Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [60]
Nikolas stared at the mangled hunks of metal, helplessly absorbing their significance. “You ripped those ships apart,” he asked, “didn’t you?”
The Nuyyad shrugged his immense shoulders. “Just enough to spill their contents into the vacuum.”
“Their contents…” Nikolas repeated numbly. His eyes felt hot, like pent-up magma. “You mean their crews—the living, breathing beings inside them.”
“They’re not living anymore,” Brakmaktin noted, as if he were talking about nothing more significant than a swarm of annoying insects.
But then, as far as he was concerned, he was.
“That one?” asked Picard.
“Aye, sir,” said Gerda.
The captain was peering over her shoulder at the star map she had called up. It showed him a system with eighteen planets, only two of which were large enough to boast of an atmosphere.
The ion trail they were following—represented on the map as a thin yellow line—led directly to one of those two planets. Picard didn’t know the Ubarrak name for it, but it was listed on the map—and in the Federation’s data banks—as Epsilon Morazh III, a dilithium mining world.
Of course, there was no rock-solid proof that Epsilon Morazh III was Brakmaktin’s destination. But if he meant to go elsewhere, it seemed unlikely that he would have cut through a star system, much less through the coordinates of a particular planet.
“How long?” Picard asked.
“At our current speed,” said Gerda, “not quite fourteen hours.”
They were only barely inside the acknowledged borders of Ubarrak space. Fourteen hours wouldn’t take them that much farther. With a little luck, they would reach Epsilon Morazh III before the Ubarrak cut them off.
“Captain,” said Paxton at the com station, “sensors show ships approaching. Three of them.”
Picard frowned. And without a little luck, they will intercept us long before we reach Epsilon Morazh III.
“On-screen,” he said.
As Paxton had indicated, there were three vessels, and there was no question that they were Ubarrak. They were so big and dark they looked like holes in the sea of stars.
At least, at first glance. A close examination would show each ship equipped with a half dozen wicked-looking weapons ports, any one of them capable of destroying the Stargazer with a well-placed energy projectile.
“Hail them,” Picard told Paxton.
The communications officer set to work. A moment later, the image of the Ubarrak squadron gave way to a different image—that of an Ubarrak captain.
He was as powerful-looking as any of his people, his slitted yellow eyes set deep beneath dark ridges of thinly sheathed bone. Rather than remaining still as he considered Picard, his head moved in small, quick jerks, as if he were an animal watching for signs of an attack.
“Identify yourself,” he said.
“Captain Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Federation Starship Stargazer. And despite appearances, I assure you that we have come only to help you.”
The Ubarrak laughed. “You’ve helped us, all right. You’ve shown us that we need to tighten our border patrols. Now drop your shields and prepare to be boarded.”
“Wait,” said Picard. “You’re making a mistake. We’ve come to address a threat to you and your people.”
The Ubarrak hesitated, if only for a moment. “What kind of threat?” he demanded.
Ah, thought the captain. He has gotten word of it. But of course, he didn’t know what it was.
“There is a being on one of your worlds more powerful than anything you have ever encountered. He has likely destroyed the crew of an Ubarrak warship. We have pursued him here in the hope of keeping him from killing anyone else.”
“That will not be necessary,” said the Ubarrak. “An entire squadron has been dispatched to deal with him.”
Damn, Picard thought. “They don’t have any idea what they’re up against. Send word that they’re to be withdrawn immediately, before they’re destroyed.”
The Ubarrak sneered, though Picard didn’t believe that the fellow’s heart was in it. “You believe this being can stand up to twelve Ubarrak battle cruisers?”
Picard began to tell him—but before he had gotten more than