15
“I must say I’m impressed.” Ambassador Sulel swiped through the Enterprise’s scans, peering down at them with a discerning eye. “We certainly are fortunate that we had the Enterprise at hand.”
“And her crew,” Picard added, and he saw the hint of pride flash across Worf’s features.
“Of course. That goes without saying.” Sulel handed the padd back to Worf. She glanced up at Commander Rusina, who stood off to the side, hands folded behind his back. “Which is why Commander Rusina and I have a proposal for you, Captain Picard. Time is of the essence in this situation. I think the Enterprise should search this sector for Aviana Virox.”
Picard felt a feeling of joy swell up inside him—he could be off Betazed within the hour. Surely as important as it may be to calm the guests, ensuring the safe return of the treasures was a better use of his talents.
“We still don’t know it was Aviana!” Lwaxana protested. “Oh, we can’t let the other Keepers get word of this—or the House leaders, for that matter. They’re already asking so many questions since we sequestered Aviana’s attendants.” The ambassador had produced a feathered fan from somewhere on her person and was flapping it wildly. For dramatic effect, Picard suspected, as the room was fairly chilly.
“Ambassador Troi, Aviana Virox is our primary suspect,” Worf said.
“That’s simply not possible!” Lwaxana squawked.
“Mother, please, you are here as a courtesy.” Troi’s tone was even, but Picard was able to detect the edge of frustration in her words.
Lwaxana looked over at Sulel, aghast. “Don’t tell me you think she’s responsible!”
What Picard could only describe as the faintest hint of a Vulcan smile played on Sulel’s lips. He had no experience working with her, but something about the ambassador’s manner suggested she found Lwaxana—amusing.
“Lwaxana…” Sulel started.
“Hopeless. Hopeless!” Lwaxana flung her fan on the table. “How am I supposed to handle the House leaders now?”
“Patience,” Sulel said. “Captain Picard, as the Federation ambassador to Betazed, I would like to formally request that the Enterprise pursue Aviana Virox’s ship.”
Picard’s hopes flared.
“Of course, Commander Rusina, you will continue the investigation here on Betazed, as we discussed,” Sulel continued. “Finish your interviews with anyone who was backstage. Be thorough with Aviana Virox’s House and attendants. Perhaps”—she held up a hand to stop Lwaxana—“the Enterprise will find Aviana Virox, and discover if she had a hand in this unfortunate incident.”
Sulel turned to Picard. “Captain?”
“The Enterprise would be honored to assist the people of Betazed in the recovery of Xiomara’s treasures.”
“Wait,” Lwaxana said, rising up from the table. “Jean-Luc, you must stay.”
Sheer terror lanced through Picard.
Sulel looked up at her. “Could you explain why, Lwaxana?”
“Yes, please do,” Picard said carefully.
“We are facing a potential worldwide diplomatic crisis.” Lwaxana strode dramatically to the head of the table, sweeping her heavy gown past Commander Rusina. “The stolen treasures are objects of significant cultural importance. This could be the opening shot from an antagonistic force.”
“Go on,” Sulel said.
Was Sulel on Lwaxana’s side? Picard felt like a specimen pinned to a board.
“Jean-Luc’s skills are unparalleled.” Lwaxana retrieved her folded-up fan from the table and pointed it in Picard’s direction, a plume of trembling feathers. “Why, only a few years ago, he saved me from the clutches of a Ferengi using Shakespeare.”
Heat rushed to Picard’s cheeks.
“As ambassador of Betazed, it’s my duty to ensure that no one acts against the interest of my people.” Lwaxana stopped a few paces away from Sulel. “If this turns out to be more serious than we thought, then we’ll need Jean-Luc here, not aboard the Enterprise.”
To Picard’s horror, Sulel seemed to be giving this proposal serious consideration. “Well, I don’t—”
“I am going to need all the help I can get with the House leaders,” Lwaxana said to Sulel, punctuating her words with the fan. “They’re asking questions, and they are not going to be terribly happy that we handed the pursuit to outsiders.” Lwaxana looked over at Worf. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Worf said.
Picard felt his escape slipping away. Damn Lwaxana. They were facing a diplomatic crisis here on Betazed. He had experience. He wished, desperately, that he was a lowly green lieutenant.
Sulel did that small, quick Vulcan smile again. “Captain Picard’s assistance here would be invaluable.”
Was Sulel making fun of him? Did Vulcans do that?
Picard felt as if the room was filling quickly with water and he was straining to keep his head above the surface.
“Captain,” Worf said, “if I may—”
The water was rising. Picard managed a nod.
“I would be honored to command the Enterprise on this mission.” The Klingon waited for his response.
Deanna Troi was watching him with that clear, implacable counselor’s expression. What is she thinking? That it will be good for me. Picard didn’t need to be a telepath to know that.
“I believe Mister Worf has proven himself more than capable,” Lwaxana said. “And quite frankly, the longer we sit around debating this, the harder it’ll become to recover the treasures.”
Picard couldn’t argue.
“Captain?” Sulel lifted an eyebrow in his direction. “Is this agreeable to you?”
He could tell, by the tone of her question, that there was only one answer.
“It is, Ambassadors.”
And the water overtopped him and swallowed him whole.
Deanna Troi sat in her chair beside the captain’s seat. Worf took the center seat. He glanced at her and she gave him her brightest, most encouraging smile. She could sense his anxiety, his desire to succeed. All around them the bridge crew waited at their stations.
“Lieutenant Besta,” he said. “Do you have a lock on the ship’s warp signature?”
“Whoever’s flying that thing is trying to hide their tracks,” Besta reported from the security station.
Troi knew that the Betazoids, by necessity, were not private people. They saw no purpose in lying, or in hiding themselves. What Aviana had managed with her attendants—the private telepathic conversations—was decidedly un-Betazoid. But not as un-Betazoid as stealing away the three treasures of Xiomara. Have I really been gone for so long that I no longer understand my mother’s people?
“Got it,” Lieutenant Besta reported. “The ship is heading in the direction of the colony on Uesta. Warp four.”
“Match course, warp five,” Worf said. “Engage.”
The deck plates thrummed as the ship slipped into warp speed, stars streaking into white lines on the main viewscreen. Troi leaned back in her seat, taut with anticipation.
“Sir, we should overtake the ship in forty-five minutes,” Besta said.
“Very good.” Worf sat ramrod straight in the captain’s chair, his eyes fixed forward. He was tightly wound, ready for action.
“What’s your plan once we catch the ship?” Troi asked.
He considered her question. “It will depend on what we find. Do you think Aviana Virox is the thief?” Worf paused. “I would appreciate your insight on the matter.”
Troi smiled, flush with a surge of affection. “Honestly? I don’t know. This situation is an unusual one, certainly.”
Worf nodded in acknowledgment. “We will be prepared for anything.”
He fell into a meditative silence, the ship maintaining the course. The soft sounds of the bridge always soothed Troi, and she was finally able to really relax Enterprise’s midnight had been Betazed’s noon. She hadn’t slept for hours. Her eyes fluttered, wanting desperately to close, and her chair was so comfortable—
“Sir, we have a problem.”
Troi straightened up, feeling the tension rippling through the bridge.
“Go ahead.” Worf was already on his feet, moving toward the forward stations. He stopped abruptly, turned around.
“The ship…” Besta’s hands flew across the security station. “I’ve lost the trail. Impossible.”
Worf asked, “How close were we to the last known location?”
“We would have intercepted in nine minutes. Now—” Besta studied the readouts. “I’ve got it again! The ship is looping back around.”
“Stay on it.” Worf squeezed his hands into fists.
“Lieutenant, the target keeps dropping out of warp,” Lieutenant Mosweu said from flight control. “I suspect it’s on purpose.”
“Keep a sensor lock on that ship,” Worf said.
He stalked back to the captain’s chair. Troi whispered, “You have this.”
“Dropping out of warp,” Lieutenant Mosweu announced.
“Match speed,” Worf ordered. “Get ready on the ship’s flight trajectory.”
On the main viewscreen the stars collapsed back into points. Both Mosweu and Besta studied their screens. Troi leaned forward, waiting.
“Got it!” Mosweu said. “Still headed toward Uesta. Taking a roundabout route.”
Worf looked over at Troi. “Are there any ties between Uesta and Betazed?”
Troi shook her head. “No.”
“Mister Besta, report on Uesta,” Worf ordered.
“Uesta is a Class-M planet located in the Kaelon system,” Besta said. “Population of 250,000.”
Troi said, “It’s a Federation colony.”
“Yes, Commander. Uesta was settled by Federation and non-Federation citizens.”
“Unusual,” Worf murmured.
“Why go to a Federation colony? It seems risky,” Troi said.
“Federation Security reports an increase of criminal activity clustered in the western hemisphere.”
Troi considered this. Uesta seemed like the sort of place a Betazoid would think the best planet to offload stolen goods. Virox could have heard about Uesta’s criminal elements.
But how was a Betazoid house leader so skilled at evasion?
“Sir, the ship is still heading toward Uesta,” Mosweu said. “Back at warp four. I have a lock on its warp signature.”
“Match speed. Let us see where she is going. Keep a lock on that ship. If she moves even a degree off course—”
“Aye, aye, sir.”