The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [66]
“Perhaps they’re being sold at another slave market elsewhere on the planet,” said Shran.
“Look at the size of this operation, Shran,” Archer said. “Do you think there could be another market here capable of competing with this? Besides, Rigel X only has one central trade complex.”
“It’s one too many, if you ask me,” Reed said. His face was a study in distaste.
“I can certainly agree with you on that, pinkskin,” Shran said.
“My guess,” said Archer, trying to keep the team focused, “is that the slave ship we tracked here made a wholesale transfer of all the captured Aenar onto a second ship.”
“Makes sense,” Reed said. “They could have bypassed the auction block altogether if they already had a single buyer lined up.”
A buyer like the Romulan military, Archer thought with a chill.
Shran’s antennae flattened against his scalp in a clear display of anger and frustration. “If that’s true, then we’re not leaving this planet until I find out where that slave ship is now, and exactly what became of its… cargo.”
“Someone in charge of logistics around here would have to be able to shed some light on the matter,” Reed said.
“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Archer said, motioning to Sergeant McKenzie that it was time for the landing party to move on. Chang and McCammon immediately took up protective positions on the team’s flank as Archer directed it away from the densest section of the roiling crowd of slave bidders.
Archer stopped when he noticed that Shran was hanging back, and motioned the others to halt as he wended through a small cluster of buyers, making his way back to Shran’s side.
“Come on, Shran,” Archer said, shouting almost directly into Shran’s ear to make himself heard. “We can’t stay here.”
“We can’t let an abomination like this continue, either,” said the Andorian, a faraway, almost fanatical look in his icy blue eyes.
Although he could certainly sympathize, Archer didn’t like what he was seeing and hearing. “Remember the little chat about restraint we had earlier, Shran?”
“No one should be treated this way,” Shran said. He either hadn’t heard Archer’s words or had chosen to ignore them.
Archer noted that the Andorian’s hand was on the holster of the phase pistol that Malcolm had issued him.
He placed a restraining hand on Shran’s arm. The Andorian stiffened, but made no move either to shake Archer off or to draw his weapon.
“Shran, this thing bothers me as much as it bothers you,” he said. “I’d love nothing better right now than to shoot this place up and set all these people free. Hell, if I’d seen this the last time I came here, I might have actually done it.”
Shran looked at him, his eyes flashing with passionate outrage. He shrugged off Archer’s hand and drew his weapon. Fortunately, no one in the crowd showed any sign of having noticed it, probably because of the obscuring folds of the Andorian’s field jacket.
“Shran, suppose you do free them all instead of just getting us all killed,” Archer said in mounting desperation. “What do you think will happen to these people afterward?”
“What could be worse than this, pinkskin?”
Archer knew that once Shran fired his weapon, the landing party would be very unlikely to get back to the ship intact. And getting everyone back to the ship alive was his primary responsibility. His body tensed as he prepared to bring Shran down hand-to-hand should it prove necessary.
In the meantime, he pressed on with an argument of necessity, despite the fact that he didn’t truly believe it in his heart. “I’ll tell you what would happen, Shran. Some of these people would be shot dead. Some would die after being trampled. A few might even make it outside. Most of those would freeze to death, and the ones that didn’t would starve. If we interfere, we make a horrible decision for these people. There’ll be no going back for any of them.”
Slavery is a terrible life, Archer thought, hating himself for being unable to end these people’s all but unimaginable