Part 17 (1/2)
Picard wondered fleetingly if, racial considerations or not, it mightn't have been a good idea to have Worf on hand, anyway.
”I am Aneel,” he said.
”You are the amba.s.sador?”
His grin exposed jagged teeth, a couple of which, on the right side, were broken. ”That is the rank to which I've risen, yes.”
”I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”
”You are in charge?”
”That is the rank to which I've risen, yes,” said Picard dryly.
”Excellent. Where is the Klingon swine?”
Picard's jaw set for a moment. ”The Klingon amba.s.sador is in his cabin, and would like to meet with you at your convenience.”
”Oh, would he?” There was the sound of snorting, derisive laughter from the others.
”Now, you listen here, Captain,” said Aneel, and he roughly grasped Picard's shoulders in his three-fingered hands.
That was all he did, for the next second Riker's fist slammed in to the side of his head. Aneel released Picard, turning toward the first officer, and Riker shoved him back with a well-placed kick. He stumbled backward and was caught by the other Kreel in the group.
Picard tapped his communicator and snapped, ”Picard to security.”
And the Kreel laughed.
It was an unpleasant sound, like a pack of wild dogs.
Picard, who was behind Riker, watched in astonishment as the Kreel envoys chortled among themselves.
”Excellent,” said Aneel. ”Excellent! This worthy gentleman, Captain ... is he your head-of-security?”
Worf's voice came over the communicator, actually sounding concerned. ”Security here.”
”Stand by,” said Picard cautiously. ”Amba.s.sador ... ”
”Aneel,” he said, dusting himself off. ”Merely Aneel. We Kreel are not as caught up in t.i.tles as the Federation and the Klingons”- and they all spat-”seem to be.”
Picard walked around Riker, ignoring the first officer's restraining arm. He went straight up to Aneel.
In no uncertain terms, and looking the Kreel right in the eyes, he said, ”There will be no spitting on my s.h.i.+p. There will be no fighting on my s.h.i.+p. And diplomatic mission or no, if you can't be trusted, there will be no freedom for you on my s.h.i.+p. Is that understood?”
Aneel once again smiled that toothy smile. ”Perfectly, Captain.”
As if his manhandling of the captain moments ago had been forgotten, he casually introduced the other members of his group. It seemed to Picard that whereas the Klingons accompanying Kobry had been an honor guard, the Kreel who had materialized with Aneel seemed to be his drinking buddies. Aneel may have been the amba.s.sador, but the rest of them appeared to be little more than rabble-rousing troublemakers.
Picard decided to take no chances. Whereas with the Klingons he'd waited until he could discuss the matter with Kobry in private, with the Kreel it would be best if he acted immediately.
”I need to take your hand weapons in to protective custody.”
That stopped the chuckling and good-time att.i.tude immediately. Aneel frowned. ”Why?” he asked dangerously.
”Because I want to make sure no one blows someone else's fool head off while you're on my s.h.i.+p” was the terse reply.
”And if we refuse?”
”Then we send you back to your s.h.i.+p.”
At that moment the transporter chief said, ”Captain, the Kreel s.h.i.+p has already moved beyond transporter range.”
Aneel grinned fiercely. ”And now if we won't give you our weapons?”
Picard stepped closer until he was practically nose-to-nose with the Kreel, although Picard had to crane his neck.
”Then you walk home.”
There was a strained silence for the moment.
Aneel pulled out his large disruptor, and Riker immediately started toward him, ready to yank the captain out of the way. But Aneel quite calmly reversed the weapon, preferring the b.u.t.t-end to Picard. ”Be my guest,” he said.
Riker breathed an inward sigh of relief as Picard, taking the gun, said calmly, ”Actually, you are invited to be our guests. As long as you behave in a manner befitting guests.”
Aneel gestured that the others should likewise hand their weapons over to Picard. It was Riker and the transporter chief, though, who actually went through and collected the weapons. Aneel half-bowed, with a graciousness that seemed completely inappropriate to him.
As Picard watched all this, Worf's voice came over the communicator. ”Captain ... security still standing by.”
”It's all right, we have a handle on it here. Picard out.” He cut off the communication before the Kreel could notice it and identify the voice coming over the communicator as that of a Klingon.
”All we wish is to make successful, peaceable inroads,” said Aneel. He smiled again, that same unpleasant smile.
”My att.i.tude precisely,” replied Picard.
”Good. Now ... where is the Klingon swine?”
Picard sighed inwardly. What's the use? he thought.
”Follow me,” said Picard, and led them out of the transporter room.
They made a bizarre procession. Picard and Aneel in the front, a troop of lightly-clad Kreel behind them, and Riker and Troi bringing up the rear, Riker laden down with an a.s.sortment of Kreel hand weapons. They attracted stares from everyone they happened to pa.s.s, and Riker was so self-conscious he was starting to get an idea of how that academy instructor had felt.
”Truly a magnificent s.h.i.+p, Captain,” said Aneel.
”Thank you.”
”Despite our recent advances, we Kreel have nothing compared to this. Or, for that matter, to that marvelous transporter. What a pity that technology is not shared equally by all, wouldn't you say?”
”Technology,” replied Picard, arms folded behind him, ”is usually developed by a people when they are ready to handle it. Not before that.”
”That is the convenient excuse given by all advanced cultures to make certain that those less fortunate remain so.”