The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [44]
If Hek noticed the apprehension of the Krann passengers in the terminal, he gave no sign. “Captain Picard,” the Presider said as he quickened his pace to take the lead, “this is the station that serves the inner government complex. Our ultimate destination, the hospitality module, is only a short distance from here. There is a passageway just outside this facility that will take us directly to it. There are facilities provided there for your comfort, if you should care to rest or refresh yourselves before we begin our formal meeting.”
“That will be fine,” Picard said agreeably as they walked toward a specially marked door. “I must say I’m looking forward to seeing something of your flagship on the way to the hospitality module, Presider Hek.”
“I know you are, Captain. This way, please.”
The passageway they came to was as narrow, bare, and clueless as the area outside the landing bay had been. No one was around. Closed and dogged hatches were set every few meters on either side of the passageway, with no indication as to where the passages behind them—if any—might lead. There was another closed door at the far end of the passageway, some fifty meters away. Half the breadth of the corridor was given over to a moving walkway that clicked on at their approach and was soon jogging along at about a meter and a half per second, a brisk walking pace.
“Please step onto the walkway, everyone,” Hek said, and they did so. “We’ll be at the hospitality module in no time.”
“Oh!” Troi cried, spinning around. She saw that Drappa, the oldest of the Krann, was standing right behind her. He was smiling insipidly.
“Sir,” she told him, carefully keeping the anger from her voice, “please do not do that again.” Drappa cackled at her and shook his head.
Picard frowned darkly. “Presider Hek—” he began.
“I’ll have a word with him later, Captain,” Hek said, holding up a hand. “My deepest apologies, Deanna Advisor to Captain. Drappa Fuel Filter Examiner has grown a bit—outlandish, let us say—as a result of his great age. Let me assure you that we do not regard this kind of behavior as proper conduct.”
“Neither do we,” Worf grated. “I believe the commander might appreciate a little more space in which to walk.” His eyes narrowed as he looked straight at Drappa. “She would not want to tread on anyone’s toes.”
The old man blinked nervously and moved hastily away from Troi to the back of the group. Troi glanced at Worf and smiled her thanks.
The door at the end of the passage opened as they approached, and they slid on through, the door closing silently behind them. Picard, Troi, and Worf found themselves in a large, warmly lit room decorated with wall fabrics and medallions of precious metals and etched glass.
“This is quite nice,” Picard said approvingly. “Quite nice, indeed.”
“What is this place, please?” Worf asked bluntly as he consulted his tricorder again.
“This is the core of our hospitality module,” Hek replied. “You are standing in the reception area for arriving guests. We conduct our most important diplomatic business in other parts of this facility. Such talks have always involved agreements among our six nations. We’ve never had—others—here as our guests.”
“We’re the first?” Troi asked.
“That’s right, Commander,” Hek said, smiling again. “After all, whom would we have talked to? We’ve been in transit for generations. This module is the latest successor to a number of others we’ve constructed over the years. We pressurized it—when was that again, Reckkel? I believe you were a gang boss on the construction detail.”
“Yes, Presider, I was,” the Low Nation leader said. “We opened this facility thirty-two years ago. Nearly thirty-three now.”
“Of course,” Hek said. He looked around and sniffed. “Come to think of it, this kind of decor has long since gone out of favor. Perhaps we’re due for a change. In any case—” Hek motioned to a group of half a dozen young Krann who were waiting patiently off to the side of the reception area.
“These people will take you to