Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [118]
The only thing he couldn’t have divined was the set of circumstances that placed the Enterprise in Romulan territory. But then, he might not have cared. The fact was they were there.
The human decided to take the initiative. “I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Federation vessel Enterprise. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
His mouth curling into a faint smile, the Romulan responded. “My name is Tav. I command the Reshaa’ra.” The smile faded. “You are in Romulan space. You will surrender your ship immediately.”
No give in this one, Picard observed. No inclination toward satisfying his curiosity; he’s going to go strictly by the book.
The captain frowned. He didn’t have many tools at his disposal—just the truth, really. “We are not here by choice, Commander Tav. We were brought here by a subspace phenomenon which we only recently escaped.”
The Romulan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “How intriguing,” he commented. “Our engineers will no doubt be fascinated when they have the opportunity to debrief you. In the meantime, I repeat: you will surrender your vessel. The alternative is destruc—”
Picard never heard the end of Tav’s threat.
Normally, Data’s duties at ops would have kept him from seeing what happened to the captain. However, the android had been halfway turned around in his chair, awaiting instructions, when Picard was enveloped in the scintillating pillar of light associated with molecular transport.
A fraction of a second later the captain was gone. It was as if he’d never been there in the first place.
There were curses and murmurs of apprehension from the other officers on the bridge. Data found that they were all looking in his direction, including Dr. Crusher.
Of course, he told himself. I am the ranking officer. They want to know what to do.
Using his control panel, the android cut into their link with the Romulan vessel. On the Reshaa’ra, it would appear to be a technical failure. With that done, Data turned and addressed the bridge contingent.
“Please remain calm,” he said. “We must not let the Romulans know that anything has happened to our captain; it would only place us at a greater tactical disadvantage.”
They understood. A moment later there was no trace of the confusion that had resulted from Picard’s disappearance. Satisfied, Data restored the video portion of the link; after all, he didn’t want the Romulans to think they’d been cut off on purpose.
Lastly, looking straight ahead at the Romulan called Tav, the android availed himself of the intercom system: “Commander Riker, please respond…”
It had been a long time since someone had handed Riker as bad a beating as Greyhorse had. As the first officer slowly got to his feet, he found he hurt in a dozen places. Could’ve been worse, he thought. He’d had no idea the doctor was so strong—though his size should have been a clue.
“Commander? Are you all right?”
He turned and saw Pug Joseph making his way through a gathering crowd. The man’s face was lined with concern.
“Fine,” the first officer replied, dusting himself off. He looked about, saw that the woman Greyhorse had flung aside was recovering too. A couple of crewpeople were helping her up. “You didn’t by any chance see what happened to Dr. Greyhorse, did you?”
Joseph’s brows came together. “Greyhorse? He did this to you?”
Riker nodded. “I’m a little stunned myself—no pun intended.”
“I don’t get it. What’s the matter with him?”
The first officer met the other man’s gaze. “Greyhorse is the murderer, Mr. Joseph.”
Pug just stared at him.
By that time Worf was approaching from one end of the corridor, trailed by a couple of security people. The Klingon navigated briskly through the clot of onlookers, his expression one of urgency.
“He was here,” Riker said. “Unarmed, as far as I could tell.”
Worf took in the scene at a glance, finally turning back to the first officer. “The turbolift?” he asked.
Riker was about to plead ignorance when someone in the crowd spoke up: “Yes. He went into the lift.”
“No doubt,” Worf said, “before we restricted