The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [116]
Then his first official act as the ship’s commander had been to order the two deans to posts at opposite ends of the bridge.
A muffled sound drew Chandat’s attention to the old man seated by his side. The professor had remained silent until now.
“So near …” whispered Manja. His voice was husky with sorrow. “If only T’Sara could have lived long enough to share this moment with me.”
Chandat would have preferred to keep the historian out of sight; Diat was a constant reminder that the basis for this venture was taken from a hoary myth in the Dream literature. However, banishing the professor from the bridge would have been too cruel. Manja thought this mission had been mounted on his behalf, as a champion of T’Sara, and he would have been hurt by any attempt at exclusion. As it was, the old man would be hurt eventually, but Chandat tried not to cast his thoughts that far ahead.
Fortunately, the demands of operating a starship had fully occupied the attention of the other professors and prevented them from asking too many questions about their destination. However, the Sullivan would arrive at the Appointed Place soon, and then the folly of this quixotic search for the Gem would be all too apparent to all the Dynasians.
“Chandat!” Thorina’s cry of alarm jerked the warden out of his reverie. “I’ve got something on the scanners!”
“Could you be more specific?” asked Chandat.
Since she had issued several false alarms during the voyage, he had quickly learned not to attach too much significance to such outbursts.
“There’s a Federation starship dead ahead, registry number NCC-1701D.”
The warden started up out of his chair and twirled around to face the dean. “Are you sure?”
“Confirmed,” said Oomalo, peering down over the dean’s shoulder at the tactical screen.
“Their trajectory matches ours. It appears that we will not be the first to arrive at the Appointed Place.”
This news was most unsettling; the warden had never thought to factor another starship into any of his contingency plans. Chandat wracked his memory for an appropriate command response. “Open hailing frequencies.”
“Do what?” asked Thorina, who was still flustered by the unexpected success of her scan. “Oh, yes, the radio.”
With a dubious frown, she jabbed her finger at the midsection of the communications console. A high-pitched squeal of static burst over the bridge speakers. Thorina jabbed again and the noise turned into a stream of chattering voices.
As Chandat listened to the oddly familiar, yet incomprehensible language, Shagret called out with disdain, “That’s not Federation Standard.”
“The incoming transmission is not from the starship,” said Oomalo. The native professor edged in beside Dean Thorina, andwitha refreshing display of competence, rapidly tapped a sequence over the console surface.
“Activating the universal translator.”
“I would have done that next,” snapped Thorina, but she moved aside to give Oomalo better access to the controls.
The abstract sounds suddenly turned into words.
“… must rely on sheer numbers to maintain our advantage. The Federation’s weapons technology is superior to that of any one of our vessels.”
Oomalo glanced over at the tactical monitor. “We appear to have intercepted intership communications from a group of vessels just entering the sector. They also are headed for the Appointed Place.”
An answering transmission crackled over the subspace radio channel. “The unDiWahn captains are united as one mighty fist, Admiral. We shall crush the Enterprise and reclaim the Gem.”
“DiWahn?” cried out Manja. “Did they really say DiWahn?”
“By the Three Gates,” said Chandat in amazement. “I heard it, too.”
“Ancient history is coming alive, Warden!”
Excitement at the discovery wiped away the old man’s grief. He was a Dynasian after all, and knowledge was the first love of all their race.
Chandat’s respect for T’Sara’s scholarship overwhelmed his own concerns for just a moment.