The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [105]
“Captain.” There was a hint of elation in Worf’s voice when he said, “We are being hailed by Captain Duregh of the Plath.”
“On screen, Lieutenant.” Picard appeared too drained by the sudden emergency to share in the general rejoicing.
Stars gave way to a close shot of Duregh’s face. Troi thought him young to be commanding his own warship, but Duregh had the lean, feral look of an ambitious Klingon warrior.
“Greetings, Captain Picard.” The dim red lighting of the Plath’s command pit washed down over the furrows of Duregh’s brow; his deep-set eyes were lost in shadow. “We heard of your plight from the Portsmouth and have followed your trail in hopes of joining in combat against the Romulans. Obviously, we have arrived too late to share that honor.”
“Not so, Captain,” said Picard. “We welcome your assistance while we effect certain repairs to our ship.”
“Ah, yes. My weapons officer informed me you are without shields.” Despite his smile, Duregh’s facial muscles were stiff with repressed tension. The empath thinned her emotional barriers to read him more fully. “So our journey was not in vain.”
Something is wrong.
Troi leapt up from her chair. “Captain, wait, I sense—” Her warning came too late.
The Klingon ship discharged its phasers and seconds later an explosion somewhere in the primary hull rocked the bridge, throwing the counselor off-balance. As she grabbed at a bridge railing for support, the Klingon warship fired a second time on the Enterprise, scoring a hit to the engineering hull. Red alert sirens overlapped the babble of damage reports from all decks.
Picard had managed to keep his footing on the deck without releasing his grip on the Heart.
“Fire phasers!”
“Phasers inoperative,” replied Worf.
Duregh laughed loudly at the result of his treachery. “Our next assault will destroy your ship, Captain Picard.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Eyes drawn to the stone in the captain’s hands, Duregh said, “Because the Pagrashtak is mine.
Transport Kessec’s jewel over to me, and I will spare your life.”
“No!” cried Picard. “Such an action will only perpetuate the chaos which has surrounded this relic. I will not give it up to you or to anyone who would abuse its powers for violent ends.”
“Then prepare to die. I can rake the Pagrashtak from out of the rubble of your blasted ship and the corpses of your dead crew.”
“Traitor!” stormed Worf from the aft deck. “You have no honor!”
“Fool,” said the Klingon commander with a snarl.
“You speak of matters that are beyond your understanding. I do this to recover my honor. I am a direct descendant of Durall, son of Kessec. The Pagrashtak was stolen from him, and thus stolen from me; it is my birthright.”
The captain shook his head. “No, you are wrong. Emperor Kessec willingly gave up the Heart …”
“Silence!”
“… to a slave,” declared Picard, “not to his sons.”
“And for that disgrace he died by their hands!” screamed Kessec’s descendant, his face contorted by rage. “You have only a few seconds of life remaining, Captain Picard, and I no longer care whether you surrender or not.”
He stretched out an arm to signal his crew.
“Duregh!” Raising the Heart before him like a shield, Picard shouted, “I’ll see you burn in hell for this!”
The arm dropped. “Fire!”
A phaser beam lanced out from the underside of the Plath …
… then suddenly blossomed into a fireball that burned back along its own path until it enveloped the bird-of-prey.
With a cry of pain, Troi threw up her hands to ward off the blinding light of the explosion that stabbed her eyes. When she finally dared look again, the blazing remains of the Plath still crackled and flickered on the viewscreen.
“Captain?”
Picard stood transfixed in the center of the bridge; he was staring down in horror at the Heart clutched in his hands.
CHAPTER 28
A constant cold wind droned through the abandoned city, lifting clouds of fine-grained dust into the air. Dusky blue light, stripped of heat, fought its way down through the haze to illuminate the ground on which Picard walked. He could still make