Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [75]
The Kandilkari nodded. “I will do that.”
Nikolas clapped him on the shoulder, despite the difference in their ranks. Then he went to join his friend Obal on the replicator line.
Naturally, Kastiigan took pleasure from the accolades of his comrades. Anyone would have.
However, his biggest satisfaction came from the knowledge that he had finally done what he joined Starfleet to do—he had risked his life against a formidable enemy, in a situation where the odds seemed stacked against him.
As it happened, Kastiigan had survived the confrontation. But that was hardly his fault. The important thing was that he could have lost his life.
Besides, there would be other opportunities for him to show what he was made of. It was only a matter of time before one of them claimed his life, he thought optimistically, and took another forkful of his dinner.
Picard was just returning to the bridge when he heard Gerda’s voice ring from bulkhead to bulkhead.
“Commander,” she said, “the Ubarrak are breaking formation.”
Wu, who was ensconced in the center seat, got up and took a step toward the viewscreen—where Alartos’s warships were taking positions in close proximity to the Stargazer.
If the Ubarrak wished, they could catch the Federation vessel in a devastating crossfire. Picard and his crew wouldn’t stand a chance.
Wu took note of the captain’s presence. “Treachery?”
From what he had seen of Alartos, he didn’t think so.
“Shall I power weapons?” asked Gerda, her voice husky with the urge to do battle.
Trusting his instincts, Picard shook his head. “No.”
Then Paxton relieved the tension somewhat. “They’re hailing us,” he reported.
Picard eyed the viewscreen. “Respond.”
A moment later, Alartos’s face appeared. He looked as imperious as when the captain had first seen him.
“We have reached the limits of Ubarrak space,” he said. “You may continue from this point on your own.”
“Thank you,” said Picard.
They were well past the border accepted by the Federation. However, the captain didn’t think this was the time or place to make that point.
“I hope you know,” said Alartos, thrusting his chin out in a typically Ubarrak gesture of belligerence, “you haven’t won any favors from my people.”
Picard smiled. “I never expected any.”
As he had learned years earlier, the Ubarrak didn’t even have a word for gratitude. And if they had, Alartos wouldn’t have used it on a human—someone whose species was at odds with his own.
But the captain knew what he had done for Alartos’s people. He had saved them from a grotesque and terrifying fate, maybe even annihilation, and that was thanks enough for him.
The Ubarrak nodded, apparently satisfied with Picard’s response. “Good,” he rasped.
But there was something in his eyes that belied his last statement, something that told the human that he had indeed won something—a measure of respect, perhaps, if not from the Ubarrak in general, then at least from Alartos himself.
Then the commander’s image vanished from Picard’s viewscreen, to be replaced by that of his trio of ships. The message was crystal-clear: the Stargazer’s business here was finished. It was time to leave.
The captain glanced playfully at Idun. “Feisty,” he observed, “aren’t they?”
The helm officer returned only a hint of a smile. “They would not last ten minutes on Qo’noS.”
Picard wasn’t so certain about that, but he wasn’t inclined to disagree out loud. He would have plenty of chances to do that when he faced his tribunal.
And thanks to the choices he had made of late, McAteer had even more ammunition than before.
“Earth,” he told Idun. “Best speed.”
Chapter Eighteen
PICARD SAT ON A CHAIR in his quarters, alone.
He could have continued to have Serenity’s company, as he had whenever possible the last few days, and a part of him longed for it as much as ever. However, another part needed time to think, a chance to put matters into some kind of perspective.
Serenity had been kind enough to understand how he felt. And so had Ben Zoma, when he offered to stand vigil with his friend