“My mother was known for breeding fine female stock,” she said. The words hurt the commander as if they were weapons. “I was bought as a child, and I have lived most of my life here on the Last Stop to Nowhere.”
“It’s not your last stop,” Crusher assured the Orion. “You’re free now, Grace, and we’re going to take you to a place where you’ll be safe. I promise you that.”
“Commander…” said Tuvok.
Crusher returned his glance. “Yes?”
“It is unwise to make promises you may not be able to keep,” the Vulcan advised him solemnly.
The human was about to respond when Grace said, “Your friend is correct, Commander Crusher. We may not even live long enough to get back to your ship. But you are right about one thing…I am free now.”
Crusher found that his mouth was dry all of a sudden, and decided not to say anything more.
Chapter Sixteen
EVEN AFTER TWO GLASSES OF WINE, Picard found he couldn’t sleep. His mind was filled with violent, haunting images: flashes of red and blue, of exploding ships, of murdered people—Melacron, Cordracites, Benniari—all of them floating bloodily in the void.
Had Culunnh been wrong about third-party intervention, after all? Was this simply the logical if tragic progression of relations between two firmly entrenched adversaries?
If only he had heard something from Crusher and Tuvok, he might have had an answer. However, they had yet to report in. In fact, the captain was beginning to wonder if something had happened to them.
Finally, he decided that enough was enough. He crossed the room to the communications cube that sat on an endtable and tapped it. It lit up instantly, filling the place with a gentle blue radiance.
“This is Culunnh,” came the Benniari’s reedy reply.
“Sorry to disturb you at this hour,” said Picard.
“Ah, Captain Picard,” said the First Minister, and his voice grew warm and sad at the same time. “It would not be possible for you to disturb me. How may I assist you?” he asked. “Or,” and Culunnh sounded more hopeful suddenly, “do you have news to impart?”
Picard sighed before replying. “No news, First Minister, save that I feel I must return to my ship. I appreciate your hospitality, but I have to question if there’s anything more I can accomplish here.”
“I see.” The Benniari’s voice was soft…resigned.
“I think the wisest course of action,” said the captain, “may be for me to brief Starfleet Command on what has taken place here…and to advise them to prepare for the worst.”
Culunnh made a whistling noise. “I cannot help agreeing with you,” he replied, “though I wish it were not so. The Melacronai and Cordracite delegations have alerted me that they will depart in the morning, sooner than I expected. And most of the other diplomats will leave as well, as soon as they realize the Melacron and the Cordracites are gone.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Picard said sincerely.
“There will be a formal breaking of fast in the morning for whoever has remained,” the Benniari continued. “But at this point, I think there will be so few left that I may be able to host that meal in my quarters.”
The captain sighed. “I hope it fills the council chamber,” he told the First Minister, though he hadn’t the least expectation that his wish would come true.
“Shall I see you off?” asked Culunnh.
“No,” said Picard, “that won’t be necessary. I’ve bothered you enough tonight as it is. We will be in touch, however, I assure you.” He paused. “I only regret we were unable to be of more help.”
“You staved off an armed conflict for several days,” the First Minister told him. “As you yourself pointed out, that was an accomplishment. Travel safely, Captain Picard.”
“Thank you, First Minister. It has been a genuine honor to work with you.” Then something else occurred to him. “Say good-bye to Governor Thul for me, will you? Tell him I enjoyed working with him as well.”
“I will do that,” Culunnh promised.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more either of them could say. “Good night,” the captain added.
“Good night,” came the reply.
With that, the cube went dark. Frowning, Picard tapped his communicator badge. “Picard to Ben Zoma,” he said.
A pause. Then, “Ben Zoma here. What can I do for you, Captain?”
“A change of plans. I won’t be staying the night here after all,” Picard informed him.
“Nothing more for you to accomplish?” asked the first officer.
“Nothing,” the captain agreed. “Alert the transporter room, will you? I’m ready when they are.”
“Aye, sir. Ben Zoma out.”
Picard had time to look around his quarters one last time and wish he were leaving Debennius II a happier man. Then there was a shimmer in the air and he found himself back in the Stargazer’s lone transporter room.
• • •
As Crusher watched, Grace slunk out of the shadows and took off, leading the way again.
He and his Vulcan companion followed her through a labyrinth of dark alleys, backstreets and, once, even into a sewer tunnel. Then, as if by magic, they were outside the city limits, on a lonely, unpaved road that wound its way through the hill country.
The commander was thoroughly delighted to leave town. The dirt felt good underneath his boots and the air smelled cleaner. He glanced now and then at Grace, both of them doing their best to keep up with the rapid pace Tuvok was setting for them, and his heart lifted.
They had done what Captain Picard had asked of them. They had identified the elusive third party responsible for the attacks of terrorism in the Cordra and Melacron systems.
Now that the quarry had a name, he could be tracked down and stopped. And they had accomplished this while doing something else exceedingly worthwhile—freeing a woman from a life not fit for a—
“There they are!” came a deep-throated cry.
Crusher turned in time to see blue energy blasts light up the night, striking and pulverizing the stones at their feet. As one, he and Tuvok dove for cover behind some larger rocks.
The commander had imagined that Grace would do the same, lithe and athletic as she was. He thought she would be the least of his troubles. But she continued to stand there in the line of fire, her body taut, her head thrown back in a defiant howl.
“No!” she snarled. “You will not take me back!” Bending, she took hold of a stone and lifted it over her head, ready to hurl it at her attackers in a useless but valiant gesture.
Crusher clenched his jaw and went back out after the slave girl. But before he could get to her, there was a hideous flash of blue light and she crumpled to the ground.
“Grace!” the commander cried out.
She was writhing on the ground, moaning in agony. And what he could see of her abdomen didn’t look good.
Anger coursing through him, Crusher raised his weapon and fired. He heard himself shouting something—he didn’t know what. But he kept shouting and firing and shouting and firing…until Tuvok put his hand on the commander’s arm and told him there was no one left to fire at.
Crusher took a deep, shuddering breath and lowered his weapon. Then he went to Grace, dropped down at her side and slipped his hands underneath her, so he could pick her up.
“Hang on,” he urged her, even as his eyes told him that her wound would be fatal. “We’ll take you to our ship and—”
“Liar,” she said, wincing at the pain in her blackened, bloody belly. “I am dying. We Orions know such things. I—” Before she could say any more, she went rigid with a sudden surge of torment.
“Grace…” he hissed.
A slender green hand covered with blood reached up to grasp the commander’s filthy shirt. The Orion’s expression was a defiant one, even now. She bared her teeth as she spoke.
“I…die…free….” she moaned, her eyes blazing with an inner fire. “Not a slave…free.”
Then, with a pitiful expiration of breath, Grace’s hard-muscled body went limp in his arms.
Crusher gazed helplessly at the Orion, his vision blurring. Damn it, he thought miserably. They had been so close to escaping, all of them. Why did she have to make a stand all by herself? Why couldn’t she have gone for cover the way he and Tuvok did?
He knew the answer, though, didn’t he? All her life, Grace had been trained to act on instinct—and that was what she had done this time as well. But this time, her instincts had led her astray.
Gently, the commander released the Orion and shut her bright green eyes. Then he stood and turned to the Vulcan, who had been checking on the bastards who had murdered her.
“There were only four of them,” Tuvok reported. “Barrh must have split up his henchmen into small groups to improve his chances of finding us.”
Crusher gazed at Grace. “We met her, what…a couple of hours ago? And yet I feel as if I’ve lost one of my best friends.”
“Commander,” said the Vulcan, his voice unusually soft, “do not allow Grace’s sacrifice to be wasted. We must hurry before we are again apprehended by Barrh’s men.”
Crusher blinked to clear his vision. “I hear you,” he said.
They would find their captain, he vowed, and tell him of Thul’s treachery. War would be averted, and millions would be saved.
And who would ever know how big a part an Orion slave girl had played in it? Who would ever understand how brave she had been?
Only he. And Tuvok.
And what had she gotten for her trouble? Just a small taste of freedom, the commander reflected. But for her, maybe that had been enough.
“Come on,” he told the Vulcan.
As Tuvok had advised, Jack Crusher would make sure his friend hadn’t died in vain.
The sight of his transporter room was unexpectedly comforting to Picard. However, it didn’t make up for the discomforting outcome he had brought back with him.
He had hoped to report another diplomatic success to Starfleet Command; it would have been a nice prelude to a few days of rest and relaxation at Starbase Three with Admiral Ammerman and his family. But it was not to be. The captain bore a message of war, not peace, and the future looked grim for this small sector of space.
Picard nodded his thanks to the ensign who had transported him up. Then he crossed the room, meaning to head for his quarters.
“Cadwallader to Captain Picard,” came a summons, stopping the captain in his tracks.
The comm officer’s voice, upbeat at the worst of times, was now positively bubbly. Wondering simultaneously what she was doing at her post at this late hour and what had caused her excitement, he replied, “Picard here. What’s going on, Ensign?”
“A message for you, sir,” said Cadwallader. “It’s from Commander Crusher. Ears only, it seems.”
The captain’s heartbeat sped up. “I’ll take it in my ready room.”
“Aye, sir,” said the comm officer.
A minute later, he emerged from a turbolift compartment onto his bridge. His officers—Ben Zoma in the center seat, the Asmund twins at helm and navigation, and Cadwallader at communications—all turned to him with expressions of relief on their faces.
What’s more, Picard understood why. They had been worried about their friend Jack. A message meant that he was still alive.
Without a word, he made his way across the bridge and headed for his ready room. As the doors slid apart for him, he called back to his comm officer. “Patch it through, Cadwallader.”
“Acknowledged, sir,” she told him.
Circumnavigating his desk, the captain sat down and eagerly faced his monitor. Then he tapped in the command that would play the message for him. As it was a simple audio transmission, the Starfleet insignia remained on the screen throughout.
“This is Commander Crusher,” said the second officer’s voice. He sounded pleased and weary at the same time. “Sir, we’re en route to your position in our Benniari craft. It seems First Minister Culunnh’s hunch was right—there is a third party behind these attacks. They were instigated by a Thallonian governor…a man named Gerrid Thul.”
Picard felt a cold like that of the vacuum of space settle in his stomach. “Thul?” he muttered, bewildered.
The Thallonian had seemed so concerned about the situation, so determined to avert a war. However, Crusher didn’t sound as though he harbored any doubts—and Tuvok, a Vulcan, would have argued with his conclusion if he had. If they said Thul was responsible for the attacks, they must have discovered proof that it was so.
Thul, the captain repeated inwardly.
He listened as Crusher went into the details of the governor’s plot and his motivation. Each word Picard heard served to infuriate him a little more. By the time he heard the last one, his face was crimson with rage and indignation and his hands had clenched into fists.
Thul was fortunate he wasn’t on the Stargazer, the captain told himself. He was fortunate indeed.
“Cadwallader,” Picard barked, getting up from his chair and heading for the exit, “locate Thallonian Governor Gerrid Thul on Debennius Two.”
As he strode out onto the bridge, still filled with righteous ire, the ensign was manipulating her controls. She spoke softly into her headset for a moment, listened, then turned to the captain.
“You’re not going to like this, sir,” she told him. “The Benniari report that Governor Thul left Debennius Two an hour and a half ago.”
Picard swore under his breath.
“What’s going on?” Ben Zoma wanted to know.
“Our quarry has been here all the time,” the captain informed him, “right under our noses. It seems our good friend and ally Governor Thul was behind the attacks.”
The first officer’s eyes widened. “Thul…?”
“Yes. And now he’s disappeared. We have to catch him before he makes the situation worse than it already is.”
Ben Zoma thought for a moment. “Sir,” he said, “a Thallonian ship leaves a distinctive ion trail…”
“Which we can follow,” Picard noted crisply. “Quite right, Number One.” He turned to Gerda Asmund, his statuesque, blond navigator. “Find that trail for me, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” said Asmund.
The captain regarded Idun Asmund, Gerda’s twin. “When we find it,” he told her, “pursue at full impulse.” At least until we leave the planet’s gravity well, he reflected.
“Full impulse,” the helm officer repeated.
Finally, Picard addressed Cadwallader. “Send the following message to Commander Crusher and Ensign Tuvok,” he instructed. “Message received, quarry has departed. We are following the trail, bearing—” He raised an eyebrow as he regarded his navigator.
Gerda Asmund frowned for a moment as she analyzed the sensor data. At last, she looked up. “Bearing three two four mark nine,” the lieutenant said with the utmost confidence.
The captain nodded, grateful for the quality of his bridge personnel. It was hard for him to imagine having a more efficient officer in charge of his navigation console.
“Bearing three two four mark nine,” he repeated for Cadwallader’s benefit. “Make your best speed to intercept. Picard out.”
He watched Idun Asmund out of the corner of his eye as she set a course in accordance with the Thallonian’s escape route. Like her sister, she was as proficient as they came.
“Course set,” the helm officer announced when she was finished.
“Thank you,” the captain told them, “one and all.”
He took his center seat and trained his eyes on the viewscreen, where the field of stars wheeled by as Idun Asmund brought the Stargazer about. Ben Zoma came over to stand at his side.
“That old fox Thul has led us on a merry chase,” the first officer noted without any of his characteristic good humor.
Picard nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “that he has. But the hounds are finally on the right trail.”
He imagined the Thallonian’s vessel centered on his screen, in his phaser sights. Now, the captain added silently, it’s just a matter of how fast the old fox can run.
Chapter Seventeen
JACK CRUSHER FINISHED LISTENING to Picard’s return message through his Benniari headset. Then he turned to Tuvok, who was seated beside him. “They want us to rendezvous with them,” he said.
“Our Benniari vessel cannot match the speed of a Constellation-class starship,” the Vulcan observed.
The commander shrugged. “I know. I guess we’ll just have to do our best.”
Tuvok nodded and tapped in their new heading. The ship came about smoothly under the Vulcan’s direction.
Crusher leaned back and unfolded his long legs, which were starting to cramp. There was nothing to do now, he reflected, but activate the warp drive when they escaped the gravity well of Debennius VI—and hope they were in time to be of some help to their captain.
“Commander?” said Tuvok.
Crusher looked at him. “Hmm?”
“I have been spending a great deal of effort reviewing this mission…”
The human smiled wanly. “Me too.”
“And I have come to two conclusions,” the ensign announced. “First, that I was insubordinate to a superior officer. And second, that I was incorrect in my assessment of his methods.”
Crusher realized his mouth was agape. He closed it. “You’re kidding, right?” And then, before Tuvok could correct him, he added, “Don’t say it. Vulcans never kid.”
“That is true,” Tuvok remarked.
“But how can you say that about my methods?” the human asked. “All I did was manage to get us captured by Barrh’s men. As you yourself said, I put us in unnecessary danger.”
“Nonetheless,” the Vulcan insisted, “we obtained the requisite information and survived to report back to our captain. If we are in time, and it is my sincere hope that we are, we will have averted a catastrophe from which the Kellasian sector might never have recovered.”