The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [84]
“Get her out of the way,” cried Yar as she hastened to broaden the reception beam around the coordinates. Each second she spent adjusting the controls increased the ship’s risk.
Crusher swept the child off the platform, drawing the small body to her chest with a fierce hug, rejoicing in the recovery of at least one life from the devastation on New Oregon. The face that had peered out from behind water-soaked brown tresses bore a strong resemblance to Dnnys. “Emily!”
“I was having fun,” answered the girl happily when the doctor loosened her embrace. Emily had made the transition to breathing air without assistance. “Can I go back to play soon?”
“No, honey. You’re going home,” said Crusher, trying to smile back. Had the Hamlin children been this untouched by their parents’ deaths?
“Is that nice lady coming, too?”
Ruthe. The doctor looked across the room. Yar’s hands were on the transporter controls, but they weren’t in motion any longer. “Tasha, where is she?”
“I couldn’t lock on to her,” said the security chief. Her face was wooden, her eyes downcast. “Shields are raised.”
“The entire ship registers as a life form,” boomed Worf across the smaller bridge. “Sensor readings are garbled. I can’t pinpoint her exact position in the interior.” He checked another section of the tactical console. “Still no answer on hailing frequencies.”
“What can have happened over there?” Picard had doubted the Choraii’s intentions from the start, but he mustn’t let his suspicions override judgment. A misreading of the alien motives could embroil both ships in unnecessary combat. “Would the Choraii send over the child without receiving payment first?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Perhaps as a statement of extreme arrogance.”
Another thought increased Picard’s concern. “Or would she have snatched the child away without the Choraii’s knowledge?”
“No,” said Deelor firmly. “She’s not that foolish.”
“We’re blind to what’s happening over there, but unless they make a hostile-“
“Captain,” broke in Data. “The D Major is moving away.”
“Helm, full speed pursuit!” ordered Picard. He followed quickly with a shipwide announcement. “All hands to battlestations.”
The Enterprise surged forward after the Choraii bubbles. The wide gap between the two vessels began to narrow, but very slowly.
“Ambassador, we can’t force Ruthe’s return,” said Picard. “Not without placing her in grave danger.”
Deelor nodded. His face was pale but composed. “Just get their attention and buy me some time, Captain.”
“Understood.” Picard took a deep breath and issued his next order. “Worf, lock tractor beams as soon as the Choraii are in range.”
Worf’s clawed hand hovered above the tactical console like a raptor, then swooped downward. Contact. Deck tremors racked the starship as a half-dozen tractor beams latched onto the spheres of the D Major. White bridge lights guttered out; bloodred emergency lights flickered to life. On the viewer, the Choraii ship shuddered to a slow halt.
“Humans, release us!” Deep, slurring voices thundered like an angry Greek chorus.
“You still carry one of our people within your ship,” shouted Deelor, but his solo tenor was weak in comparison. “Return her to us.”
“You mean the lost one? We were forced to give her up many years ago, but now she’s come back.”
“Damn her,” cursed Deelor under his breath.
Picard signaled Worf to cut off communications.
Silence blanketed the bridge. “Ambassador, what do they mean by ‘the lost one’?”
“I suspected this earlier. There are only a few ships in the local cluster that are large enough to land on a planet, but I thought sure Ruthe would tell me … ” He trailed off distractedly.
“Tell you what?” demanded Picard.
“The D Major is Ruthe’s homeship. She was born and raised there.” Deelor raked his fingers through his hair, leaving a wake of angry spikes on the top of his head. “She must have known as soon as she heard their song, but she didn’t tell me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would never have let her beam over.” Deelor waved urgently to Worf and raised