Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [95]
“Door open,” he said.
Captain Reynolds came in just as Picard added, “End program,” and now they were standing in the empty holodeck grid.
“We’re entering Cardassian jurisdiction,” Reynolds informed Picard. “How do you want to handle this?”
“I was intending to go in and negotiate. That’s all over. I don’t feel like negotiating anymore. Change course immediately. And give your men the sidearms I provided.”
Chip Reynolds paled a bit with the realization that things weren’t going to go smoothly. To his credit, he made no argument and didn’t waste time with questions.
“Whatever you say … it’s your charter.”
Picard stepped to the holodeck computer access and removed the cartridges of James Kirk’s logs. “And give these back to Mr. Riker. I won’t be needing them anymore.”
In a ship detached far from superior authority, there was nothing a captain might not do …
Hornblower and the Atropos
Chapter 20
“You!”
“Yes. It’s me. Picard. Jean-Luc. SP dash nine three seven dash two one five.”
“Son of … Yvette and Maurice Picard … born Labarre, France … former captain of the Stargazer—”
“Former captain of the EnterpriseD.”
“Ah … I hadn’t heard. Do you mean to have revenge on me? Will you torture me in return for what I did to you? Picard, you’re a peacock pretending to be a hawk. You’re not the type for revenge. I know that much.”
“You’re right. Revenge would never be motivation enough for what I’m about to do.”
“And what is that? Go ahead and do it.”
“First, Madred, I’ll tell you why.”
“Tell.”
Cardassia’s most famous interrogator cautiously remained seated behind his desk. To stand would be to give something away. Mustn’t have that.
Before him, Jean-Luc Picard strolled slowly into the large expanse of the interrogation room without glancing around. Of course, Picard knew the lay of this place. He had spent many severe hours here.
“There are several Starfleet and Federation spacefarers missing in or near Cardassian space,” Picard said tonelessly, “and we know you have some of them held hostage as you held me. You have them, and I want them back.”
Madred kept his hands upon his desk, knowing that Picard would know about the signaling device under the desk. Certainly the captain had anticipated that. This ruse of being alone here was not Picard’s way. He was a team man.
So where was the team?
“What makes today different from yesterday?” Madred asked, prodding for information.
“The difference is the Klingons,” Picard said. “They’ve set their sites on Cardassia for war. You know it and so do I. If the Klingons attack Cardassia, you’re going to need the Federation at your side. At the very least, our neutrality. You’re holding Captain Kaycee Fernando of the escort ship U.S.S. Durant, his command staff, and several of his crew. You’re also holding, we believe, Captain Brent Atherton and the survivors of wreckage from the satellite tender Tuscany. Starfleet patrols recovered wreckage of both ships, including several dead personnel and evidence of Cardassian presence aboard.”
“Silly magic. You have no such evidence.”
“On the contrary, you underestimate Starfleet forensic analysis capabilities.”
Studying Picard’s manner for vindicatory hints, Madred decided not to prod for details of forensic tricks. In Picard’s pale face and smooth brow, his simple black commando clothing and cool self-control, Madred saw a reflection of how physically different their peoples really were—his own steel-gray face, its corded features and scaly exterior arteries, his typical Cardassian uniform of metallic fibers … many differences.
Picard was not wearing a Starfleet uniform, but commando fatigues instead. Madred wondered whether that was for his benefit, or Picard’s. Was this a covert mission? Had Picard snuck into Cardassian space? How had he gotten past the portmaster’s armed guard ships? Had he stowed away somehow?
Interesting questions. Madred restrained himself from asking them outright. The answers would come, slowly,