Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [87]
Take back the ship. It had seemed a bold and simple statement when he’d said it quickly, but now, as he looked down at the forbidding size and complications of the frigate, and the damage they would have to deal with, and the men guarding it, the concept took on afflictions.
And he was curious that the computer hadn’t made somebody stop him. This was a holoprogram, ofcourse, not just a book or a play, There were interactive elements. Yet this particular program was also history—real events that had to happen a certain way. He could go back and win Trafalgar for the French if he wanted to, but that couldn’t happen in this kind of program. Certain things had to happen. The Justina had to be overtaken. Jeremiah and Sandy had to be reunited. Jeremiah had to have changed his loyalties. The program would naturally steer Picard and Alexander in certain directions, or keep them from doing something that absolutely did not occur, like killing Jeremiah or burning the town.
But how far could he push it?
Retaking the ship… had it really happened? Was he taking the place of an officer who had orchestrated it? Would they succeed?
Or did the computer even know? Sandy Leonfeld’s journals hadn’t been this detailed, of course. The essence of conversations had been noted, but not the actual lines. Yet the computer, with its vast billions of bits of data, had reached into history and reconstructed all this. And eyewitness tests with contemporary events had proven time and again that the holodeck computers did their jobs remarkably well. There was good reason to believe just as excellent a job would be done with the past.
So, could he save the ship? Or would he be thwarted? And would this clumsy old program accidentally slice his head off with a slashing headsail sheet?
Whatever the chances, he suspected this program would give him the chance to manipulate events. So be it. He would deal with the risk. Right now he felt like saving something.
“They got their own crew on board,” Wollard commented with bald disgust from Picard’s side. “On our ship!”
“Bloody rebel colonists on a British ship!” Bennett echoed with the same invective, his teeth pressed together.
“Keep quiet, both of you,” Picard said. He glanced at the militia soldiers who stood barely paces down the dock from them. “If we’re found out, we’ll be shot.”
“Sir, look!” Wollard gasped, and pointed.
Picard—and all—looked down the fence, beyond three women in Quakerlike dress.
“It’s Mr. Pennington!” Nightingale uttered, remembering to hold his voice down, and he stepped away from the fence.
Reaching out quickly, Picard snatched the young officer’s arm, then crossed by him. “Wait! I’ll speak to him. All of you stay here.”
“I’ll go with you!” Alexander spoke up, and hurried forward.
Picard almost stopped him, then remembered the reason he was here at all. “Yes, all right.”
He stepped away from the small fence and felt the eyes of the men follow him down the wharf. Pennington stood grimly watching the ship being tied to the dock. He was still in uniform and his injured right arm was in a crude sling.
Just before Picard would have reached Pennington’s side, Pennington noticed his approach and blinked in shock.
“Mr. Picard!” he choked out. Then he suddenly noticed that Picard was out of uniform, and glanced about almost frantically.
“Mr. Pennington,” Picard responded, “are you well, sir?”
“Yes, I’m reasonably well, but how is it that you’re here? Have you been captured?” Pennington’s voice barely went over a whisper, and he was supremely aware of the people victoriously crowding the dock to watch the big ship being brought in, and of the armed guards.
“We came in under cover of night,” Picard explained. “Sergeant Leonfeld has a relative living in the town. We took refuge there. Are you under guard, sir?”
“No, I’m paroled. The crew has been imprisoned, but the officers are on our own recognizance, allowed to walk about if we swear on our honor not to leave the town or take any aggressive actions.”
“How many officers are here?”
“Myself, Fourth Lieutenant Frost, Engineer