Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
Abruptly, the issue became an academic one. The officer pointed to Astellanax as well. “You will come, too,” he said.
Then he eyed the rest of us and glanced again at his handheld device. After a moment’s consideration, the Cardassian picked out Worf, Sturgis, Thadoc, and myself, and informed us that we would be accompanying him.
We didn’t know on what basis we had been selected though I might have ventured a guess but we didn’t argue with the decision. When the officer left the cargo bay, we left with him, flanked by a pair of armed guards.
The Cardassians escorted us down a corridor to their version of a turbolift. The door irised open and we went inside. Then the officer punched in a destination code.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t see it from where I was standing. A few moments later, the lift stopped and the door irised open again, allowing us to enter a dimly lit corridor.
I looked right and then left. To my right, the corridor wound out of sight. To my left, it ended in a rather ornate egress.
Only then did I realize where we were headed.
Remember, the Federation had been at war with the Cardassians years earlier. In the course of that war we had taken some of the enemy’s ships. Though I hadn’t personally toured one of those vessels, I had seen the schematics disseminated by Starfleet.
That’s how I knew we were headed for the bridge. But for the life of me, I couldn’t see what purpose our presence there was meant to serve.
The six of us were herded in the direction of two ornate doors. Just before we reached them, they parted for us. As I had predicted, the warship’s bridge was beyond them, as dark and smoldering with orange light as the rest of the vessel.
Like the other Cardassian bridges I had seen, this one had five stations two forward, two aft, and a massive-looking captain’s chair. Graphics in gold and electric blue gleamed at us from tactical screens situated on every bulkhead.
My attention was drawn to the viewscreen, which was considerably smaller than that of a Starfleet vessel and oval in shape. It gave us a view of the Daring as she hung in space, her port nacelle and parts of her hull charred beyond recognition.
I glanced at Abby. She seemed transfixed by the sight. You all know what she was feeling, I imagine. Certainly, I did. She was, after all, the captain of that crippled vessel.
The gul in charge of the warship turned and took note of our arrival. He was a tall, almost gangly specimen, with the self-assurance bordering on arrogance that I had come to associate with Cardassian leadership.
“I see everyone has arrived,” he said. He turned to Abby. “As you will note, your bridge officers are all present at least, insofar as our sensor data could identify them. In general, we took pains not to kill any more of your people than we absolutely had to.”
“That was generous of you,” Abby replied, no doubt meaning to inject a note of sarcasm.
But her voice was hollow, drained of energy. Of course, a stun blast would have had that effect on even the strongest victim.
The Cardassian smiled. “I am accustomed to being addressed by my name and title. From now on, you will call me Gul Ecor whenever you speak to me. Is that clear, human?”
Abby frowned. “It’s clear.”
“It’s clear, what?” asked the gul.
The woman’s eyes blazed with hate, despite her fatigue. “It’s clear,” she said, “Gul Ecor.”
The Cardassian nodded, then glanced at the viewscreen. “Unfortunately,” he remarked, “I can’t treat your ship as I have your crew. It would serve as a marker with regard to our encounter here, and that might cause me problems in the future.”
He gestured to his weapons officer, whose fingers flew over his controls. A moment later, the Cardassian looked up.
“Ready, Gul Ecor.”
Ecor paused a moment, as if to build up the drama. Then he made a gesture of dismissal. “Fire.”
Suddenly, a pair of disruptor beams shot across the viewscreen, stabbing the Daring in her