"I'm not afraid! But this is unnecessary! It's a mistake!"
"It's my decision, not yours! You're lucky I haven't killed you already for your incompetence! And if the phaser cannons you rigged up don't perform as you promised . . ."
But the need to complete the threat didn't materialize, for the phaser cannons dropped obediently into position, even as their targeting sights locked onto the Marquand.
"In the name of all those whom you abused, Si Cwan . . . vengeance!" snarled Zoran as he triggered the firing command.
The phaser cannons let loose, both scoring direct hits, and the cries of triumph from the half-dozen Thallonians in the control room was deafening. Actually, only five of them cheered; Rojam pulled himself to sitting, rubbing the side of his head where Zoran had struck him. "This isn't necessary," he said again, but he might as well have been speaking to an empty room.
The shuttle craft was pounded by the phaser cannons, helpless before the onslaught. The Thallonians cheered every shot, overjoyed by Zoran's marksmanship. Even an annoyed Rojam had to admit that, for all his faults, Zoran was a good shot. Of course, having computers do all the work certainly helped.
"Hit them again!" crowed Dackow, the shortest and yet, when the mood suited him, loudest of the Thallonians. Dackow never voiced an opinion until he was absolutely positive about how a situation was going to go, at which point he supported the prevailing opinion with such forcefulness that it was easy to forget that he hadn't expressed a preference one way or the other until then. "You've got them cold, Zoran!"
Zoran fired again, this time missing the shuttle craft with one phaser cannon but striking it solidly with the other.
But as Zoran gleefully celebrated his marksmanship, Rojam commented dryly, "What happened to having Si Cwan's throat in your hands, enabling you to squeeze the life out of him?"
The observation brought Zoran up short for a moment. "If you had done your job better, I might have had that opportunity," he said, but it seemed a hollow comeback. The truth was that Rojam's statement had taken some of the joy out of Zoran's moment of triumph. Granted he had won, but it wasn't in the way he would have liked.
And then a flash consumed the screen as the shuttle craft erupted in a ball of flame. Automatically the Thallonians flinched, as if the explosion posed a threat to them. Within mere seconds the flame naturally burned itself out, having no air in the vacuum of space to feed it. The fragments of the vessel which had been the Marquandspun away harmlessly, the twisted scraps of duranium composites no longer recognizable as anything other than bits of metal.
"Burn in hell, Si Cwan," Zoran said after a long moment. The others, as always, nodded in agreement.
Only Rojam did not join in the self-congratulations. Instead he was busy checking the instrumentation on an adjoining console. "What are you doing?" asked Zoran after a moment.
"Scanning the debris," Rojam informed him.
"Why?" said Juif, making no effort to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Are you concerned they still pose a threat?"
"Perhaps they do at that."
The pronouncement was greeted with contemptuous guffaws until Rojam added, "They weren't aboard the shuttle craft."
"What?" The comment immediately galvanized Zoran. "What are you talking about? Are you positive? It's impossible."
"It's not impossible, and they weren't there," Rojam said with growing confidence. "There's no sign of them among the debris. I wouldn't expect to find any bodies intact . . . not with the force of that explosion. But there should be somethingorganic among the wreckage. I'm not detecting anything except pieces from the shuttle craft."
"Are you saying they were never aboard? That it was some sort of trick?" Zoran's anger was growing by the minute.
"That's a possibility, but I don't think so. If they were never at risk, then they went to a great deal of trouble to try and force our hand. But here is a thought: Some of those Federation shuttles come equipped with transporter pads."
"You think they may have evacuated before the ship blew up."
"Exactly."
"But the only place they could have gone to . . ." And then the growing realization brought a smile to his face. ". . . is here. Here, aboard the ship."
Rojam nodded.
Beaming with pleasure, Zoran clapped a hand on Rojam's back. "Excellent. Excellent work." Rojam let out a brief sigh of relief as Zoran turned to the others and said briskly, "All right, my friends. Somewhere in this vessel, Lord Si Cwan and his associate, Lieutenant Kebron, are hiding. Let's flush them out . . . and give our former prince the royal treatment he so richly deserves."
SELAR
III.
SOLETA GLANCED UPfrom her science station as she became aware that McHenry was hovering over her. She glanced up at him, her eyebrows puckered in curiosity. "Yes?" she asked.
Glancing around the bridge in a great show of making certain that no one was paying attention to them, McHenry said to her in a lowered voice, "I just wanted to say thanks."
"You're welcome," replied Soleta reasonably, and tried to go back to her studies of mineral samples extracted from Thallon.
"Don't you want to know why?" he asked after a moment.
"Not particularly, Lieutenant. Your desire to say it is sufficient for me."
"I know I was 'spacing out' earlier, like I do sometimes, and I know that you were defending me. I just wanted to say I appreciate it."
"I was aware that your habits posed no threat to the Excalibur,"she said reasonably. "I informed the captain and commander of that fact. Beyond that . . . what is there to say?"
"Why'd you leave, Soleta? Leave Starfleet, I mean."
The question caught her off guard. Now it was her turn to look around the bridge to make sure that no one was attempting to listen in. She needn't have worried; eavesdropping was hardly a pastime in which Starfleet personnel habitually engaged. Still, she was surprised over how uncomfortable the question made her feel. "It doesn't matter. I came back."
"It does matter. We were friends, Soleta, back at the Academy. Classmates."
"Classmates, yes. I had no friends." She said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that there was no hint of self-pity in her tone.
"Oh, stop it. Of course you had friends. Worf, Kebron, me . . ."
"Mark, this really isn't necessary."
"I think it is."
"And I say it isn't!"
If they had been trying to make sure that their conversation did not draw any undue attention, the unexpected outburst by Soleta put an end to that plan. Everyone on the bridge looked at the two of them in unrestrained surprise, attention snagged by Soleta's unexpectedly passionate outburst. From the command chair, Calhoun asked, "Problem?"
"No, sir," said Soleta quickly, and McHenry echoed it.
"Are you certain?"
"Quite certain, yes."
"Because you seem to be having a rather strident dispute," he said, his gaze shifting suspiciously from one to the other.
"Mr. McHenry merely made a scientific observation, and I was disagreeing with it."