POWER HUNGRY

by Howard Weinstein

  But what the hell am I doing here?

  He turned the other way, toward the animal’s head, and saw the rider in the lead, cloaked and hooded. Riker’s first effort at a shout came out a breathless bleat or, more accurately, didn’t really come out at all. He shifted his position—not an easy feat, since his hands were tied behind his back—and the maneuver allowed his diaphragm to resume its natural shape, free of intrusion by ealix vertebrae.

  “Hey—” He coughed.

  The rider turned her hooded head—it was Mori. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better.” His voice was still a wheeze.

  “Do you think you could let me down?”

  Mori stopped and jumped off her mount. She untied the ropes holding Riker atop the ealix in uneasy balance. Unfortunately for him, before she could pull him down feet first, he toppled off the other way, his short cry of distress muffled by his face hitting the dirt.

  “Ohh, Riker, I’m sorry!” She scrambled around and rolled him onto his back. But he didn’t move. She fell back on her haunches, intending to cradle his head on her thighs. In her haste, she wrenched his neck.

  “Oww!”

  “You’re alive! I was afraid you’d broken your neck.”

  “With or without your help?”

  A flash of anger lit her eyes, then faded in an instant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Mori, since yesterday, or two days ago—or whenever it was—I’ve been gassed, kidnapped, bounced around the inside of a box, kidnapped again, carted around like a sack of potatoes, dropped on my head—”

  “I get the idea. What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, you could call my ship and have them beam me up, but I’m not counting on that. For starters, how about untying me and letting me warm up.”

  “Don’t you try to escape.”

  Without a free limb, he gestured with his bearded chin. “To where?”

  She looked at him for a moment, then rolled him over again, face back in the dirt, and freed his hands and feet. With the stiffness of a wooden soldier, he got to his knees.

  “Would you mind telling me what happened?” he said. “Last thing I remember is sleeping in your lodge . . . and I think somebody gassed me again.”

  “You said you were cold.”

  “I’m freezing.”

  She pulled a blanket from the saddlebags draped over her animal and covered his shoulders with it. “Better?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Both.”

  Turning to the saddlebags again, she came up with a small container of dried fruit and a canteen of water, which she shared with Riker. “So you want to know what happened.”

  Riker nodded. “What am I—what are we doing out here?”

  “I decided you were my best chance to find out if my father is still alive.”

  “You plan to use me as leverage to get Captain Picard to put pressure on Stross?”

  “Yes. But I wasn’t the only one who thought you’d be worth something on the open market.”

  He squinted in puzzlement.

  “While you were sleeping, I went out to move two ealixes out of the grazing area to the pass. I was going to come back and take you away. But Glin and Jaminaw must have been watching when I left the lodge. They’re the ones who gassed you tonight.”

  “What were they planning to do with me?”

  “Same thing I was—use you to get your captain to exercise his influence over Stross and the protectorate.”

  “So how did I wind up with you?”

  “On my way back up to the Stone City, I saw them coming down with you, so I just waited and ambushed them.” She dismissed Riker’s alarmed expression. “Don’t worry—I just sprayed them and tied them up. They’ll be fine as soon as somebody finds them.”

  “Where were they taking me?”

  “That request you made—”

  “What request?”

  “To call your ship and have them beam you up. That’s what I’m going to do. Glin and Jaminaw were taking you to the same place I’m taking you.”

  “Which is . . .?”

  “An old communications module out near some abandoned mines.”

  “Nuarans built it?”

  She nodded.

  He chewed a shriveled morsel of fruit. “If you people can’t start agreeing among yourselves, you don’t have a prayer against the government.”

  “I know that.”

  “But you’re still running off with me to strike a private deal with Captain Picard?”

  Her expression grew as frosty as the desert night. “Sometimes you’ve got to look out for yourself.”

  “What if everybody did that? Where would you Sojourners be?”

  She pondered for a long moment. “I don’t know, Riker. And I’m not sure I care anymore. It’s not easy being part of a movement that’s trying to show the whole world the way back to the circle, on one hand, and trying to keep from being exterminated by the government, on the other.”

  “The government’s wrong. All Thiopans should have the right to live their own way as long as they’re not harming anybody else.”

  “Are you on our side?” From someone as young as Mori, that question might have been filled with naive hope at finding an ally. Instead, it came armored in skepticism.

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. No matter what my personal beliefs may be, I’m a Starfleet officer. The Federation has rules—”

  “I know—your noninterference directive.”

  “But there is something I’d like to do . . . for you.”

  “For me?” For a moment, all wide-eyed, she seemed like a young girl instead of a guerrilla fighter.

  “This might border on violating that Prime Directive, but I’m willing to consider it strictly personal.”

  “What?”

  “If you get me back to my ship, I promise I will do whatever I can to find out if your father’s alive.”

  Her excitement flagged. “I don’t know, Riker. If I understand this noninterference thing, not changing the natural course of civilization on other planets . . . well, finding out Evain is alive is bound to affect Thiopa.”

  “I’d be willing to risk it.”

  Mori shrugged. “It probably doesn’t matter. There’s probably no way you can find out anyway.”

  “That’s not what you thought when you decided to steal me from Sanctuary Canyon.”

  Another shrug, more sullen. “Maybe it was a stupid idea.”

  “Your way, maybe. My way, maybe not.”

  “Your way?”

  “I told you—Captain Picard won’t make a deal for my release.”

  “Then your way means that I let you go and you promise to find out about my father.”

  “I said I would try.”

  She let out a cynical snort. “I don’t trust promises, Riker. Nobody keeps them. As you said, having you gives me leverage.”

  “As I said, there will be no deals.”

  “We’ll see.” She pointed her blaster rifle at him. “Let’s go.”

  “Do I get to ride sitting up this time? Unboxed and untied?”

  “Sure, as long as you—”

  “—don’t try to escape. I know. If I do try—”

  “I’ll shoot you.” She meant it. “Oh, not to kill. But stupid or not, I’ve come too far to lose this chance now.”

  The ealixes stood placidly as they mounted. Mori scanned the sky canopy, detecting the first glimmerings of a distant dawn. “Let’s go. I want to be there by first light.”

  There was no such thing as first light aboard a starship. But if there had been, it would have been before dawn as Frid Undrun left his VIP cabin, padded quietly along a curving corridor, and made his way to one of the starship’s large cargo transporter rooms. Down on Thiopa, he knew, it would soon be sunrise in the Sa’drit.

  The doors opened and Undrun entered. A freshfaced young woman stood over the transpo
rter console, engrossed in a standard maintenance check on the unit. She looked up and greeted him with a friendly smile. “Good morning, sir. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes. I’m Ambassador Undrun—”

  “I know, sir. Ensign Trottier.” She brushed a strand of dark hair away back from her cheek.

  “Well, then, Ensign Trottier—you are a transporter technician?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Undrun circled the console until he was standing at her shoulder. “A question came to mind while I was falling asleep last night, and I wanted to ask someone first thing this morning. In view of the Nuaran attacks on our cargo drones, if one or more of the freight vessels were to be damaged, would the Enterprise transporters be able to transfer all that cargo either to this ship or down to the planet in short order?”

  “Generally, that should be possible. I could give you a more specific answer, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, if it isn’t a problem for you.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Ambassador. Let me just check on how much those cargo ships are carrying.” Ensign Trottier activated her computer link and started to call up the information she needed. She didn’t see Frid Undrun sidle behind her and quickly squeeze the back of her skull with one hand and her neck with the other. With the slightest backward jerk of her head, she folded like a marionette with its strings cut.

  Gently, he lowered her to the floor. “Apologies, Ensign,” he muttered. “Time for you to take a nap.”

  He stepped over Trottier and tapped location coordinates into the control keyboard. Then he activated the unit and sprang up the steps to the transporter chamber just in time to be enveloped by the familiar hum and sparkle. A few seconds later Undrun was gone.

  * * *

  Jean-Luc Picard’s first sustained rest since the Enterprise had entered orbit around Thiopa was rudely interrupted by the soft summoning tone of his cabin intercom, and then by a hesitant female voice.

  “Captain Picard—Lieutenant White on the bridge, sir.”

  With startling immediacy, Picard sat up, fully conscious and aware. Years of command had brought with them the skill to emerge from deep sleep almost instantaneously—a habit he found useful, to say the least. “Picard here. What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “Sorry to wake you, sir. But we just got a signal—cargo transporter number two has been activated.”

  “Who is on duty there?”

  “Ensign Trottier was doing a maintenance check. I thought she might have activated it as part of her work. But when I called, there was no response.”

  Picard rolled the bedcovers back. “Send a security team down there. I’ll be on the bridge presently.”

  “Aye, sir. White out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  UNDRUN STOOD on a sloping dune facing the cliffs that guarded the Sojourners’ canyon, where hulking sentries loomed against a charcoal sky. The rising sun had barely begun its day’s work, and Undrun was thankful he still had the cover of darkness to conceal his approach.

  It didn’t take long for him to reach the gap between the cliffs. Undrun was surprised at how exhilarated he felt out here on his own, traversing an alien wilderness, taking a bold step toward solving problems for which there were no approved ministry procedures. His belly grumbled, displeased about an overdue breakfast, but this was no time to stop for food. He moved through the pass, crossing the invisible threshold into the ravine. In his single-minded determination, he saw nothing but the dusty trail that would lead him to the Sojourners.

  Just then, without warning, a loop of sturdy rope tossed from above flopped over his head and slipped down around his chest where it was suddenly pulled taut, jerking him off his feet. His upper arms were pinned to his sides, but his hands were loose and he tried to squirm free. Before he could do so, two Sojourners were on top of him, trussing his hands and feet and throwing him into a blanket sling. His hard fall had knocked the wind out of him and he gasped for enough breath to talk.

  “I’m—I’m Frid Undrun,” he wheezed. He sucked down a few labored breaths before he could go on. “With the Federation—the Enterprise—have to see Lessandra—”

  “That’s where you’re going,” said Durren from Undrun’s right side.

  Mikken was holding the other side of the blanket. “One leaves—another drops in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “I came to trade for Riker.”

  Mikken and Durren looked at each other and burst out laughing. Undrun frowned in confused frustration.

  “Why is that funny? I—I’ve got food, supplies, everything you need.” When he realized he was being ignored, Undrun lapsed into silence.

  “At least this one is light,” Mikken said as they lifted him off the ground and started up toward the canyon rim.

  * * *

  The turbolift doors snapped open and Captain Picard came onto his bridge. He strode directly to Lieutenant White’s station on the upper level. “Report, Lieutenant.”

  “Ensign Trottier was found unconscious in transporter room two.”

  Picard’s mouth tightened into a grim line. This day was not starting off well. But he remained silent, allowing White to continue.

  “She’s been taken to sickbay, so we don’t know what happened yet. We got the beam-down coordinates from the unit memory. Somebody beamed down into the Sa’drit Void, sir. Specifically, within a half-kilometer of Sanctuary Canyon.”

  Mikken and Durren hauled Undrun up to the Stone City, where they found Lessandra in her withered garden. She was in the middle of a bitter shouting match with Glin. Jaminaw stood meekly behind Glin, providing meager support whenever he could muster the courage to speak up. Both women fell silent when Durren and Mikken approached and stood the ambassador up like a statue between them, his feet still bound together.

  Lessandra leaned on her crutch and turned a frosty eye on the little Noxoran, who straightened to his full height—though that still left him a head shorter than the diminutive Sojourner leader. “Who the hell is this?” she demanded.

  Durren poked Undrun, then had to steady him when the diplomat wobbled from the push. “Talk.”

  Undrun cleared his parched throat. He wanted his voice to boom at full volume—he needed to impress these people, and fast. “I am Frid Undrun, ambassa dor from the Federation Aid and Assistance Ministry. I understand that you are Lessandra.”

  “You understand right. What do you want?”

  “I want to help you.”

  The old woman’s only reply to that was a derisive snort.

  Hostile hearing or not, Undrun pressed on. “I really am here to help you.”

  Lessandra made no verbal response. But skeptical wrinkles creased her forehead and her good eye focused all her suspicion on this short alien.

  “Tell her what you’re here for,” Mikken said with a snicker.

  Undrun gave him a scorching look, then turned back to Lessandra. “I’m here to trade for Commander Riker. I’ve got access—”

  Before he could continue, Lessandra broke into a short, loud laugh.

  Undrun wanted to stamp his foot for angry emphasis but obviously couldn’t. “Why does everyone here think that’s so funny?”

  Even Glin and Jaminaw were smiling now.

  “Just what are you willing to give us in trade for him?” Lessandra said through a grin.

  “Food, medical supplies, tools to help you become self-sufficient, to allow you to grow what you need to survive.”

  “Well, that’s certainly an attractive offer. There is just one little technical problem.”

  “What?”

  “We don’t have your Commander Riker.”

  “What . . . ? But you Sojourners kidnapped him.”

  “I’m not saying we did or didn’t.”

  “If you don’t have him, who does?”

  “A very stupid young girl.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Thanks to you, though, Mr. Ambassador, we do have an
other hostage.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t—”

  “You may be even more important than a lowly starship officer.”

  Undrun shook his head. “Not to Captain Picard I’m not. I doubt very much he’ll be willing to make any deals for my ransom.”

  Picard eased into his command seat. “Picard to Ambassador Undrun.” No reply. “Picard to Ambassador Undrun!” Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. When he spoke, that impatience darkened his tone. “Computer, is Ambassador Undrun in his quarters?”

  “Negative.”

  “Location check. Where is he?”

  “Ambassador Undrun is not presently aboard the Enterprise.”

  The facts were fitting together, much to Picard’s displeasure. “Sickbay, this is the captain. Has Ensign Trottier regained consciousness yet?”

  “Dr. Pulaski here, Captain. She has. I’m with her, and she appears to be fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear you are undamaged, Ensign,” Picard said. “What happened to you down there?”

  “Ambassador Undrun came in to ask me some questions about cargo transport. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in sickbay, sir.”

  “He attacked you?”

  “ ‘Attacked’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use, sir. He must have crept up behind me. The last thing I remember is feeling his hands on my neck and head.”

  “Thank you, Ensign. Return to duty whenever Dr. Pulaski releases you. Picard out.” The captain shook his head. “Our Mr. Undrun appears to have hidden talents.”

  “Captain,” said Data, “the ambassador did mention undergoing martial arts training as a child.”

  “It would seem he remembered those lessons well. Lieutenant White, check Mission Ops monitors. What is Undrun’s current status?”

  She nodded and leaned over her console, her fingers hopscotching the keypad. “Locating . . .”

  Picard waited, arms folded.

  “He’s down on Thiopa, sir. He’s got his communicator. It’s functioning normally, and he’s alive.”

  “I may alter that condition personally,” Picard muttered to himself. Undrun was once again doing what he seemed to do best—causing complications. Why in blazes would he have knocked out a transporter tech and beamed himself down without even the slightest nod toward the niceties of procedure or protocol? the captain wondered. Such actions seemed totally out of character, but then again, how much did they really know about him? Damn, damn, damn . . . Not only is Will Riker missing down there but so is this infuriating little popinjay for whose safety I am responsible!