To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [88]
“We will transport you back to Ne’elat at once.” He touched his comm badge. “Transporter room, prepare to—” The briefing room door hissed open. Udar Kishrit and the rest of the Masra’et gasped and backed away as nine fiery-eyed men, their long, dark robes as wildly disarrayed as their beards, poured into the already crowded chamber.
“They have come!” Ma’adrys exclaimed, half in fear, half in awe. She arranged her hands in a gesture of deepest reverence and bowed low. “Gracious masters, be welcome to our—” The words of greeting died on her lips. While she had been speaking, the door had opened a second time.
“Geordi!” she cried.
Even with his arms pinioned behind him and Bilik’s dagger at his throat, Geordi managed a sheepish smile. “Hello, Ma’adrys. This isn’t going the way I planned it at all.” Chapter Fifteen
LT. WORF ACTED WITH the speed of a Klingon warrior and the skill of one of Starfleet’s most highly trained Security officers. Bilik might have his dagger to Geordi’s throat, but Worf was confident that even unarmed he could deflect the blade and free his crewmate before the oberyin knew what hit him. He leaped into action— —and turned into ice.
“Exactly like what happened to me,” Commander Riker murmured to a stunned Captain Picard.
“Enough power to iramobilize a Klingon,” Picard marveled under his breath.
“I don’t think our friend with the dagger’s doing it alone,” Riker observed. He nodded discreetly at the nine members of the Na’amOberyin who were staring at Worf with intense concentration. “If they can hold Worf, we’d better not make any sudden moves or they’ll do the same to us.” “Agreed.” Picard raised his voice and addressed the invaders. “Whoever you are, I promise you that you are in no danger here if you have come in peace.” “It was not our idea to come here,” Bilik replied, his jaw set. “We were swept from our world unwillingly, just as so many of our own people were stolen by those children of Yaro before this.” He shot a venemous look at the trembling Ne’elatians.
“It was not my idea to bring you here, either,” Picard said. “But since you are here, I give you my word as a Starfeet officer that while you are on board the Enterprise, you have nothing to fear from us.
Release my men and I will see that you are returned to your homeworld immediately.” Bilik made no move to lower the dagger. “We know nothing of the worth of your word. Why should we trust you?” “I assure you—” Without thinking, Picard rose from his seat, intending to approach the hostile oberyin peaceably. He had taken perhaps three steps toward Bilik when he felt his limbs begin to go numb. He took the hint. “There is no need for that,” he remarked softly. When he backtracked and sat down again, the shadow of paralysis left him. “We can talk like this, at a distance, if that is what you prefer.” “What is this nonsense?” Udar Kishrit’s voice boomed. He gave Picard a contemptuous look. “Is your Federation made of such spineless stuff that you treat savages as if they were civilized beings?” He started for Bilik, and whether his hand was raised to deal the oberyin a blow or merely in a dramatic gesture, only he knew.
“Hold them, my masters!” Bilik cried. “Hold them all!” At those words, a shiver seemed to run through every non-Ashkaarian in the briefing room. This was a different sort of immobility than that which