Nightshade, Page 2

  “It is not her I am worried about, Captain,” Worf whispered, his deep voice made more so by the effort not to be overheard.

  “We cannot begin a peace mission with weapons drawn, Lieutenant.”

  Troi said, “I sense no treachery in these people, Worf.”

  Worf frowned at her.

  “Put up your weapons, Lieutenant Worf. That is a direct order.”

  “Aye, Captain.” He holstered his phaser, as did his people.

  “His caution is commendable, Captain Picard,” Talanne said. “I would trust the people here in this circle with my own life. But finding a dozen people who cannot be bribed is getting to be a chore.”

  She turned and walked toward a low doorway. The door was painted to resemble a dark red flower complete with yellow stamen and a tiny insect on one petal. The image clashed with the bright courtyard. Individual tastes did vary.

  Picard started to follow her, but Worf moved in front of him. Picard sighed as he followed his security officer’s broad back. The three remaining guards took up their posts to either side of Picard and Counselor Troi. This mission was going to be hard enough without Worf taking his safety so terribly seriously. It was not that Picard did not appreciate his own possible danger, but how was he to negotiate peace when his own people were so obviously ready to fight? He wondered if Commander Riker had had a parting word with Worf. Riker took his duty to protect his captain very seriously.

  Of course, if Picard insisted on lesser safety mea-sures and was killed for it . . . Well, he would never hear the end of it, so to speak.

  Troi followed the captain. The security guards to either side obstructed most of her view. The filter mask was uncomfortable, cutting into her face.

  The robed guards were a mixed bag of emotions: resentment, anger, fear, anticipation, worry, hope. General Basha’s wife, Talanne was worried, frightened. Her husband had almost been killed—it was a normal reaction—but Troi felt the fear was more than that. Colonel Talanne feared them. They were the newcomers, an unknown. It was normal to fear the unknown, and yet . . . Troi shook her head. She had no words for it, or even a specific feeling. Talanne meant them no harm, in fact was worried for Picard’s safety, yet . . . Something was wrong, but what?

  They were led into a low-ceilinged hallway. The walls were a brilliant buttercup yellow. It was at least one solid color, which was a relief after the courtyard. Worf and the three security guards had to stoop to enter the door. It was only then that Troi realized that all the Orianians were small. None of them were as tall as the captain. While Worf, Kelly, Conner, and Vincient towered over them.

  They towered over Troi as well, but she was used to it. Once in the small enclosed space of the hallway, the size difference made the robed guards nervous. Troi could feel the guards judging them, anticipating treachery.

  Worf’s eager attention was like a pressure on Troi’s mind. She often felt the emotions of people she knew stronger than strangers. Worf was, to an extent, in his element. A warrior among warriors, with violence threatening to erupt. But Troi trusted Worf not to act irresponsibly.

  Captain Picard’s irritation at Worf’s solicitousness made Troi smile. It would be a battle of wills between them.

  There was only one door at the end of the hall. The pale walls stretched back toward the outside door smooth and perfect. Talanne stood to one side of the door. Two robed guards moved in front of her. The door opened. The guards went in weapons at the ready. They didn’t hesitate, or doubt. They just went in ready to kill or be killed. They did not fear death. No, Troi thought, that wasn’t it.

  She could feel their minds as they searched the room. They were not afraid, that was true, but they thought of nothing but their task. Their concentration was purely on the situation at hand. If they concentrated hard enough on just their duty, Troi guessed, there was no time for fear.

  All the guards waited, their emotions going into hold, their senses alert for . . . duty. Troi suppressed a shudder. She had been among warrior races before but nothing like these people. They didn’t know any other life. The war had consumed them as surely as it had consumed the other resources of the planet.

  The guards came back to the door. “All clear.”

  “Good,” Talanne said. “Captain, welcome to my home.” She entered the room.

  Picard tried to follow her, but Worf was still in front of him. “Lieutenant. I trust our hostess and her people. I do not think these extra precautions are necessary.”

  A variety of emotions played over Worf’s mind. Troi felt them like waves over her body; anger, loyalty, respect. “As you like, Captain.”

  Picard took a deep breath and straightened his uniform, just a bare pull on his jacket. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Troi followed him inside the room. Worf and his people followed behind. Three of the robed guards entered the room as well.

  It was a small room. Ten people filled it nearly to capacity. Tapestries covered every wall. Woven images of tall graceful trees, red flowers like the outer door. Grass as bright yellow as the hallway flowed through the wall hangings. A vine exploded around the edges of the scene, heavy with thick purplish-green leaves and oblong orange fruit. Every color looked fresh, as if when touched it would still be wet. It wasn’t just lifelike, it was brighter, bigger, richer; more than the real thing. Or so Troi thought.

  She couldn’t imagine nature giving such colors in one place at one time. One thing about naturally occurring plants, they always seemed to match. The colors melting together, completing each other. Mother Nature did not clash.

  Picard pulled off his mask, and the rest of the Federation party followed suit. Troi was relieved to feel the air on her face again. The straps cut into the sides of her face.

  “You honor us with bare faces. I can only return the honor.” Talanne pushed back the hood of her robe. Close-cropped brown hair curled around her face protection. She lifted the mask off in one smooth, practiced motion. Her skin was a slightly darker shade of gold than Basha’s had been, a deep amber, but her face was nearly identical in bone structure. There was none of the smaller jaw, or narrower face that differentiated human males and females. “It has been a long time since I have been in a room full of this many bare faces.”

  “Is it your custom to cover the face even indoors, where the air is breathable?” Picard asked.

  “Yes, Captain. In times of war you must expect the unexpected, like a bomb blowing out the wall and exposing you to poison.”

  Worf stared round the room. “Is this common?”

  “It hasn’t happened in over fifty years, but too many children were injured. It is one of our few rules.”

  “Then we can safely go without the masks indoors,” Picard said, with only the hint of a question to his words.

  “Yes, Captain. Our people will stare, and think it strange, but with their faces covered you will not be able to see them stare, and they are all too well trained to question your customs.”

  Picard wasn’t sure how to take that. “If we are breaking a sacred custom, we can wear the masks.”

  “No, Captain, please, let it remind my people of what we have given up. Enough of this,” Talanne said, “I noticed you admiring our wall hangings.”

  “Yes,” Picard said. “They are extraordinary.”

  “It is an art form at which we excel. One of the few nondestructive things we do well on this planet.” The bitterness in her voice was thick enough to cut. To Troi, the emotion was like a twisted thing, almost painful.

  “The wall hangings are what we have instead of windows. None of us wish to be reminded of what we have done to our world. Looking out upon this desolation, this death . . .” Talanne shook her head. “Allow me to offer you some refreshment.”

  She moved to a small table that held a crystal decanter and five glasses. The liquid inside was a deep purple. “I will send for more glasses. My husband was unsure how many of you there would be.”

  They had to practically huddle around
the table to have room to lift their glasses. “I mean no disrespect, Colonel Talanne, wife of Basha, but is it really necessary to have so many people in the room?” Picard said.

  The three robed guards were instantly alert. Hands tightening on weapons. Worf noticed it, and was reaching for his phaser.

  Talanne raised a hand. “At ease. I am sorry, Captain. You have my bodyguards worried. It is customary that if one leader has bodyguards, the other has an equal number. It is only wise.”

  Picard nodded. “Ah, because I have three guards you must have three guards.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I too am a guard,” Worf said.

  “But you are a commander, an officer, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “We cannot have equal numbers of officers. The crowd would grow too large.” She smiled and raised a glass. “Besides, if you have too many officers in one place, it is too great a temptation.”

  “For assassinations you mean?” Picard asked.

  “Yes, Captain. We lost five officers in one bomb attack some three months back.”

  “And do the Venturies also have to watch how many officers they have in any one place?”

  With a brilliant smile, she answered. “Yes, Captain, they do.”

  “Assassination is not an honorable way to take your enemy,” Worf said.

  “Lieutenant Worf,” Picard said, voice sharp.

  “No, that is all right, Captain. Even we have heard of Klingon honor.” She turned to speak directly to Worf. “We would do anything to bring this war to a close. Anything, even treachery, if the fighting would just end.”

  “Do you not wish victory over your enemies?” Worf asked.

  “Some still do, but most just want an end. Our planet is dying. Our children are dying. Neither side seems able to win even by treachery, so we must talk peace before we all die.”

  “Seeing the necessity for peace is the first step to achieving it,” Picard said.

  Talanne smiled. “I hope so, Captain Picard, I very much hope so.”

  The door opened, and every weapon in the room whirled toward it. A small, blond boy, perhaps three years old, raced into the room. The features that were lovely on his parents were nearly unreal on the child. He looked carved from aged-goldened alabaster with eyes a startling shade of jewellike blue. He came to a skittering halt, eyes wide, staring at the guns.

  “Put up your weapons,” Talanne said. She moved toward the small boy. Two guards moved with her. “Jeric, where is your sentinel?”

  “Don’t know, Merme,” he said. His eyes were still wide, his pulse hammering in his thin neck.

  His fear had been pure and total when he had seen the weapons. Troi had felt his desperate sure knowledge that he was about to die. Only a little older than three, but he knew what dying meant. He knew what weapons could do. The memory of such things stained his mind, colored his emotions. Troi had never met anyone so young with such an old mind.

  The boy stared openly at Worf.

  Talanne knelt in front of the boy. “Jeric, listen to me.” She touched the boy’s cheek gently forcing him to look at her face. “When did your sentinel go missing?”

  He frowned. “Missing?”

  Troi felt the woman’s impatience. Talanne swallowed it back and kept her voice normal, calm. “Where were you just before you ran in here?”

  “Is something wrong, Colonel Talanne?” Picard asked.

  “I don’t know yet, Captain. Jeric’s sentinel should be with him at all times.”

  “What exactly is a sentinel?” Picard asked.

  “A personal bodyguard.” She stared at her son’s frightened eyes. “Where were you just before you came to here?”

  “In the playroom.”

  “Good. Was the sentinel with you then?”

  The boy frowned again.

  Talanne gripped his arms gently. “Jeric, were you alone in the playroom?”

  He nodded solemnly. His mother’s seriousness finally sinking into him, or perhaps it had been the guns.

  “Where were you before you went inside the playroom?”

  “Outside.”

  “Outside,” she whispered it, as if it were some obscenity. Her hands must have tightened because the boy wriggled in her grip. “You are not allowed outside ever. Who took you?”

  “Bori took me. You’re squeezing my arms, Merme.”

  She hugged him to her chest. “I’m sorry, Jeric. Merme didn’t mean to hurt you. Where did the sentinel take you?”

  “Outside.”

  “Where outside?”

  “Outside.” He struggled away from her arms. “Just outside, Merme.”

  “Did you see anyone else outside?”

  The boy nodded. “A man, Merme.”

  “Did you know the man, Jeric?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did your sentinel or the man come back inside with you?”

  “No, Merme.”

  Talanne hugged her son to her. “Check the corridors. Spread the word that we may have a security breach.”

  Two guards moved to the door. One hesitated.

  “What of the newcomers?” It was a man’s voice. Without some clue every figure was neuter, a soldier neither male nor female.

  “I trust them. Go, find out what has happened. See to my husband’s safety.”

  The guard still hesitated.

  “Go, now!” She swung the rifle into play in one practiced motion, the boy shoved behind her back with the other hand. “Do not refuse a direct order.”

  He bowed from the neck. “I hear and I obey.” He was gone with the other guard. The door closed behind them.

  “I appreciate the trust you have placed in us, Colonel Talanne,” Picard said.

  She stood, rifle still loosely grasped in her hand. Jeric clutched her other hand. “Do not be, Captain. I know what your starship is capable of. If you wished to do us harm, you could, and nothing on this planet could stop you. That is one of the reasons we called upon the Federation. One thing we Orianians respect is strength.”

  “Your honesty is refreshing, Colonel Talanne, but I’m afraid I am a little lost. Why is your son’s missing security guard so very important?”

  “It is not just the guard. Jeric is never allowed onto the surface of the planet. His safety is too important for that. No one would take him outside, no one, least of all his own security guard.”

  “You think it was a kidnapping attempt?” Worf asked.

  “No, Lieutenant, I fear worse things.”

  Worf frowned. “You do not mean that . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence, glancing at the boy.

  “You make war on children,” Worf said in a low voice.

  “Worf,” Picard said, his voice soft with warning.

  “It’s all right, Captain Picard. No, Lieutenant, we don’t normally make war on children. But there are factions that are desperate to win this war rather than have peace. They would do anything to stop the peace talks.”

  “The Venturi would use your son as a negotiation tool?” Picard asked.

  “Not the Venturi,” she said. “They are as eager as most of us to end this conflict, but there are factions on both sides that consider peace without victory worthless.”

  The child looked from one adult to the other, trying to follow the conversation. He knew it involved him, Troi sensed, but not how.

  Talanne led her son toward the center of the room. “You see how desperately we need your intervention, Captain.” She gentled her son against her leg. “Do you know that no one can even actually agree on what began this war? Two hundred years of fighting, and we don’t even know why we’re doing it.”

  Tears glimmered in her eyes. Her sorrow was full of anger, outrage at what had almost happened to her son. Without any solid facts Talanne was doing what any mother would do, thinking of the direst possibilities.

  “We are here to see the fighting stop, Colonel Talanne. To allow your children to grow up to be more than soldiers,” Picard sai
d.

  “The children,” she said softly, “the children.” She hugged Jeric tight against her. “You will find Jeric is the exception, Captain.”

  Before Picard could ask what that meant, the door opened. The two remaining guards took their posts, weapons on the door. Worf went forward with Conner. He left the others in a triangle around the captain.

  Talanne shoved Jeric into Troi’s arms and took her place with the guards.

  A black and gold robed guard stepped through. “It is I, Colonel.”

  “Take off your mask, slowly.”

  The man did, pushing hood back to reveal short brown hair. With the same hand he scooped off his mask to reveal a plain, pale face with brown eyes. He had the same delicate features as General Basha and his son, but not quite. He seemed a little less perfect, almost ordinary, though still delicately pretty.

  “What have you to report?” Talanne asked.

  “We found Jeric’s sentinel dead in the garden. There was a second man in our colors, also dead. We believe Bori planned treachery, then could not go through with it.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Why else take the boy outside? We all know your orders on that. Under no circumstance is the boy to go outside.”

  Talanne nodded. “Very well. Is the building secure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Triple the guards.”

  “They have already been doubled, Colonel.”

  “Did I ask your opinion? No, I gave you an order.”

  “Aye, Colonel Talanne.” He turned on his heel and left the room. Guards could be glimpsed on either side of the door. They were three deep on either side.

  The boy pressed in against Troi’s legs. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He was trembling, and Troi’s skin felt cold with his fear.

  From Talanne there was no fear for herself. Worry over the boy and her husband; for herself, nothing. Troi tried to feel something from the guards around her. Some hint of fear, but there was nothing. It was as if they had hit a switch inside themselves: on, fear; off, soldier. Colonel Talanne was full of emotions, all crowding near the surface, but the guards seemed emotionless.