The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [32]
Unfortunately, the contents of the communiqu`es were beyond her reach, but this fact alone was sufficient for her purpose.
Grede was a little slow to make the obvious connection, but it finally came to him. “They must know the distress call was altered.” That realization drained color from his face.
“Furthermore,” said Camenae. “A Tellarite freighter headed for Orion passed within hailing distance of the Enterprise; it appears to be on a direct heading for this base.” The starship’s destination would be common knowledge within the hour, but the captain of an outbound vessel loaded with contraband had gladly paid for the early warning.
“Camenae, you’ve got to help me!”
“Help of that magnitude is not free. It requires another investment on your part.”
“Another … but that’s how I …” His voice trailed off in confusion. “I’m in enough trouble already.”
Camenae assumed her most reassuring smile. “I can arrange for your transport beyond the reach of the Federation authorities.”
“How soon?” he croaked.
“Just as soon as you transmit a series of coded messages for one of my clients and then erase all records of the proceeding.”
Grede seemed to fold in upon himself, shoulders slumping and head drooping. As she waited for the technician’s answer, Camenae felt a stab of irritation at the difficulty he had making such a simple decision.
Finally, he mumbled his assent.
Commander Miyakawa tossed two tokens next to her empty glass before slipping out of the booth.
There was no point in trying to pay for her bar tab—she had lost that battle long ago—but as a compromise she always left a hefty tip for the waiter.
The money was well spent. Over the last few hours, Miyakawa had surmised much of what Captain Picard had left out of his mission report. Now all she needed to know was why he had held back this information from her.
CHAPTER 10
“T’Sara.”
She did not want to let loose her dream, but somewhere on the other side of consciousness there came an insistent demand for her to wake. Her name was repeated over and over again until she grew weary of resisting and opened her eyes.
“You sleep deeply these days,” said the man who knelt before her. The muscles of Sorren’s face were marshaled into an impassive mask, but he still lacked the necessary discipline to erase concern from his voice; she hoped he never learned to tame his dark, expressive eyes.
Despite the lingering memory of a soft cushioned bed, T’Sara realized she was sitting upright and the wall against her back was hard and unyielding.
“I was dreaming that I was a man asleep— dreaming of mad Vulcans sifting a dry dusty planet in search of lost shards of knowledge. When he wakes, my life will fade away, as will all the stone and mortar surrounding us.”
“You spend too much time in this chamber.”
Sorren was unaware of the frown that slipped past his control; he glanced up at the enthroned figure that loomed over them. “I do not fear the dead, but neither do I seek out their company.”
“The Collector was a less pleasant companion when she was alive,” said T’Sara before she thought to curb her tongue.
His fierce glare was like a shout of anger.
“Another dream?”
She tightened her grip on the Ko N’ya.
He had tried to wrest it from her once before when she spoke of Surak on the plain of Ishaya.
Logic dictated that a young male approaching his physical prime could easily overpower an old woman, yet he had failed to take it from her then.
“No, T’Sara, I did not come to argue with you over the stone.” He still refused to utter its name. “The time for discussion has passed.”
“Explain.”
“I feel honor-bound to inform you of the action we have—” “We?” she demanded.
“Sohle, T’Challo, the entire archaeological team. It is our unanimous decision that your thinking has become increasingly disordered and that you are in need of medical assistance. This morning I received confirmation that a Federation starship has been authorized to return you to Vulcan.”
“My colleagues at the Science Academy