Captain's Table 02_ Dujonian's Hoard - Michael Jan Friedman [9]
“All right,” he said at last. “Perhaps I’ll tell it after all.”
Robinson smiled. “Now, there’s a lad.”
“A warrior,” said Hompaq.
Indeed, thought Picard. And he began weaving his yarn.
The Tale
MY STORY BEGINS a couple of months ago. I and my ship, the fifth Federation vessel to bear the name Enterprise, were performing a routine planetary survey when we received a communication from Starfleet Command.
It was an eyes-only communication which meant I needed to receive it in private. Leaving my first officer in charge of the bridge, I repaired to my ready room.
As it turned out, the communication was from Admiral Gorton a very likeable fellow with whom I shared an interest in equestrian sports and French wines. I asked him what I could do for him.
Gorton frowned, making the lines in his weathered face seem deeper than usual. “Normally,” he pointed out, “Starfleet doesn’t ask its captains to search for missing persons. In this instance, however, I’m afraid I’ve got to make an exception.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Very well, then. I take it there is something unusual about this missing person?”
“There is indeed. His name is Brant, Richard Brant. Ring a bell?”
I thought for a moment. “Wasn’t there a Richard Brant aboard the LaSalle? Its first officer, as I recall?”
“Your memory is as good as ever,” Gorton confirmed. “For reasons of his own, Brant resigned from Starfleet almost a year ago. His intention was to charter expeditions to exotic destinations.”
“And?” I prodded gently.
“He dropped out of sight about a couple of months ago, as far as we can tell. At first, we suspected he had been abducted by the Maquis, since his expeditions took him into the vicinity of the Badlands.”
“The Maquis haven’t engaged much in kidnapping,” I noted.
“True,” said Gorton. “That doesn’t seem to be the way they normally operate. Still, we couldn’t rule it out as a possibility. Then, less than a week ago, Command received word that the Maquis had nothing to do with Brant’s disappearance.”
“You have a lead on him, then?” I asked.
Gorton nodded. “We’ve learned that Brant was seized by mercenaries in the Caliabris sector.”
I was puzzled. “Mercenaries? What would they want with him?”
“Jean-Luc,” said the admiral, “have you ever heard of something called the Hoard of Dujonian?”
I nodded. After all, I had been a student of archaeology since my days at Starfleet Academy.
“The Hoard,” I said, “was part of a treasure unearthed on Cardassia Prime some two hundred years ago, when the Cardassians excavated a series of large Hebitian tombs.”
For those of you unfamiliar with the Hebitians, they were the cultural ancestors of the Cardassians a peaceful and spiritual people who are said to have loved justice and learning.
It seems that wasn’t all they loved. Their burial chambers were magnificent vaults, filled from wall to wall with priceless, jeweled baubles.
But it wasn’t merely the quality of their gems that made some of the Hebitian artifacts so priceless.
“One variety of jewel unearthed with the treasure was called glor’ya,” I continued. “It was found to have properties similar to dilithium, but vastly superior. Cardassian scientists saw in it unlimited potential, certainly with regard to propulsion capabilities but also when it came to weapons design.”
“Exactly right,” said Gorton. “Then you must also know the rest of it how, according to legend, a twenty-second-century Cardassian named Dujonian managed to steal all the Hebitians’ glor’ya-encrusted artifacts and hide them somewhere off-planet.”
“Nor was he ever heard from again,” I mused, “so the truth of the matter could never be proven, nor Dujonian himself taken to task for his actions.”
However, I was unaware of any link between Brant and the Hoard. I said so.
Gorton frowned. “Our source tells me these mercenaries believe Brant can lead them to Dujonian’s treasure trove.”
I grunted softly. “Why would they believe this?”
The admiral shook his