Here There Be Dragons Part 15

On the screen the three signals broke up as the ship pa.s.sed them. The gravity compensators howled in protest, and the deck began shaking. Geordi gripped the arms of the command chair, wondering if there would be any warning if the containment fields ruptured. Or would they be dead before it could be reported?

Then the lights started to die down. "Fields holding," Engineering reported in. "Minor systems damage. Fire crews to station."

Geordi let out his breath in a huge sigh. They had made it once again. Then he started listening to the damage reports from the numerous decks. It was bad-tidal forces that had managed to penetrate the shields had ripped out part of the floor on Deck 17, injuring four crew members. One of the shuttles had been thrown against the cranes in Bay 2. On Deck 8- "Sir!" Van Popering said urgently. "I can't be certain, but long-range scanners are picking up another five of those devices. They're closing fast."

Geordi sighed. It was definitely not one of his better days.

Some of the feeling was finally returning to Riker's legs as the two guards supporting him dragged him down the stairs in the pa.s.sage toward the dungeon. Whatever Randolph had jabbed him with was wearing off. He felt like a fool for not having antic.i.p.ated such an attack, but he had been convinced that Volker was the one to watch. The guard captain had been the only one armed. Though Volker had behaved pretty decently, it was after all his duty to protect his duke. And Randolph had seemed to be no more than a court fop. And now it was obvious that he was one of the hunters-most likely the head of the ring.

Great. Well, at least he knew who to arrest-if they managed to get out of this dungeon in one piece.

The third guard poked Deanna with the short pike he carried. Deanna glowered at him but picked up her pace. She'd been walking slowly, hoping to give Will the time to recover a little. Through her empathic abilities she could feel his strength returning. Once they were locked in the cells down here, their escape would be much more difficult.

The steps gave way to a short, narrow corridor which then debouched into the main guardroom and the maze of pa.s.sages and cells beyond. It was dark, damp, and noisome down there. There was a table and several chairs but no signs of further guards. As Deanna entered the room, she was suddenly aware that there was another person with them.

In a whirl of motion Ro kicked the guard escorting Deanna under the chin. His head jerked back as he was rendered unconscious. Deanna continued the turn she had started to make. Ro caught the falling pike as she brought her foot down again. The two guards holding Riker were startled by the unexpected attack. As they started to let go of their burden, Riker concentrated all of his strength into his arms. Instead of falling when he was released, he gripped the necks of the guards as tightly as he could.

They struggled to break free, or to bring their swords up to stab him. Before they could achieve either, Ro had slammed the b.u.t.t of her pike into the face of the first while Deanna punched the second as hard as she could in his stomach. She winced with the pain to her fist, but the man lost all interest in the fight. Ro used the length of the pike to club the two men unconscious.

Riker allowed them to drop, then fell heavily against the wall. He managed to retain his footing, though. "I'm okay," he insisted as Deanna ignored his protests and led him to one of the chairs. Ro dragged the three unconscious guards into one of the cells and slammed the door on them. "What are you doing here, Ensign?" he demanded of Ro.

"Tidying up," she replied dryly.

"Where's Captain Picard?" Riker asked.

"I gather he and Lieutenant Miles have been sold as mine slaves, Commander," the Bajoran answered. "Look, I hate to sound critical, but can't this wait? They're bound to realize that these fellows aren't coming back out pretty soon." She glanced at Deanna. "You want to help me with this? I was just about to block off the entrance when they brought you down."

"Lucky for us then that you didn't finish." Deanna took one end of the table when Ro took the other. "Thanks for the rescue."

"You're welcome." Together, they heaved the table upright. It blocked most of the pa.s.sageway into the guardroom. "I've managed to get one of the doors off its hinges," Ro explained. "We can add to the barricade with it."

"Not that I don't appreciate what you're doing, Ensign," Riker said, struggling to his feet, "but do you have a good reason for this? I mean, it looks as if we're simply making a jail cell for ourselves down here."

"I think there's another way out." Ro and Deanna started to move the freed door into position as she spoke. "I saw a man down here emerge from an empty corridor. I'm buying us time so that we can have a good hunt down there. There's got to be a secret doorway or something. Isn't that a feature of all old castles?"

"Certainly in bad fiction," Riker replied. "And, it appears, in real life." He set to work with them. As he moved, the feeling returned slowly to his body as the drug completely wore off. He and Ro managed to dehinge two more cell doors to increase the strength of the barricade. Finally, satisfied it would hold for a while, he allowed Ro to lead them down to the dead-end pa.s.sageway. "Now," he insisted, "what's happened to the captain?"

Chapter Nineteen.

PICARD REINED IN the borrowed horse as the small party approached the gates of Diesen. "I think we'd better lose this steed here," he said, rather reluctantly, because it was a fine animal. "One of the guards at the gate might recognize it. We can finish the journey on foot now."

Kirsch dismounted first. Picard followed, then fussed the animal before dropping the reins. Data and Kirsch removed the still-unconscious form of Miles from the travois. Picard unlashed the rig to free the horse, then slapped its flank. He watched it canter off back the way they had come. Turning back to Data and Kirsch, he said: "He'll be back soon. He deserves a good feed and a rubbing down. I only wish I could provide them." Rubbing his hands together, he gestured toward the gates. "Come on, don't dawdle. We've got a job to do."

Kirsch helped Picard to support Miles. "Is he always like this?" he asked Data.

"Inevitably," the android replied. He had repaired the damage to his makeup so as not to cause alarm in the city.

Picard led them past the lazing guards on duty as if they were not there. It was always best to look as if you owned the place when there was a possibility you might be stopped for questioning. It bred uncertainty in the enemy's mind. These guards didn't look as if they'd stop anyone.

On the way to the castle Data produced a tunic for Picard. "You would look less conspicuous if you covered your chest, Captain," he explained. Picard took the garment without comment and pulled it on over his head while Data helped Kirsch with Miles. He didn't bother to ask where Data had procured it, the android must have stolen it from a house as they were pa.s.sing.

They made it back to Graebel's warehouse without any problems. n.o.body seemed to find the sight of the three of them helping an unconscious companion to be anything at all out of the ordinary. Kirsch stared at the door, puzzled. "I thought we were going to the castle to rescue your companion?"

"That we are," Picard agreed. "But we'll need an excuse to gain entry. And this ... gentleman ... owes me a little a.s.sistance." He made Kirsch stand in front of the door, then rapped hard. He and Data gently laid Miles against the wall and then positioned themselves flat against the walls, out of sight of the spy-hole in the door. "Ask for Herr Graebel."

When Sigfrid answered the door, Kirsch did as he'd been instructed. Sigfrid, seeing nothing suspicious, unbolted the door and opened it. Picard rammed it with his shoulder. Sigfrid was thrown back, and Data moved to catch him before he could hit anything and make any sound that might alert Graebel.

As the guard opened his mouth to yell, Data grabbed him firmly by the throat. "I would suggest you reconsider that action," he suggested. Sigfrid clamped his mouth closed.

Picard moved swiftly to the stairs, then up them three at a time. He slammed open the door to Graebel's office. The startled merchant jerked up from his seat, his face paling. Picard pushed him back into it.

"Herr Graebel," he said cheerily. "It's so nice to see you again. Are you as happy to see me as I am to see you?"

The wine merchant's skin was ashen, and his plump body shook. "How ... how ..."

"I think the bottom fell out of the slave market," Picard told him. "Never mind. I'm sure you're very eager to make amends to me, aren't you?"

"What ... what do you mean?" Graebel's eyes opened even wider as Data walked into the room and deposited the unconscious Sigfrid on the floor. "You again?"

"Yes," Data replied. "It is a small world, is it not?"

"You're just in time, Dieter," Picard told him. "Herr Graebel has had a change of heart. He's decided to repent of his wicked ways and become a model citizen."

Data gave the captain a blank stare. "Are you referring to the same Herr Graebel?" he asked.

"Yes. He's going to donate a few casks of his finest wine to the duke for a small party tonight." He smiled at Graebel, who quivered. "Don't worry, we'll provide the delivery service to save you work."

Kirsch laughed. "Ah! A ruse to gain entry to the castle!"

"From what you've told me of this duke," Picard replied, "he'll certainly not turn away a shipment of wine-especially one that's a gift from such a reputable merchant as Herr Graebel." He turned to his second officer. "Dieter, Herr Graebel will show you his stables. Have him hitch up a cart. Michael and I will select a few good barrels of wine to take with us."

"And if I refuse?" demanded Graebel.

Picard shook his head gently. "You won't refuse, Herr Graebel. Because if you do I shall have Dieter hold your head in a barrel of wine until you drown." This was a complete lie but spoken with such conviction that Graebel didn't question Picard's sincerity for a second. He gulped, then nodded swiftly several times. "Fine." Picard smiled. "I do so prefer a willing worker."

By the time Picard had selected several of the larger casks from the warehouse floor, Data reappeared from the yard, Graebel staggering along before him.

"The cart you requested is prepared, Captain," Data reported. "Shall I load these barrels?"

"If you would be so kind." Picard rested a hand on the merchant's shoulder as Data picked up the first cask without any obvious effort. Graebel's eyes bulged. "Herr Graebel," Picard said in a friendly manner, "I think it's time that you retired from the business world."

The trader paled. "What ... what do you mean?" His voice was very squeaky, and it was clear that he was terrified he was about to be murdered.

Ignoring the question for a moment, Picard turned to Kirsch. "How are you at tying knots?"

Kirsch smiled nastily at the merchant. "Around wrists or necks?"

"I think the wrists and ankles should suffice."

"Shame." Kirsch laid a hand on Graebel's shoulder. "Come on upstairs, friend. If you're very good, I'll do as Lukas suggests. Otherwise-" He held up a fist and jerked, as if tugging on a rope. Graebel accompanied him upstairs very quietly.

As soon as Data had the cart loaded, Pieard opened the main door to the warehouse. The market was less crowded than it had been, but there were still plenty of people around. Standing by the open door, Picard yelled out: "My friends! Your attention, if you please!"

Heads turned to stare at him. The babble of the shoppers and merchants close by died down.

"Herr Graebel has decided to retire from his trade as a wine merchant," Picard called out, loudly and clearly. "In appreciation for your support and custom, he invites one and all to come and have a drink on him." Gripping the closest wine barrel, Picard pulled it from the shop. With a small ax that lay inside the door, he staved in the lid. "Come, and enjoy!" He entered the warehouse and brought out an armload of goblets. A few of the more adventurous-or thirsty-shoppers were drifting over to the warehouse. Others, knowing Graebel's reputation, cautiously stayed where they were. Picard plunged a goblet into the barrel and took a deep draft. Then he wiped his hand on his sleeve. "Believe me, the wine is perfectly fine!"

That action proved the sincerity of the offer. The drifting of people became a stampede. "There's plenty more inside," Picard called over the din as everyone tried to help themselves. "Take what you will, there'll be no charge!" Then he joined Data and Kirsch at the cart.

The three of them watched the crowd rushing into the warehouse. Several men pulled barrels from the floor and staved in their lids. Others found goblets that they shared around. In moments the room was overrun by men and women grabbing whatever they could.

Picard smiled. "That, I think, should teach Herr Graebel a lesson or two."

"It should beggar him," said Kirsch, approvingly. "They'll drink up all his profits in no time."

Data handed the reins of the cart to the captain and then sprang down to open the gates. As they drove out into the street, they could see that other people from the market were rushing over to avail themselves of Graebel's apparent generosity. Data lifted the rec.u.mbent Lieutenant Miles and carefully laid him in the back of the cart, covering him with a small woollen blanket he had procured. Picard flicked the reins, and they started off toward the castle.

Volker had not expected the duke to be in a very good mood, but he had barely been ready for the verbal attack he had received. The duke's wife had been completely unable to calm him as he lay on his bed, ranting and screaming at his captain of the guard. Volker, his face flushed in a mixture of embarra.s.sment and anger, simply had to stand at attention and take the a.s.sault.

"Your stupid, ill-trained men have inflicted outrageous physical and emotional abuse on me this day!"the duke screamed. His throat, apparently, had recovered from Riker's attack long before his pride. "Two different people have been allowed to injure me. Why am I paying you that this should happen to me?"

"Both perpetrators are in the dungeons, my lord," Volker said, striving for calm. "We shall do with them whatever you desire."

"Are you absolutely certain that they are down there?" the duke screamed. "Or did the girl make her escape in that ma.s.s a.s.sault on your fools?"

"All of the prisoners who tried to escape were killed," replied Volker. "The girl was not among them. Therefore she is still in the cells. And my men took the other two down themselves."

"Your men couldn't take sheep to a slaughter-house!" The duke lay back on his bed, coughing with the strain. "I want the guards down there doubled. If any of those prisoners escape, I'll take the revenge I aim to inflict on them out on your hide, Volker. You'll pray for me to kill you if they aren't there when I want them."

"They will be there," promised Volker. He glared darkly at the duke. What an insufferable, obnoxious buffoon! All he cared about was inflicting pain on others and pleasure on himself. But one of these days he would push Volker too far... .

There was a nervous rap on the door, and one of the guardsmen entered. "My apologies, my lord," he said, shaking. "But we need Captain Volker in the dungeons immediately."

Volker could hardly believe his ears. "What?"

"There's been ... trouble, sir," the wretched guard stammered. "The two prisoners have broken free of the guards and barricaded themselves in the guardroom."

Wincing with pain, Volker heard the duke's howl of fury. "I'll be right down," he informed the guard, who fled without a backward glance. Volker turned back to face the duke, who looked as if he were about to suffer a heart attack. If he had a heart, he might have done, Volker mused. Aloud, he snapped: "There is no other way out of that room, my lord. We only have to break down their barrier to have them again."

"If you can hold them!" The duke-his injuries somehow forgotten-leapt to his feet. "I'm coming down with you, Volker. If you foul up this recapture, I'm going to pull out your guts with my own fingers and stuff them down your stupid throat!" He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his sword and stormed from the chamber. Volker, his face blazing redly, followed him out.

"Wine for the duke's table," Picard told the guard on duty at the castle gate. "A gift from the merchant Graebel."

The guard nodded. "Buying himself out of trouble again?" he asked. "All right, take it over to the storerooms."

Picard nodded. He flicked the reins and the horse trotted forward. Glancing up at the portcullis, Picard was glad that gaining entrance had proved to be so simple. It would have been difficult to get in any other way.

In the back of the cart, Miles groaned. He had finally wakened but seemed stunned and confused. With his broken arm and dazed wits, Miles would be a liability in the event of trouble. Just inside the entrance gate was a small building that appeared to be a chapel that some owner had tacked on to the building. It looked empty.

"Data," Picard suggested, "I think it would be best for Mr. Miles to wait here for us. He'll look as if he's praying for healing if anyone finds him."

Nodding, Data helped the injured lieutenant into the chapel, then closed the door behind him. He rejoined the captain on the cart, and they surveyed the courtyard ahead of them.

Picard saw a puzzling sight: several of the guards dragging the bodies of recently slain people into piles. The corpses were all of filthy and emaciated men. His puzzled stare made Kirsch snort.

"It looks as if the duke's cleaning out the dungeons," he said. "They're a bunch of the prisoners he keeps down there. Kept, I should say."

"Data, is Ro among them?" Picard tried to keep the worry out of his voice. It was never easy to lose an officer under his command.

"No, sir."

"Thank goodness." Picard moved the cart over to one side of the yard. "Any idea where the stores might be?" he asked Kirsch. "We'd better make ourselves busy for the moment."

Before the scholar could reply, one of the guards came over. "You there," he snapped. "Off that cart. We're commandeering it for these bodies."

"But this cart belongs to Herr Graebel," Picard protested. "I really can't-"

The guard pulled out his sword. Grinning, he asked: "Do you want to argue the point?"

Picard scurried down, followed by Data and Kirsch. "No, of course not." He held up his hands placatingly. "But perhaps your captain would be kind enough to give me a receipt? It would be more than my job's worth to go back without the cart. Herr Graebel would think I'd stolen it."

"I imagine he would." The guard nodded. "All right, go and talk to the captain. He'll decide whether to give you a note for your master."

"Thank you," Picard said. He jerked his head for Data and Kirsch to follow and hurried across the yard toward the main entrance. "That was a stroke of luck."

"It seems to me that you're making your own good fortune," Kirsch muttered. "And this piece will get us into the castle."

"I hope we'll get some news about Ro when we do."

Picard led them up to the main door. The guard on duty heard his story and then allowed them to enter. Once inside, they were pushed to the side by other guards. As they watched, more guards were pouring down a flight of stairs. There was the sound of much banging from the end of that pa.s.sageway.

"What's going on?" Picard asked one of the guards, speaking loudly to be heard over all of the noise.

"Three prisoners have barricaded themselves in the cellar," the man replied. "Captain Volker and the duke have just gone down to lead the a.s.sault."

Picard dragged Kirsch and Data toward the far doors. "I'd be willing to wager anything that Ro's somehow behind this," he said, smiling slightly. "She can cause more trouble than any six normal people."

"Your suggestion seems quite plausible to me," agreed Data. "But does it a.s.sist us in any way?"

"It doesn't look too good to me," Kirsch said. "There must be half the garrison between us and her. How are you going to rescue her now?"

Picard didn't like to admit that he was completely out of ideas. Kirsch was correct in his a.s.sessment. Getting to Ro would not be simple. As he considered his options, the doors to the main hall opened and two men emerged. One wore black robes, the other a fur-lined robe of office.