The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [47]
“Close in on the B Flat, Mr. La Forge,” Picard instructed. “Maintain impulse power, but be prepared to go to warp speed on my order.”
“Hailing distance reached. Ruthe’s greeting is being transmitted now,” announced Lieutenant Yar.
The B Flat responded to the strains of the flute by weaving an irregular path back toward the Enterprise. The bubble cluster grew larger on the main viewer. As before, the Choraii voices responded with their own melody, then fell silent waiting for Ruthe to explain the recall.
“Ambassador,” said Picard. “Will you speak to the Choraii or shall I?”
Deelor roused himself from an unblinking stare at the screen. His former quicksilver manner had slowed. “I’ll speak to them.”
Animation returned to his features. The ambassador stood, took a deep breath, and answered the Choraii with the single sustained naming-note of the B Flat. His tenor voice was amazingly good, thought Picard.
“Who are you?” wavered a single Choraii voice, filtered through the liquid environment of the alien ship. Its words still rose and fell to the demands of a musical cadence and the effect on human ears was of a haunting siren call.
“I am Deelor,” said the ambassador, though he kept his voice soft, smoothing out the roughness of the spoken sound.
“Where’s the other one? Why doesn’t she sing for us?”
“She’s tired and in need of rest. My speech isn’t as pleasing as her songs, but will you listen to me?”
A second Choraii voice replaced the first. “What do you want?”
“The trade pleased us,” explained Deelor. “We wish to trade again and provide you with more lead.”
“But we can’t pay for it.”
“But you can … ” Deelor faltered for an instant, then recovered. “You can pay us with the other human.”
A clashing chord of notes echoed over the broadcast band. All four Choraii joined together in a jumble of sound until one of their number regained dominance. “No trade.”
Picard recognized the voice of the fourth singer, who had opposed the arrangements for the first captive exchange. Deelor adopted the persuasive wheedle of a merchant trader. “We offer any metal of worth to you.”
“Jason was a present. He isn’t for sale.”
“The boy had a price,” persisted Deelor.
“Because he hasn’t been named yet. Jason is different; we like him too much to give him up.”
“If you are fond of Jason, you will return him to us. He should be with his own people.”
“Go away, Wild Ones!” Deelor tried to respond but the Choraii drowned him out. “Your notes are ugly. We will not sing with you anymore.”
“They’ve severed communications contact,” said Lieutenant Yar.
“Moving away at warp one,” added Data.
The ambassador looked to Picard for his reaction. “If we try to stop them, your ship will be placed in danger.”
The captain nodded gravely. “Yes, I know, but we have some new tricks of our own for dealing with the Choraii.”
“Do what you can, then,” said Deelor, leaving command of the ship to Picard, just as promised. “I won’t interfere.”
At Picard’s command, the Enterprise sprang forward in pursuit of the retreating alien ship. The Choraii, unprepared for the acceleration of their enemy, called forth a burst of speed, but not soon enough to escape the rays that latched on to four bubbles in the cluster.
“Tractor beams locked on,” said Lieutenant Worf. The Choraii ship shuddered in place. A dimple formed in the center of the cluster, then deepened into a hole, creating a ring. The ring spread out, thinning its sides until the line of the circle was only one sphere thick. Four tractor rays swiveled in tandem with the moving spheres, firmly attached to their individual targets. The ring swiftly reformed its structure. Two spheres detached from each, other and flew apart, forming the single-file line that had overloaded the previous tractor lock.
“As predicted, no increase in energy consumption.” Worf’s theoretical model was now fact.
Picard signaled Yar to open a hailing frequency to the alien ship. “This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. We repeat our previous request. Let us bring Jason over to the Enterprise.”
The bubbles regrouped and parted, whipping