A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [27]
“I told you,” said the councillor, “we have no information concerning that vessel. Nor do we have information regarding what you call your away team. Finally, we wonder if this professed need for information is your real reason for disturbing us. In any case, you are not welcome here.”
“Am I to understand,” asked Riker, “that you will not help us in our investigation? Even though our comrades’ lives may be at stake?”
“This is correct.”
“Perhaps, then, you can drop your energy field-temporarily. So that we may conduct our own investigation.”
“That is impossible-for security reasons. What’s more, if you do not depart immediately, we will be forced to defend ourselves against your presence. This is the end of our communication.”
A moment later, the image on the viewscreen blinked out, to be replaced by the mantle’s now familiar interference field.
“They’ve terminated their signal,” reported Fong, underlining the obvious.
Riker bit his lip. The Klah’kimmbri were playing their role to the hilt.
But he’d be jeopardizing the ship and its crew if he stayed here. The engines were already being pushed to their limits. It was the wrong time to get involved in an exchange of fire.
“Mister Data, take us back to our former position.”
“Aye, Commander.”
Riker was halfway back to the command center when he had a brainstorm.
“No-check that, Data. Heading-let’s see… seven four four mark nine one. Half-impulse until we break free of A’klah’s atmosphere.”
“Acknowledged,” said the android.
With only the slightest of tremors, the ship started to ascend. The golden light of the mantle continued to whip from one end of the viewscreen to the other. But soon it would begin to thin out.
Riker took the captain’s seat. “Mister Fong,” he said, “given the conditions in this system, what do you estimate our maximum scanning range to be?”
Fong gave him a figure. It was actually a little greater than he had expected, considering the amount of debris in the vicinity.
“When we reach that distance from A’klah,” he told Data, “I want you to stop and hold us steady.”
“Will do, sir,” said the android.
Riker felt Troi’s gaze on him. He returned it.
The empath was looking at him with a little half smile, tempered only by her concern for the away team. Obviously, she’d figured out what he was up to.
He acknowledged her with a curt nod.
Sometimes, he told himself, Mohammed must withdraw to another mountain.
The post of Preparation Overseer seldom involved any serious decisions. That was fine with Lean’druc-he hated making them.
However, this time he could not avoid it.
“You see the problem?” said his undertechnician-one named Cafar’ris. “It is some sort of prosthetic device. Without it, he is blind.”
Lean’druc considered the prone form of the one who wore the prosthesis. Unconscious, he had no idea what had happened to him-nor, for that matter, that he was the subject of this discussion.
Of course, the conscripts were supposed to be stripped of everything-all garb, all forms of equipment. But this case was a little different, wasn’t it? Without the device, the alien could not see. And if he could not see, how could he truly participate?
“What was his aptitude level?”
“Quite high,” said Cafar’ris. “And he is otherwise in perfect health.” The undertechnician glanced at Lean’druc. “If I may say so, Overseer, it would be a shame to release him without the device. He would not survive for very long-nor would his death be-“
Lean’druc held up his hand for silence. It was hardly an undertechnician’s place to give him advice.
Nonetheless, Cafar’ris had a point. Able-bodied participants were increasingly few and far between, it seemed. Why waste one for the sake of a rather arbitrary regulation?
“All right,” he said. “Let him keep the device.”
Cafar’ris seemed pleased with the decision. “As you wish, Overseer.”
Lean’druc scanned the other aliens-all prone like this one, all oblivious