Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [63]
When Worf returned fire, our greater proximity to the Abinarri worked in our favor as well. His first barrage ripped through their shields and breached their hull. The next one destroyed not only their propulsion system, but also half their weapons banks.
Like the other Abinarri, the vessel dropped back as if it had reached the end of its tether while the warbird continued to knife through the void at maximum warp. The alien was millions of kilometers behind us before we could draw another breath.
Abby nodded approvingly. “Well done,” she said, watching the stars fall away in our wake.
Worf inclined his head his way of saying thank you.
Abby looked at me. “You too, Picard.”
“What did I do?” I asked her.
“You had the sense to dart right through their formation,” she observed. “If you hadn’t, they might have caught us in a cross fire. Then our encounter might have had a different ending.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps.”
After all, I wasn’t looking for accolades. My only objective was to bring my mission to a satisfactory conclusion. At least, that was what I kept telling myself as I used my controls to return to warp four.
There was, of course, the matter of myself and Abby Brant. Not Red Abby the captain, not the tough-as-nails transport commander, but the woman with whom I had forged something of a bond.
A bond of mutual respect, one might say. Of camaraderie and maybe a bit more than that.
Such were my thoughts. No doubt, they ended up commanding more of my attention than they should have.
“Picard,” said Thadoc.
I looked at him. “Yes?”
“If you like,” he told me, “I could take over the helm for a while. It’s time for the change of shifts, and one hand should be enough as long as there’s no trouble.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Standing, I turned the helm over to him. At the same time, the lift doors opened and Dunwoody emerged onto the bridge at which point Worf moved aside and let the other fellow man the tactical station.
But the Klingon didn’t leave the bridge. Instead, he moved to one of the aft stations.
I looked at him. “What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked back. “Going over the data I obtained.”
“The data … ?” Red Abby repeated. Obviously, the woman had no idea what Worf was talking about.
But then, I was only beginning to understand myself.
“While the Abinarri ships were unshielded,” I ventured, “Mr. Worf must have taken the liberty of establishing a datalink with their computer.”
“A subspace datalink,” the Klingon explained. “Though it was in existence for only a few seconds in each case, I was able to upload a significant amount of information.”
If I had ever underestimated my tactical officer, I promised myself never to do so again.
Abby too looked at the Klingon with new respect. “Of course. In case we happen to run into the Abinarri a second time.”
“Either the Abinarri,” I granted her, “or any of the other species described in their database. One never knows what sort of knowledge will prove useful in uncharted waters.”
“Very impressive,” said Abby.
Worf shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Then he turned his attention to the data coming up on his screen. His brow beetled in response.
“Captain,” he said, “take a look at this.”
I followed his gesture to a list of Abinarri statutes which their commander had cited as reasons for detaining us. It turned out there were rather a lot of them. Thousands, in fact.
“Quite the busy little legislators,” I said, “aren’t they?”
My companion grunted. “And it seems they impose their laws on a great many other species.”
The data on the monitor screen bore that out. The Abinarri had subjected no less than thirty other species to their peculiar brand of justice, and they were currently attempting to add two more.
I frowned. It was one thing to follow one’s own cultural imperatives. To force others to follow them was another matter entirely.
“I don’t understand,” said Thadoc, who had apparently overheard our conversation. “How can they lord it over so many other worlds when their vessels are so unimpressive?”
“Unimpressive to us, perhaps,