The midshipman's voice trickled off as he paused, deeply
disturbed by what he saw out on the water.
"interrupt holoprogram, code Riker Zero One. "
Around Picard and Alexander, the old-style holoprogram slowed to
a crawl, but this time, due to its partial incompatibility with
the modern holosystem, didn't entirely freeze. A cannon puff from
out on the water groaned toward the Justina, its flash of fire
and violence slowed to a long bright yellow slash, and there it
seemed to stay.
To their right, the door to the holodeck appeared, opened, and
William Riker strode through.
"Sorry to interrupt, Captain."
"Mr. Riker," Picard sighed heavily, shaking himself back to his
other world. "Are you dead yet?"
"Yes, sir, I'm dead. Everything went as you planned. The
patroller trick was a good one, sir."
"Thank you. Alexander, why don't you go get lunch while I speak
to Mr. Riker."
Alexander glanced furtively out at the ship and the battle,
clicking along very, very slowly,then shrugged and nodded. He
started to leave, but hesitated one last moment to gaze fondly at
the paused form of Alexander Leonfeld, the man whose name he
carried. The boy seemed unwilling to leave his new hero in such a
state. Only the silent eyes of Picard and Riker eventually drove
him off the holodeck and on toward lunch.
After he was gone, Riker looked around at the nearly still men
from the past and said, "Heck of a lesson plan, sir."
"Yes, I'm rather enjoying myself, more than I expected to. But
you can see this technology isn't completely compatible with
ours. It's still moving along. The computer can't completely stop
it unless I authorize a complete shutdown. Interesting"
"Yes, it is." Riker peered out over the slowly flickering waters
at the stranded frigate. "Lose your ship?"
"Not mine," Picard said peevishly. "Well? What's going on?"
"Oh, sorry. Worf destroyed the drone ship with his usual
panache." Riker offered a canny grin. "The freighter had to turn
backto Sindikash, so I assume that happened because Worf
successfully sabotaged it and kept that shipment from reaching
Romulan space. The Rogues didn't make a very good showing for
themselves. They're supposed to throw themselves on their swords
for Odette Khanty, and they didn't. I guess she wasn't worth
dying for."
"So she failed to frame the lieutenant governor."
"Right. And Worf made it look as if they almost got caught, so
now she's not very happy with her Rogue force. That can work in
our favor."
"Yes. It'll make her desperate," Picard observed. He looked out
at the Justina, a template for desperation.
Riker nodded. "And now Worf's a hero in Khanty's eyes, because he
kept the freighter and the Rogues from being arrested. If she had
any doubts about him, she won't anymore."
"Perfect. Very good -- very good. What was in that shipment, Mr.
Riker?"
Riker retired an itch on one ear and said, "We aren't sure, sir.
Tainted seed, bogus pharmaceuticals, chemical adulterants -- Odette
Khanty's done 'em all. Things would've looked bad for the
lieutenant governor, to be attached to a cargo like that. Even
Worf couldn't find out what was in that ship, but whatever it
was, I'll bet we're glad it didn't get through."
Picard nodded and peered out over the barely frozen bay and said,
"Poor luck often forces men to fail at their missions. I'm glad
to hear Mr. Worf is having better fortunes. Has Mr. Worf been
able to maneuver Mr. Grant into an inside position?"
"I don't think so. Worf's last communication came through several
relays, but he indicated that he is gaining the trust of Mrs.
Khanty. He'll find a way to get Grant inside. Even if the Rogues
don't particularly like him, they certainly trust him now. He's
slowly wheedling his way to the upper levels of security at the
governor's mansion, and he's taking Grant right along with him --"
The door section, hanging independently in the middle of the
forest, parted again. Commander Data strode in, his pale golden
face shining in the moonlight of Chesapeake Bay. His catlike
android eyes flickered a bit as he spotted them in the trees and
picked his way through to the bay shore.
"Sir," he said cordially to Riker, then looked at Picard.
"Captain."
"Yes, Mr. Data?" Picard acknowledged.
"I have scanned and reviewed all available information about arms
shipments, distributions, contraband, or disposals in the sector,
and found no caches of weapons numbering between ten and forty. I
am sorry, sir."
Picard felt his brow draw, and saw that Riker had the same
expression. "Weapons, Mr. Data? I don't recall a need to check
records of weapons shipments or disposals --"
"The weapons belonging to the passengers of the transport who
were killed, sir," Data said, with his innocent manner of
reporting facts as he saw them.
His amber eyes flicked to Riker, then back to Picard. When
neither seemed to know what he was talking about, he pointedly
added, "The arms, sir."
Riker's eyes got big and his lips pressed flat.
"Oh . . . the arms. . ." Picard rubbed a hand over his own mouth
to wipe down the gallows grin.
Data nodded. "Yes, sir. You said they were missing."
Will Riker developed a cough, folded his arms around his chest,
and nurtured a sudden fascination with Sergeant Leonfeld's
scarlet tunic and white breeches.
"Nice uniform," he muttered.
Data's childlike face tilted. "Is there some problem, sir? Did I
misunderstand? The murdered passengers were disarmed, correct?"
Picard looked at Riker and found no help from a man whose
knuckles were pressed to his tightening lips.
"Eh, yes," Picard began, "they . . . were disarmed. Em . . . Mr.
Data, cancel that search for now. I'll give you
more specific orders later regarding that . . . Mr. Riker, do you
concur?"
"Mmmhmm." Riker's back was to them, his arms still folded, one
hip cocked. The moonlight silhouetted his head and shoulders.
Picard raised his chin. "Carry on, Mr. Data."
"Very well, sir." The android turned and strode back through the
freestanding doorway.
Picard cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut for a
moment, contemplating the vagaries of linguistic communication.
Still hugging his rib cage, Riker sidled toward him, eyes a
little wide and one brow a little up.
"Maybe you'd . . . like some lunch now, sir?" he suggested.
"Lunch?" Picard tossed back. "Lunch, Mr. Riker? While my ship is
out there being captured? I'm surprised at you, man. Such ideas.
I've a mind to disarm you."
Riker smiled and nodded. "Have a nice stranding, sir."
"See? Right here. The governor was leaning toward independence,
but he wanted strong ties to the Federation and eventual
readmittance as a full-fledged member planet. Mrs. Khanty wanted
no more ties at all. She was careful about it, though. I can only
find one time when she slipped and mentioned it while she was
talking to a women's club. Let me change this -- there."
"Play it."
Worf peered over Grant's shoulder in the privacy of their Rogue
quarters, where they had set up their computer access terminal.
Grant had spent every off-duty hour, including some he should've
spent sleeping, digging into the government computer links,
trying to find his way to Odette Khanty's private holdings, that
"track" he spoke of.
Copyright © 1997 by Paramount Pictures