Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [27]
And she wasn’t under way. She was just hanging there in the void, her observation ports only dimly illuminated.
“Slow to impulse,” Picard said.
“Aye, sir,” said Idun, dropping the Stargazer out of warp.
“Mister Ben Zoma,” said the captain, addressing the ship’s intercom system, “report to the bridge, please.”
“Aye, sir,” came Ben Zoma’s reply.
Picard tilted his head slightly as he regarded the cargo hauler. “Life signs?”
Gerda turned to him. “None, sir.”
Picard frowned, unable to trust even in his sensors. For all he knew, Brakmaktin had foiled them somehow and was still ensconced on the cargo hauler, lying in wait for whoever came aboard.
Or he had moved on, and the vessel was as it appeared—empty of living occupants. There was only one way to tell.
Hearing the soft hiss of the turbolift doors, the captain glanced over his shoulder and saw Ben Zoma emerge from the compartment. Before he had gone very far, his eyes were drawn to the image of the cargo hauler.
“According to sensors,” said Picard, “she’s devoid of life. But given what we’re dealing with…”
“It’s hard to be sure,” said Ben Zoma.
Picard turned to Gerda. “Transporter range?”
“At current speed,” said the navigator, “slightly more than eighteen minutes.”
“I am going to take a team,” said Picard, “to see if I can shed any light on what happened there. You have the bridge in my absence, Gilaad.”
Another first officer might have reminded the captain that he was too valuable a commodity to include on an away team. But Ben Zoma had known Picard long enough to know his protest would fall on deaf ears.
So all he did was give Picard a look and say, “I’ll let Dojjaron and Santana know to stand by.”
As the captain went aft, he passed Kastiigan at the science station. The Kandilkari looked up, no doubt hoping to be brought along. After all, he had been requesting to take on hazardous assignments for some time.
Briefly, Picard considered the idea of granting Kastiigan’s wish. But by the time he reached the turbolift, he had come to think better of it.
They were dealing with a most unusual being in Brakmaktin—one who not only was powerful, but had the finely honed adversarial instincts of the Nuyyad. Under the circumstances, it seemed like a better idea to take a team composed exclusively of security officers. Then, if something went wrong, they would be better equipped to respond.
Sorry, Lieutenant, Picard thought, perhaps another time. And as the turbolift doors opened, he left the bridge.
As Nikolas made his way through the Ubarrak ship’s symbol-incised corridors, he got a strong feeling of déjà vu—as if he had conducted such a search before.
I have, it occurred to him. In my dream. But then, he had been searching for his friend Locklear. Now he was looking for the alien who had brought him there…
Brakmaktin.
Nikolas stopped in his tracks, a chill climbing his spine. The alien had never mentioned his name, and Nikolas hadn’t asked. But somehow he knew it.
Brakmaktin. And he came from a world of wide, cracked plains and clouds of volcanic smoke.
And he hadn’t always been this way—a being of power with shining, silver eyes. Not long ago he was a simple technician, no more fearsome than any other member of his species.
How do I know all this? Nikolas asked himself. Was it possible that when the alien scoured out his consciousness, he left a little of his own behind?
This way, he thought.
Then he realized that it wasn’t his thought at all. It had come to him unbidden, the product of a consciousness other than his own. And strangest of all, he knew which way this way was.
He continued down the corridor he was already following, then made a turn to the left that brought him to a lift. Taking it two decks down, he exited and turned to his right this time.
It was a deck he hadn’t yet had occasion to visit. In fact, he realized as if only now awakening from a dream, it might have been the only one in that category. And the more