Here There Be Dragons Part 5

"Aye, Captain," came the response. "Ready when you are."

"We're on our way. Picard out." He smiled at Nayfack, Miles, Ro, and Data. "Well, if you're all ready ..." He gestured at the door and then led them out.

Beverly smiled to herself. Jean-Luc was obviously enjoying himself. Well, he deserved to do so. He didn't get much chance to dress up and play these sort of roles. She was rather surprised that Will Riker had allowed him to lead this team, whatever the requirements of the Prime Directive might be. As she moved to store away her hypo, Riker touched her elbow.

"Not just yet," he told her. "You'll be needing that again."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There's to be a second away team."

Beverly raised an eyebrow. "Would it be related to what the captain asked me to add to the hypospray?"

Riker grinned at her. "It would indeed. Sometimes our captain can have a very devious mind."

"Only sometimes?"

Chapter Eight.

FEELING SOMEWHAT FOOLISH in his outlandish garb, Picard led his small party into Transporter Room 3. Chief O'Brien glanced up from his panel and almost managed to hide his smile before Picard could see it.

"All ready, Mr. O'Brien?" he asked.

"Well, we are having a few problems, sir," the chief replied.

"Anything that will prevent us from beaming down?" asked Picard sharply.

"Hard to say," O'Brien told him. "There's nothing wrong with the transporter itself, Captain. The graviton fluctuations don't create trouble there. It's the sensor array that's giving us grief." He tapped the panel in front of him and red lights began flas.h.i.+ng all over the sensor panel. "Normally, I'd look for a quiet spot to set you down inside the village. But with all this going on"-he gestured at the flas.h.i.+ng lights-"I couldn't begin to tell you whether you'd materialize in private or in a crowded room."

Picard turned to Nayfack. "This could be a problem. How did your hunters handle it?"

"They have a couple of houses in the city they rent under aliases," Nayfack replied. "Knowing when s.h.i.+ps are due, they keep them empty at those times. It won't help us much."

"This is a problem I hadn't antic.i.p.ated," Picard muttered, annoyed. To be stopped by something like this!

"If I may offer a suggestion," Data ventured, "we might beam down just outside the city proper. There is a small beach not far from the dock area. In the society we shall be visiting, few people cared for the beaches or getting wet."

"Capital idea," approved Picard. "Make it so, Mr. O'Brien. And try not to get our feet wet. We wouldn't want to be conspicuous."

"Aye, sir." O'Brien began to tap in the codes.

"Places," Picard ordered, striding onto the platform. Data, Ro, Miles, and Nayfack joined him. Seconds later there was a slight wrenching in his stomach (which Beverly a.s.sured him had to be psychosomatic) and a s.h.i.+mmering of his vision.

Then the five of them were standing on a stretch of sand beside the ocean. A bitter wind whirled through the rocks around them, tugging at Picard's cloak and hat and raising goose b.u.mps on his exposed skin. He grabbed the edges of his cloak, tightening it about him to stave off as much of the cold wind as possible. Nayfack, Miles, and Ro did likewise. Data simply stared around.

"Mr. Data!" Picard snapped, trying not to let his teeth chatter. "Remember, you're supposed to be human! You should be cold, man."

"Sorry, sir." Data pulled his cloak about himself. "I shall endeavor to remember."

"Good." Picard turned to Nayfack, who didn't have to pretend to be chilled to the bone. "Perhaps you could lead us out of the wind, Mr. Nayfack?"

"My pleasure," the agent agreed. He gestured with his head, to avoid having to expose his hands to the icy blast. "This way."

The other four fell in behind him, following as he led them through the tangle of coastal rocks. They struggled on against the bitter wind. Finally, rounding a headland, they saw the town of Diesen ahead of them.

It was a natural harbor, thankfully s.h.i.+elded by the surrounding hills from the worst of the winds. A small river debouched into the bay, making the siting of the village obvious. It wasn't a large settlement, but there were huge walls about the landward side of the place. In the waters of the bay were moored thirty or forty small fis.h.i.+ng vessels. With their destination in sight, they picked up their pace. A short while later they were in the town itself and sheltered from the winds almost completely.

Picard was fascinated. He loved history as an academic pursuit, but this whole place was like stepping into the past. The streets were cobblestone where they weren't dirt. The houses were small, crowded close together, and none too st.u.r.dy-looking. Most were of wood, with a dirty off-white plaster splattered over the wood. There wasn't much gla.s.s, and most houses were only two stories tall. Anything higher than that had a distinct tendency to sway slightly.

The people, by and large, were shorter than the captain. None looked in the peak of condition. Some bore obvious signs of crippling diseases, and most had pockmarked skin. When anyone smiled, Picard could see that few of them still retained all of their teeth-and that many mouths had nothing but rotted stumps. Their costumes were crude-resembling sacks tied about their waists. The men wore trousers and smocks, the women unadorned dresses.

n.o.body spared the five strangers as much as a glance.

There was plenty of noise-people calling, horses clopping about dragging squeaky-wheeled carts, birds screaming and fighting in the streets over some choice morsel of trash, dogs barking and darting along the narrow paths. But worst of all was the stench.

"G.o.ds!" cursed Ro, fanning her face. "I can't imagine how the locals stand the stench. I know I have a very sensitive nose, but this place reeks."

Data was, naturally, unaffected. "It is mostly due to local concepts in sanitation," he explained. "All waste is thrown into the troughs in the center of the streets. This includes human bodily wastes."

Ro swiveled about to walk closer to the houses. "Great. No wonder it smells like we fell into a cesspit. We did."

Picard could sympathize with her. "And it's quite obvious why disease runs rampant here," he added.

Data gave him one of his stares. "If this is an a.n.a.log of thirteenth-century Germany, then modern notions of disease will not occur for several hundred years. And, given the r.e.t.a.r.dation of progress on this world, perhaps not for thousands."

"I'm glad we don't have to stick around that long," Ro muttered.

"Believe me, I'm in favor of leaving here just as soon as we can." Picard turned to Nayfack. "Perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell us where we are heading?"

"Right." Nayfack pointed off in the direction they were going. "The duke's castle is up that way. In front of it is the market. He likes it close, so he can skim the profits from the merchants with less effort. The local contact for the gang is a man named Graebel. He runs a wine and spice store. He's on good terms with the duke, supplies him with the best of wines. Beer and watered-down rejects go to the local inns. As a trader, he has the duke's ear and pa.s.ses along the bribes for not investigating the gang's activities."

"Logical," Data commented.

Nayfack shrugged. "They're pretty well established here by now. We have to cross the market to get to his store. It's likely to be kind of crowded there. If we get split up, we'll meet again at Graebel's place. You can't miss it: There's a large banner over the door. A rampant bear over two red stripes."

"Fine," Picard agreed. "Lead on."

The street they were following brought them into a small square. One of the buildings here was obviously an inn for travelers. Through an archway Picard could see the rear yard. A team of horses was being unharnessed from an uncomfortable-looking stagecoach. "There is obviously some intervillage travel," he commented. "n.o.body would need that for getting around a town this small."

"Mostly mails and trade goods," Nayfack told him.

"Interesting," said Data. "That design is slightly in advance of its time. There is an attempt to provide springs for a smoother ride. Clearly there has been a modic.u.m of evolution here since the colony was seeded."

"There's a little," Nayfack agreed. "Time hasn't completely stood still."

"What interests me," Miles pointed out, "is that there are plenty of other Earth creatures here." He gestured at a s.h.a.ggy dog that was seated under the archway and scratching its coat ferociously, trying to dislodge fleas. "Obviously the Preservers must have brought along plenty of company for the humans they transported."

"Making them feel at home, probably," Picard mused. "I wonder if the locals know that they've been transported away from Earth? It might be intriguing to talk with a few locals-when our main task is over."

Nayfack led them through the square and into another of the narrow streets. This in turn led to the market square. This area was much more crowded and noisy but at least the smells improved.

There were dozens of booths, most of them gaudily arrayed in flags and streamers to attract attention. People flitted around the tables as they did on countless planets all over the settled galaxy. Traders bargained with potential customers while others shouted out the virtues of their wares. Picard was fascinated. There were dealers in pottery and simple metalware. There were some jewelers, but not many. There were armorers, most selling short daggers rather than swords. Some tables held bra.s.s knuckles and other nasty weapons meant to be hidden on the body. The common people were forbidden to wear actual armor, of course, that privilege being reserved for the n.o.bility. Some stalls sold candles, the most common form of lighting. A few sold thick, pungent oils for lamps.

A great many of the stalls sold cooked food. Even in this cold climate the fresh food no doubt went bad very quickly. There were pies and pastries, breads and heavy cakes. There were sausages of all shapes and colors. There were smoked and salted meats. Birds-some plucked, most not-hung by their feet from hooks over the stalls. There were other carca.s.ses that Picard couldn't begin to identify. There were creatures that looked very much like crabs, and others that Picard had seen ill.u.s.trated only in texts on xen.o.biology. It was a curious mixture of familiar Earth and exotic-presumably native-life-forms.

There were stalls selling furniture and tools, along with others that offered bolts or pieces of cloth. Very few sold completed clothing. A number held pins, needles, and other implements for home sewing.

On the far side of the market square stood the grand duke's castle. From this angle the place looked to be all walls and towers. Most of the latter were flat-topped, but a couple formed spires. There were a number of men-at-arms stationed along the wall. Picard imagined that there would be more at the main gate.

It was difficult moving through the throng. Picard was getting rather irritated by the whole process when Data stopped dead in his tracks right in front of him. The pressures of the crowd shoved Picard heavily into the android's back.

"What the blazes are you doing?" snapped Picard, pus.h.i.+ng himself away from the android.

"My apologies, Captain," Data replied. "But I would suggest that you examine the merchandise for sale on this table."

Puzzled, Picard and Ro both turned their attention to the booth Data had halted beside. It was clearly owned by a woodworker of no mean skills. There were musical pipes and carved birds in abundance. There were bowls, decorated with patterns of ferns and flowers. There were flagons and wine goblets, and there were children's tops and whips. There were footstools carved into the shapes of reclining does. There were small caskets and boxes with cheery faces grinning from the sides. There were carved drinking horns.

"It's very nice," Picard grumbled. "But I don't see the need to stand here and examine it."

"Captain, the next table holds some interesting pieces of silver jewelry." Data gestured. "Does none of it seem familiar?"

"No. Why-should it?"

Data inclined his head slightly. "It is very familiar to me. Last month I chanced to be perusing some books of art history. Many of the pieces in it bear striking resemblances to the pieces that we see here."

"That's hardly surprising, Data," Picard told him. "These have hardly changed designs in five hundred years or more."

"It is more than that," Data insisted. "Some of the artistry is absolutely identical. I can only surmise that some of these artifacts are being taken back to Earth and sold on the archaeological black market."

Ro admired a very ornate earring. She wished she had some local currency with which to purchase the ring. "It's hardly surprising," she commented. "The gang did start out selling black market relics. They were originally archaeological plunderers. But wouldn't these show up as pretty fresh?"

Data shook his head slightly. "Given the concentrations of tachyons present in the cloud about this system, I can think of several mechanisms by which fake aging might be induced." He turned to Picard. "Captain, with your permission, I should like to look around a little before joining you at Mr. Graebel's establishment. I am intrigued to know the extent to which this little ... I believe the word is scam ... is being operated. I may be able to turn up further evidence against Mr. Nayfack's poachers."

Sighing, Picard nodded. "Very well. But don't be too long about it." As Data moved off to examine the stalls, Picard turned back to Ro. "Is it much farther, Mr. Nayfack?" Then the Captain stiffened.

There were plenty of people all about them, but there was no sign of the agent at all.

Chapter Nine.

RO FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN'S GAZE. A wry smile fluttered across her lips. "Do you think he's gotten lost?"

"If so, it's quite deliberate, Ensign." Picard's eyes glittered. Miles was about to move off into the crowd, but the captain shook his head. "Don't bother attempting to follow him at the moment," he ordered.

Ro's smile became wider. "Ah. Do I take it, Captain, that you expected something like this?"

"Of course." He snorted. "Federation security indeed! The man was a blatant imposter from the very beginning. I simply wanted to see how far he'd go in his little charade."

"What gave him away?" Of all the people she'd ever served under, Picard was the one that Ro had learned to respect. "I hardly thought you were gullible enough to believe him, to be honest."

"I take it that is meant as a compliment?" Picard asked rhetorically. "I became convinced Nayfack was a fake simply because he knew too much about the gang's operations. I don't care how efficient he might be, the coordinates for the tunnel through the cloud would be their most closely guarded secret. The gang would never allow an outsider to discover them, no matter how inept they might be. Which meant that Mr. Nayfack was logically one of the gang, not a security agent. As for his absurd claim that the gang had a spy inside of Starfleet communications ..." He snorted. "It was a transparent lie aimed at keeping us from reporting our findings."

Ro nodded. She had wondered as much herself. "And it explains his hasty and potentially lethal escape from the yacht," she agreed. "He knew that there were standing orders to blow up the s.h.i.+p rather than be captured. And he had no intention of dying."

"Quite." Picard gestured. "There seem to be a bunch of warehouses over to our left. Shall we make our way across?" As the trio moved, he continued. "What intrigues me is why he led us back here. I mean, it's obvious that he had to keep us from reporting in to Starfleet, but why bring a stars.h.i.+p with the Enterprise's capabilities right into the cloud? If the gang has only a couple of pleasure s.h.i.+ps at their disposal, he could hardly have imagined that they could defeat us. There has to be more to it than that."

Ro had been thinking through the captain's actions, trying to deduce his plans. "Then you think that he may have told us the truth about this Graebel being the front for the poachers?"

"Not for a second." He smiled at her. "I'll wager he's some local businessman-the first name that came to Nayfack's mind. But a short conversation with the man wouldn't hurt so that we can confirm or deny my a.s.sumption."

"You expected Nayfack to skip out on us," Ro continued. "And, logically, he's now reporting in to the real contact... ." She snapped her fingers. "The shots Dr. Crusher gave us all. You slipped a subcutaneous communicator into his."

"I knew you'd figure it out, Ensign." He beamed at her approvingly.

"And Riker-um, Commander Riker-let you beam down because you convinced him you'd be safe. And he's now trailing Nayfack."

"Absolutely splendid," Picard told her. "Data would be proud of your reasoning. Yes, Mr. Riker and Counselor Troi should now be following Mr. Nayfack to the real contact. As soon as they find out who that is, Mr. Worf's security team will beam down and round the criminals up. I hope the two of you are not too disappointed to be on the wild-goose chase."

"Not too disappointed," she replied. "It's interesting to watch you in action."

Rare praise from Ro! "Thank you," he said, accepting the compliment.

"And my task is to watch out for your safety, sir," Miles added. "Not to arrest anyone." He smiled. "Though a little action might have been fun."

Picard smiled back. "Well, let's just hope that this isn't too dull, shall we?" He stopped and pointed at a large, stone-walled building ahead of them. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, that must be Herr Graebel's establishment. The banner is just as Nayfack described it."

In the breeze the banner was snapping and twisting, but the rampant bear and the red bars were unmistakable. The crowd thinned out as Picard, Ro, and Miles left the market proper and made their way across to the warehouse. There were no ground-floor windows-probably to deter would-be burglars-only a large, oaken door. Picard grasped the bear-head door knocker and slammed it twice. After a moment a small square in the center of the door opened up.

"Ja?"

"I wish to see Herr Graebel," he replied. "My name is Lukas. This is Rosalinde and Martel."

The suspicious eyes on the other side scanned them. After a moment the door was unbolted and swung open about two feet. "Enter."

Picard stepped inside, followed by Ro and Miles. The attendant slammed and bolted the door again before turning to them. He was a burly man, and the sword hanging at his side was hard to miss. He was obviously a guard as well as doorman. "This way, bitte," he said gruffly. He swept his eyes over them again, and seemed satisfied that they bore no weapons.

"Danke," Picard agreed. He nodded for Ro to accompany him.