The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [36]
“I see.” Guinan kept on polishing the glass.
“I think the Lethanta are sincere about wanting to open meaningful talks with the Krann,” Picard said.
Guinan said nothing. She picked up a fourth glass and began polishing it.
“You’re going to wear that thing out,” Picard finally said.
Guinan looked Picard in the eye. “I think I could wear this glass out with this rag before you could get the Krann to see sense.”
“Ah. So you’ve heard of these people?”
“Traveler’s tales,” she replied, shrugging again. “Legends. You know. Things get passed around.”
“What have you heard?”
“Nothing I’d base policy on, Jean-Luc. Rumors. Word is that they’re nomads, of course. They go from place to place, and they take a very, very long time to do it, which makes everybody happy. Some say they’re looking for somebody. Oh, and you don’t want them dropping in on you.”
“Why is that?” Picard asked.
“If they come calling, they’ll stay a long time, and they’ll pick you clean before they go.” She thought for a moment. “I recall a friend of a friend who knew somebody who’d talked to a trader who’d been through a system visited by the Krann not too long after they’d gone.”
“And?”
“He didn’t stay there very long,” Guinan said. “There wasn’t anything for him there. I mean anything. They’d been cleaned out.” She put down the glass she’d been working on, dropped the bar rag behind the counter, and gave Picard her full attention. “That’s what I hear, anyway,” she finished. “Never met the folks living on those ships myself, and I don’t know anyone who has. All I’ve got is a feeling, a bad one.”
Picard pressed her. “But what do you think?”
“What do I think? I think anybody who’s mad enough to go on a six-thousand-year-long joyride to find the people who once did them dirt is sociopathic in the extreme, and I think they are likely to behave poorly in any number of ways. Avoid them, Jean-Luc, or be prepared for the consequences.” She indicated his empty glass. “Want another?”
“No,” he said, and there was a bit of a sigh in it. “No, thank you, Guinan. I think I’ll turn in. I’ve got about three hours before alpha shift begins.”
“Sleep well, then, Captain,” Guinan said. “Come on down some night when there’s not a crisis brewing. We’ll raise a glass to a few old friends.”
“I look forward to it,” Picard said. “Good night, Guinan.” The captain turned to leave just as the doors slid open to admit several couples who had come to unwind a bit following beta shift. He nodded pleasantly to them as he passed.
Guinan watched her friend go with eyes that seemed as old as space itself. Then she greeted her newest guests.
The Enterprise was under way again three hours and two minutes later.
There was the usual quiet buzz of practiced activity on the bridge as the starship rapidly pulled away from Nem Ma’ak Bratuna. “Half impulse, sir,” Ensign Ro confirmed. “Distance to craft identified as Krann flagship is presently five hundred eighty-six million kilometers at bearing one hundred eighty-seven mark twenty-one. We’ll be standing right off the bow of the flagship in just over one hour.”
“They are still ignoring our hails, Captain,” a frowning Worf reported, “as they have been since we initiated them yesterday.”
“Keep on knocking, Mr. Worf,” Riker said, “and they may let us in yet.”
Picard frowned at the viewscreen. “I guarantee it. Mr. Worf, are there any signs of unusual activity among the Krann fleet?”
“None, sir. The elements of the fleet are proceeding as before. Most ships are decelerating to arrive at Nem Ma’ak Bratuna in four days, while thousands have diverted to take up a Brunckhorst-style attack position against the planet