Chapter Five

“I DON’T LIKE THIS, JEAN-LUC,” Gruzinov said. “You’re taking too much of a chance.”

“Taking chances is what we’re here for, Ivan,” Picard replied, as they entered the transporter room. “Besides, I believe you are overestimating the potential risk involved.”

“That may be, but I still don’t like it,” Gruzinov insisted. “You’ve got two landing parties down on D’rahl, including your XO, your chief weapons and security officer, your ship’s counselor, and your chief engineer. If anything goes wrong, all your senior personnel are absent from the ship.”

“Not so. I think you will find that Mr. Data is quite capable,” Picard replied, “and Dr. Crusher has experience serving on the bridge, as well. Besides, the crew is more than qualified to deal with any emergency that may arise in my brief absence.”

“Damn it, Jean-Luc, that’s not the point, and you know it!” Gruzinov persisted. “You have no business absenting yourself from your ship under these circumstances! And you especially have no business beaming down alone! It’s contrary to regulations!”

“Captain Gruzinov does have a point, sir,” Data said. “Starfleet regulations clearly specify that—”

“I am well aware of the regulations, Mr. Data,” said Picard, interrupting him. “But they do not happen to apply in these particular circumstances. I am not leaving the ship without an officer qualified to command in my absence. Captain Gruzinov will be in command while I am gone. And I am not beaming down into hostile territory. The risk factors in this situation are minimal.”

“You are merely taking refuge in a technicality,” Gruzinov said. “I command a starbase. I have never commanded my own ship. It has been years since I have even served aboard one.”

“And you were an excellent officer, as I recall,” Picard said, “more than qualified to man any bridge station, from weapons to navigation. I do not believe you could have forgotten all that.”

“Perhaps not,” Gruzinov said, “but it has been a long time. And I was repeatedly passed over for command.”

“Ivan, I would not leave the Enterprise in your hands if I were not fully confident of your abilities,” Picard replied. “In my opinion, the fact that you were not offered command of your own ship was merely an accident of opportunity and timing. Had you not accepted command of Starbase 37, you might have been offered the Enterprise instead of me.”

“I labor under no such illusions, Jean-Luc,” Gruzinov replied. “Quite aside from that, what you are proposing to do could create a serious diplomatic incident. Z’gral’s residence is guarded. Essentially, he is under house arrest. If your visit were exposed, J’drahn would have grounds to accuse you of interference with—”

“J’drahn would be in a very poor position to accuse me of anything,” Picard replied. “He has publicly stated, to us as well as to his own people, that Colonel Z’gral is in poor health and has gone into voluntary retirement. If he were to make an official protest, then I would be able to refute those claims publicly.”

“Unless they’re true,” Gruzinov said.

“You have assured me they are not,” Picard replied.

“Well, I don’t believe they are,” said Gruzinov, “but Z’gral is an old man and it’s been a while since he’s been seen by anyone outside his residence. He might well have become sick. He might even be dead, for all we know.”

“Then why keep up the pretense that he is still alive?” Picard asked. “J’drahn would have nothing to gain from that. Besides, when we spoke to T’grayn and he told us that Colonel Z’gral was in poor health, Counselor Troi received the distinct impression he was lying. I have never known her to state anything for a fact if she was in any doubt concerning the accuracy of her empathic impressions.”

“All right, then let me go instead,” Gruzinov said.

“No, Ivan, that would not be wise,” Picard said. “If, for any reason, something were to go wrong, I would need to depend upon your knowledge of K’tralli law and politics. Conceivably, if I am caught, I could be placed under arrest, and then you would be the most qualified to keep J’drahn from doing something foolish. You know the situation here far better than anyone else. And if Colonel Z’gral is being held against his will, as we believe, then I intend to bring him back with me under the provisions of political asylum. Under the circumstances, it would be much better if I were to bear the brunt of the responsibility for that decision rather than you.”

Gruzinov sighed, heavily. “All right, you’ve made your point. But in practical terms, what we are talking about still amounts to a jailbreak, so for God’s sake, be careful. If you’re caught, J’drahn could have you arrested and shot and then claim some overzealous guard thought you were an intruder.”

“Which is why my communicator will remain on at all times, so that you and Mr. Data can monitor and record everything that happens,” said Picard. “Even overzealous guards would hesitate to fire on someone in a Starfleet uniform, and if I am caught, I shall immediately advise them that they are being recorded. They would not risk harming a Starfleet captain, Ivan. At worst, they would take me into custody and inform Governor T’grayn, who would take no action without informing Overlord J’drahn. Do you perceive any flaw in my logic, Mr. Data?”

The android shook his head. “None, sir.”

“Satisfied?” Picard said to Gruzinov.

“At least take a couple of security officers down with you,” said Gruzinov.

“No,” said Picard. “My presence alone may not be perceived as a threat, but more would increase the odds of someone getting nervous. I admit it’s a calculated risk, Ivan, but I have weighed it carefully. And we need Colonel Z’gral.”

Gruzinov nodded. “Yes, I am afraid we do. The old man simply wouldn’t listen to anybody else.”

“Then it’s settled. Let’s get on with it,” Picard said, stepping up onto the transporter pads.

Data moved over to the control station.

“Have you got a fix on the estate, Mr. Data?” asked Picard.

“One moment, sir, I am entering the coordinates Captain Gruzinov specified right now. . . .” A moment later, he said, “I have a fix, sir.”

“Scan for life-forms,” said Picard.

“I am showing a fair number of life-forms on the grounds of the estate, sir, as well as in the outbuildings and on the first and second floors of the residence itself. However, on the third floor, in the east wing, I am scanning only one K’tralli life-form.”

“That’ll be Z’gral,” said Gruzinov.

“Lock in those coordinates, Mr. Data, and stand by to energize,” Picard said.

“Locked in, sir. Standing by.”

“Energize,” Picard said.

The moment Picard dematerialized, Gruzinov touched his insignia, activating his communicator. “Gruzinov to bridge,” he said.

“Lieutenant Koski here, sir. Go ahead.”

“Stand by to monitor Captain Picard’s transmission,” said Gruzinov. “We’ll monitor from here, as well. Patch the signal through to the ship’s data banks and begin recording now.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Gruzinov out.” He nodded to Data. “Put it through the board speakers, Mr. Data.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Keep a firm fix on the captain and stand by to get him out of there instantly if anything goes wrong,” Gruzinov said. “And cross your fingers.”

Data looked puzzled. “All of them, sir?”

Gruzinov smiled and held up his hand. “No, Mr. Data. Just these two.”

Data looked puzzled, but did as he was told. “Now let’s just hope that nobody does anything stupid,” said Gruzinov.

 

Picard materialized in a large, airy, and well-furnished sitting room on the third floor of Colonel Z’gral’s residence. He glanced around quickly. The floor was exquisitely laid in rich, highly polished, contrasting woods, and the walls were hung with ornate tapestries. There were a number of comfortable reading chairs upholstered in some sort of dark, attractively textured animal hide placed around the room, and a large sofa upholstered in the same material roughly in the center, placed so that it faced an entertainment console built into the wall. There was a large, beautifully carved table with some chairs around it and a fresh bowl of fruit placed in the center, and Picard felt a soft breeze coming in from the open doors leading to the balcony.

It did not look even remotely like a prison. It looked more like the palatial estate of some aristocrat, which was exactly what it was at one time. Gruzinov had told him that before the revolution, this sprawling estate had been the private residence of a K’tralli prince. Now, most of the old estates and palaces were the private residences of governors and high-ranking bureaucrats in J’drahn’s administration. There was a new order, but for the K’tralli people, nothing much had changed.

Picard heard the tapping sounds of someone working at a computer keyboard coming from the open doors to the bedroom. He moved so that he could look through the doors and saw a figure dressed in a richly embroidered robe seated at a large desk, with his back to him. The man looked old, for his hair was completely white, falling down well below his shoulders, and his head was bald on top. However, his shoulders still looked broad and powerful, and he sat erect in his chair. It was not the figure of a frail and sickly old man, thought Picard, but of a man who, despite his age, kept himself in excellent physical condition.

“Colonel Z’gral?” he said.

The man stopped typing and turned. His dark eyes registered surprise when he saw Picard, and he rose to his feet at once with a fluid motion. Again, Picard thought, not the reaction of a frail old man on his last legs. His features showed his age, but the eyes were bright and clear, and his posture was that of a soldier. “Who are you?”

“My name is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Federation starship Enterprise. And it is my understanding that you are being held here against your will.”

“A Federation starship?” said Z’gral. “By the gods! At last! I had almost given up hope. Has J’drahn been removed from power? Has the government fallen?”

“No, Colonel, I am afraid not,” Picard said. “That is partly why I have come to see you.”

“How many men have you brought with you?”

“I am alone.”

“Alone? Are you mad? How did you get past the guards?”

“I transported directly from my ship,” Picard replied. “The same way we can get you out of here, sir. However, for the sake of formality, it would have to be at your request.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Z’gral said. “I must request . . . what do you call it? Political asylum?”

“That is correct, sir,” said Picard.

Z’gral nodded. “Consider the request made, Captain,” he said. “But I must first get these computer files.” He sat down at the desk. “I have been writing my memoirs, with little hope of anyone ever seeing them. But it is all here, a complete record of all J’drahn’s nefarious—” There was the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Z’gral looked up. “Quickly, the balcony!”

Picard turned immediately and ran out onto the balcony, careful to sidle around the open doors, so that he would not be silhouetted in the light from the room behind him. He stood just outside, pressed against the wall, as the doors to Colonel Z’gral’s room opened. Several guards came marching in, and Picard risked a quick glance inside. What he saw made his hand reach immediately for his phaser. The guards were wearing the uniforms of Romulan centurions.

Picard pressed himself back up against the wall, his mind racing. Romulans! Here, in Federation territory! He looked out over the balcony. It was dark outside, but in the illumination of the floodlights covering the grounds of the estate, he could make out the guards patrolling below. And they were all Romulans, as well.

“What do you want?” he heard Z’gral demand of the guards.

“Your life, Colonel,” one of the Romulans replied.

“Hold it!” said Picard, coming in from the balcony. As the startled Romulans turned toward him, raising their disruptors, Picard fired with his phaser on wide beam. The Romulans fell without a sound.

“Are they dead?” Z’gral asked.

“No, merely stunned,” Picard replied.

“Pity,” said Z’gral.

“Enterprise to Picard!” Gruzinov’s voice came over the communicator. “Jean-Luc, are you all right? What’s happening?”

“Stand by, Enterprise,” Picard replied. “Colonel, we must go now.”

Z’gral held up the chip on which he had stored his files. “I am ready now, Captain.”

“Enterprise, two to beam up,” Picard said.

He heard footsteps running down the hall. The sound of his phaser firing must have alerted the guards downstairs. Moments later, they came bursting in, but Picard and Z’gral were already gone.

“What happened down there? I heard you fire your phaser,” said Gruzinov, rushing up to them with an anxious expression on his face.

“We have worse trouble than we thought,” Picard said grimly, as he stepped down off the staging platform with Z’gral. “I was barely in time to prevent Colonel Z’gral’s assassination. By Romulan centurions.”

“Romulans!” Gruzinov said.

“Colonel Z’gral, I believe you know Captain Ivan Gruzinov, commander of Starbase 37?”

“Captain,” said Z’gral, with a nod. “My thanks to you both. I owe you my life.”

“It is indeed a pleasure to see you alive, Colonel,” said Gruzinov. “But Romulans? On D’rahl? What about the guards?”

“The guards were Romulan,” Picard said. “At least, the ones I saw were.”

“They were all Romulans, Captain Picard,” Z’gral said. “The entire complement of guards.”

“The entire complement?” Gruzinov said, with disbelief.

“Can you give us any idea of their strength, Colonel?” asked Picard.

“Two companies of Romulan centurions,” Z’gral said.

“Bozhe moi!” Gruzinov said, reverting to his native Russian in his astonishment.

“‘My God,’ indeed,” Picard said, gravely. “That’s a full-scale assault force.”

“The estate was more than merely my prison, Captain,” said Z’gral. “With its extensive grounds, outbuildings, restricted airspace, and high walls, it was also an ideal barracks for them. And a place to conduct drills.”

“What sort of drills?” Picard asked.

“Assault drills,” replied Z’gral. “They often kept me awake at night, running on the grounds and through the corridors. There is a Romulan tribune in command. His name is Kronak.”

“Then Governor T’grayn is in league with the Romulans?” Picard said.

“It would be more accurate to say he is their lackey,” replied Z’gral, with disgust. “And J’drahn is involved with them, as well. He always was corrupt, but now he has turned traitor, selling out his people for his own gain.”

“This changes everything,” Picard said, with concern. “We must bring back our landing parties at once. Mr. Data, get in touch with Mr. Worf’s team and have them return to the ship immediately. Then call Mr. Riker and—no, wait, cancel that last order. If we communicate with Riker, we risk exposing him and his team to danger. Bring back Worf’s landing party, then get a fix on Riker’s position and report to me on the bridge.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Colonel, if you would be so kind as to accompany me . . .”

“My pleasure, Captain,” said Z’gral.

They left Data behind in the transporter room and made their way to the turbolift.

“Colonel, how long has there been a Romulan presence on D’rahl?” Picard asked.

“I cannot say for certain,” the old K’tralli soldier replied. “The K’tralli soldiers guarding me were all withdrawn and replaced by Romulan centurions just prior to last Liberation Day.”

“That would be about three months ago,” Gruzinov explained.

“Three months!” Picard said, astonished that they had been there for so long.

“However, I believe there must have been Romulan presence on D’rahl well before that time,” Z’gral continued. “Contact had to be secretly established, arrangements had to be made. . . . I fear they have been coming here for some time, Captain. And with their cloaked vessels, they have easily been able to avoid detection.”

“And our sensors could not differentiate between K’tralli and Romulan life-form readings,” said Picard, grimly. “Together with the political situation, conditions could not have been more ideal for a Romulan infiltration.”

“What I do not understand is why they had decided to kill me now, after all this time,” Z’gral said.

“The Enterprise’s arrival here had to be the reason,” said Gruzinov. “T’grayn must have panicked.”

“Or else the Romulans forced his hand,” Picard said. “And now, unwittingly, I have forced theirs.”

“The question is, what will they do?” Gruzinov said.

“More importantly, where is their ship?” Picard added.

“There may not be a ship,” Colonel Z’gral said. “When they first arrived, I observed them bringing in a large number of supplies. Enough to fill several of the outbuildings. And there have been no changes in personnel since then.”

Picard took a deep breath. “We may be in luck, then,” he said. “If they were dropped off by a Warbird, and then the ship departed, it would mean those troops were emplaced for a long-range mission.”

“An advance force for an invasion?” asked Gruzinov.

“I shouldn’t think so,” said Picard, as they stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. “Why start a war when you can achieve your objective by other means? It comes back to Blaze again.”

“Blaze?” Z’gral said, with a puzzled frown.

“A freebooter we believe is being supported by Governor T’grayn,” Picard explained. “One whose ship has been equipped with a cloaking device. In fact, Colonel, it is entirely possible that some of those supplies you saw consisted of equipment meant for Blaze.”

“Of course!” Gruzinov said. “It all starts falling into place. They equipped Blaze to raid Federation shipping, knowing that a cloaked pirate vessel would bring a starship in response. Proving a link between J’drahn and the freebooters alone might not be enough to get him expelled from the Federation, but at the very least, it would result in sanctions being imposed, which would force him to turn to the Romulans. But proving that J’drahn was involved in helping equip Blaze with Romulan ordnance and technology would guarantee his expulsion. Then the Romulans would have an assault force already in place to make certain J’drahn does as he is told. Either way, the Romulans get what they want.”

“Unless we were to destroy the Glory in combat,” said Picard, with a frown. “If we happened to destroy Blaze’s ship, along with its crew, then there would be no real proof. The Romulans could not have failed to take that possibility into account.” He shook his head. “There is still something we are not seeing.”

“I take it that neither of you gentlemen have ever hunted game,” said Z’gral.

They both turned to look at him. “No,” Picard said, in a puzzled tone. He glanced at Gruzinov, who merely shook his head.

“I thought as much,” Z’gral said. “Otherwise, you might have realized that if you plan to use a live beast as a lure to bring down a larger one, then you would first need to stake it down.”

Picard exchanged glances with Gruzinov. “Of course, a Judas goat. They intend for us to take Blaze’s ship,” he said, as comprehension dawned.

“But . . . how?”

“We could have taken the Glory the first time, but for Blaze’s cleverness in using the Wyoming as a shield,” said Picard. “And when he attacked, he took us completely by surprise, with our shields down. Yet despite his reported skill, he nevertheless failed to deliver a crippling blow.”

“A saboteur?” Gruzinov said, following Picard’s train of thought.

“A Romulan agent, infiltrated among Blaze’s crew,” Picard said. “Placed there for the sole purpose of making certain that something aboard the Glory failed at the key moment, enabling us to capture it.”

They were interrupted by a call from Data, in the transporter room.

“Picard here. Go ahead, Mr. Data.”

“Sir, Lieutenant Worf’s landing party is back aboard the ship,” said Data. “However, I am unable to locate Commander Riker’s party.”

“You mean they are no longer in the Zone?” Picard asked, with a frown. “Have you tried widening your sweep?”

“Sir, I have conducted repeated sensor sweeps of the entire city,” Data replied. “They are no longer in K’trin. I have also conducted a series of wide-range scans, in addition to sending an ultra-high-frequency signal to their communicators in an attempt to track it. The signal has not been received, sir. It would appear that they are no longer on the planet.”

 

Riker came to slowly, still feeling the aftereffects of the drug. He was lying on a bunk. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to focus his vision. He heard a groan and sat up, a bit too quickly. The room started to spin. He propped himself up with one arm and closed his eyes, then opened them again. The room stopped spinning, but he still felt a bit groggy.

He heard a groan; then La Forge said, “God, my head hurts.”

“Where the hell are we?” asked Lieutenant Dorn. She sat up in her bunk, slowly swung her legs down to the floor, and moaned, putting her head in her hands.

Good question, Riker thought. He looked around. “We’re aboard a ship,” he said.

Dorn glanced around, disoriented. “Are we in a brig?”

La Forge looked around at their surroundings, taking in the design and layout—the bulkheads, the lights, the vents, the forcefield that held them prisoner—and then his gaze settled on Riker. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. . . .”

“Yeah,” said Riker, grimly.

“Don’t tell him what?” asked Dorn.

The outer doors to the brig opened and Katana entered, followed by the two men who had surprised them at the Flying Dutchman. And there was a third man with them, tall, lean, and exotic-looking, outlandishly dressed, with long black hair, sharp features, and a patch over one eye. “Allow me to welcome you aboard the Glory,” he said. “My name is Captain Blaze. I apologize for your discomfort, and for relieving you of your weapons and communicators, but I wanted to make sure you did not attempt anything foolish.”

“Captain Blaze?” said Riker. “I’ve heard of you. You’re the freebooter who’s been raiding all the shipping in this sector?”

Blaze smiled. “I see my reputation precedes me. But you see, your reputation precedes you, as well.”

Riker tensed. “Is that right?”

“You are Bill Stryker, formerly executive officer of the merchant vessel, Phoenix,” Blaze said. “I’ve had you and your friends checked out, Stryker.”

Riker felt relieved. For one bad moment, he thought their cover had been blown. “By her?” he said, glancing at Katana.

“And the Merchant Spacefleet Union,” Blaze replied. “It was a simple matter to call them and request access to their database for crew applicants. In a busy port, it’s such a routine request, they didn’t even ask me who I was. Your files showed some rather interesting activity. Black-marketeering, insurance fraud, conspiracy. . . .” Blaze shook his head. “It seems you three have been busy.”

“What do you want from us?” asked Riker.

“You said you were looking for a ship,” said Blaze. “Well, it so happens I have one. And it also happens that I am in need of qualified personnel, especially a competent ship’s engineer. My last one was killed in action recently. I am also in need of someone with medical training, and I could use a good ship’s gunner. Would you be interested in applying for those positions?”

“You mean we have a choice?” said Riker.

“Well, no, not really,” said Blaze. “I am in no position to accept a refusal, I’m afraid. I was merely trying to be polite. However, I suspect you would much rather accept voluntarily and become a part of an extremely profitable venture than suffer the unpleasant consequences of refusing.”

“The words ‘extremely profitable’ have a nice ring to them,” said Riker. “Much nicer than ‘unpleasant consequences.’ I guess we accept.”

“Splendid,” Blaze said. “Katana, release our new crewmates, if you would be so kind.”

The cybrid cancelled the forcefield, and as they warily came out of the cell, she smiled at Riker and said, “Welcome aboard. I told you we’d work something out.”

“Yes, you did,” said Riker, “but this wasn’t quite what I expected. Are you part of this crew?”

“First mate,” she replied. “That’s executive officer to you, Stryker. I outrank you.”

“Do I call you ‘sir’?” asked Riker, dryly.

“We do not stand on such formality aboard this ship,” said Blaze. “You may address me as ‘Captain’; and your fellow crew members you may call by name, as you get to know them. We do not use standard military rankings aboard this ship. Katana is first mate, my navigator is second mate, and so forth for the rest of my senior officers. We like to keep things simple.”

“What about our property?” asked Riker.

“Ah, yes, that very handsome knife of yours,” said Blaze, with a smile. “I must have it replicated. It is an excellent design. It will be kept in storage, along with your other weapons. Your communicators have been confiscated and destroyed. You will have no need of them, and as I understand the Merchant Spacefleet has offered a sizable reward for my capture, I wouldn’t want any of my crew to be unduly tempted. All weapons are kept secured in the arms lockers and issued only when necessary. Only I and my trusted senior personnel carry weapons aboard this ship. And they do not have stun settings.”

“I see,” said Riker, noting the Romulan disruptor Blaze wore on his hip. He followed Blaze along with the others as he turned and left the brig. “What about the ‘extremely profitable’ part?”

“Ah, that interests you, does it?” Blaze said, as they walked down the corridor. “You appear to be a man after my own heart. You will not receive any regular wages in the manner to which you have been accustomed. However, we do have a very generous profit-sharing plan, which I believe you will find much more advantageous. Each member of the crew receives equal shares of any profit realized in any of our ventures. You may spend it as you wish, when we make port, or else establish an account and save for your eventual retirement. You may even invest in a diversified portfolio, if you like.”

“Right, and you control all that, of course,” said Riker.

“Absolutely not,” said Blaze. “I would be happy to advise you, if you so desire, or you may take advantage of the financial database we have on board and make your own decisions. Transfers of funds and assets are all done electronically, through financial institutions here in the K’tralli sector or in the Ferengi system, all of which conduct transactions by subspace communications without asking any questions. We believe in free enterprise aboard the Glory.”

“Well, I’m all for enterprise,” said Riker, with a smile. “However, was it really necessary to shanghai us? If you had made us a straight offer—”

“If I had made you a straight offer, you might have been in a position to refuse,” Blaze replied. “And the nature of my business is not such that I can go around recruiting openly, as I’m sure you’ll understand. Also, it is not every day that one encounters people with your particular qualifications, combined with such a decided bent toward larceny.”

“You said your last chief engineer was killed,” said La Forge. “What happened?”

“We had a minor disagreement with a Federation starship,” Blaze replied. “You might say it ended in a sort of stalemate. I fully intend to have a rematch with the captain of that ship.”

“You took on a Federation starship?” Riker said, feigning astonishment.

“Yes, the Enterprise, captained by Jean-Luc Picard,” said Blaze. “A flamboyant name for a rather unflamboyant individual. But he knows his business, I’ll say that for him. I shall not underestimate Captain Picard again.”

“Underestimate him?” Riker said. “The Enterprise is a Galaxy-class starship. You’re lucky you didn’t get blown right out of the sky.”

“Luck had little to do with it, Stryker,” Blaze said. “If anything, luck was on the side of Captain Picard. I caught him with his shields down, completely unprepared. I should have disabled his ship with my first shot.”

“Is that why you have a sudden vacancy for a gunner?” Riker asked.

Blaze glanced at him and arched an eyebrow. “According to your file, which I received courtesy of the Merchant Spacefleet Union, you scored at the top of your class in gunnery at Starfleet Academy, before being dishonorably discharged for a violation of the honor code. Stealing, was it not?”

“All right, so you’ve done your homework,” Riker said. “But I haven’t manned a weapons console since my days at the Academy. That’s a long time ago. And you seem to have a rather low tolerance for poor marksmanship.”

Blaze smiled. “Everyone is capable of making a mistake, Stryker. I can forgive that. What I do not forgive is disloyalty or treachery. My former gunner was too good a marksman to miss a shot like that. And his error nearly cost me my ship. Later, I discovered that the targeting system had been purposely misaligned. The man protested he was innocent, but he was the only one on board qualified for such an act of sabotage. Doubtless, he was tempted by the reward offered by the Merchant Spacefleet Union, and the promise of immunity from prosecution. It really was a pity. He was an excellent gunner.”

“Well, I’m no gunner,” Riker said. “I was second-in-command aboard the Phoenix. It took me years to overcome the stigma of my discharge and work my way up through the ranks. I’m not thrilled about the idea of serving as a lowly gunner.”

“My gunnery mate is one of the most important crew members on this ship, Stryker,” said Blaze. “And he commands respect. Besides, you are hardly in a position to quibble about your duty assignment. This is not the Merchant Spacefleet. This is the Glory. And we do things rather differently aboard this ship, as you will soon discover. There are no review boards to impress here. Only me.”

“And if you want my job, hotshot,” added Katana, “you’re going to have to take it from me. Think you’re man enough?”

Riker gave her a steady stare. “Maybe we’ll find out,” he replied.

“Any time you’re ready,” she said.

“If you two are done flexing your muscles,” said La Forge, “I’d like to take a look at Engineering. If my welfare’s going to depend on keeping this ship running, I’d like to see just what I’ve got to work with.”

“And so you shall,” said Blaze, beckoning them into the turbolift. “I will be pleased to show it to you personally, as I am anxious to see your reaction.”

“I’m rather anxious to see your engineering section myself,” said Riker. “They say you’ve got a cloaking device. If that’s true, I’d like to know how you got one to work aboard a Federation ship. It’s supposed to be impossible.”

“It is impossible,” La Forge said. “It would burn out the dilithium crystals.”

“It would, indeed,” said Blaze, “if we were powered by a Federation engine design.”

“If?” said La Forge, playing along.

“The Glory is powered by modified Romulan drives,” said Blaze.

“You can’t be serious,” said La Forge. “Where the hell would you get your hands on Romulan drives?”

“Why, from the Romulans, of course,” said Blaze.

They stepped out of the turbolift and moved down the corridor to Engineering. It looked much the same as the engineering sections on other Constitution-class vessels, but this one had received a few modifications. La Forge immediately went over to the warp propulsion systems display and turned it on. The others watched as he stared at it with fascination for several moments, then gave a low whistle as he switched the display to examine the schematics of the engine nacelles and reactant injectors.

“Well, LaBeau? What do you think?” asked Blaze.

La Forge shook his head. “It’s going to take time for me to familiarize myself with this system,” he replied. “I’ve never worked with Romulan drives before. I’ve never even seen the schematics for them. Hell, no one has! But whoever put this system together for you was no shade-tree mechanic, that’s for sure.”

“Think you can figure it out?” asked Riker.

La Forge shook his head. “I guess I’ll have to, won’t I?”

“You will not be working entirely in the dark, LaBeau,” said Blaze. “You’ve got full documentation on all of the modifications available in the data banks, and our engineering crew will be able to assist you. I did not expect you to know your way around an unfamiliar design at once.” He raised his voice. “Ragnar!”

“Aye, Cap’n,” came an answering reply from the upper engineering deck. It sounded like the voice of doom. Riker glanced, startled, in the direction of the sound. The owner of a voice like that had to be big.

“Get down here and greet our new chief engineer!” called Blaze.

The largest man any of them had ever seen came up to the railing and looked down at them, then started to make his way down the stairs.

“Jeez!” said Dorn, staring at him.

As he approached them, Riker found himself craning his head back to look at him. The man stood fully eight feet tall and had to mass well over four hundred pounds. He looked like an ambulatory tank. He had arms like tree trunks and legs almost as thick as Riker’s entire upper torso. His bare chest and shoulders were thick and broad, corded with well-developed muscle on a scale unlike anything Riker had ever seen, and almost every square inch of skin was covered with intricate tattoos. His hair was so blond as to be almost white, cropped close to the scalp, and his eyes were a startling, improbable shade of sky blue. As he came toward them, his footsteps sounded like the beats of a kettledrum.

“That’s not a man,” said Dorn, in a low and awestruck voice, “it’s a dinosaur!”

“This is George LaBeau, our new chief engineer,” said Blaze. “LaBeau, meet your engineering crew chief, Ragnar Ragnarsson.”

La Forge gulped, staring up at the leviathan, and extended his hand hesitantly. “Good to meet you, Chief,” he said.

The cold, imposing, Viking countenance suddenly split into a wide grin, revealing absolutely perfect teeth, and the huge crew chief’s face was instantly transformed. It was a smile so warm, so genuine, so open, and so friendly that it was irresistibly infectious.

“Welcome aboard, sir,” he said, in that incredibly deep, basso profundo voice. He took Geordi’s hand, enveloping it in his own gigantic paw, and shook it gently.

“Chief Ragnar will introduce you to the remainder of your engineering crew,” said Blaze. “Then he will conduct you to your quarters. We’ve got a lot of work to do, LaBeau. We are currently conducting repairs after our encounter with the Enterprise, and we have just received some new engine components that have to be installed. Your job will be to get the Glory spaceworthy as soon as possible. There will be a bonus for you and the entire engineering crew if you can manage it within the next seventy-two hours.”

“I’ll do my best, Captain,” La Forge said.

“Excellent. I will check back with you later. The rest of you come with me.”

As they left Engineering, Riker said, “That was the biggest, scariest-looking man I’ve ever seen. Were did you find him?”

“Here aboard the Glory, Stryker, we do not ask questions about people’s pasts,” said Blaze. “But I can tell you that for all his size, Ragnar is generally one of the most placid souls I’ve ever met. Until he loses his temper, that is. And then he becomes absolutely homicidal and nothing short of a disruptor blast will stop him.”

“How often does that happen?” Riker asked.

“Often enough to make the other crew members wary of him,” Blaze replied. “However, you need have no concern for your friend, LaBeau, assuming he knows his business. The one thing Ragnar loves above all else are his engines. He dotes on them like a child with a beloved pet.”

“What about the rest of the crew?” asked Riker. “We haven’t seen many of them. Are most of them on liberty?”

“My crew does not take liberty in Federation ports,” Blaze answered. “Even on D’rahl, where law enforcement is rather lax, it would entail certain risks, especially now that we are in the process of refitting. At the moment, most of them are engaged in unpacking and preparing to install the replacement components we have recently received.”

“From where?” asked Riker.

“We have our sources,” Blaze replied.

“In other words, you don’t trust me and it’s none of my business, right?” Riker said.

Blaze smiled. “Trust, Stryker, is something that has to be earned.”

“Am I allowed to ask how many people constitute the crew, or am I going to have to go around and count?”

Blaze arched an eyebrow at him, amused at his display of insolence. “At the moment, counting ourselves and LaBeau, our crew roster numbers twenty-six.”

“Just over two dozen people?” Dorn said, with surprise. “That’s all?”

“I could run this ship with half that number,” Blaze replied. “These old Constitution-class vessels were very well designed. And I understand the Galaxy-class starships can be operated with only a skeleton bridge crew, if necessary. It really is a shame I can’t get my hands on one of those. But who knows? An opportunity may yet present itself.”

They stepped into the turbolift. “Bridge,” said Blaze.

Riker exchanged glances with Dorn. “If I understand correctly,” he said, “you were seriously damaged in your encounter with the Enterprise. I’m assuming we’re in orbit above D’rahl, which means the ship has to be cloaked, otherwise you’d be visible on scanners. You told LaBeau that the repairs involve installing new engine components. That’s a pretty big job. It also means you’re going to have to go through a drive systems shutdown at some point.”

“That is correct,” said Blaze.

“But that means you won’t be able to stay cloaked during that time,” said Riker.

“No, we will not. It is unavoidable, but there will be a period of time during which we shall be exposed and vulnerable. It shall be up to your friend, LaBeau, to render that period of time as brief as practically possible.”

“But what about the Enterprise?” asked Riker. “The minute you decloak, you’ll show up on their scanners.”

“Worried, Stryker?”

“You mean you’re not?”

“We will deal with the Enterprise when the time comes,” said Blaze.

They stepped out onto the bridge. For Riker, it was an eerie sense of déjà vu. He had been aboard Constitution-class starships before, so the bridge looked familiar, but modifications had been made here, as well. It appeared as if Romulan navigation consoles had been installed, and the communications console was different, as well. So was the bridge crew. An Orion was sitting in the captain’s chair, which he vacated as soon as Blaze came on the bridge. The navigator was a human, but the helmsman was a K’tralli, as was the communications mate. And they were as rough-looking a lot as Riker had ever seen, dressed in a wild array of clothing that included bits and pieces of Merchant Spacefleet blues combined with outlandish civilian garb and K’tralli uniforms. Most of them were tattooed, and many had ears, noses, cheeks, and even eyebrows pierced.

“This Stryker, our new gunner,” Blaze told the bridge crew. “And Thorn here, among her other duties, will be the one to patch you up should you start getting at one another’s throats, so I suggest you treat her with respect.” He introduced the bridge crew. “Navigator San Marco, Helmsman D’karr, Communications Mate T’gahl, and Bos’n Gol.” The last was the Orion. “And here will be your station, Gunner’s Mate,” Blaze said, conducting him to the weapons console.

Riker saw that, unlike some of the other consoles on the bridge, this one was original equipment. Or, at least, it was similar to the original weapons console, which would have been removed when the ship was sold as surplus. Somewhere, Blaze had found another one to replace it. He looked it over carefully. It seemed to have been assembled from the components of several different consoles, but it was familiar enough that he would have no trouble operating it. However, he saw no point in letting Blaze know that.

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen one of these,” he told the freebooter. “And this isn’t like the consoles we had back at the Academy. This one is an older model. What’s more, it looks as if several separate consoles were cannibalized to put this one together.”

“I can assure you that does not impair its function,” Blaze replied. “I suggest you spend time familiarizing yourself with the equipment. It’s programmed to conduct simulations, just like the ones you trained with. I will expect you to be able to operate it expertly by the time we are ready to leave orbit.”

“And if I can’t?” asked Riker.

“I have confidence in you, Stryker,” Blaze replied. “However, if necessary, I can operate the weapons console myself. I said that I could use a gunner. I didn’t say I needed one.”

“Right,” said Riker. He glanced at the crew, then turned his attention to the console as Blaze conducted Dorn from the bridge to show her the ship’s medical facilities. As he pretended to concentrate on studying the layout of the console, he tried to rack his brain for a way out of the situation.

They had come to the Zone in order to seek intelligence about Blaze. Instead, they had been shanghaied aboard his ship. Their weapons had been confiscated, which made little difference one way or another, as they would have been pitifully inadequate against the disruptors carried by Blaze and his senior officers. More importantly, their communicators had been seized and destroyed. That meant there was no way they could call the ship, nor was there any way the Enterprise could attempt to trace them through signals sent to their communicators.

We’re stuck, but good, thought Riker. He was thankful he had taken the trouble to be so painstaking in documenting their cover identities and making sure the files were placed in the Merchant Spacefleet data banks. Blaze had accepted them at face value as a result. Still, he was under no illusions that Blaze’s trust would be won easily or quickly. He’ll have us watched, he thought. There was even a good chance he might have their quarters monitored. They would have to find someplace safe to talk. Somehow, they had to get off this ship and alert the Enterprise to its location. But how?

If he could seize a moment or two at the navigations console, then he could determine the Glory’s current position. But even if there were some way he could manage to do that unobserved, there was still the problem of getting off the ship and conveying that information to the Enterprise. The transporters would be the only way. Assuming they would have a chance to get to them. Failing that, their only chance was in somehow alerting the Enterprise to the Glory’s presence, either by getting a signal out or through some act of sabotage. The only trouble was, Blaze would immediately realize who must have done it and they would still be aboard the ship when the Enterprise attacked.

One way or another, he would have to figure something out before the crew finished their repairs. And that was another thing. Installing new drive components was not something that could be done quickly, and it would require a drive systems shutdown. Since the cloaking device operated off the drives, then the Glory would not be able to remain cloaked during that time. Blaze knew that, and he wasn’t worried. That bothered Riker. For the length of time it took to install the new drive system components, the Glory would be a sitting duck. Its phaser banks would remain operative off stored charges, but the ship would be completely unable to maneuver. There would be no way in hell Blaze could hold off the Enterprise under such conditions. So why wasn’t he worried?

“Need any help?” said San Marco, the navigator, coming up to stand beside him at the console.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll manage,” Riker replied.

“You’re sure?”

“I think so.”

“You’d better hope so, Gunner, for your sake.” Riker glanced at him and nodded. Yeah, he thought. Tell me about it.