The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [98]
A parting of doors announced the arrival of the Faculty deputies. As Mycelli escorted one troupe of Dynasians onto the aft deck of the Sullivan, a turbolift at the forward end of the bridge discharged Dier and her charges onto the command deck.
Chandat waited patiently for his colleagues to finish gaping at the sight on the main viewscreen; if nothing else, this reminder of their common origins would reinforce a spirit of unity.
Then, one by one as they recovered their composure, each of the professors surreptitiously moved into place next to a member of the bridge crew.
Spreading wide his arms in a gesture of welcome, Chandat said, “Now!”
To his relief, the Dynasians actually obeyed.
Oomalo and Shagret, the most muscular of the academics, had been chosen to subdue the captain and his first officer. Given her Starfleet training, Dier was more than a match for the dean, but she stopped fighting him the instant she saw the native Dynasian professor put a choke-hold on Mycelli and lift him off his feet. Oomalo’s thick reptilian body was impervious to his kicking boots.
The ambassador easily threw off Dean Thorina’s fumbling grasp, but ever the diplomat, Tommas called out, “Don’t fight them!”
Fortunately for everyone involved, the Federation crew obeyed her order, and Oomalo lowered the choking, red-faced captain back down to the deck.
“I appreciate your cooperation, Ambassador,” said Chandat. “It is not our wish to hurt anyone.”
“Then what is the purpose of this assault?”
Anger at his betrayal of trust had wiped away all traces of her former amiability.
“We have need of the Sullivan.”
“Are you mad?” demanded the first officer. Her captain was still gasping and incapable of speech.
“How long do you think your people can retain control of this starship?”
“Long enough for our purposes, Commander Dier.
You see, certain rare Iconian artifacts in our possession are still in working order.” Chandat reached for the medallion at the end of his chain of office. “This one, for instance.”
Pressing his finger against a depression in the center of the disk, he waited to see what would happen.
The effect of the sonic waveform generator was dramatic and instantaneous. The ship’s first officer crumpled to the deck too quickly to even groan, as did the ambassador and all the other Humans.
I got it right! Chandat was astounded that his estimate of the proper stun frequency for this alien race had been correct. Perhaps he had missed his calling as a scientist after all.
“It worked,” cried Shagret, equally startled by their success. A foolish smile spread across the dean’s face as he surveyed the sea of fallen bodies. Then he stooped down to check on Dier. “She’s still breathing.”
“But of course,” said Chandat, although privately he had feared the high-frequency sonic wave might be fatal. “And they will all remain unconscious for hours, long enough for us to immobilize them.” This was another prediction based on ancient lore, but he was suddenly confident that the technology of his Iconian ancestors could be trusted to perform as described.
“But what about the others?” demanded Oomalo, with the pragmatic attitude of a native.
Chandat stepped over Tommas’s prone form in order to move down to the command deck.
“Fortunately, the crew complement of a Miranda-class starship is small, so the remainder of the crew will be conquered with even greater ease.”
Some leaders might have chosen to sit in the captain’s chair, but Warden Chandat walked eagerly to the helm of the Sullivan. As he settled down behind the controls of the starship, he called out for Diat Manja.
The old man had lingered on the periphery of the bridge, taking no part in the action. Upon hearing his name, however, he shuffled forward. He clutched a parchment scroll close to his sunken chest.
“But Warden,” said Manja in a bewildered voice. “How can all this violence help forward T’Sara’s cause?