Captain's Table_ Dujonian's Hoard Part 2

The a.s.sembled captains exchanged glances. Picard noted a certain amount of skepticism in their expressions.

"He was on his way to Rimbona IV ..." Hompaq growled.

"... minding his own business," Bo'tex continued, "when he ran into a Traynor Disturbance. Level one, perhaps a little more."

"Enough to rattle my sensor relays!" Kuukervol protested.

"And necessitate repairs," Dravvin amplified.

"There he was," said Hompaq. "Blind on his port side, vulnerable to enemy attack and the vagaries of s.p.a.ce ..."

"... except he had no enemies," Bo'tex noted, "and he'd already stumbled on the only real vagary in the sector. Nonetheless ..."

"... I hurried desperately to make repairs," Kuukervol pointed out, "when who should show up but ..."

"... a Phrenalian pa.s.senger transport," Dravvin added. "And lo and behold, it was headed for Rimbona IV just as he was."

"Of course," Hompaq said, "it wasn't going to stop for him."

"It was full!" Kuukervol declared. "Full to bursting!"

"So it was," Dravvin conceded. "Which is why it could rescue neither our friend nor his crew. However, its commander promised he would alert the Rimbonan authorities to Captain Kuukervol's plight."

"Which he did," said Robinson.

"And they would have arrived just in the nick of time," Bo'tex gibed eagerly, "had they seen any reason to effect a timely rescue or indeed, effect a rescue at all."

"Unfortunately," Dravvin went on, "there was no discernible danger to s.h.i.+p or crew."

"No discernible danger," Kuukervol emphasized. "But the undiscernible lurked all around us!"

"Under which circ.u.mstances," said Flenarrh, "Captain Kuukervol and his courageous crew had no choice but to take matters in their own hands and repair their sensor relays on their own."

"At which point," Hompaq chuckled, "they went on to Rimbona ..."

"... warier than ever ..." Kuukervol said.

"... and," Dravvin finished, "arrived without further incident."

The newcomer's mouth shaped words to which he gave no voice, as if he hadn't spoken his fill yet. Then he gave up and, wallowing in frustration, took his half-full mug and wandered away.

The Rythrian looked pleased. "I think we've taken the wind out of his sails. And good riddance."

Robinson made a clucking sound with his tongue and turned to Picard. "The poor, benighted sot tells the same story every night. Except for a few middling changes, of course, so it'll fit with the evening's theme."

Flenarrh smiled benignly. "If we've heard him tell it once, we've heard it a hundred times."

"Come to think of it," said Bo'tex, "we never did get to hear the juicy part. I wonder ... would it have been the Phrenalian commander who served as Kuukervol's love interest? Or perhaps he would have singled out some member of his command staff?"

"The possibilities boggle the mind," Dravvin observed ironically.

"Minds being boggled," said a voice from over Picard's shoulder. "Sounds like my kind of place."

Picard turned and saw another fellow coming over to join them one dressed in a navy blue pullover with a white symbol on the upper right quadrant. He had dark hair with hints of gray and a goatee to match. Also, something of an antic sparkle in his greenish brown eyes.

"Ah," said Robinson. "The Captain of the Kalliope."

The newcomer smiled. "Good to see you again, Captain Robinson. What's it been? A year or more?"

"Time has little meaning in a place like the Captain's Table," Robinson replied. "How's your wife? And the little ones?"

"Not so little anymore," said the Captain of the Kalliope. "The big one's tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the sails now and his brother's taking the tiller." He glanced at Picard. "I wondered if you would drop in here someday."

Picard looked at him. The fellow seemed awfully familiar, somehow. Picard tried to place him, but couldn't.

"Have we met before?" he asked the Captain of the Kalliope.

The man shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. Let's just say your fame has preceded you." He raised a mug of dark beer until it glinted in the light. "To Jean-Luc Picard, Starfleet's finest."

The others raised their gla.s.ses. "To Jean-Luc Picard."

Picard found himself blus.h.i.+ng. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be," said the Captain of the Kalliope. "These guys will drink to anything. I learned that a long time ago."

The others laughed. "How true," Hompaq growled. "Though I am not, strictly speaking, a guy."

Bo'tex snuck a sly look at her bodice. "It appears you're right," the Caxtonian told her.

Her eyes narrowing, Hompaq clapped Bo'tex on the back, sending him flying forward across the table. "How clever of you to notice," she said.

As Bo'tex tried to regain his dignity, the Captain of the Kalliope sat and winked at Picard. "Some group, eh?"

The fellow reminded Picard of someone. It took him a moment to realize who it was. Riker was a little taller and more st.u.r.dily built, but otherwise the two had a lot in common.

Picard nodded. "Some group."

"Now, then ... where were we?" Robinson asked.

"A tale of romance and adventure," Flenarrh reminded him. "And we still haven't got a volunteer."

"Don't look at me," said the Captain of the Kalliope. "You know I can't tell a tale to save my life."

Flenarrh looked around the table until he came to Picard, and his eyes narrowed. "What about you, Captain? You look like a fellow just steeped in romance and adventure."

Robinson considered Picard. "Is that true, Captain? Have you a tale or two with which to regale us?"

Picard frowned as he weighed his response. "In fact," he said, "I do. But it's one I would rather keep to myself."

His companions weren't at all happy with that. Dravvin harrumphed and Hompaq grumbled, both clear signs of displeasure.

Robinson leaned closer to Picard. "Come, now," he said. "We're all friends here. All captains, as it were. If you can't share your tale with us, who the devil can you share it with?"

Picard looked around the table. Normally, he was a man who kept his feelings to himself. Nonetheless, he felt remarkably at ease in this place, among these people. He drummed his fingers.

"All right," he said at last. "Perhaps I'll tell it after all."

Robinson smiled. "Now, there's a lad."

"A warrior," said Hompaq.

Indeed, thought Picard. And he began weaving his yarn.

The Tale MY STORY BEGINS a couple of months ago. I and my s.h.i.+p, the fifth Federation vessel to bear the name Enterprise, were performing a routine planetary survey when we received a communication from Starfleet Command.

It was an eyes-only communication which meant I needed to receive it in private. Leaving my first officer in charge of the bridge, I repaired to my ready room.

As it turned out, the communication was from Admiral Gorton a very likeable fellow with whom I shared an interest in equestrian sports and French wines. I asked him what I could do for him.

Gorton frowned, making the lines in his weathered face seem deeper than usual. "Normally," he pointed out, "Starfleet doesn't ask its captains to search for missing persons. In this instance, however, I'm afraid I've got to make an exception."

I leaned back in my chair. "Very well, then. I take it there is something unusual about this missing person?"

"There is indeed. His name is Brant, Richard Brant. Ring a bell?"

I thought for a moment. "Wasn't there a Richard Brant aboard the LaSalle? Its first officer, as I recall?"

"Your memory is as good as ever," Gorton confirmed. "For reasons of his own, Brant resigned from Starfleet almost a year ago. His intention was to charter expeditions to exotic destinations."

"And?" I prodded gently.

"He dropped out of sight about a couple of months ago, as far as we can tell. At first, we suspected he had been abducted by the Maquis, since his expeditions took him into the vicinity of the Badlands."

"The Maquis haven't engaged much in kidnapping," I noted.

"True," said Gorton. "That doesn't seem to be the way they normally operate. Still, we couldn't rule it out as a possibility. Then, less than a week ago, Command received word that the Maquis had nothing to do with Brant's disappearance."

"You have a lead on him, then?" I asked.

Gorton nodded. "We've learned that Brant was seized by mercenaries in the Caliabris sector."

I was puzzled. "Mercenaries? What would they want with him?"

"Jean-Luc," said the admiral, "have you ever heard of something called the h.o.a.rd of Dujonian?"

I nodded. After all, I had been a student of archaeology since my days at Starfleet Academy.

"The h.o.a.rd," I said, "was part of a treasure unearthed on Carda.s.sia Prime some two hundred years ago, when the Carda.s.sians excavated a series of large Hebitian tombs."

For those of you unfamiliar with the Hebitians, they were the cultural ancestors of the Carda.s.sians a peaceful and spiritual people who are said to have loved justice and learning.

It seems that wasn't all they loved. Their burial chambers were magnificent vaults, filled from wall to wall with priceless, jeweled baubles.

But it wasn't merely the quality of their gems that made some of the Hebitian artifacts so priceless.

"One variety of jewel unearthed with the treasure was called glor'ya," I continued. "It was found to have properties similar to dilithium, but vastly superior. Carda.s.sian scientists saw in it unlimited potential, certainly with regard to propulsion capabilities but also when it came to weapons design."

"Exactly right," said Gorton. "Then you must also know the rest of it how, according to legend, a twenty-second-century Carda.s.sian named Dujonian managed to steal all the Hebitians' glor'ya-encrusted artifacts and hide them somewhere off-planet."

"Nor was he ever heard from again," I mused, "so the truth of the matter could never be proven, nor Dujonian himself taken to task for his actions."

However, I was unaware of any link between Brant and the h.o.a.rd. I said so.

Gorton frowned. "Our source tells me these mercenaries believe Brant can lead them to Dujonian's treasure trove."

I grunted softly. "Why would they believe this?"

The admiral shook his head. "We don't know. Maybe they unearthed a clue to the h.o.a.rd's location and it led them to the Caliabris sector."

I saw the connection. After all, the LaSalle had done considerable work in that part of s.p.a.ce. "In that case, Brant's knowledge of the sector would have been invaluable to them."

"Exactly," said Gorton. "Or maybe the mercenaries simply got wind of something a clue that told them Brant had located the h.o.a.rd. In any case, the man was abducted."

"And you want him found," I concluded, "and rescued before these mercenaries can find the h.o.a.rd and make use of the glor'ya in it."

"Or even worse," said Gorton, "sell it to the Carda.s.sians."

"Who would employ it," I responded, "to make their wars.h.i.+ps even more dangerous than they are already."

The admiral nodded. "That's our concern. Of course," he went on, "there are several agents we could have a.s.signed this task, but you're the only one with any real archaeological background. You'll need it to verify if you actually encounter the h.o.a.rd."

"I understand," I told him.

Gorton regarded me. "At this point, I'm sorry to say, I don't have much else in the way of hard information. I can only point you to the source I mentioned the one who reported Brant's abduction in the first place."

He suggested I go undercover to make the contact, so as not to compromise our informant. I agreed that I would do that.

"Good," he said. "I'm transmitting all pertinent information on him. Needless to say, you'll have to use discretion in sharing what I've told you with your officers."

"Needless to say," I echoed.

The admiral smiled grimly. "Good luck, Jean-Luc. And G.o.dspeed."

"Thank you," I told him.

Then he ended the communication. His image vanished from my monitor, to be replaced with the starred symbol of Starfleet.