Part 10 (2/2)
La Forge carried out the command on his transporter console, while the captain gazed down at Letharna. ”A remarkable woman-I wish I had time to thank her properly. I'm glad she was willing to help us. Beam her back down to the planet.”
”Like that, unconscious?”
”Yes, we don't have time for good-byes.” He looked with distaste at the living Carda.s.sian. ”I hadn't intended to take a prisoner, but now we have one. Starfleet may want to interrogate him.”
”But, Captain,” said La Forge, ”we don't have a brig. And no internal forcefields either.”
Picard turned to the security detail. ”Put the prisoner in the captain's quarters. We haven't been using it. Strip the furnis.h.i.+ngs, except for a mattress, and put restraints on his legs. I want him to feel as if he's being well treated-but watch him closely.”
”Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
”Captain,” said Geordi, ”we're coming up on transporter range.”
”Notify the away team and tell them to keep their good-byes short,” ordered Picard, striding toward the door. ”We're getting out of here.”
It was a peaceful evening aboard the Tag Garwal. At least, it felt like evening, with both their test flights over and almost everyone asleep. The bridge was quiet, with only Sam Lavelle on duty. There was no particlar reason why he had to be on duty, because they were docked and safely coc.o.o.ned within the might of the Dominion. Their comrades were suffering only a short distance away, but no harm could befall the chosen ones.
That is, no harm could befall them until tomorrow, when they set off on their mission. Perhaps that was why Sam couldn't sleep, why he had to haunt the bridge long after his s.h.i.+ft was over. He wasn't worried about their official mission, only the unofficial one. He had promised his crew that they would try to escape; it was their duty as prisoners of war. But how could he pull it off? Did he have the right to jeopardize all their lives in what could well be a futile gesture? Especially when they had a chance to survive this h.e.l.l.
Survival versus honor-it was a tough choice.
Sam was startled by heavy footsteps on the ladder, and he knew before he turned around that it was Grof. The big Trill lumbered up the steps, veered toward him, and slumped into the tactical station.
”Can't sleep?” asked Sam.
Grof scowled. ”No, of course I can't sleep with the voices coming from the quarters next door. That Deltan is up all night, entertaining her friend, Enrique.”
”Oh, let them be,” replied Sam, putting his hands behind his back. ”s.e.x is a kind of religious experience to Deltans. Besides, weren't you ever young ... and about to die?”
”We aren't going to die,” muttered Grof through clenched teeth. ”The Dominion should have continued to keep us segregated by s.e.x even here.”
”I guess they don't think of everything,” said Sam with a sly smile. ”And if we manage to live through this, it will be a miracle.”
”I wish you would stop saying that. Although it's dangerous, there's no reason why we can't successfully complete this mission.”
Yes, there is, thought Sam, but he wasn't going to tell Grof why. Besides, it was time to change the subject. ”Tell me about our destination, the Eye of Talek.”
Grof shrugged. ”It's the smallest black hole in Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce. Probably the oldest, too.”
”It's not an imploded star?”
”No,” answered Grof, ”the Eye of Talek dates from the formation of the universe. At least that's the legend according to the Carda.s.sians, and the cosmology tends to bear it out. Had we tried to go with an imploded star, the gravity would have been too great for our operation. You know, a typical black hole keeps the same ma.s.s it had when it was a star. As for the small ones, like the Eye of Talek, and the huge ones, like that monster at the center of our galaxy-we can only guess where they came from.”
”Some people think it was a supreme being who created the universe,” said Sam. ”What we call G.o.d. Some people wouldn't like the idea of you creating an artificial wormhole either. Don't you sometimes feel like you're playing G.o.d?”
”Yes,” answered Grof proudly, ”but it's necessary to play G.o.d. Once we discovered that s.p.a.ce and time were curved, it was essential that we try to exploit the intersections where they curve back upon themselves. Where G.o.d failed was that he made wormholes unstable. The Bajorans consider the Prophets to be G.o.ds, simply because they stabilized a wormhole. Imagine what kind of G.o.d I'll be after I stabilize hundreds of wormholes, connecting every corner of the galaxy?”
Sam shook his head in amazement. ”You have a big enough ego for the job.”
”I'll take that as a compliment,” said Grof smugly.
The lieutenant yawned and pointed to the sleeping alcove off the rear of the bridge. ”You're welcome to bunk back there if you don't want to go below.”
Grof glowered at the injustice of it all, but he finally acceded. ”Thank you.”
The bear of a Trill rose to his feet and shuffled off; then he looked back. ”You know, Lavelle, this mission depends entirely upon you. You're our leader. If you crack-or you pull something stupid-we'll all go down with you.”
”Not that you would put any pressure on me,” muttered Sam.
”I just want you to know how much is riding on this. Our equality-”
”Equality?” Sam burst out laughing. ”We're slaves, Grof. Maybe someday a few of us could aspire to attain the status of a Jem'Hadar or a Vorta. Well, thanks but no thanks. There's only one race who matters-the Founders. The rest of us are just the help. If you try to be a G.o.d, they'll squash you like a bug. The Founders are the G.o.ds around here.”
Grof opened his mouth and started to respond, but Sam let him off the hook by jumping up and brus.h.i.+ng past him. Stomping as loudly as the burly Trill, he headed down the ladder.
In the corridor outside the captain's quarters, Ro Laren compressed her lips in annoyance as she listened to the sounds of their prisoner kicking the bulkhead. Even though he had restraints on his arms and legs, he was still thras.h.i.+ng around like a fish in the bottom of a boat. She couldn't understand why Captain Picard had put the Carda.s.sian in their best cabin; whatever impression he wished to make, it was obviously lost on the brute.
The captain stood beside her, his jaw clenched. He motioned to four armed officers behind him and said, ”Phasers set to heavy stun.”
”We can't keep him stunned all the time,” said Ro.
”I know. And I am open to other suggestions.”
”We could throw him out an airlock.”
The captain scowled. ”That's not an option. If we could only interrogate him, he might be useful.”
”Chances are good he doesn't know anything about the artificial wormhole,” said Ro, ”stationed in the middle of nowhere like he was. The Carda.s.sians are good at keeping secrets, even from each other. We could jeopardize the mission if we take him with us into the Badlands, and we'll be there soon.”
”Nonetheless, Captain,” said Picard with determination. ”It is always worthwhile to try talking.” He tapped his comm badge. ”This is Boothby to the captain's quarters. Please quiet down and listen to me. You are our guest, and we would like to send you home.”
But the ferocious thras.h.i.+ng went on, and it was now centered on the door itself. He could wreak some serious damage if left alone like this, thought Ro.
Picard glanced at the crew a.s.sembled to help them, and he picked the two stoutest officers. ”You two, hand your weapons to the others, and let's subdue him by hand. Stand on either side of me. The rest of you, be prepared to use your phasers.”
Ro hefted her Bajoran phaser rifle as Picard stepped closer to the door. After the two unarmed officers took up their places on either side of him, the captain reached a long arm across the bulkhead to touch the wall panel and open the cabin door.
As soon as the door slid open, the Carda.s.sian head-b.u.t.ted Picard sending him reeling into the bulkhead. Then came a howl of indignation as the Carda.s.sian hopped out, his legs bound together and his hands tied behind him. Lowering his shoulders, he bulled into the two unarmed guards and knocked them back on their heels. He hadn't looked so big lying on the deck, but now he looked huge, with his thick neck muscles bulging like the hood of a cobra.
”Surrender!” ordered Picard staggering to his feet.
”Die!” shrieked the Carda.s.sian. He lowered his head and charged toward the captain.
Ro lifted her rifle, ready to protect the captain, but he stepped gracefully away from the charge as he brought his knee upward in a swift kick. He caught the Carda.s.sian in the nose, and he howled as his head bounced. Then Picard grabbed him by the seat of his pants and tossed him headfirst to the deck. That should have subdued him, but the bloodied Carda.s.sian rolled onto his knees and tried to stand once more.
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