Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [65]
Picard’s only consolation was that the Cardassians were feeling the same discomfort. In fact, their colder-blooded constitutions were probably getting along even worse under these conditions than his was.
He looked back over his shoulder and saw all three of them—the one called Tain, who was obviously in charge, and two of his more slender lackeys. They were all armed, ready to kill their temporary ally at a moment’s notice.
And there was little to stop them. He had already shown them how to reach Guinan. Tain’s flat, handheld sensor device would let him know when they got to precisely the right spot. And now that they were almost there, they didn’t need Picard to break into his friend’s cell.
But he had been in Steej’s detention facility and they hadn’t, so he knew the place better than they did. And as well, they had to be concerned that Guinan wouldn’t go with them unless she saw a familiar face.
That was all that was keeping him alive, the captain suspected. Once the Cardassians got Guinan out of the tube, he was probably as good as dead.
“Halt!” snapped a voice behind him.
He turned and saw Tain training his sensor on the conduit-covered bulkhead to their right. Slowly, the Cardassian tracked forward with the device, stopping only after it was pointed at a spot roughly even with Picard’s shoulder.
The Cardassian looked up from his readout and gestured with two of his fingers. “There,” he said. “That’s her.”
He could say for certain because he had taken a reading of Guinan—as well as Picard—shortly before Steej’s men moved in on them. Or so the Cardassian had said.
In any case, they had come about the right distance. More than likely, Tain was right, and Guinan’s cell was a mere bulkhead’s width away.
Luckily, there was a space between the conduits big enough to facilitate an escape. Without any encouragement from Picard, Tain put his sensor away and took out his disruptor. Then he trained it on the curve of the bulkhead and fired an intense, narrow beam, raising a stream of white vapor where it struck.
But this wasn’t really a bulkhead. In truth, it was the vessel’s hull, the spine in which they were hiding being a mere add-on without any structural significance. Even at his weapon’s highest setting, it would take the Cardassian as much as thirty seconds to punch his way through.
Picard wished he could communicate with Guinan somehow, let her know what was going on. But it wasn’t an option. He just had to hope she would understand the significance of the hole when it appeared, and keep her guards from discovering it until it was too late.
Meanwhile, Tain dug into layer after layer of metal alloy, his face thrown into sharp relief by the pale blue light of his beam. And all the while, the cold took up residence in their bones like an unwanted visitor.
Finally, the bulkhead seemed to boil under the influence of the disruptor, as its last few molecules lost their integrity. Then the final layer of metal vanished, leaving a hole the size of Picard’s thumbnail.
Tain deactivated his beam and gestured for the captain to attempt verbal contact. Picard put his face near the hole, which still stank of burning metal, and made a hissing sound.
Then he said, “Guinan? Can you hear me?”
There was no response—at least, not at first. Then the captain heard his friend say, “Picard?”
She sounded surprised to see him. But then, the captain mused, Who wouldn’t be surprised?
“Indeed. Have any of your guards noticed anything yet?”
“Not yet,” said Guinan.
“With luck,” he said, “it will remain that way. Just stay away from the bulkhead, all right? I wouldn’t want you to be struck by the beam.”
“I understand,” she said.
His message sent, Picard pulled his head back and gave Tain access to the bulkhead again. This time, the Cardassian expanded the scope of his beam as much as possible and leaned back against the opposite surface before he pressed the trigger.
With more