The Red King - Michael A. Martin [86]
Suspicious, Harn glared at Riker. “You say you want us to assist in your efforts to rescue my people,” he said, pitching his voice low to make clear that he wasn’t one to be trifled with. “Yet you have only a single, not-overly-large ship.”
“That’s not quite true. But we’d want to rescue as many of your people as our single, not-overly-large ship can accommodate, regardless,” Riker said, scowling deeply. “And as many of the natives as possible.”
“The alienborn kaffirs?”
Riker’s restrained anger finally appeared to get the better of him. Moving so quickly that there was no time to react, the alien grasped Harn by the uniform lapels and spun him face-first into the nearest bulkhead. The impact nearly knocked the wind from him.
Harn regained his feet, his tail switching dangerously behind him as he turned to face Riker and prepared to grab him. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.
But the alien captain stood his ground, either brave or foolish, his hands raised in some sort of martial-skills posture. Harn had no idea whether or not this Riker was a competent fighter; but it was beyond doubt that the alien captain was becoming enraged by Harn’s responses to his overtures.
“I assume you’re referring to the people whose ancestors lived on Oghen before the Neyel colonized it,” Riker said.
Harn shrugged. “Call them what you will.” Why did this creature care so much for those who were so clearly unimportant? It was no wonder that the late Drech’tor Gherran’s wayward son had gravitated toward these soft-skinned weaklings.
“We’re going to put as many people as we possibly can aboard Vanguard. The asteroid colony that orbits your Coreworld.”
Harn’s leathery brows rose involuntarily, and his tail tensed behind him. “Holy Vangar?” So this soft creature really did intend to bring far more to bear against this crisis than his lone vessel.
Riker nodded, though it was clear he was still angry. “Once Vanguard is filled with as many people as we can save, our rescue fleet will tow it someplace safe. We’ll do our best to maintain order among the refugees inside the asteroid, Harn—with or without your arrogant presence. But we need the help of as many local people as possible if we’re to succeed in saving anybody. Preferably people who’ve already been trained to deal with emergencies.
“We need you and your people, Mr. Harn.”
Harn’s desire to strike at the alien suddenly evaporated. He was speechless. He turned, crossed to the room’s inadequately long bed and sat.
After gathering his thoughts, Harn looked up at Riker, who was obviously impatient to get his planned rescue under way. “You have a dedicated diplomatic officer on board,” he said at length. “Why hasn’t she approached the Coreworld’s government with this request?”
Riker shook his head. “Your civil authorities have collapsed. Everyone is fleeing the catastrophe, even your military. Apparently it’s every Neyel for himself.”
Riker’s blue eyes flashed concern, anger, desperation. “Your world needs you now. So you need to help me help you!”
The news chilled Harn to the marrow. He allowed his gaze to drop again to the deck for a measureless time. Then he looked straight into Riker’s impatient, oddly hued eyes.
“What must I do?”
STARDATE 57037.2
Melora Pazlar felt apprehension twisting in the pit of her stomach as she and the others listened to Commander Tuvok. Fifty-three specialists had been hastily assembled in the launch bay, including among them every available security officer, most of the medical staff, those with piloting capabilities, several engineers, and various members of the exobiology department.
“What makes our shuttles any more resistant to the protouniverse’s energy discharges than the Neyel vessels?” Lieutenant T’Lirin asked. Pazlar saw others nodding in agreement