Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [95]
Daran considered him. He grunted. “I can’t say I approve of your methods,” he noted. “But I must admit they are effective.”
Norayan spoke for the first time. “What about the Ferengi?” she asked. “What is his role in this?”
Riker admired her timing. “Glad you asked. You see, Rhurig is not the only madraga that has committed crimes against Criathis and the laws of Imprima.”
Daran leaned forward. “Now what?”
To Riker’s surprise, Larrak remained quiet—relaxed, even—as if relieved that the confrontation had finally begun.
“Teller Conlon is not in hiding,” said Riker. “He’s dead—murdered by the man who sits beside you.”
Again the crowd reacted. The second and third officials of Madraga Terrin added their indignant voices to the tumult. As the protests died down, Larrak shook his head. “That is ludicrous.”
“You know better,” answered the human. He turned back to Daran. “Larrak deceived you, First Official. You thought his goals were in line with yours, but that wasn’t the case at all. After this merger went through, he planned to oust the Federation, against your wishes, and use his newfound power to bring back the Ferengi.”
“Absurd,” said Larrak.
“Preposterous,” commented his third official—who might or might not have been in on the deal.
Riker pointed to Ralk, who lay inert on the floor at Worf’s feet. “This one was Larrak’s contact with the Ferengi.”
He went on to speak of how Teller had stumbled on Ralk’s presence, and the price he had paid for it. He told of how he and Lyneea had tracked the seal down to its hiding place on Terrin’s estate, how they were captured, and how it was Larrak who returned the seal.
“We escaped,” he finished, “obviously. But not before recording the Ferengi’s admission of what he and Larrak had done, and still planned to do.”
Larrak chuckled. “You’re lying. You have no such recording, because there were no admissions to make. And as far as the Ferengi goes”—he dismissed the prone figure with a gesture—”I have never seen him before in my life.”
“The recording exists,” insisted Riker. “If you like, I can play it for you.”
“And it will be a fabrication,” said Larrak, “exactly like the one we heard a moment ago.”
The human shook his head. “Not this time, First Official. How could we have copied Ralk’s voice when we don’t have it on file? No, this time it’s for real.”
Maybe it was the logic of Riker’s argument that convinced Larrak of the truth. Maybe it was the fact that the human had bluffed already and wasn’t likely to try it again. Maybe it was his certainty that eventually there would be corroboration for Riker’s claims. Or maybe it was just something in his voice.
In any case, the accusation had its effect. And not an entirely expected one.
For no sooner had the amphitheater stopped ringing with Riker’s voice than Larrak had a blaster in his hand.
Daran saw it and tried to disarm him, but he wasn’t quick enough. Larrak smashed him across the face with his weapon, sent him tumbling off the dangerously high platform.
Norayan had started to scream when he grabbed her and pulled her to him, using her as a shield.
Nor did anyone—neither the assembled retainers nor the Enterprise officers—have a chance to stop him. It all happened too fast. And who would have dreamed that a first official would bring a banned weapon to a merger ceremony?
So that was why he had kept silent all this time. He had an ace in the hole. The thought came to Riker instantaneously.
Then things got crazy.
One of the retainers must have decided he could stand up to a blaster with a projectile gun. It was a bad idea. Larrak demonstrated immediately that his weapon was set on kill. And then, just for good measure, he fired indiscriminately into the small crowd at the base of the platform.
The retainers scattered, including those of Madraga Terrin. Larrak’s second and third officials took the opportunity to leap from their perch; likewise, the Criathan who’d been sitting on Norayan’s right.
With Norayan in danger, Riker couldn