Fortune's Light Part 27

"I mean," he went on, "I don't mind sharing a room with a Ferengi, despite what happened just now, but three retainers armed with blasters-all to watch me and my friend Lyneea? That's enough to make anyone nervous."

"You were told to shut up," Ralk reminded him. "You know, you are just like your friend, the trade liaison. He would not keep quiet either."

"Who was it that actually killed him?" asked Riker, taking advantage of the opening. "You, Ralk? Or Larrak?"

"Larrak," said the Ferengi. "Of course. It is a host's responsibility to dispatch spies." His lip curled. "Though in your case I may insist on doing it myself."

The retainers looked at him. They seemed to have other ideas.

But that wasn't his chief concern now. He was trying to buy time and, whether he lived or not, to log a record of Larrak's crimes with the Enterprise's computer.

"What gets me," Riker went on, "is Larrak's audacity. To even consider hoodwinking Criathis like that, making them believe the merger was honorable, when all the time he intended to overturn the agreement with the Federation and restore trade with the Ferengi."

"Business is business," said Ralk. "And despite what you say, Larrak will see that we offer the greater profit."

How far could he push it? He'd soon find out.

"Exactly how did Larrak spirit you in here, anyway? Did he pay someone to lower the transport barrier? Or have you been hiding here since before the carnival began?"

The Ferengi started to answer and then stopped himself. He eyed Riker suspiciously. "Something is going on," he decided. His mouth twisted as apprehension dawned. "He's got a communicator! He's talking to his s.h.i.+p!"

It didn't take Riker's guards long to reach him. Before they did, he blurted out the name of the madraga holding them and their location in the house.

Not that O'Brien would need it-by now, he'd certainly have logged their coordinates. But it might help Worf in planning his arrival.

A retainer-the one who'd stopped Ralk a few moments earlier-grabbed Riker by the front of his tunic. "d.a.m.n you," he said, "what was the point? You're only going to die that much quicker."

And stepping back, he leveled his blaster at the human's face.

Where the h.e.l.l was Worf? Where was the familiar s.h.i.+mmer of coalescing molecules?

Suddenly, a blue-white phaser beam came out of nowhere. It slammed into the retainer just before he'd have pressed his trigger, sending him flying across the room.

Riker wrestled around in his chair-just far enough to see Worf and Data standing in the doorway, dressed in Impriman tunics. The two remaining guards noticed them at the same time.

Blaster rays and phaser beams crisscrossed in midair. Another retainer was propelled into the wall behind him.

The last one must have known he didn't have a chance. So rather than return the newcomers' fire, he opted to take out the captives.

As he took aim, Riker saw that he meant to kill Lyneea first. Frantically, he rocked forward and tipped his chair; when it fell, it took his partner's with it.

The two of them went over in an ungainly tangle of legs, living and otherwise. Before they hit the floor, Riker saw a shaft of blasterlight sizzle past his good shoulder.

Then someone-either Worf or Data-nailed the retainer with a phaser bolt. The man was knocked off his feet, landing heavily on one of his unconscious comrades.

"Ferengi," called Riker, even before he'd gotten his bearings. "Maybe armed."

A fraction of a second later, he heard a frenetic shuffle, as of escaping footsteps-followed by a scream and a triumphant Klingon snarl.

"Not armed," announced Worf. "But definitely Ferengi."

"Let me go," complained Ralk.

"Then cooperate," advised Worf. And so saying, he thrust the Ferengi into a vacant chair-at least that was how it sounded.

Of course Riker could see neither the Ferengi nor his fellow officers. Lying on his back, still bound to his chair, all he could see was Lyneea, who had fallen on her side with her face mere inches from his.

Without meaning to, he looked into her eyes, something he'd never had the opportunity to do before, at least not so close up.

"Thanks," she told him, aware of the awkwardness of the moment. But a lot less ruffled by it than he would have expected.

"Don't mention it," he said.

Abruptly Data's face loomed above them. "I trust," he said, "that you are not hurt."

The first officer shook his head. "No, Data. But I'd appreciate it if you could untie us. I can remember being in more comfortable positions."

"As you wish," said the android. And replacing his phaser on his Impriman belt, he knelt to free Lyneea.

A coincidence that he was taking care of the female first? Or was Data developing a code of chivalry? Riker pondered the question as his partner's bonds were loosened.

Lyneea glanced at the android's phaser. "I suppose," she said, "there is a loophole in the high-tech ban regarding your weapons as well?"

Data looked puzzled. But Worf knew what she was talking about.

"Perhaps we stretched the rule," he offered. "But if we had not, you would be in no position to raise the question."

She frowned at the Klingon's answer, but seemed to accept it. Riker marveled at the change in her; a couple of days ago, she would have made a point of confiscating the phasers. Would wonders never cease?

After loosening the last of Lyneea's bonds, the android moved to free the first officer. "Hurry," urged Riker. "We've got to get out of here in time to stop the merger ceremony."

Normally they could have made it to the ceremony site in no time-by beaming over. But direct beaming required them to be transported up to the s.h.i.+p first and then sent on to their ultimate destination. And with the transport barrier preventing anyone from leaving Besidia, that was currently impossible. Besides, Riker still had to come up with a plan to stop the merger, though the seeds of one were already germinating in his head.

"I am doing my best," said Data. "If I work any faster, I fear I may injure you in the process."

"It's all right," said the human. "After what I've been through, I think I can stand a few friction burns."

Obediently the android worked faster. But such was his skill that, despite Data's apprehension, Riker felt no discomfort except for the throbbing of his wound.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Ralk.

"Nothing like what we should do," said Lyneea.

Worf looked to Riker. "Commander?"

"We can't just tie him up," he said, thinking out loud. "One of these retainers is bound to wake up soon and free him. And we still need him as proof of what Larrak was up to." He smiled at the Ferengi, noting how much Ralk looked like a fish on a hook. "I guess we'll just have to take him with us."

Chapter Fifteen.

THE AMPHITHEATER was a plain brick building with a green-stained copper roof. It wasn't nearly as old as the Maze of Zondrolla or as elaborate as the estate house of Terrin. But its round shape, high walls, and considerable size made it imposing in its own way.

The single entrance to the place was guarded by retainers. Fortunately, Riker noted, they were in the employ of Madraga Criathis.

"There's no time to explain," Lyneea told them. "We've got to get in. Now."

The retainer in charge indicated the unconscious figure slung over Data's shoulder. "But ... that's a Ferengi."

"I know what he is. And you know that my a.s.signment is top priority. Now, are you going to let us through?"

The retainer cursed. But in the end, he had to trust Lyneea's judgment.

They followed a pa.s.sageway that led underneath the first level of seats-all five of them, including the phaser-stunned Ralk, who had made the mistake of testing Worf's vigilance. The Ferengi was still deadweight when they arrived at an opening that led into the seating area.

Every madraga seemed to be represented in the crowd. Riker saw the yellow robes of Alionis, the black of Rhurig, the rich green of Ekariah. The blue, almost violet hue of Criathis. And of course, the red of Terrin.

As they emerged from the opening, heads turned-to see who had come so unpardonably late. There were retainers situated strategically at intervals, and not all of them belonged to Lyneea's madraga. Their heads turned as well.

In the center of the arena, on a ma.s.sive white-silk-draped platform perhaps ten meters high, the officials of the two merging madraggi had begun their ceremony. They were ensconced at a semicircular table, at either end of which was an ornate bra.s.s stand supporting a purple velvet pillow. And resting on each pillow was an object difficult to see from this distance, except for a point of splendor where it caught the artificial radiance emanating from fixtures in the ceiling.

The seals of the two respective madraggi, one of them-the one near the twilight-blue robes-the newly restored Fortune's Light.

Riker's group headed down an aisle toward the first row of seats. There were stirrings among the onlookers-murmurs of curiosity and concern and even amus.e.m.e.nt. More important, the retainers in the audience had apparently decided the newcomers were up to no good; they were starting to converge on them.

Luckily none of the retainers was directly in their path. Unluckily, those closest to them wore a variation of the patch they'd found in the maze.

"Move," urged Lyneea.

They moved, down the aisle and over the rail at the foot of it. Fortunately, Riker was able to vault with one hand. When Data's turn came, he dropped the Ferengi into Worf's waiting arms.

By then the officials at the table had spotted them and halted their ritual procedures. Also, a number of retainers had dropped into the central area on the opposite side of the amphitheater.

There were three familiar faces up on the platform. One was Larrak's. Another belonged to Daran, first official of Criathis. The third was that of Norayan, Daran's daughter and second official.

Larrak stood up. Neither his face nor his voice revealed the emotions that must have been churning inside him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, loud enough to cut through the growing clamor in the seats.

Riker turned to Lyneea as they approached. "This time," he told her, "I'll do the talking."

She didn't object.

"Stop," called a voice from behind. Riker glanced over his shoulder and saw the retainers dropping over the rail.

Worf started to draw his weapon, but Lyneea grabbed him by the wrist. "Don't," she advised him. "We're here. They can't stop us now."

The first official of Criathis was on his feet now next to Larrak. His lack of comprehension was evident in his face-and it was hard to surprise someone of his station. Probably the last thing he'd expected to see today was a group from the Enterprise interrupting the merger ceremony, aided and abetted by one of his own retainers and carrying an unconscious Ferengi.

"Yes," said Daran. "What is going on here?"

At about the same time, Riker and the others were surrounded. The retainers had their projectile weapons in their hands, but they wouldn't shoot unless someone gave the order. And even then, they might not obey the command of anyone other than their own employer.

Riker had a moment of indecision. After all, Criathis's call for help from the Federation was to have been a secret-like the loss of the seal.

But he couldn't expose the criminals at this gathering without revealing his mission. Lyneea must have figured that out, too, though, and she'd made no move to stop him. He took that as silent approval.

Here goes nothing.

"You know me," he told Daran. His voice rang out, echoing. "My name is Will Riker. I'm the first officer of the Federation stars.h.i.+p Enterprise."

That sent a ripple of reaction through the crowd. Riker wet his lips, aware of Norayan's scrutiny, and Larrak's as well. He plunged on.

"Some days ago, First Official, you asked for my a.s.sistance. You said that someone had stolen your madraga's seal and you needed it back in time for this ceremony."

Norayan's father looked on, tight-lipped. Inside, he must have been fuming. But then, he didn't know the whole story-not yet.

"I found the seal, and I found out who arranged to have it stolen." Riker turned, aware of the opportunity for drama in the moment, and found the clot of black robes in the stands. He pointed to them. "Madraga Rhurig was behind the theft of Fortune's Light. They paid to have it disappear-so this ceremony might never take place."

The black robes became a sea of confusion. Some of them stood, crying out bitter denials. And a couple separated themselves from the rest, climbing over the rail to land on the arena floor.

Despite the robes, Riker recognized one of them as Kobar. But he did his best to ignore the fact, turning back to the semicircular table and those who sat around it.

"This is a serious accusation," said the first official of Criathis.

"Indeed," remarked Larrak. He was eyeing Riker, still unsure of the Starfleet officer's intentions-though he probably remembered who he was now. "Especially in view of the fact that Fortune's Light sits right there." He indicated the seal of Madraga Criathis on its pillow of purple velvet. "Are you suggesting that the seal before us is a fake?"

A bold move on Larrak's part, to be sure. He was forcing the issue of how Fortune's Light had been recovered-trying to get Riker to lay his cards on the table, if he had any.

But the human was too good a poker player to be manipulated.

"No. It is genuine. And it is here-but only because it was returned. The fact remains that it was stolen."

He looked to the first official of Criathis. Without his confirmation at this point, Riker could go no further. He hoped that the Impriman had enough faith in him to take some risks.

"That is true," Daran said finally, though with obvious reluctance. "Fortune's Light was taken from us. We recovered it only hours before the ceremony-and under mysterious circ.u.mstances."

By that time Kobar and his black-robed companion had reached them, and were shouldering their way through the a.s.sembled retainers. Curses flew, and most of them were directed at Riker.

"Son of a muzza," spat Kobar, his eyes wide with anger. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"No doubt," said Riker. "But that doesn't change anything. Your madraga still hired Teller Conlon to steal Fortune's Light."

"You're mad!" snarled the other man-and now the human recognized him. It was Kelnae, the first official of Madraga Rhurig, and Kobar's father. He was as loud and arrogant as Riker remembered him. He appealed to Daran. "This is your ceremony, First Official. Either silence this offworlder or be held accountable."