The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [81]
“You’ve heard it before?” asked Deelor.
“It’s a popular melody sung by many of the ships in the local cluster,” said Ruthe. “We don’t have to follow the trail any longer. I can play the rest of the song and show you where it will end.”
The translator pulled the sections of her flute from out of her robe and strung the instrument into its full length. Pursing her lips over the embouchure, she blew lightly and called forth the same notes the computer had played, but the stiff mechanical quality of the rendition was transformed into a fluid musical line. Ruthe continued the song past the point where the computer had stopped, carrying the melody on to its conclusion. As the last note died away, she lowered her flute. “That’s where they’re going.”
“Reversing the translation process now,” Data said, then checked the output of the language computer. “Final destination coordinates computed.”
“Set a direct course for that location,” ordered Picard. “Warp eight.”
With a satisfied smile Ruthe sank back down on the deck. She held the flute in her lap, but her fingers continued to slide over the silent stops as if she sang to herself. Except for the flutter of her hands, she sat motionless.
Wesley Crusher crashed down onto the hard dirt of the open barnyard but absorbed the shock of his fall with an outstretched arm, just as Tasha had taught him. Then he automatically raised the other arm to guard his chest from the blows that followed the tackle. Dnnys was a clumsy fighter, easily blocked, and Wesley could have thrown him off with ease. Instead, the ensign concentrated on self-defense.
“Tell me!” shouted Dnnys. He was too blind with fury to notice his fists never connected with their target. “Why was the captain asking about Emily?”
Wesley blocked another blow. “Stop hitting and I’ll explain!”
Dnnys pulled back from his attack. “I’m sorry,” he stammered as his anger subsided. “But she’s my niece. You know what that means to me, to any Farmer uncle.”
“That’s why I think you should know,” said Wesley, sitting up. He brushed at the bits of dirt and straw clinging to his tunic, stalling for time as he phrased his answer to fall within the limits of his security oath. “There’s a chance that Emily’s still alive. She may have been taken off the planet.”
“You mean the raiders have her?” asked Dnnys. His flushed face drained of color.
“Yes,” Wesley said, skirting dangerously close to a security breach. “She’s being well cared for, but getting her back is going to be difficult.” He gingerly touched a stinging patch of skin on his cheek and wondered if the scrape would be healed before his mother returned. The thought of his mother on the battle bridge was more painful than the bruises. Wesley never gave much thought to danger when the two of them were together on the ship, but waiting for her return filled him with worry. Was this how his mother had felt while Jack Crusher was on board the Stargazer?
Dnnys shook his friend by the shoulder. “When will we find out?”
“I can’t tell you, because I don’t know,” said Wesley, throwing off the hold and scrambling to his feet. “Come on, I have to finish your chores before sunset.” He wanted to think about something other than the outcome of his father’s last voyage.
The Enterprise had reached a patch of space no different from any other within a distance of several light-years. No different at that moment, reflected Andrew Deelor. If the Choraii followed their usual habits, the situation was subject to change without any prior notice.
“This is the place,” announced Geordi. “I’ve double-checked the navigation settings.”
“Sensors do not detect any traces of organic particles,” reported Data. “Either our coordinates are incorrect or the Choraii have not yet arrived.”
“We are at the right place and they will come,” said Ruthe without rising from the deck. “The song is a long one.”
“Not that long,” Lieutenant Yar exclaimed. “I’m picking up a faint radio transmission. Boosting reception to the