Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [86]
The matter of the missing bride weighed heavily on his mind. Still, as instructed by Captain Picard, he continued his search for the stolen wedding gifts.
His fierce gaze never left the readout on his tricorder as he prowled the perimeter of the hall. His footsteps echoed eerily in the vast, empty chamber. He came to a halt a few meters ahead of the northeast corner of the room. The tricorder registered a sudden drop-off in the molecular density of the adjoining wall. Worf smiled, the thin, knowing smile of a hunter who has finally cornered his prey. This is it, he thought.
No doubt there was some mechanism concealed nearby: a lock activated by a signal of unknown nature. Worf searched for the lock for several minutes, but with no success. Whoever had installed the lock had hid it well. This is taking too long, he thought. If the captain was correct, and those who stole the wedding gifts had also taken the Green Pearl, then every second he delayed the bride’s life remained at risk. There was no time to waste. He drew his phaser, raised its setting several notches, and fired upon the suspicious stretch of wall. Reinforced wood and tile disintegrated in the red glare of the phaser beam, revealing a hidden stairway descending into the lower depths of the palace.
Worf switched off his phaser. He grunted in satisfaction. The staircase before him was cloaked in shadows, but seemed wide enough to accommodate even a life-sized jade pachyderm. No wonder no one spotted the thieves in the corridors, he thought. They took another route. The discovery of the secret passageway lowered his opinion of the Pai even further. No self-respecting Klingon fortress would come complete with hidden escape routes; a true monarch would rather die than retreat from his own palace. He was aware, however, that other cultures did not share the Klingon’s profound contempt for self-preservation, which was why he had come to suspect just such a covert tunnel to and from the High Hall of Ceremonial Grandeur.
Commander Data often invoked a fictional Terran hero who specialized in untangling complicated webs of deception. For himself, Worf had found the stories of this hero, frequently enacted within the Enterprise’s holodecks, to be overly cerebral and disappointingly bloodless. At this moment, however, he found himself sharing the sentiments of Data’s favorite fictional role model. The game is afoot, he thought.
Phaser in hand, his eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom, Worf descended the staircase.
Geordi’s voice sounded tired over the ship’s intercom. “The last of the mines has been launched, Data, and should be in place in fifteen minutes. They’re outlining a large sphere, just as you requested.”
“Thank you, Commander La Forge,” Data said. “You may return to your light show now.”
“If I have the time,” the engineer grumbled. “La Forge out.”
“Unfortunately, the only fireworks we may see will be the flames rising from Pai as it burns,” Melilli Mera said grimly.
Data looked at her from the captain’s chair. “You have doubts, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, I do.” She lifted her chin. “Sir. I still see no reason why the G’kkau should delay their mission to pursue us.”
Data raised his voice. “Ensign Kamis, please open communications with the Fang.”
“Yes, sir.” The Benzite manipulated the touchpads on his console. Murky, shifting forms showed on the forward viewscreen.
“Master Kakkh of the Fang,” Data began. “This is—”
“Hold on, sir,” Kamis said. “That’s just static.” The image gelled slightly, and an emerald, reptilian shape seemed to swim into view. “Now, sir.”
“Master Kakkh,” Data said again. “This is Lieutenant Commander Data of the Federation Starship Enterprise.”
“This is Kakkh,” the lizard replied. “Your leader is still not there.”
“He is not,” Data admitted.
The screen went blank.
“The G’kkau have broken the connection, sir,” Kamis reported.
“Please raise them again,” Data said.
This time the reptile actually snapped in their direction, showing large teeth that gleamed ominously even in the