Captain's Table_ Dujonian's Hoard Part 13

When the doors opened, I took a quick look around in the darkened corridor. Seeing no evidence of an ambush, I tightened my grasp on my Carda.s.sian pistol and led the way to Gul Ecor's suite.

Our goal was almost in view, I told myself. There was a chance we would make it an outcome on which I wouldn't have wagered a strip of latinum just a few minutes earlier.

We came to the end of the corridor, turned right and then right again. And there before us, not more than fifty meters away, was the entrance to the gul's quarters. Unguarded, no less.

It seemed too easy. And it was.

Someone cried out and we whirled. A moment later, the Carda.s.sians' energy beams exploded in the darkness. All but one of them missed.

In the eerie half-light of the emergency strips, Astellanax glanced just once at the blackened, oozing mess that had been his stomach. His eyes grew round and wide. Raising his weapon, he fired off a blast. Then he toppled forward, dead before he hit the ground.

The rest of us fired as well, sobered by the Orion's destruction. I regret to say he was not the only casualty we suffered in that encounter. One of the humans among us cried out and crumpled, followed by a Bajoran and a squat, light-haired Tellarite.

Still, we created equal havoc in the ranks of the Carda.s.sians. Before long, we had forced them to retreat to the joining of corridors behind them.

"The gul's quarters!" I rasped, ducking another flash of deadly energy. "Move if you value your lives!"

I didn't dare check to see who had responded to my command. I was too busy laying down cover fire for them, with Lieutenant Worf on one side of me and Corbis on the other.

"Picard!" a voice said, crackling in the darkness. "Quickly!"

It was a woman who had called me and not just any woman. The summons had come from the throat of Red Abby.

"Dammit, Picard, get in here!" she cried.

As if to emphasize the urgency of her summons, a whole new flood of Carda.s.sians filled the corridor, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Worf and Corbis and I retreated as one, continuing to provide cover for the other prisoners.

Then we ducked into the gul's quarters, and the door irised closed in our wake. It cut off any possibility of our being hit by enemy fire temporarily, at least.

In the muted blue-green glow of the emergency lighting, I turned to Red Abby. She was hefting a Carda.s.sian energy rifle, scanning the ranks of those who had retreated into the room with me.

Abruptly, she turned to me. "Astellanax?" she asked, her brow creased deeply with concern.

I shook my head. "He didn't make it."

Madigoor FLENARRH SIGHED AND shook his head. "I was hoping," he said, "that Astellanax would survive this adventure."

The Captain of the Kalliope nodded. "I was beginning to like him."

"So was I," Picard replied. "He was loyal, dependable all the things a first officer should be."

"He was a warrior," Hompaq said. "He died as one."

Picard decided Hompaq's epitaph was as good as any he could have come up with. Satisfied, he went on with his story.

The Tale RED ABBY WAS saddened by the Orion's death that much was clear. But she didn't let it incapacitate her.

"What about the others?" she inquired.

"Some chose to leave in a shuttle while they could. Those you see elected to stay and effect a rescue."

Red Abby spared them a glance. There was grat.i.tude in it, spoken without words but sincere nonetheless.

Then she grabbed my arm. "We don't have much time," she said, and pulled me in the direction of the next room.

Through the open archway, I could see a shadowy pair of legs lying on the gray, carpeted floor. Unless I was mistaken, they belonged to Gul Ecor. Yet, the last I had seen of the gul, he was accompanied by a contingent of guards.

I turned to Red Abby. "What happened?"

"The lights," she said, "couldn't have gone out at a better time."

She didn't seem inclined to provide more of an explanation than that. But then, she didn't have to. I had an imagination.

As I entered the room, I saw that Ecor wasn't the only one lying there. Two of his guards were sprawled on the floor as well. I didn't need a medical officer to tell me all three Carda.s.sians were dead.

Red Abby led me across the room to the gul's workstation, which stood in the starlight cast by an oval-shaped observation port. The workstation would give me access to the warship's entire command network a.s.suming, of course, that the system was still operational.

Some of the others entered behind us and moved the corpses over to a bulkhead. Perhaps pitched them would be more accurate.

Again, the deck bucked beneath us. Reminded that time was of the essence, I sat down at the chair in front of the workstation, propped my energy rifle against the bulkhead beside me, and got to work. A minute or so later, I found the entry point I was looking for.

It gave me access to not only the ship's command logs, but its sensor logs as well. I took a moment to scan them, to a.s.semble the pieces of the puzzle. What I learned caused me to exclaim in surprise.

"What is it?" asked Red Abby.

I looked at her. "We've been attacked all right and not just by anyone. It seems our adversary is a Romulan warbird C Cla.s.s."

Dunwoody cursed. Worf scowled at the mention of the Romulans, for whom he had no great love. After all, they had killed his parents in the now-infamous Khitomer Ma.s.sacre.

I turned back to the monitor. "The Romulan commander, an individual who identifies himself as Taca.n.u.s, claims the Carda.s.sians were trespa.s.sing in Romulan s.p.a.ce."

"A likely story," Red Abby commented.

"They're after the h.o.a.rd of Dujonian," Worf observed.

"Like everyone else," a.s.sad noted.

"What do we do now?" asked Dunwoody.

Red Abby bit her lip. "This tub is no match for even a C Cla.s.s warbird. It's a wonder it's held out this long."

Our ship shuddered, as if for emphasis. Not that any was required, mind you. We were acutely aware of our disadvantage.

"If the Romulans win," I said, "it won't help to try to escape in a shuttlecraft. They'll hunt us down like Gosalian hacklehawks descending on a field mouse."

"Agreed," said Red Abby. "Somehow, we've got to stand up to the Romulans and beat them." She looked around. "Any ideas?"

No one seemed to have one, at first. Then it hit me, like a phaser beam on a heavy stun setting.

"If Worf's right about the Romulans coveting the h.o.a.rd," I said, "they won't be content to just destroy the Carda.s.sians. They'll want to interrogate them as the Carda.s.sians interrogated us."

Corbis eyed me. "So?"

"What he's saying," Thadoc informed the Pandrilite, "is the Romulans will have to send boarding teams to take prisoners or at least, beam some Carda.s.sians onto their vessel."

"And they can't do either of those things," said Dunwoody, "unless they drop their shields for a moment."

I nodded. "Precisely. And that's when they'll be vulnerable."

Understanding dawned in Red Abby's eyes. "Very clever. But we'll need to get to a transporter room."

"We will indeed," I replied thoughtfully, weathering yet another quaking of the deckplates.

And yet, as far as we knew, there were still Carda.s.sians laying in wait for us outside the gul's suite. Clearly, we would have to get past them in order to reach our objective.

Once again, my knowledge of Carda.s.sian ship design stood us in good stead. I pulled my chair halfway across the room until it stood directly beneath an oval-shaped vent in the ceiling.

"What is he doing?" Corbis wondered.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Gob.

Stepping up onto the chair, I pried the vent cover loose and stuck my head into the opening. A rather ample pa.s.sageway was revealed to me much larger than the vent itself had suggested.

"Of course," said Thadoc, a note of admiration in his voice.

"A ventilation shaft," Red Abby noted, for those who still hadn't figured it out. "Where does it go, Picard?"

"Not very far," I told her. "The ventilation nexus for this section of the ship is only about fifty meters away. But it should be enough to get us past the Carda.s.sians watching our door."

Dunwoody grunted. "They pulled the same trick on us back on the Daring. Crawling through the ventilation shafts, I mean."

I glanced at him, remembering all too vividly the vicious nature of that firefight. "That's correct," I said. "And I see no reason why we should not return the favor."

"Nor do I," said Red Abby.

"Then, follow me," I told her, and hoisted myself up into the shaft.

She followed. So did the others, including Lieutenant Worf. I led them along the length of the shaft, bypa.s.sing several vents until I came to the one I was looking for.

Peering through its slats, I checked to see if there were any Carda.s.sians in the immediate vicinity. The corridor seemed empty in the glow of the emergency strips, though a bulkhead panel at the far end had exploded and was sparking savagely.

Satisfied that we wouldn't be dropping into a trap, I removed the vent cover and lowered myself to the floor. Phaser in hand, I looked around. There was still no sign of trouble.

I gestured for the others to descend, as well. They did this with the utmost dispatch, ghostly figures in a taut, blue twilight. Then I led the way down the corridor, Worf and Red Abby right behind me.

My comrades and I negotiated pa.s.sageway after twisting pa.s.sageway, enduring one vicious jolt after another as the warship absorbed the Romulans' attacks. After a while, we came to a corridor filled with smoking, sparking chaos, and a slew of Carda.s.sian corpses.

We made our way through it slowly, carefully, unable to see more than a few inches in front of our faces. The smoke seared our throats and invaded our lungs, until we were coughing as much as breathing.

The skin on the back of my neck p.r.i.c.kled. I felt as if, at any moment, I would be cut in half by a Carda.s.sian disruptor beam.

Fortunately, it didn't happen. We came to the end of the corridor without either firing or being fired upon. As I wiped my watering eyes and proceeded through the thinning smoke, I saw what looked a great deal like the transparent doors of a Carda.s.sian transporter facility.

It was a dozen meters ahead, perhaps less. What's more, it appeared to be unguarded but as we had seen before with regard to the Carda.s.sians, appearances could be lethally misleading.

As it happened, I was still in the lead at that point. With the utmost caution, I advanced on the transporter facility. When I got close enough, its door began to iris open.

Madigoor PICARD PAUSED TO take a sip of his wine. He was approaching the bottom of the gla.s.s.

"And?" said Bo'tex. "What did you find?"

"What do you think?" asked Hompaq. "The place was as empty as a poor man's feast hall."

"Empty?" said the Captain of the Kalliope. He stroked his beard. "Why would you say that?"

"Because they are Carda.s.sians," the Klingon spat. "If they had the brains to safeguard a transporter facility, they would never have lost Dujonian's h.o.a.rd in the first place."

Robinson chuckled. "A good point."

"Perhaps it is, at that," said Flenarrh.

Dravvin turned to Picard. "And was it empty?"

Picard set his gla.s.s down. "Not exactly," he replied.

The Tale THE PLACE WAS guarded by a single Carda.s.sian one who had obviously been surprised by the opening of the door. As I spotted him, he was still drawing his disruptor pistol.

Leveling it, he fired at me. I fired as well.

Luck was on my side. I dispatched the fellow with my first shot.

Of course, we didn't yet know he was alone. We had to approach the facility carefully, looking and listening for evidence of other Carda.s.sians. Finally, satisfied the place was secure, we swarmed inside.

Like every other place on that vessel, it was cast in a blue-green glow. Immediately, I located the room's control console and commandeered it. Presetting as many controls as possible, I obtained a lock on the Romulan ship and waited for its commander to do as I had predicted.

By then, the doors had closed behind us, fortifying us against unwanted interruptions. Corbis came up beside me.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now we exercise patience," I replied.