Three - Michael Jan Friedman [56]
Wutor could tell from Ujawekwit’s bearing and accent that he was an aristocrat, an individual from a family with ample lands—just like Wutor’s own family, prior to his blunder. No doubt, he was used to being obeyed.
“And I am Wutor,” he spat back. “What do you want?”
The commander of the Asajanarin smiled, his lips pulling back from his teeth. “You may depart now,” he said with High Order disdain. “I and my subordinates will see to it that this portion of Balduk space remains inviolate.”
Wutor had expected this sort of behavior. In fact, he would have been shocked if his High Order counterpart had taken any other approach.
“I have no intention of departing,” he snarled. “The Ekhonarid has already clashed with the invader and repelled her. According to Law, these coordinates are mine to guard and defend.” He leaned forward in his brace. “Though you may stay here and assist me, if you like.”
The High Order commander’s eyes narrowed beneath [167] his brow ledge. “I do not assist Middle Order vessels. Stand aside and I will forget your insult.”
It was a game, just like the one Wutor played with Tsioveth. Ujawekwit knew only too well that Wutor was within his rights. He was just hoping he could intimidate him into giving them up.
But Wutor had been fortunate to stumble onto such an exquisite opportunity, and he might never stumble upon another one. He wasn’t about to relinquish it so easily.
“The defense is mine!” the commander of the Asajanarin insisted angrily.
“It belongs to me!” Wutor barked back. “You know the protocols. Or do you wish to poach on my coordinates and risk the wrath of your overseers?”
Ujawekwit couldn’t take that chance, and they both knew it. If his overseers found that he had knowingly violated the protocols, he might be stripped of his command—and perhaps a portion of his lands as well.
“Well?” Wutor prodded.
The other commander glared at him. “I will stay,” he said, each word cutting like a dagger, “and assist you in your defense of Balduk space.”
It was clearly the wisest course of action for all concerned. “Good,” said Wutor, providing the ritual response as he settled back comfortably into his brace, his position secured. “I welcome your assistance.”
Gerda glanced at her sister, who was sitting beside her at the bridge’s helm console.
More than an hour had passed since they took their [168] stations in the midst of the battle with the Balduk. Normally, Idun would have said something to her sister in all that time, or at least cast her a knowing glance. But she had done neither.
Clearly, she wasn’t happy with the way Gerda had acted with Lieutenant Refsland earlier. In fact, Gerda wasn’t happy with her behavior either. No matter what kind of thoughts the man had entertained, it didn’t justify her assaulting him.
But Idun was her sister. She wasn’t supposed to turn a cold shoulder to Gerda, regardless of the circumstances.
Suddenly, one of the navigator’s long-range sensor monitors began flashing. Turning her attention to it, she saw that Gerda Idun’s return to her own universe had just grown significantly more complicated.
“Sir,” she said, turning to Captain Picard, “sensors are picking up additional Balduk signatures.”
Picard looked at her. “How many more?”
Gerda consulted her monitor again, then turned back to him. “There are now nine vessels, all told, though all but one is smaller than the first.”
The captain got up from his seat and looked over the navigator’s shoulder. Seeing the ranks of the opposition for himself, he looked anything but happy.
“Get me what you can on them,” he said.
Gerda nodded. “Aye, sir.”
She shared his concern. If it had been difficult to get near the anomaly before, it would now be a good deal more so. Clearly, Picard had his work cut out for him.
Gerda glanced at her sister again. It wouldn’t do the [169] Stargazer any good for Idun to start speaking to her, but it would certainly make her feel a lot better.
Ejanix couldn’t hear the sounds Riyyen made as Kovajo’s men beat him, because