Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [96]
He wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea. When he looked around a moment later, he saw Lyneea beside him. Past her, he saw Worf and Data, and past them, Kobar.
His fellow officers had drawn their phasers. Lyneea had her projectile weapon in hand—for all the good it would do. And Riker had the blaster he’d “borrowed” back at Terrin’s estate.
“Come out,” cried Larrak. “All of you—where I can see you. Or I’ll blast this woman right where she stands.”
Riker looked at Lyneea. She motioned for him to comply, then signed that she’d circle around the back of the platform, using the drapes for cover.
Where had he heard that plan before?
“Now,” cried Larrak, his voice an octave higher than it should have been. “I mean what I say.”
“All right,” answered Riker. “We’re coming.”
He motioned to Worf and Data. They nodded.
Kobar, however, had something else in mind. Like Lyneea, he started to make his way around the platform—but at the other end.
Riker tried to get his attention, to keep him from interfering with Lyneea’s maneuver. But Kobar either didn’t see him or chose to ignore him.
Reluctantly, Riker came out of hiding and with him, Data and Worf. They were careful not to step on the Ferengi, who was just starting to come to.
Larrak watched with satisfaction. “Drop your weapons,” he told them. His blaster muzzle was pressed against Norayan’s temple.
“Don’t do it,” she said. “Not for me, Will.”
But he had no choice. He couldn’t let Norayan die.
“You heard him,” Riker instructed his companions. “Drop them.”
The phasers made a couple of dull thumps as they hit the floor. Riker’s blaster made a slightly heavier sound.
Suddenly Larrak’s face twisted. “No,” he said. “There’s another one—the female. Where is she?” He looked around him, but Lyneea was nowhere to be seen.
Riker thought about trying to pick up one of their weapons. Data’s phaser was lying only a few inches from his foot, having fallen closer to him than his borrowed blaster.
But Larrak didn’t give him a chance. He darted a look at Riker. “I want her in front of me,” he bellowed. “Tell her that!”
There was a moment when anything could have happened. Then Lyneea showed herself, and Riker saw that she hadn’t gotten very far. She was only at the end of the platform; she hadn’t slipped around to the back yet, where she might have obtained a clear shot.
“Drop the weapon,” said Larrak, “pitiful as it is.”
She did as she was instructed. Not happily, but she did it.
“Move over with the others,” he said.
Again, she complied.
“Nice try,” breathed Riker.
“Not nice enough,” she told him.
Of course Lyneea didn’t know about Kobar. As far as she was concerned, he had fled in the wake of the retainers.
Larrak must have made the same assumption, more or less, because he didn’t look nervous anymore.
Come on, Riker rooted silently. Come on, Kobar.
“And now,” said Terrin’s first official, “I will need transportation off Imprima.”
“Where will you go?” asked Riker.
Larrak shrugged. “The Ferengi will take care of me. I can still be of use to them, as an adviser. After all, I know of other madraggi that might consider dealing with them.”
Norayan winced at the pressure of the blaster muzzle against her temple. It made Riker want to do something stupid.
But he kept his temper. He had to keep Larrak occupied, he reminded himself. Had to give Kobar a decent chance to bring him down.
“It’ll never happen,” he said. “After this, no madraga will touch a Ferengi deal.”
Larrak looked at him. “Nonsense. You are too naive. Now … transportation, if you please. Use your communicator. See to it.”
The human frowned, in the interests of not looking too eager. “Riker to Captain Picard.”
The answer was instantaneous. “We’ve been listening in, Number One. It sounds as if you’ve got a problem.”
“It’s Terrin’s first official, sir. He’s got a blaster and a hostage.