Requiem - Michael Jan Friedman [65]
“I know,” said the doctor. “Time’s up.” She stood, casting one last, remonstrating glance at Picard. “If that bothers you anymore, tell this officer. Don’t keep it to yourself that way.”
The captain nodded. “Whatever you say,” he told her.
The guard drew his weapon as he moved to the switch that would turn off the energy field. His eyes glued to the prisoner, he didn’t take any notice whatsoever of Julia. After all, she was one of the most trusted people in the colony. Who in his right mind would suspect her of colluding with an alien spy?
A moment later, the barrier fizzled out of existence. “Come on, Doctor,” said the dark-haired man. “Before our friend here gets any funny ideas.”
By way of reply, Julia brushed the hand that held the phaser with her tricorder. A blue aura seemed to envelope the guard’s hand for a fraction of a second—but that was enough to make him yelp and drop his weapon.
Wasting no time, the captain leapt up and put all his weight behind a blow to the man’s jaw. He caught him as solidly as he’d hoped; there was a sound like a branch breaking and the security officer’s knees buckled.
Before he could recover, Picard grabbed his phaser. Unfortunately, the man still had some fight left in him, because he tried to swipe it back. Rather than take any chances, the captain fired—and sent his captor sprawling against the wall in back of him.
Only then did Picard turn to his benefactor. “Neat trick,” he observed, pointing his phaser at her tricorder.
She advanced and knelt beside the guard, making sure he hadn’t been hurt worse than the captain intended. “I picked it up in medical school,” she said. “Though I never thought I’d ever need to really use it.” A pause. “Looks like George here will be fine, except for a whopping big headache.”
With his free hand, he took hold of hers. “Let’s go,” he urged. “We’ve got a matter-antimatter core to shut down.”
Julia hesitated—but only for the amount of time it took to draw a breath. Then she let the captain pull her after him as he emerged into the bright light outside.
If anything, thought Riker, Admiral Kowalski looked more hollow-cheeked than the last time he’d communicated with the Enterprise. Obviously, the political situation on Gorn hadn’t improved any.
“I take it,” said Kowalski, “You’ve had no luck finding Captain Picard?”
The first officer felt the emptiness of the captain’s ready room all around him. “No luck,” he echoed. “We’ve investigated seventy-six star systems without turning up the slightest sign of him.” He took an almost perverse pleasure in the extent of his frustration. “But that doesn’t mean—”
“It means,” the admiral interjected, “that you’ve got a day and a half left. And believe me, my colleagues think I’m crazy to even give you that much, considering the upheavals taking place among the Gorn.” He leaned forward. “I know how much you think of Captain Picard, Commander. But your duty is clear. Thirty-six hours from now, I expect you to be entering orbit around the Gorn homeworld. That’s understood, isn’t it?”
Riker nodded. “It’s understood, Admiral. I’ll be there.”
And he would. The captain had worked hard to establish relations with the Gorn. He wouldn’t want to see them jeopardized now—even at the expense of his own life.
“Good,” concluded the admiral. “I just wanted to make sure. Kowalski out.”
Sighing, the first officer sat back in his chair. One day wouldn’t be anywhere near enough unless they got lucky. And the way things were going, he didn’t feel very lucky.
Damn. He couldn’t let it end this way. He couldn’t.
Suddenly, he pounded Captain Picard’s desk, watching its polished surface shiver under the force of his blow. It felt good—but it didn’t change anything. They were still leagues from their goal, and Starfleet and circumstances had hobbled them until they could barely walk.
Then he remembered. There was a chance, if he was willing to seize it. But he couldn’t wait any longer. Hell, it might already be too late.
“Ensign Ro,” he said, looking up at the intercom grid.
The reply came almost instantaneously. “Aye,