Possession - J.M. Dillard [26]
“Yes, sir,” La Forge assured him. “Coordinates are in the computer. All we need to do now is find them.”
That, at least, was reassuring. The medical quarantine units should be able to safeguard the rest of the crew from any infectious agents. And the isolation units for the artifacts were doubly secured.
“Captain,” Worf interjected, “the Ferengi vessel is now stopped. And I think I have managed to establish a communication link with it. Their communications are damaged, but I have routed a message through some auxiliary boards at their comm station. What I do not understand is why they did not take the time to do it themselves.”
“Perhaps we can ask them that, Mr. Worf. On screen, please.”
Nabon turned as he heard the sound of an override sequence click and engage; the doors to engineering opened narrowly, then halted. But the crack was wide enough for a slender Vulcan to step through. As soon as Skel set foot on the bridge, the partially opened doors sealed shut behind him.
Nabon edged away from the battered body of his brother until his back pressed up against the cabinet that supported the damaged control console. Terror surged through him, a terror like none he’d ever known in his short profitless life. The Vulcan seemed abnormally tall and severe in his black tunic. His hands clasped a small device—a weapon, Nabon thought at first until he recognized a small stasis chamber from the runabout’s storage.
To his surprise, the Vulcan stopped and remained near the doorway. “There is nowhere else to go,” Skel said quietly, logically. “There is no reason to continue the chase. Give me the artifacts, and it will be ended.”
Nabon trembled. All ended for me, as I join my brother at your killing hands.
“Give them to me, Nabon,” the Vulcan said, his tone all too normal, even kindly.
(Yes, give them …)
The Ferengi’s tortured mind worked furiously. If I do what he wants, he will be distracted. Then I might escape. It was madness to think that, but he was mad now, wasn’t he? He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two artifacts, once again tightly sealed. He placed them on the floor and pushed them to the middle, then retreated back to his brother’s body where it lay beneath the console.
Cautiously, the Vulcan approached the artifacts, then picked them up and returned to his place by the doors, as if he feared Nabon as much as the Ferengi feared him.
Skel studied the artifacts. “They are still sealed,” he said, and his voice sounded relieved—if a Vulcan’s voice ever revealed such feeling. He opened the small stasis chamber, placed the shells inside, then activated the device. The energy field awoke with a hum—at which point, Skel released an audible sigh.
If my foolish brother had only done that simple thing, Nabon thought sadly, he might still be alive. But now it is too late to secure the monster. He has his treasure. There is nothing now to stop him from killing me. Desperately, Nabon hunkered under the console and thought of himself battling the Vulcan hand-to-hand. The ridiculous image provoked a sudden edgy giggle. If he were still alive, Dervin might have attempted such foolishness, but Nabon knew his limits.
“There is no need for you to hide from me, Nabon,” the Vulcan said calmly. “The artifacts are contained. We are safe again. Together we can effect repairs to the ship’s communications relay and send a distress signal so that we might be rescued.”
Nabon blinked and tried to concentrate. What kind of trickery was this Vulcan up to now? His father had always said they were the most foolish of people, having no interest in profit, warfare, or even mating. Nabon could never figure out why they bothered living if they cared for none of those things. Skel had not left his position by the door, which puzzled Nabon. It was as if the Vulcan were being deliberately nonthreatening.
“You don’t want to repair the ship’s communications,” Nabon grumbled. “You just want me to come peaceably—to my death!”
The Vulcan