be duly noted in my log, but you failed yet again to talk some sense into him. That makes two of us. Now we need to get on with the procedure, because I have a full schedule of appointments today.”
Riker glanced quickly at the tiny implants resting on a tray held by Nurse Ogawa. Picard tried not to look too closely at them either. When he awoke, his face would be altered to look Bajoran, and he would be given an earring.
”I'll check on the repairs to the Orb of Peace,” promised Riker as he backed out of the operating room.
Brandis.h.i.+ng a hypospray, Beverly gave the captain a professional smile. ”Relax, Jean-Luc. I have to give you an anesthetic, but you'll only be out for a short time.”
Picard nodded, thinking that he wouldn't mind a few minutes of blissful ignorance. As he felt the pressure of the hypo on his neck, he allowed his tense shoulders to relax. The urge to do something would soon be over. Like Don Quixote, he would be chasing either windmills or the biggest dragon in the kingdom.
Sam Lavelle stood on the somber, gray bridge of the Tag Garwal, studying schematics of the antimatter tanker under his command. Sam had studied Carda.s.sian vessels for years, and never more intently than in the weeks leading up to the war. This design was well known, on a par with Starfleet tankers of similar vintage. The Tag Garwal was no speed demon or luxury liner, but it was built to be st.u.r.dy, dependable, and uncomplicated. Sam didn't think he and his handpicked crew would have any trouble mastering the craft.
Professor Grof sat at an auxiliary console, running diagnostics on the tractor beam and the transporters a deck below them. He occasionally glanced at Sam to see what he was doing. The uncomfortable silence between them was beginning to make Sam nervous, and he tried to think of a subject safe enough for small talk.
”Thank you for translating the manuals,” said Sam.