Double Helix 06_ The First Virtue - Michael Jan Friedman [57]
“As you wish,” said the captain.
“Thank you for the wine,” Thul tossed back over his shoulder as he crossed the room.
“Anytime,” Picard told him. “May it help you sleep better.”
The Thallonian stopped at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, “assuming the council chamber is still standing then.”
“Tomorrow,” the captain replied.
And with that, Thul made his exit.
Picard watched the doors slide closed behind him. Then he raised his glass again and watched the way the light filtered through the wine. The stuff wouldn’t help him sleep better, he remarked inwardly. At that moment, he doubted anything would.
But he poured himself another glass, just in case.
After what seemed like an eternity of wrestling with his bonds, Jack Crusher arrived at the frustrating conclusion that they had been tied by the all-time expert.
“I’ve been at this forever,” he growled, half to himself.
“You have only been conscious for one hour, twelve minutes and seventeen seconds,” Tuvok corrected him. “And you have only spent seventy-six percent of that time attempting to free yourself.”
The commander opened his mouth to make a less-than-pleasant retort, when he heard scuffling sounds on the other side of the door. He glanced at Tuvok, who had obviously heard them too. They fell silent.
A moment later, they heard the grating sound of a bolt being lifted. Then the door was pushed open.
Crusher recognized the alien who stood in the doorway as a Thallonian, though he had never spoken to one before. The tall, red-skinned being surveyed them with bright eyes.
“My name is Mendan Abbis,” he said haughtily and incautiously. “I understand you’ve been sniffing around my steeds. Tell me, my friends-what do you really want with Bin Nedrach?”
“Ah,” said the commander, trying to act as if he weren’t in such a disadvantageous position. “So you’re the elusive rider we’ve been hearing about. I can’t say I much like the way you do business.”
The Thallonian didn’t smile at the jest. “I asked you a question,” he reminded the human.
“What would anyone want with him?” Crusher replied as nonchalantly as possible. “We want to hire him, of course. We’ve got a job for him-if he’s the best assassin around, as people say.”
Abbis’s gaze never left Crusher’s face. “That sounds plausible. If it’s true, it’ll be confirmed soon enough. Then perhaps we can do business.” He tossed a look over his shoulder. “Wyl!”
A tall, slender figure stepped into the room. His skin was dark, his hair white and tightly curled, and his deep-set eyes glittered like silver. He seemed to look to the Thallonian for guidance.
“My friend Wyl here is an Indarrhi,” said Abbis. “Perhaps you’ve heard of what they can do.” A satisfied pause. “Rest assured, he’ll get the truth out of you.”
“Torture?” asked Crusher as calmly as if he were inquiring if the Thallonian took milk and sugar hi his coffee.
Their captor chuckled. “You can resist torture, if your will is strong enough. Wyl has … other ways.”
He nodded in Tuvok’s direction and the Indarrhi approached him. Kneeling beside the ensign, he extended a hand and placed thick, ungainly fingers on Tuvok’s temple. The silver eyes closed in oncentration.
Though his expression remained utterly neutral, it was clear to Crusher that the Vulcan didn’t like the idea. However, under the circumstances, he could hardly put up a fight.
“Now then,” Abbis told Tuvok, “I ask you again-and you’d better answer if you value your life-what do you want with Bin Nedrach?”
His voice flat and lifeless, the Vulcan replied: “We wished to hire him to perform an assassination.”
The Thallonian turned to his friend. “Wyl? Is he lying?”
The Indarrhi shook his curly, white locks. He looked confused, his dark brow creased. “I… I can’t tell!”
Abbis’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Wyl rocked back on his heels, looking at Tuvok with a look of mingled awe and annoyance on his face. “This one,” he said, “doesn’t seem to have any emotions.