Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [75]
And if the word did what Bender had feared, and attacked Ulelo’s mind somehow? There would be nothing Picard could do about it. But as he had told Ulelo, he didn’t believe the procedure would place him in any danger.
“Ready?” he asked Ulelo.
The fellow nodded. “I think so.”
Picard spoke the word slowly and carefully, exactly as Ben Zoma had trained him to say it. Then he waited.
The com officer blinked. Hard. Obviously, the D’prayl word had had an effect on him. But was it the effect that Ben Zoma had predicted?
“Are you all right?” the captain asked.
Ulelo didn’t answer. He just stared at Picard, his head tilted slightly to the side.
“Lieutenant?” said the captain.
Ulelo frowned at him. “I’m not a lieutenant. I’m a D’prayl. And I want to go home.”
It was eerie to hear him say such a thing. And yet, it was the result Picard had both expected and hoped for. Suddenly, Ulelo wasn’t out of his mind—he was just an alien in an unfamiliar place. And just as suddenly, the captain had the key he needed to save both sides a great deal of bloodshed.
“I will do everything in my power,” he said, “to help you accomplish that.”
“Captain?” It was Wu’s voice, coming through the intercom.
It had to be an urgent matter if she was interrupting him. He had left strict orders to the contrary.
Looking up at the grid embedded in the ceiling, he said, “Yes, Commander?”
“Sir,” said his second officer, “some of the D’prayl vessels are repositioning themselves. It appears that they’re moving into an attack formation.”
Damn, thought Picard.
“Your orders?” asked Wu.
“Stand by,” said the captain. “I am on my way.”
En route to the turbolift, he contacted sickbay, Pug Joseph, and the transporter room—in that order. If he and his people moved quickly, they might yet make it in time.
Chapter Twenty
AS SOON AS PICARD EMERGED onto his bridge, he was greeted with the angry visage of Captain Sesballa.
“Where have you been?” the Rigelian demanded. “No, never mind that. Just fall into line with the others. The aliens will open fire at any moment.”
“But we agreed to hold our fire until we gave my first officer a chance.”
“Obviously,” said Sesballa, “that was a miscalculation on our part. Now back off and join the line.”
Idun turned to Picard, awaiting his orders. But he didn’t give her any. He just stood there, stubbornly refusing to comply with his colleague’s instructions.
“Did you hear me?” asked Sesballa, his voice ringing throughout the bridge.
Picard had heard only too well. But he had just made an offering. He couldn’t respond unless he was certain it wouldn’t be accepted.
Sesballa turned to his communications officer to make sure the link to the Stargazer hadn’t been broken. When he turned to face the captain again, his ruby eyes were ablaze.
“Damn you,” Sesballa spat, “do as I say—or I will see you stripped of your command!”
You will have to join the queue, Picard thought.
Just then, he saw what he had been hoping for. A wave of D’prayl vessels came about as one, and headed back the way they had come. Then a second wave did the same. And a blessed moment later, the rest of them followed.
One of those vessels would be Otholannin’s, with its ever-so-precious cargo. Picard breathed a sigh of relief.
“Transporter Room One to Captain Picard,” came a voice over the intercom. “Refsland here, sir. We’ve got six arrivals.”
Picard nodded. It was exactly what he had hoped to hear.
Normally, the doors to the transporter room slid aside as Picard approached them, triggered by a sensor farther down the corridor. But this time, he was moving so quickly that he had to stop and wait for them to open.
When they did, he was rewarded with a happy sight: six figures on a transporter platform. McAteer was there, looking none the worse for wear. So were Horombo, Chen, Garner, and Ramirez.
And in their midst stood a sixth figure—a tall, darkly complected man with a high forehead and dark, probing eyes, dressed in a standard Starfleet uniform. A man who had been one of them once, and was one of them again.
Dikembe Ulelo.
He looked