The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [19]
“Good. Then you’ll be able to answer some of my questions.” Picard ushered the two down the curving bridge ramp to the threshold of his office. He and Riker followed them into the room, but Deelor shook his head at the first officer’s presence.
“It’s best if we speak alone, Captain.” He made no pretense of making a request. This was an order.
“As you wish, Ambassador.” Picard signaled Riker to obey.
Ruthe, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, stared with fascination at the lionfish swimming in the wall aquarium. Riker stepped briskly around her and left. When the door had closed, Picard walked past his guests to take his place behind the office desk, star window at his back. He remained standing, the fingers of his hands resting lightly on the polished surface of the tabletop.
“Admiral Zagráth has made it very clear that I am to refrain from all inquiry into the attack on the USS Ferrel. Does that also mean I’m to drop my investigation into the attack upon you?”
“There was no attack, Captain,” said Deelor steadily. “My injury was an accident.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. Then you’ll be quite safe aboard the Ferrel on its return journey to Zendi Starbase Ten. Of course, the accommodations will be somewhat primitive with thirty people crammed into the service areas of Engineering, but the trip should take only eight or nine weeks.”
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Deelor’s mouth. “Touché, Captain. But let’s put an end to our fencing. You know too much already, and yet not enough.”
The ambassador pulled a chair alongside the desk and sat down. He rocked back to a comfortable angle. Picard lowered himself into his own chair, but kept himself carefully upright. He wasn’t fooled by the pretense of informality.
“I have no intention of returning to the Ferrel,” admitted Deelor. “As you pointed out, the trip would be quite uncomfortable and tedious. Tempers can fray under the stress of confinement.”
“The crew of the Ferrel hate you. Why?”
“Because I had command of the mission over their captain. And because I underestimated the strength of our adversary. As you’ve probably surmised, the aliens who attacked us are also responsible for a rather unfortunate incident on the planet Hamlin.”
“The Hamlin Massacre,” said Picard flatly. Those words still touched a chord of shock in him. “Three hundred people were killed without reason. Such butchery usually counts as more than an ‘incident.’ “
Deelor’s brows crept upward. “I can see I won’t have to brief you on the details.”
“What do you know of these aliens?”
“They call themselves the Choraii.
“The Choraii,” repeated Picard slowly. So now the enemy had a name. “And this was not a chance encounter.”
“Oh, no. It’s taken months of radio contact to arrange the rendezvous between the Ferrel and a Choraii ship.” Deelor paused uncertainly. When he spoke again, the arrogance of his manner was muted. “I was prepared for hostile action from the Choraii, for a testing of our defenses. It was essential that the Ferrel display a military force equal to their own, one strong enough to earn their respect yet not so strong as to scare them away.”
“What went wrong?” prompted Picard.
“I miscalculated, held back too long. The Choraii saw this as weakness and closed in for the kill. Their energy net was a surprise. Our power reserves weren’t able to withstand the pressure of the field for more than a few hours. A hard lesson, but a valuable one. Next time, with the Enterprise, I’ll succeed.”
Picard’s open palm crashed down on the desktop. “Not with my ship!”
“I have the authority to override your command. Or didn’t the admiral tell you that?” Deelor’s arrogance was back
Picard drew on thirty years of Fleet discipline to suppress the urge to leap across the distance separating them and physically teach the ambassador his place. “Yes, I was so informed,” he said at last. That particular portion of the transmission had set off a rage that he could still feel burning within him. “And what, if I may ask, is the purpose of your contact