Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [98]
“No one except the Council itself can override me, Lieutenant.”
“The order came from the Council, sir, with all the proper verifications.”
The EWO listened to his headset some more, then steeled himself to do his duty.
“A squad is waiting on the other side of that door to arrest you, sir. Would you please unlock it and step outside?”
“It’s a fiction, Lieutenant. The Council hasn’t ordered any such thing. Dissenters have been at work here. Didn’t they just yesterday compromise our communications system with their blasphemies?”
The EWO hesitated.
“But sir, they say you helped the Dissenters …”
“You actually believe that?”
The EWO rose, a gun in his hand.
“Lieutenant,” said Bowles, “I’ll have you arrested for disobeying the Director of Cephalic Security. I’ll have you blanked!”
The EWO cupped his hand over his headset, trying to listen.
Bowles reached over and ripped his hand away.
“Look at me. I’m Crichton. Your eyes tell the truth. Those voices are giving you fiction!”
On the bridge of the Enterprise, Picard sat in his command chair and waited as his crew continued to attempt contact with Crichton/Bowles.
Troi and Riker sat on either side, both evincing more anxiousness than their commanding officer.
Worf looked up from his console.
“No answers to our hails. No sign of our man in any video signal.”
“Sir,” said Data, “the time allotted by Starfleet for our continued reconnaissance has elapsed.”
“Noted,” said Picard. “Continue to scan, Worf.”
“Shall I prepare to warp out of orbit, sir?” asked Wesley.
“No, Mr. Crusher,” said Picard, with a slight edge to his voice. “Rest assured I will advise you when I want you to do that.”
Data turned around in his chair. He wanted to see the appearance of a human doing something deliberately independent from the forces which had due authority over him. Such a thing was so typically human, so eminently useful to an android in the adolescent stage of his social development.
Picard smiled at him.
“I wish to give the counselor’s hypothesis a full test,” said the captain. “We won’t be leaving until I’m sure we’ve done so.”
“Sir,” said Troi tentatively, “I don’t want the ship to be endangered more than necessary. I could be wrong.”
“You could be.”
“Captain,” said Worf, “the Rampartian ships are moving … they’ve now got us within the radius of their weapons.”
“Increase power to the shields.”
The bridge speakers vibrated roughly. It was the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Then, “Come in, Enterprise.”
Picard stood up.
“It’s coming from the surface sir,” said Worf. “From one of our own communicators.”
“This is Captain Picard. To whom am I speaking?”
“To Captain Alfred Bowles. Permission to beam aboard your ship, Captain.”
“Are there others with you?”
“No. There are no other survivors from the Huxley. I’ll explain when you get me aboard. I suggest you hurry sir, before I’m arrested by my own soldiers.”
“Worf—have the man beamed up. Wesley, lay in a course for Starbase Eighty-one, Warp Factor Four.”
“Aye, sir. Course laid in. All systems answer ready.”
“Beaming complete,” said Worf.
“Engage,” said Picard.
On the viewscreen, the stars and the clouds of blue nebula dust changed shape, stretching into an illusion of linearity as the ship shot away from Rampart at one hundred times the speed of light.
Chapter Nineteen
TROI SAT INTROSPECTIVELY in Picard’s ready room while Picard and Riker talked about their experiences on Rampart.
Riker held open Picard’s copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare.
“I was lucky to remember anything at all, given the circumstances,” said Riker. “My commanding officer was brainwashed, the CS were trying to break down the door, and I hadn’t read Hamlet since … longer than I care to mention.”
“I think I see a cautionary tale here,” said Picard.
Riker laughed, closed the book and put it on Picard’s desk.
” ‘To hold, as ‘twere, a mirror up to nature’ … Maybe if the man were alive now, in the age of non-linear spacetime, he’d make the mirror curved; his plays would be a curving mirror for a curving universe.