The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [24]
The lightness of their earlier mood had faded completely. Crusher took up the papers she had tossed aside. “I didn’t have a chance to mention this at the briefing, but the medical records Deelor provided are little more than historical documents. They make no mention of which individuals were returned or their physical condition at that time. If we’re going to bring more survivors on board, I’ll need as much current information as I can get.”
“A legitimate request,” agreed Picard. “But somehow I suspect it won’t be that simple. Getting answers out of Ambassador Deelor is like breaking open an Aldebaran shellmouth. The result is hardly worth the effort.”
“But he wants this mission to succeed. He must realize we’re only trying to help in that effort.”
“Yes,” said Picard. “That would seem obvious. Perhaps he’s only a petty-minded bureaucrat clinging obsessively to the status that comes with controlling access to top secrets.” The captain compared this assessment with what little he had seen of Deelor in action and judged the fit. No, not a good match. “Either that, or he has something to hide.”
In the privacy of their suite, with Ruthe safely asleep in the next room, Deelor embarked on a computer-guided inspection of the Enterprise. His ambassadorial rank allowed him to review the ship’s engineering specs without any difficulty, but the computer system balked when he requested the crew personnel files. Deelor responded with a five-digit code that silenced all opposition to his access and erased all tracks of the intrusion.
Jean-Luc Picard was his first target. Deelor rifled through the record of the captain’s previous postings, but the list of distinctions grew tedious so Deelor switched to more recent information. Gaining access to the Captain’s Log required a seven-digit code. The study gave him a good feel for Picard’s style and some clue as to how the man might react to the demands of the current situation. Picard was a seasoned officer, but then, Deelor had expected no less from the captain of a galaxy-class vessel.
He spent less time on First Officer William Riker and Lieutenant Commander Data, but his search through their files was thorough. An acquaintance with the other bridge crew members could wait until later.
Ruthe did not wake when Deelor picked up the small chest resting on the dresser by the bed. The box was the only item he had retrieved from the Ferrel before its departure. He disliked possessions and he was eager to be rid of its contents. The computer established that Riker and Data were working together in the science section and politely offered to furnish directions, but Deelor declined the information.
Finding his own way to the science lab proved to be a convenient test of his memorization of the ship’s layout. Deelor reached the proper location without a false turn. On the Ferrel he had walked an equivalent distance in the dark to reach the bridge, a journey that had saved both his life and Ruthe’s. The need to duplicate that feat could arise if the Choraii won the next round. Deelor noted the surprise on the officers’ faces when he entered the room. Their reaction pleased him. Predictability was boring. And dangerous.
“Mr. Riker, I leave this in your charge.” Deelor dropped the small chest onto a lab table. The crack of impact betrayed its weight. He pulled the vocoder out from a jacket pocket and tossed it to Data. The android’s reaction time was excellent. “And that’s for you, Mr. Data.”
Riker examined the box carefully before opening it. Deelor gave him extra credit for his caution. “Lead,” said the first officer as he counted the bars inside. “About fifteen pounds.”
“I brought extra in case the Choraii raise the price of their captive.”
“Why so little?” asked Riker. “Even highly refined metal is fairly cheap.”
“They never ask for more than they need,” said Deelor. “After laying waste to all of Hamlin, the Choraii probably took only twenty pounds of metal.”
“And now we’re giving them more.”
“Not giving, trading.”
Riker frowned with disgust, but Data