Three - Michael Jan Friedman [53]
But he wasn’t moving, and his temple was awash with blood. Not good, she thought, hauling him up and dragging his arm across her shoulders. Not good at all.
[157] Struggling with the burden of Joseph’s deadweight, Gerda Idun lowered her head and plowed along the corridor, praying that she would find breatheable air before she passed out and doomed the two of them.
Picard pulled himself back into his center seat and regarded the Balduk vessel on his viewscreen.
Idun had managed to maneuver them off the enemy’s bull’s-eye. But the Balduk commander had gotten a telling shot in, hammering the Stargazer at close range.
As someone rushed to put out a sparking, flaming aft console, Picard turned to Gerda. “Damage report!”
“Shields down fifty-eight percent!” she told him. “Hull breaches on Decks Eight and Nine!”
He bit his lip. It was too soon to know about casualties, but he was sure there would be some of those as well.
Picard eyed the viewscreen again. He didn’t like being run off by those who had no more claim to this area than he did. However, he wasn’t going to further endanger his ship and crew without a compelling reason to do so.
Turning to Idun, he said, “Take us out of here, Lieutenant. Full impulse.”
His helm officer, who had the heart of a Klingon warrior, had to like the idea of retreat even less than he did. However, she followed his orders without hesitation, bringing the Stargazer about and withdrawing at the speed the captain had indicated.
Picard shook his head as he watched the Balduk ship diminish on his viewscreen. His adversaries weren’t making even a token effort at pursuit. But then, why [158] should they? By their lights, they had accomplished their objective. They had driven off the Federation invader.
At least, he added silently, for now.
Ejanix frowned as he returned to the storage room that Kovajo was using as an interrogation facility.
It disappointed him greatly that he couldn’t make Vigo see the need for rebellion. But then, as he himself had pointed out, the weapons officer had been born into an Elevated Caste. He hadn’t witnessed what Ejanix had witnessed.
And on top of that, he had been steeped in Starfleet philosophy. Ejanix had only been an instructor, not a cadet. It was easier for him to break the habit.
Still, the engineer couldn’t help feeling he might have swayed his old friend if he had been more eloquent—if he had painted pictures with his words the way Kovajo and some of the other rebels did.
But rhetoric had never been Ejanix’s strength, and politics had always seemed as distant to him as the stars. So it was difficult for him to convey what others had so aptly conveyed to him—the misery, the injustice, and the despair of living a Lesser Caste life.
He would have known of the situation firsthand, but for the government’s desire to nurture his superior intellect. Ever since he could remember, both he and his family had been insulated from the life of the Lesser Caste.
It took a friend, who introduced him to Kovajo and some of the other rebels, to make him see the truth. [159] After that, he would never look at his homeworld the same way.
Ejanix sighed. Perhaps it been foolish of him to think he could open Vigo’s eyes.
Once, he and Vigo had been friends. They had agreed on most everything. But under the circumstances, it was doubtful they would agree on anything ever again.
There was a rebel outside the interrogation room, a phaser in his hand and a suspicious expression on his face. But then, Kovajo was the only rebel who had met Ejanix prior to this venture. It was only natural that everyone trusted him less than they trusted each other.
Ejanix nodded to the man. Then he went inside.
Kovajo and a couple of the others had pulled chairs into the center of the room and were talking about something in harsh whispers. When they saw Ejanix, they fell silent.
“I spoke to Vigo,” he said. “But I didn’t get very far.”
Kovajo made a face, then glanced