The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [54]
Picard’s every instinct argued against this prosaic conclusion to the starship’s mission to Atropos and such a casual disposal of the Ko N’ya and T’Sara’s remains.
No, I will not do this.
The captain cleared the screen of text and began to draft yet another communiqu`e to Admiral Matasu. Sendei’s position at the Academy had gained him prominence in Starfleet circles; but Picard was not without influence of his own, and he intended to take full advantage of it now.
“No, I’m not much of a tea drinker,” said Guinan, waving away the steaming cup.
“Take it anyway,” said the captain. “I find that just the act of holding a cup of Earl Grey has great therapeutic value.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
Picard settled down beside her on the sofa, and they sipped the hot tea in silence. Guinan had never lingered in the ready room before; she had always thought of it as Picard’s office, a place of business, but now she realized that it could also serve as a safe harbor from turmoil. The window behind the captain’s desk offered a miniature version of the panoramic view in Ten-Forward, and for a while Guinan loosed her mind to wander idly from one star to another. The plush sofa eased the tension in her body, and Picard’s undemanding companionship eased other deeper and less obvious aches.
“She’s not the first to change so drastically from the person I knew before,” said Guinan at last.
“It affects some of my people that way. The loss of our families, our world, everything that we were, is simply too great a pain to bear. A part of them withers away, and they turn dry and bitter.”
“You, however,” said Picard softly, “chose to embrace life.”
“That’s my way of honoring the dead … perhaps even of mourning for them.”
She had been born to a race of Listeners and had spent centuries honing her skills, but right now she needed someone to listen to her. Picard sat quietly as she recalled memories of Camenae as a girl, then as a young woman maturing into an accomplished poet, andofa friendship that had seemed strong enough to last a lifetime.
And then Guinan told him of Camenae’s warning.
Picard set down his cup and moved to the ready room desk. Picking up the Heart, he said, “I welcome the information, but I don’t think there is any need for concern about these unDiWahn.
We’ll be leaving Starbase 193, and this sector, very soon.”
“You’ve received new mission orders?”
“No, I’ve requested permission to divert the Enterprise to Vulcan.” He seemed to be speaking to the Heart when he said, “We’re taking T’Sara home.”
CHAPTER 15
DaiMon Tork twirled the heavy ring on the third finger of his left hand as he calculated its worth and what percentage of that figure he could actually obtain for it at the open bazaar.
Not enough.
A cut-rate sale of his entire payload had just managed to pay off his portion of the consortium debt, but he had been left without sufficient funds to continue docking his Marauder at Starbase 193. The last of his fuel had brought him to Smelter’s Hold, only to find that the news of Maarc’s debacle had preceded him. No one was willing to extend him credit to purchase new stock, for nothing scared away old associates so fast as financial failure.
Cursed be the day that Maarc had drawn him into that transaction with Camenae!
“You eat too much of my food,” Tork said, lashing out at his first officer. Kazago was perched on a pile of boxes containing the last of their personal possessions and some items too worthless to be sold. He was crunching his way through one of the ration packets they had scrounged from the ship’s emergency stores.
“It’s not as if I like this food,” said Kazago with sullen impertinence. “But you haven’t paid me any wages for a month, DaiMon, so I can’t afford to buy anything else to eat.” He resumed his crunching.
“Enough of your complaints. I’ll think of something; I always