Power Hungry Part 17

Mori and Mikken crouched back to back.

Virtually simultaneously, they fired-and two more hovercraft exploded. The last remaining hunter had become the prey in this deadly game, and the pilot knew he was outgunned. He rattled off a salvo of cannon bolts, then 173 heeled over so hard his hoverjet was tipped almost on its side. With a rapid att.i.tude correction, the pilot kicked his craft to full throttle and fled at top speed, leaving a streak of white exhaust smoke behind. The Thiopans broke into cheers. Riker wiped beads of sweat off his face, silently relieved. He still wasn't free, but he'd survived the encounter without a scratch. And it was better to be a live hostage than a liberated corpse.

On Timo neouThat not Pouvmm when it wasn't obscuring the sun, it made for gorgeous sunsets.

Today was one such sunset, and Sovereign Protector Stross took a break from his woodworking to watch the sky set aflame, a palette overflowing with golds and umbers near the horizon, ribbons of streaked clouds, purple and finally black on the far side of the sky. The door of the workroom swung open and Policy Minister Ootherai came in, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. He looked haggard, his face drained of color. He raked his fingers through his beard. "Lord Stross?" "What?" Stross didn't bother to turn.

"The Endrayan mission-it, uh, the squadron didn't accomplish what it set out to do."

Now Stross faced his aide. "You mean it failed. 175 Come right out and say things, Hydrin. How bad is it.

Ootherai swallowed, betraying uncharacteristic jitters. "We, uhh, we lost three hoverjets."

Stross's baggy eyes opened wide. "Three out of four?"

"Yes, my lord."

"d.a.m.n those Nuarans," Stross hissed, his jaw clenching. "That party in the desert must have Riker.

There is no other reason for anybody to be going from here to the Sa'drit."

"Not likely."

"They were going in that direction, weren't they?"

"Yes, my lord, they were."

"Then we know where they'll be. It's about time we showed Lessandra and her terrorists they're not safe anywhere. When was the last time we attacked Sanctuary Canyon?"

"Five months ago. That's when we discovered the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had Nuaran slashers. We lost ten hoverjets."

"I remember. This time will be different. Get our best pilots together and plan an attack for dawn tomorrow."

"On the canyon?"

"That's what I said."

"What makes you think they won't shoot us down again?"

Before Stross could answer, his communication channel beeped for his attention. He reached for the wall intercom. "Stross."

"Captain Picard calling from the Enterprise, my lord," said the communications control voice. "Shall I tell him you're in a meeting?"

"No, I'll talk to him. Put visual through to this terminal."

"Yes, my lord."

A moment later, Picard's face appeared on the small wall viewer. "Protector Stross, thank you for taking my call," he said soberly.

"I had hoped to have a response from you regarding my conversation with Minister Ootherai."

Stross nodded with a benign half-smile.

"Hmm. You made some threats."

"They were not threats." Picard was calm. "I simply wanted your government to be aware of the consequences of a lack of cooperation."

"I'm sorry if Ootherai gave you the wrong idea. I believe in speaking plainly, Captain.

I have a feeling you do, too."

"Then let's speak plainly, Protector Stross."

"Fine. We need the supplies you have brought us, and the Federation needs Thiopa. I'm personally very sorry that your first officer got caught up in our troubles. We are trying to get him back for you."

"That's a step in the right direction. Have you made any pry?" "Can you give us till morning? By then I think we'll have something definite to tell you."

"Very well, until morning. But decisions will have to be made then."

"Understood, Captain. We appreciate your patience."

"Is it also understood that patience has its limits?"

Stross nodded. "It is. We shall talk again in the morning. Stross out."

The Thiopan leader's image blinked off the main viewscreen on the bridge and was replaced by the standard orbital view of the planet below. Picard crossed his legs and sat thoughtfully in his bridge seat.

"I don't trust him, sir," Worf rumbled from over Picard's shoulder. The captain turned.

"Why is that, Lieutenant?"

"I don't trust sudden course changes."

"Neither do I. Counselor?"

Deanna Troi regarded her commander with her usual directness. "I think Stross was hiding something.

At the moment, I wouldn't cla.s.sify him as trustworthy."

"Mmmm." Picard was silent another moment.

"I think we'll see what the lord protector has to say in the morning, before we make our decision."

He stood. "I'll be in the ready room if you need me. Mr. Data, you have the bridge."

The rest of the ride to Sanctuary Canyon was uneventful, and Riker's group had finally reached the towering ridges that stood like sentinels at the narrow mouth of the Sojourners' spiritual homeland. In single file, the animals picked their slow-footed way through the ravine until they reached the entrance to the canyon itself. Riker and the others dismounted, leaving the animals in Tritt's care. While he led them to join the herd grazing peacefully on the spa.r.s.e canyon gra.s.s, Durren took the rest of the group up the side trail.

To Riker, the canyon had a forbidding majesty.

And though he'd visited cliff dwellings before, he'd never seen anything quite like the elaborate-city perched on the far ledge, nestled beneath its soaring rock over-178 hang, a wall at least a half-mile high.

A wall that had long ago been the inside of this mountain, before it was split by . nature's most elemental forces, then carved and shaped and worn smooth by flowing water and blowing wind. By the Hidden Hand the Sojourners believed in, extended by Mother World to guide and protect them. The surrounding grandeur of Sanctuary Canyon almost made Riker a believer, too.

They rounded the canyon rim and entered the Stone City, where Riker was presented to Lessandra in her barren garden. The old woman hobbled up to him, then propped her weight on her walking crutch, the padded mob tucked under her arm. The crutch was adorned with intricate carvings, and polished ebony designs were inlaid along the shaft. In her white hair Lessandra wore a circlet of silver, finely wrought but tarnished by time in an environment that offered no protection for precious bangles.

Riker wondered about those elegant touches that seemed so out of place in the ragged world the Sojourners had chosen for themselves. As Lessandra sized him up, he did the same to her. A missing leg, one half-closed eye, weathered skin, missing teethlife hadn't been easy for her. "So you're Riker."

"And you're Lessandra. You lead these people?"

She snorted a mirthless laugh. "You could call it that."

"Then we've got important things to discuss."

"Oh, do we now? Let's do it over evenmeal.

I've had food prepared. Little one," she said to Mori, "fetch some of the silberry wine." She turned to glare at a man and a woman standing beside her.

The woman had a deeply lined face, though she was much-younger 179 than Lessandra. The man was also middle-aged, with a gray beard. "We want to be part of this," said the woman.

Lessandra puckered her lips in annoyance. "I don't have to let you, Glin."

"Then Jaminaw and I will have to tell the people you're keeping secrets from them. That won't do wonders for your support."

"Come along, then, d.a.m.n you."

She led the small group to her house. Even in twilight, Riker could see that the two-story building was constructed of sandstone bricks hand-hewn to exacting tolerances, their beveled edges so tightly aligned that a slip of paper would not fit between them. Inside, the walls were covered with large tapestries woven with abstract geometric designs, their colors amazingly vibrant, especially in contrast to the drabness of the desert terrain Riker had looked at all day. Candles in holders chipped from stone blocks were scattered liberally about the main room, bathing it in soft light that quivered with every breath and breeze. There was no furniture, except a few squat barrels serving as tables. Large pillows and heavy blankets littered the floor, and that was where they sat. Mori entered from a back chamber with a clay pitcher and mugs for Lessandra, Riker, Glin, Jaminaw, and Durren. A younger girl, in her mid-teens, scurried in with two platters of fowl roasted to a crunchy goldbrown over an open flame. They were still sizzling. The serving girl left the food on the barrel tables, then disappeared and hurried back with a meager salad of leaves and roots. Mori poured the drinks and then sat down.

Riker was glad for the hot food, since the temperature 180 had started to drop with the approach of dusk, a common characteristic of most of the deserts he'd seen. "Tastes good."

"See? We're not starving," Lessandra said smugly.

"Of course this is the first time we've had meat in three weeks," Glin countered.

Lessandra flashed a dirty look at her, but Riker spoke first. "Look, let's get one thing straight. I'm not your enemy. My s.h.i.+p came here to help Thiopans who need help. We've got food, medicine, all sorts of supplies to help your world get back on its feet."

"Do you have weapons?" Lemandra said.

"Not for you-and not for Stross. This is a humanitarian relief mission." "We're the ones who need what you've got. I'll trade you to your captain in return for all those supplies."

"We can't do that. We're empowered to deal only with the planet's authorized government."

"Come back soon and we will be the government."

"I might as well tell you now, Lessandra,"

Riker said in a firm voice, "that Captain Picard is not going to bargain for my release."

"I know one thing: he won't let you die in our hands. People who have come this far to help poor starving famine victims are too softhearted to leave one of their own in captivity."

"n.o.body on the Enterprise is indispensable."

"Brave talk."

Riker nibbled on a leg of fowl. The meat was tough-these birds had not been raised on quality feed, that was certain-but however they were cooked, the flavor had a satisfying tang to it. "Not brave-just factual."

"So your captain thinks you're worthless."

"I didn't say that, Lessandra. But Startleet has very clear guidelines for dealing with terrorists."

"We're not terrorists!" Lessandra sputtered.

"You may have perfectly valid grievances, but the second you kidnap hostages, you become terrorists. If you give me back unconditionally, I promise you'll get a fair hearing from Captain Picard."

The old woman grunted disdainfully. "And you'll overthrow Stross for us." "We can mediate."

"Mediate what?"

"A settlement-not a surrender."

Jaminaw stabbed an enthusiastic finger into the air.

"Listen to him!" Riker frowned, trying to fathom this battered leader who, at the moment, held his fate in her hands. "What exactly do you want equals and don't tell me the overthrow of the government."

"But that is what we want, Riker."

"Give me something realistic, and maybe the Federation can help you."

"Why would Stross listen to the Federation?"

Ixssandra asked. "Because he wants Federation aid-and the Nuarans aren't the only alien race who would like a piece of your planet. Stross can accept aid from the Federation-or dominance from the Nuarans or the Ferengi. I know which one I'd pick if I were sitting in his chair."

Glin munched reflectively on a root. "So you're saying that in return for aid, Stross might be inclined to pay some mind to what the Federation says about our fight?"

"Don't misunderstand me. We have a very strict rule called the noninterference directive. We can't meddle with the internal affairs of any world, nor can we change how any society is developing just because we think our way is better. But if we're asked to help settle a dispute, we can try to bring two warring parties together for their own common good."

"Tell him what we want," Mori piped up.

The older council members looked at her, and when no one spoke right away, she told him herself.

"We want the right to live our own way. We want a chance to convince other people that our way might be better, but if they don't choose to agree with us, then we won't force them-sort of our own noninterference directive."

Riker looked at the others. Lessandra's face furrowed in disapproval. But Glin and Jaminaw were nodding. "Is Mori right?" he asked.

"The essence is there," Glin said, her graying whiskers twitching. "Ealix dung!" Lemandra exploded. "You're all ready to betray everything our ancestors stood for, everything Evain taught us and died for. You're ready to believe that Stross and his criminals will learn to love Mother World overnight and accept the Hidden Hand and live in true Fusion with the land. And if you believe that, you've all got sand for brains."

"Lessandra," Riker said, "governments sometimes do incredible turnarounds when the alternative is extinction. And in the case of Thiopa, your environmental disasters could mean the extinction not only of the government but of life itself."

"Besides," Glin added, "no agreement is forever.