The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [33]
“There is a difference between unorthodox methods and insanity. I have long admired and respected your research, and I value highly what I have learned of your excavation techniques, but even I have lost patience watching you squander your abilities on this quest for the Ko N’ya. And your recent behavior …” were Vulcans always so long-winded, she wondered as Sorren prattled on, or had her patience worn as thin as her aging skin? Her wandering thoughts seized on his earlier words.
“Sorren,” she said with a sharpness born of alarm. “Did you speak of the Ko N’ya in this message of yours?”
“What?” After a moment to reorient himself to her question, he said, “Only in passing.”
“Child, you must not let your adherence to logic block your understanding of races who act on their emotions. News of the Ko N’ya is a beacon for the greedy who …”
She fell silent.
“T’Sara?”
The walls of the chamber were too thick for sound to penetrate, rather she had felt the shouts ringing in the air outside. An inchoate mental surge washed over her again.
“A Call,” she said.
“Yes, I heard it, too!”
They both scrambled to their feet, but Sorren was young and supple and left her far behind as he raced through the dark tunnel toward daylight.
Pushing her bones and muscles beyond the petty annoyances of pain, she gained a new burst of speed and emerged from the ruins. The noonday sun was baking the tiles of the plaza.
“Sorren!”
He was standing just a few meters ahead of her.
At her cry, he twirled to face her, and she saw that his chest had blossomed into fire.
Horror thwarted her understanding, then she realized he had been shot and the force of the phaser blast had thrown his body around, because Sorren himself was already dead. His husk twitched, then collapsed.
T’Sara caught a fleeting glimpse of armored figures, tall men with dusky green skin, rushing toward her. Orions were not known for showing mercy to their victims. Before she could escape back into the shadows of the tower, she was buffeted by two hammer blows of searing heat.
As she fell to her knees, weakened by the destruction gnawing its way through her body, the desire to retaliate against her attackers raged through her mind. She could will their death and the stone would obey.
No, T’Sara, only a foolish old woman would ignore the wisdom of Surak any longer.
She let loose her grip, dropping the Ko N’ya. It hit the ground with a ringing sound, then rolled away with a curious vigor. As the intruders scrabbled in the dirt to recover it, T’Sara curled in upon herself with one last conscious thought.
I will not give it to any living being.
The desert sand faded out from under her …
… to be replaced with the smooth texture of fabric.
The man shivered in the cool air of the cabin and wrapped the covers more tightly around his body. The sensation of a burning pain in his side faded away, but the landscape of the dream itself was etched into his memory.
I am … Jean-Luc Picard.
He opened his eyes and saw T’Sara’s stone glittering in the dark by his bedside.
CHAPTER 11
The chime trilled for a second time, then faded into silence.
The door remained closed.
Beverly Crusher silently debated the wisdom of pressing the call button a third time. She was beginning to feel oddly conspicuous standing in the corridor outside Picard’s cabin at such an early hour of the morning. Not that their breakfast routine was a secret, but she was wary of drawing too much attention to any intimacy between the captain and his chief medical officer. This balancing act between duty and friendship was hard enough to sustain without an audience.
Before she had taken more than two steps away, Crusher heard the door whooshing open behind her.
“Beverly.”
The slurred quality of Picard’s voice prepared her for the sight of