Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [66]
“Disarm, or die,” Grelun said.
Riker stepped forward, his weapon lowered in what he hoped the Chiarosans would see as a nonthreatening gesture. He stopped beside Zweller and Gomp.
“Grelun,” Riker said calmly. “We have to talk.”
Grelun sneered. “Falhain should never have trusted you Federation folk. Particularly that one.” He twirled one of his blades, then aimed its point straight at Zweller. “The man who tried to betray us to Ruardh.”
Riker heard surprised mutters among the Slayton survivors, which receded slowly after Roget gave a terse order for silence. All eyes were upon Zweller now, and none looked very friendly.
Apparently oblivious to everyone in the chamber except for Grelun, Zweller was still holding his particle weapon, his arms at his sides. In a steely voice, Zweller said, “Not true, Grelun. I could have done a lot more than just tamper with your communications and security systems. I could have sabotaged the cloaking devices that keep this place hidden from your enemies. But I didn’t do that.”
Cloaking devices. The words echoed in Riker’s mind. Looks like the Romulans have been stacking the deck, after all. He saw from Troi’s expression that she must have come to the same conclusion. But what, he wondered, did the Romulans have to gain?
Zweller continued: “And do you know why, Grelun? Because I believe in your cause. I want to help you stop the slaughter of your people.”
Grelun appeared unmoved. “You outworlders and your schemes. You plot and you plan. You manipulate us as though we were but pieces in a game. And who suffers? Those who dwell in the provinces you conquer.”
“We’ve never ‘conquered’ anyone, Grelun,” Riker said. “And I would like a chance to prove it to you.”
“How, human?” Grelun said.
“I offer you a neutral place to meet with us: aboard our starship, the Enterprise. There, you can learn more about our history.”
Grelun laughed, then said, “The writing of history is ever the privilege of the conqueror. Life here was far better, far simpler, before outworlders came among us. Then, only Ruardh and her death-dealing minions stood against us.”
“What’s really bothering you, Grelun?” Zweller said. “Are you regretting Falhain’s decision to accept aid from the Romulans? Are you worried about what they’ll expect in return after the Federation leaves?”
Zweller had evidently touched a nerve; Grelun was baring the razor-sharp points of his silvery teeth. One didn’t need to be a Betazoid to divine his emotional state.
“Get down!” Troi yelled.
Grelun raised his swords high and shouted, “Kill them all!” At least two dozen Chiarosan rebels advanced, amid an ear-splitting, ululating cry that seemed to issue from a single gigantic throat. Gomp turned tail and ran as Riker and Zweller both made rolling dives to the stone floor, bringing their weapons up as they landed. Riker could already hear weapons discharges, even before Zweller began firing his disruptor at the oncoming soldiers.
Then Riker realized that he was hearing weapons fire coming from behind the charging Chiarosans. He noticed the distinctive whooshing sound of a Starfleet compression phaser rifle, a weapon he’d not seen in the hands of Grelun’s troops.
The sound of phaser blasts grew louder and the Chiarosans’ united charge became a disorganized scatter. Grelun, his bare forearms badly burned by energy fire, fell back into his men. Chiarosans had begun dropping to the floor.
Moments later, none of the rebels was standing. Miraculously, none of the Starfleet contingent appeared seriously hurt. Near the chamber’s far wall, behind the stunned Chiarosans, stood Lieutenant Hawk, armed with a phaser rifle. Beside him was Admiral Batanides, who was holding a hand phaser.
Zweller smiled broadly as they approached. “Marta, I was expecting to see Johnny. What the hell are you doing here?”
Her face was set into hard lines. “Saving your ass yet again, apparently.”
Riker noticed that something subtle had changed in the way the admiral