The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [18]
“They left the stink of their technology in the air,” said Dolora, sniffing loudly as she walked across the floor.
“Oh, please,” groaned Patrisha, but she was drowned out by the approaching babble of querulous voices. More Farmers poured out of their hiding place and into the day area.
“You were entirely too accommodating,” said Tomas with his usual bombast. “We can’t be held here against our will.”
“On the contrary. We have no choice in the matter,” countered Patrisha. “However, Captain Picard was tactful enough not to point that out.” Only Tomas could anger her sufficiently to defend an outsider.
Dolora shook her finger in the direction of the corridor. “It’s an outrage, and the Grzydc government must be informed of the treatment accorded its citizens.”
“They never treated us any better,” grumbled another woman.
A man on the other side of the room cried, “Outsiders don’t know the meaning of respect. You can’t expect common decency from any of them.”
Shouting the Farmers down with rational arguments would only waste her breath. Patrisha threw herself down onto a sofa and shut her mind to the various recitals of real and imagined grievances. The scenario had been repeated over and over, with minor variations, since the yearlong trek to New Oregon had begun and was no less tedious for all its familiarity.
“The Farmers accepted the delay rather more calmly than I expected,” remarked Picard after he and Riker had left the passengers’ quarters. His first officer was not given to complaint, but rumors of temperamental storms by the colonists had reached the captain through other channels.
“That particular Farmer took the news well,” said Riker grudgingly as they walked through the corridor. “But then, they must be resigned to delays by now. The group waited for nearly a month on Starbase Ten before we were assigned to carry them the rest of the way. Their home world used its diplomatic influence to get the community aboard the Enterprise.”
“I didn’t think Grzydc had any influence,” said the captain as they entered a turboelevator.
Riker directed the compartment to the bridge.
“According to Wesley, the Grzydc government has actually paid for the Farmers’ new territory.”
“Terraformed land is very expensive,” said Picard thoughtfully. “I’m surprised a resource-poor world like Grzydc would be so eager to help a group of naturalized citizens.”
Riker grinned ruefully. “It may have been a small price to get them off the planet.”
The turbo slowed to a halt. Picard and his first officer stepped out onto the bridge and into the middle of a heated confrontation between Security Chief Yar and Andrew Deelor. Yar broke off from shouting at the captain’s entrance and stiffened to attention; Deelor shoved his clenched fists into the pockets of his blue medical jacket. The robed woman known only as Ruthe stood by his side, unmoved by the commotion.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked Picard. He addressed Lieutenant Yar, but his attention was really on Deelor. Details of the man’s appearance had blurred since their brief encounter in sickbay. The ambassador had an undistinguished face, neither handsome nor ugly, and easily forgotten. He was of medium height and medium build-all in all, an unremarkable man.
“Ambassador Deelor will not leave the bridge as requested.” Yar used the man’s title, but her suspicion of its authenticity was obvious. “I was about to call for a security team to escort him to his quarters.”
“You acted correctly, Lieutenant Yar.” Picard turned to Deelor and his companion. “Passengers are not allowed on the bridge without my express permission.”
“I am not an ordinary passenger,” stressed Deelor.
“Evidently not.” Picard’s smile was not reflected in his eyes. “You’ve made a remarkable recovery from your wounds, Ambassador.”
“Dr. Crusher is a very able physician. I’m feeling much better.” He eased his hands out of the jacket pockets and let his arms rest by his side, but the tension