Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [49]
The prisoner is to remain undamaged. Otherwise, Barnak knew, whoever had damaged him would be damaged in turn. Exquisitely so.
With an effort, the administrator put away his weapon, then motioned his guards to do the same. Apparently, he’d been wrong about the human. Only a madman would court death the way he had, for no apparent gain.
Barnak smiled a thin, grudging smile. “That concludes our interview. I regret that I have other business to attend to.” He glared at the human. “But do not worry. If you are withholding something from us, the proconsul will extract it from you. The time may come when you regret not having spoken with me.”
And with that, he left the room.
The first time Worf noticed the intermittent energy pulses on his long-range sensor monitor, he believed they were caused by a natural phenomenon. His best guess was that they’d come across a pulsar, positioned somewhere in Romulan space.
However, after he’d observed the pulses for a while, he began to wonder if he hadn’t discovered something else entirely.
That was when he put the ship’s computer on the case. Before long, an answer came back. The pulses didn’t seem to be generated by anything natural, the computer advised him.
More than likely, they represented some sort of message.
But what was it? Who had sent it? And for what purpose?
Again, he set the task before the ship’s computer. As it began its translation protocol, the Klingon tapped his communications badge. A moment later, he received an acknowledgment in the form of Picard’s voice.
“Yes, Lieutenant. What is it?”
Worf told him about the pulses. And by the time he was done, the computer had finished its work. The answer to his questions stood in small red letters on the otherwise dark monitor screen.
It wasn’t good news. Not at all.
“Lieutenant? Are you still there?”
“I am, sir,” the Klingon replied. “Unfortunately, our rescue mission just became a good deal more complicated.”
CHAPTER 12
Picard leaned forward in his chair at the head of the long, polished table that dominated the observation lounge. Riker, Troi, Geordi, Worf, Data, and Doctor Crusher looked back at him from their customary seats.
Admiral McCoy was there as well, of course, at the far end of the table. Though the captain had been tempted to leave him out of this, he ultimately had no recourse but to invite him.
“So,” said Picard, glancing from one face to the next “it seems we now have more than one hostage situation to address.”
“More than one?” Troi echoed.
The captain nodded. “Montgomery Scott—another of the admiral’s old comrades—seems to have been lost m Romulan space. That’s the message Mister Worf received just a little while ago—from Captain Scott himself apparently, via a series of energy pulses.”
McCoy’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the news. After all, he had served with Scott on the original Enterprise.
“How the devil did Scotty get into Romulan territory?” he admiral rasped.
“I wondered that myself,” said Picard. “As a result, I did some checking with Starfleet Command—which provided some rather interesting information.”
Picard went on to describe the “liberation” of the Yorktown. By the time he finished, there were more than a few expressions of admiration around the table.
“Impressive,” said Crusher.
Picard agreed. “Few men could have gotten that ship NATO action in so brief a time,” he commented. “Captain Scott, it seems, is one of them.”
“You can say that again,” McCoy muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.
Riker’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t just a coincidence, is it? He must have gotten wind of Spock’s capture and set out to rescue the ambassador on his own.”
The captain nodded. “That’s what Starfleet Command believes as well.”
The admiral harrumphed. “At least someone showed they had the guts to get Spock back,” he remarked pointedly.
Picard darted a glance in McCoy’s direction. He would not take the bait, he told himself. He would not.
“What are our orders, sir?” asked Data.
The captain turned to him. “Our orders are largely the same as before. We are