The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [9]
“You should have stayed in place, too,” scolded Dnnys.
“Tomas made me come. He said we had to protect both our own mother and yours since she was all alone.” Mry frowned suddenly. “I reminded him that you were with Patrisha, but I can see I was wrong.”
Dnnys ignored the reprimand. He knew that his cousin wouldn’t tell anyone about his absence. “Wesley says a Yellow Alert isn’t too serious, but we should … “
The young ensign’s advice was never heard. Flashing amber lights turned red, and the Farmers’ raised their voices to shout over the sound of the klaxon.
A piercing scream thickened the knot of people peering out the clear windows that lined the outer wall. Those who could see called out a muddled description that passed from person to person through the crowd, growing less comprehensible with each retelling. A single damaged starship was transformed into a derelict plague ship, a drifting graveyard of ghost ships or a rampaging pirate fleet, depending on who was asked.
When blue fire cascaded over the transparent surface of the ports, the crowd that had surged forward reversed its direction. Mry and Dnnys were swept apart by the stampede of people finally convinced of the wisdom of returning to their cabins.
To anyone sensitive enough, the panic emanating from the passenger section of the starship was like a dense fog. And panic was contagious. As she drew nearer to the Farmers’ quarters, Counselor Troi fought down her instinctive empathy, repressing the desire to flee back to the safety of her own cabin. She cast about for a familiar mind and set in that direction.
Dnnys was alone in a corridor, face pressed against the crackling glass. Troi ran up to him and pulled him back. “Come away from there.”
“It doesn’t hurt. It just sort of tickles.” Dnnys demonstrated by placing a hand against the humming panel. “Where’s the blue light coming from?”
“We don’t know what it is,” said Troi sharply, diverting the thrust of his question. “And it may be dangerous.” He was only a boy, with a boy’s fascination with the unknown. An adult Farmer should have taken charge of him, but the adults all seemed to be cowering in their rooms. Perhaps, in their fright, they would speak to her now. So far the reclusive colonists had rebuffed her attempts to make them welcome. As a result, she knew few of their number by name and little of their customs. “I must speak to the leaders of your community.”
Dnnys laughed at the request. “We haven’t got any leaders.”
“But I spoke to a woman in charge when your people first came onboard.” Troi hadn’t asked the woman’s title, respecting the Farmers’ reticence on such a personal matter, yet she possessed an unmistakable air of authority. “Her name was Patrisha.”
“Oh, you mean my mother.” The boy’s smile dissolved into a frown. “But she isn’t a leader. Nobody has to obey her.”
Troi sensed his defensiveness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” She gingerly felt her way to a less emotionally charged definition of what she sought. “I meant only that people seemed to listen to what she says.”
“Oh, that’s different. People always listen to my mother,” said Dnnys proudly. He pointed to a door farther down the corridor. “Go on in, she’s got plenty of company right now.”
When she had reached the threshold of the cabin, but before she had stepped inside, Troi felt a stab of disappointment coming from Dnnys. She glanced back to the far end of the passageway where he stood.
The blue light had disappeared from the port window.
Chapter Three
CAPTIAN MANIN SCRAMBLED over the shifting rubble that had once been the USS Ferrel’s bridge. He heard the moans and dry coughs of his dying crew, but he couldn’t see them through the smoke and swirling dust. Less than a minute remained of his last command, but the seconds stretched ahead of him like an eternity. He had tried to spare everyone the pain of a prolonged destruction. Deelor had stopped him. Manin pushed aside his anger; it was a waste