Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [111]
Picard paused a moment, gazed at Atherton, at Steve, then scanned the shivering crews clustering around them. He seemed determined to meet eyes personally with each individual.
“In consideration of your unparalleled service and bravery,” he spoke resonantly, “I shall make this a voluntary mission. However, I won’t delude you. No less than the noble heart of the Federation and millions of innocent Cardassian lives rest upon your shoulders. Yes … I’m asking you to risk your lives and your newfound freedom for the safety and security of those who have imprisoned you, who’ve tortured you. My friends, this is your chance,” he finished, “to show them what you’re really made of. Will you come with me now?”
His voice thrummed through the bombed-out square.
Cold hands shuddering, Steve McClellan stood there on his aching hip, digesting the fact that he was still alive and that there was food inside that ship for him and his brother and their shipmates, and he couldn’t make so much as a squeak of response.
Should he answer for all the others? Should he—were they waiting for him to speak for them?
What was Atherton thinking?
Should they—
Steve almost jumped out of his skin when Atherton let out a suddenly whooping cheer beside him and raised both hands into the air. Instantly a bigger cheer erupted from all the former captives, a soul-raising shout of participation and hope.
Steve looked around to see who was making the noise, and it was himself. Himself, his brother, and everybody with whom they’d been stranded here, shouting and cheering, hugging and some actually dancing.
Invigorated, Steve swung back to Picard. “Sir! May I offer the services of the crews of the U.S.S. Durant and the satellite tender Tuscany!”
Another high cheer backed him up.
Picard reached for Steve’s hand and pumped it. “Lieutenant, I’m proud of you. Starfleet is proud of all of you. The entire Federation owes all of you its pride and gratitude. Everyone, follow me on board! Our mission … stop the Enterprise!”
And the timbers creaked and the rudder groaned and the wind whistled and the sea hissed, everything blending into an inferno of noise as he clung shuddering to the rail.
Ship of the Line
Chapter 23
“Keep your voices down. There are nine Klingons right behind this bulkhead, manning the warp propulsion. We’re at warp now. Lord knows where he’s heading.”
“He’s heading into Cardassian space, sir.”
“How do you know that, Scotty?”
“Directional readout charts. Right on that wee screen over there.”
Bateson and Scott were in front of Riker as they all hurried through a doorway, hoping the Klingons in the next chamber wouldn’t come out before they were safely behind closed doors.
They had no hand phasers. They’d raided an auxiliary arms cabinet two decks up, only to find that Kozara knew enough about computer systems to drain those phasers even as they hung on their charging mounts. Useless. Except maybe for throwing, and any hammer would serve for that.
Why was Kozara going into Cardassian space? Nothing good. Klingons thought Cardassians were slightly more than reptiles. Cardassians thought Klingons were overspined children. At the moment Riker thought they were both right.
Kozara could’ve gone into Cardassian space and stirred up trouble just fine with that Klingon fighter he’d set adrift. Why would he bother taking this—
Instantly the question answered itself.
“Scotty, we’ve got to hurry,” he urged. Suddenly he was cold all over, as the larger picture showed itself across the panorama of his mind. “Do you have another idea?”
“I have one,” Bateson said. “It’s pretty base.”
“Basic is good.”
“Not basic. Base. There’s a subtle difference. Scotty, can we get a view of that area without having them see us?”
“Think so,” Scott answered, and plucked at a computer console in the corner of the room. “Security cameras ought to be working—there you go,