Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [15]
But would she have brought along a Nuyyad—and risked the immense red flag raised by his presence—if she had intended to deceive the captain a second time? Would it not have been a lot easier to accomplish that quietly, on her own?
Or had Serenity brought Dojjaron precisely because his presence made treachery seem so unlikely? Was she just using the Nuyyad as a stalking horse?
And if she was, what kind of scheme did she have in mind this time? How would it benefit Magnia? And would it, at the same time, hurt someone else?
So many possibilities. And each one came with its own colorful collection of pitfalls.
Serenity’s dark eyes caught the light. “You don’t trust me,” she observed.
Picard frowned. It wasn’t easy to deal with someone who could read minds. “Not completely, no.”
“With all due respect,” she said, “I don’t see this as a difficult decision. We should encounter some evidence of Brakmaktin’s power before too long. If we do, we keep going. And if we don’t, you can turn your ship around.”
It made sense. But the captain still wasn’t going to rush his decision. It was too serious a matter for him not to get it right.
“I will contact you,” he told Serenity, “as soon as I have had a chance to digest all you have said.”
Dojjaron looked disbelieving, as if Picard were the biggest idiot he had ever encountered.
Serenity, on the other hand, was more measured in her response. “I beg you,” she said, “digest it carefully. It may be the most important decision you’ve ever made.”
With that ominous advice ringing in his ears, Picard got up and allowed himself to be escorted back to the transporter room.
Chapter Four
PICARD SAT BACK in his plastiform chair and regarded Ben Zoma, who was seated on the other side of his desk. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”
“I think,” said the first officer, “that the foremost elder could use a lesson in manners.”
Picard frowned. “You know what I mean.”
Ben Zoma shrugged. “It sounds like Santana’s telling the truth. But then, I thought that the first time we met her.”
“Wherein lies the problem,” said the captain. “Do we refuse her request for assistance, and risk allowing a potentially hostile superbeing to roam free? Or do we give her what she wants and take a chance on being duped?”
“Again,” Ben Zoma noted.
“Yes,” said Picard, tasting ashes. “Again.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. They were too busy thinking, too busy weighing options.
“It’s times like these,” Ben Zoma said at last, “that I’m glad they made you captain and not me.”
“Thank you,” said Picard. “I knew I could count on my first officer for wisdom and insight.”
“What do you want me to say?” asked Ben Zoma. “That there’s a way to be certain of Santana’s intentions? There isn’t. We both know that.” He tilted his head to one side, as if it gave him a better perspective on the captain. “And we also know you’ve already made up your mind to help them.”
Picard began to protest—until he realized that his friend was right. “I have, haven’t I?” He just couldn’t ignore the sort of threat Serenity had described.
He was, after all, an officer in Starfleet, charged with protecting life both within the Federation and without. If there was any possibility at all that Serenity was telling the truth, it fell to him to investigate it.
All the while, of course, holding on to a healthy amount of skepticism.
“So once more into the breach,” said Ben Zoma, “with your friend Santana for company.”
Picard nodded. “It certainly looks that way.”
“Of course,” said the first officer, “if it turns out that she’s lying again, we’ll just be giving McAteer more ammunition for his competency hearing.”
Picard dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “If Serenity is deceiving us again and we have fallen for it, I will save the admiral the trouble.”
“You mean…you’ll resign?”
The captain nodded, meaning every word of it. “In a heartbeat.”
Nikolas watched the Ubarrak cruiser on the bridge’s viewscreen loom larger and larger, a shadow of death slowly