Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [82]
Telling myself that didn’t make my decision any easier. But it made me see it was the only decision I could make.
“We do make a hell of a team,” I told Abby, “and part of me wants very much to remain. But like you, I’ve made a commitment to others and to myself and I cannot help but see it through.”
For a moment, she looked as if she would argue with me, try to talk me into staying. Then it seemed she thought better of it.
“I understand,” Abby told me, her voice wavering only slightly.
“I knew you would,” I replied.
And that was that.
We spent the next night on the surface of another barren planet, helping the rebels set up their camp while a select few of them used the Orion’s transporter to bury their Hoard. I met people from races I had never seen before and would probably never see again. And I spent a few precious hours with Abby Brant.
The next morning, Worf and I along with the three other men who had decided not to join the rebels gathered in the center of the camp. We said good-bye to the friends we had made. Then Richard Brant called the mercenary vessel and told her captain to beam us up.
I gazed for the last time at Abby, doing my best to memorize everything I could about her her eyes, her manner, her bearing. Then I found myself on an Orion transporter pad, alongside Worf and the others.
The transporter technician was slight and angular, with black, staring eyes, a bluish white topknot, and skin the color of bronze. He looked up at us after a moment.
“You’re sure you want to go back?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Too bad,” he said, making no effort to hide his disappointment. “The Gate gives me indigestion.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him, but my mind was elsewhere.
Exiting the transporter chamber, I made my way out into the corridor and located a diamond-shaped observation port with a view of the world below us. As I stood there, we began to break orbit.
“Captain?” said a deep voice.
I turned and saw Worf standing behind me.
“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.
I found I was glad for the company. “No,” I told the lieutenant. “I don’t mind at all.”
Together, we watched the rebels’ new home dwindle beneath us, until it was the size of a ball and then a coin and then barely visible at all. At last, I lost sight of it.
And, regrettably, Abby with it.
Nonetheless, I found I was happy for her. Happy beyond words.
After all, she had found a treasure far more precious than anything she might have hoped for … an opportunity to start her life anew.
But if Abby Brant had found a treasure, Jean-Luc Picard had lost one. And no matter how far I traveled, no matter how many exotic star systems I explored, I knew I might never see its like again.
Madigoor
AS THE STORY ended, there was silence around the table. Picard’s companions looked at one another. Then they nodded.
“A good story,” Bo’tex decided.
“A very good story,” Dravvin insisted.
“Just very good?” Robinson responded.
“Masterful,” said the Captain of the Kalliope. “I won’t even attempt to tell one of my own.”
Hompaq grumbled in agreement. “Why waste it when the contest has already been won?”
Flenarrh smiled at Picard. “I’m glad Lafitte didn’t run you through before you could tell it.”
“As a matter of fact,” the captain replied, “so am I.”
Just then, the gecko roused itself and skittered to the edge of our table. With a last look around, it leaped off and lost itself in the crowd.
“Talk about your fair-weather friends,” commented the Captain of the Kalliope. “Show’s over and he’s gone.”
Smiling in his beard, Robinson leaned closer to his fellow human. “Answer a question for me, Picard.”
The captain of the Enterprise shrugged. “Ask away.”
“If your story’s true,” Robinson inquired, “why have I never heard of Hel’s Gate before? As long as I’ve frequented the Captain’s Table, and that’s long indeed, why has no one ever mentioned such a phenomenon?”
“I was wondering that