Part 7 (1/2)
”Wonderful!” yelled Hagan. ”All we have to be worried about is a fully armed stars.h.i.+p! That you brought here! Against explicit instructions!”
”Yes,” Nayfack agreed casually. ”Stupid instructions, if you ask me. All we need to do is to destroy the Enterprise and we're in business again. n.o.body else has the slightest idea that we're here.”
”Destroy a stars.h.i.+p. Oh, yes, very likely!”
Nayfack laughed. ”Come on, you know what the boss has in that Preserver vault of his. It should be a breeze to get rid of them. All you have to do is contact him and tell him. And be certain you let him know that this was my idea. If I hadn't convinced Captain Picard I was a Federation security agent, he'd have reported the destruction of the yacht to Starfleet. The whole cloud would have been swarming with s.h.i.+ps, and we'd have been finished.”
”They would never have found the tunnel, you jacka.s.s!” Hagan shook his staff again. ”You just did this to save your own miserable hide. And if the captain hadn't believed you, then you'd no doubt have told him everything to curry his favor and get a lesser sentence.”
”Never,” insisted Nayfack. He wasn't stupid enough to admit that had been his secondary plan. He could have bought his freedom with information.
”Do you think that if we destroy the Enterprise Starfleet will just ignore it?” Hagan was beyond fury now. ”They'll take this sector of s.p.a.ce apart with microscopes! Anything that can annihilate one of their s.h.i.+ps will be of great interest and concern to them. You've placed us in greater danger with your stupid attempt to save your own miserable life.”
”I'm helping us build a better bargaining platform,” Nayfack argued. ”Look, we know that the stuff the boss has stashed away in that Preserver base of his can wipe out the Enterprise. Once we've done that, we can contact the Ferengi, the Romulans, and the Federation. Offer to sell this stuff to the highest bidder and free pa.s.sage to wherever we want.” He didn't bother to mention that the idea was mostly culled from his conversations with Picard's staff. ”Then we could retire and live in luxury. No need to work again.”
”You moron,” Hagan snarled. ”We'd already con sidered the idea of selling what we've found. But we could never trust the Romulans or the Ferengi. They'd slit our throats and steal what they could. And the Federation wouldn't deal with a bunch of outlaws for this stuff. We're safer doing things the way we are, even if it means more work.” He glowered at Nayfack in disgust. ”But we all know how little you like work, don't we?”
Nayfack hadn't expected Hagan to be happy, but he was getting annoyed with the other man's refusal to see what he had accomplished. ”Just contact the boss and tell him what I've done,” he ordered. ”Let's see what he's got to say.”
”I know what he'll say.” Hagan twisted the head of his cane, and there was a soft click. The wooden length fell away, exposing a long, thin blade. With surprising speed, he whipped the dagger up and thrust hard. Nayfack gave an incredulous grunt of pain and shock as the stiletto rammed into his heart. ”He'll say he wished he had killed you long ago.” Hagan twisted, then tugged the blade free.
Nayfack fell, his face still locked in a gasp of astonishment. He was dead before his body hit the floor. Hagan knelt, fastidiously avoiding the spreading pool of blood. He wiped the blade clean on Nayfack's tunic, then replaced it in its wooden sheath.
”You were always a problem to us,” he said to the corpse. ”Now I have to dispose of your body. And you've left us with no other option than to destroy the Enterprise.” He kicked Nayfack hard. It felt good, so he repeated the action. ”You utter imbecile.” He turned toward the curtain at the end of the room just as the front door opened.
His first reaction as the man-at-arms entered was one of disgust. Now he'd have to pay this man to get rid of the corpse. All the swordsmen in this town seemed to have empty pockets. He unclipped the pouch of coins from his belt, ready to hand it over for services rendered. His second reaction was panic.
”Nayfack!” The man-at-arms stopped, seeing the body on the floor. Behind him, a finely dressed lady stumbled against him in the doorway.
Hagan realized that Nayfack's stupidity had surpa.s.sed even the loose boundaries he had set it. This pair could only be from the Enterprise, trailing the dead man here-to him! The whole game was unraveling, thanks to Nayfack. With a curse Hagan dropped the purse and leapt backward. His hands grabbed the jar he had left conveniently beside the exit and threw it down onto the floor in front of the swordsman.
Riker whipped around to s.h.i.+eld Deanna as the jar exploded. Green flames leapt up from the floor. He managed to s.n.a.t.c.h up something from the carpet before heat seared across his exposed skin. He pushed Deanna backward, into the street. As they staggered out, the whole room caught fire. The wooden walls were thoroughly dry, and probably the shop's owner had treated them. Riker had seen only the swirl of the curtain at the far end of the room. The man had made his getaway, obviously long planned.
The fire danced about the room, turning a brighter yellow and crimson as everything burst into flame.
The inhabitants of the street began yelling and piling out into the open. With buildings as close together as these were, there was a real threat of the whole street-if not the whole town-going up in flames. Riker grabbed Deanna's arm and urged her back through the growing crowd. They hurried away, casting anxious glances back over their shoulders as the building writhed in the grip of the fire.
Deanna sighed. ”I think that's what they call a dead end.”
”Right.” Riker stopped in an empty street. Everyone in this section of the town was rus.h.i.+ng to help beat down the fire before it spread. When he was certain he couldn't be seen, Riker tapped the communicator b.u.t.ton in his sword hilt. ”Riker to Enterprise. Come in, Geordi.”
His only reply was a crackle of static. He tried again, with the same results.
”It's no good, Will,” Deanna said. ”Geordi told us there was a good chance that the graviton fluctuations might interfere with transmissions. I guess we're cut off for the moment.”
”Yes.” Riker slammed his fist against the nearest wall. ”d.a.m.n.” Then he gave her a weak smile. ”Well, I hope the captain is having better luck than we are.”
Chapter Eleven.
”OH, THAT'S VERY SOOTHING.” Lieutenant Reg Barclay closed his eyes and dug his fingers deeper into the soil. ”Yes, you're right-it's a sort of primitive pull deep in the soul, isn't it?” He opened his eyes again and smiled happily at Keiko O'Brien. ”It's really therapeutic, isn't it?”
Keiko's face wrinkled in a smile. ”Reg, I think you're overdoing it a bit. I know I said that working with the soil is very relaxing, but it's not that great.”
”Oh.” Barclay jerked his fingers out of the dirt, brus.h.i.+ng them off on the pants of his uniform. His face fell back into its normal expression of vague worry, coupled with an embarra.s.sed flush. ”I guess I was kind of trying a bit hard, wasn't I? But I do so much want to experience the thrill of returning to humanity's roots, so to speak.”
Keiko couldn't restrain herself, and she had to laugh this time. Her husband, Transporter Chief Miles...o...b..ien, had recently befriended the overenthusiastic systems a.n.a.lyst. He had suggested to Keiko that she introduce Barclay to the joys of gardening, while warning her that Barclay's responses were sometimes a little out of alignment with reality. Now she could see what Miles meant-Barclay was simply trying too hard to experience the emotions that she had explained to him. ”Just relax,” she advised him. ”Don't force it. Just do it, and let the emotions come by themselves. You don't have to dive into it. In fact, it's better if you don't. One of the great pleasures of gardening is that you can simply work without too much conscious thought. It's very relaxing, even when you get tired and sweaty.”
Reg swallowed and nodded. ”Okay, I'll try and remember that. Don't try too hard. Just relax and let it flow. Okay, got it.” He gave her another nervous grin. ”What's next?”
Laughing again, Keiko led him to a tray of seedlings. She loved her work in the botanical section, and it took very little effort to relay her love to Barclay. For all of his nervousness around her-and almost everyone else-Barclay was almost pathetically eager to please. He was very bright, but he was more at ease in the rarefied atmosphere of the intellect than with human contact. He was always uncomfortable around other people but constantly attempting to make them happy. Keiko could see why Miles thought Barclay would relate well to plants. It would be less emotionally draining for him than working with people. ”I'll a.s.sign this tray of Andoran glitterlings to you,” she said. ”They grow quickly, so you'll see results in weeks instead of months. But you have to take good care of them, because they are rather delicate.”
”Oh, I will, I will,” Barclay promised fervently. Leaning over the tray, he beamed down at them. ”h.e.l.lo, little seedlings.”
Keiko smiled again and handed him a compupad. ”Here are all the instructions, Reg,” she told him. ”Just be very careful to establish a routine and stay with it.” She gestured across the large indoor garden. ”I have a lot of other work to do, so I'll leave you to get on with it, okay?”
”Okay,” he agreed. ”And-thank you, Keiko.” He watched her leave and sighed. O'Brien was one lucky guy to have married someone as pretty and personable as Keiko. He wished he had that kind of luck, but he always felt so self-conscious about women. He was so afraid of making an idiot of himself that he invariably did precisely that.
He dragged his mind back to the matter at hand. He'd been given charge of these glitterlings, and he'd be very careful to cultivate them properly. Placing the compupad on the table beside the tray, Barclay reached over and gently touched the soil's surface with the tips of his fingers. He wanted to experience the earth that his little charges called home. Closing his eyes, he attempted to empathize with the seedlings. He breathed slowly and deeply, feeling himself relax. It really was quite therapeutic when you- ”Lieutenant Barclay!”
Barclay's eyes snapped open as he heard his name snarled. Facing him across the table was Worf. Unable to prevent himself, Barclay gave a yelp of terror and leapt back a pace, stumbling against another table of seedlings. The table rocked, and he grabbed at it wildly to prevent it from collapsing and scattering the trays all over the deck. His heart pounded in his ears. What had he done now that the head of security was after him? He couldn't think.
”Are you well, Lieutenant Barclay?” inquired Worf. ”You seem somewhat-tense.”
”Tense?” squeaked Barclay. ”Me?” He swallowed hard. ”Oh, no, sir. Not me. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Just dandy, really.”
Worf's eyes narrowed suspiciously. ”You are certain?”
”Oh, yes, quite certain,” Barclay a.s.sured him nervously. ”Never felt better in my life.”
”Good.” Worf dismissed the problem. ”I have come to seek your help.”
Barclay's jaw fell. ”My help?” He was at a total loss now. ”Uhh ... I don't understand, sir. My help with what? I'm off-duty right now... . But if it's important, of course I could reschedule my work period and-”
Worf couldn't understand why Barclay was ranting on like this. ”It is a matter of leisure, Lieutenant, not work. Guinan suggested that you may be of a.s.sistance to me.”
”She did?” Barclay was still in the dark. ”Oh, well, I'm sure if she said that, then she's bound to be right. I'm definitely able to help you. She's always right on the ball.” He blinked several times. ”Uh-with what?”
Worf looked rather uncomfortable. ”I am experiencing ... envy,” he finally admitted. ”I am jealous of those persons who have been allowed to beam down to the planet below us. The culture of this world fascinates me.” He smiled rea.s.suringly at Barclay, who looked as if he might faint at any second. ”Do you know anything at all about Germanic knights and their code of chivalry?”
”Chivalry?” On safer ground now, Barclay stopped trembling. ”Oh, yes-lots! King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and all that! I love it!”
Worf draped a friendly hand about Barclay's shoulders. Barclay staggered under the weight. ”Excellent, Mr. Barclay. Then it appears that Guinan was correct. You can help me.”
”What would you like me to do, sir?”
”I want to meet these knights in combat... . ”