The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [39]
An hour later Worf found his answer.
“Theoretically, this could work,” said Data as he viewed the new graphic simulation. Worf had split the tractor into four beams. Each locked onto a single sphere. Regardless of the arrangement the spheres assumed, the beams held fast to their individual target. Overall power expenditure was no higher than for a single beam.
“This time they won’t get away,” said Worf. The knowledge was quite refreshing, more so than sleep.
Dr. Crusher heard the sound of footsteps entering her office, but she didn’t lift her eyes from the computer screen. “Go away. I’m busy.”
The shadow across her desk did not disappear. “A nurse warned me you were in a snit.”
Crusher’s head snapped up at the sound of Deelor’s mocking voice. “As the ship’s chief medical officer, it’s my responsibility to prepare for the arrival of the Hamlin survivors, but without any guidelines I can make only the most general preparations. Emotional disorientation is to be expected; vitamin deficiencies are also likely. Beyond that lie a host of maladies ranging from mild disorders to crippling disabilities.” She tapped the screen that had absorbed her attention. “If the Choraii ships lack gravity, the captives could have no bones left, just soft cartilage that would bend under the weight of their bodies. And that’s just the beginning … “
“Oh, stop worrying,” he said lazily. “I have a cure for what ails the doctor.” He flipped a cassette onto her desk. “These medical records will answer most of your questions about the captives.”
“It’s about time!”
“You’re welcome.” His flippant good humor only increased her irritation. “And, Dr. Crusher, about the records. I’m sure I needn’t remind you that this is all highly classified material.” The tone was light, but the words were serious enough.
“I’m well aware of that, Ambassador.” She slipped the tape into the computer and began to read.
By the time Picard walked onto the bridge, his first officer had already assumed command and Data had returned to his position at the helm. Riker appeared unusually somber when he greeted the captain.
“Ambassador Deelor would like to see you.”
Picard had expected as much. “Tell him to meet me in the Ready Room.”
“Sir, he’s already there.”
When Picard entered the office, Deelor was standing by the star window staring out into space.
“Won’t you have a seat?” asked Picard dryly. He indicated the captain’s chair behind the desk.
Deelor moved away from the window. “The desk is yours, Captain, but the bridge is mine. I will assume full command of the ship from this point on.”
“You have control of the mission, Ambassador,” replied Picard. “Not the Enterprise.”
Deelor frowned, but showed no surprise. “Admiral Zagráth … “
“Is not here right now,” said the captain evenly. “My primary responsibility is to my crew, and I will not place their fate in your hands.”
“Even at the risk of a court-martial?”
“A court-martial would require open discussion of the Choraii and their Hamlin captives. And of the USS Ferrel.”
“Very astute,” said Deelor. “Phil Manin didn’t see through that bluff. But there are many ways to lose a command, Captain Picard. Promotions to dead-end jobs on back water planets.”
“Better that than lose this ship. You destroyed the Ferrel; you will not destroy the Enterprise.”
The ambassador’s frown deepened. “Your concern is admirable, but misplaced. I’ve dealt with the Choraii before. I can make more informed decisions.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
“You’re a stubborn man,” sighed Deelor. “Don’t let your dislike for me blind you. No matter what you may think, my actions are not capricious or inept.” He tapped lightly on the glass of the wall aquarium, watching the fish inside nibble at the reflection of his fingers. When he turned back to Picard, he was smiling ruefully.
“Keep control of your ship, Captain. We can’t afford to fight among ourselves; the Choraii would take quick advantage of any divisiveness. But if you value the Enterprise, listen to whatever advice I give you.”
Picard felt the first stirring