"I like her," Wesley said.

"Enough to talk like a Zhuik," she said. "She tells me you're very polite."

"It makes her more comfortable," Wesley said. "It doesn't hurt me to do that."

His mother arched an eyebrow. "No, it doesn't-as long as you remember she's not entirely humanoid, biologically speaking."

"I will," he said, feeling a bit embarra.s.sed. Wesley had studied enough comparative biology to know why Zhuiks did not intermarry with other species. He was glad his mother hadn't launched into one of her no-nonsense lectures about the facts of life. "And I think Shrev will remember I'm not part-insect," he said, rallying his spirits.

The doctor laughed. "Touche. Seriously, though, be careful not to let your feelings pull you into an impossible situation."

"Don't worry," he said. Wesley walked out of sickbay. He knew there was no danger of falling in love with Shrev. Zhuik males were drones: small and short-lived, and with intelligences barely equal to that of a tree shrew. Biology aside, Wesley knew that the possibility of romantic love could never enter Shrev's mind.

Which was too bad.

It was all Gul Verden could do to tame his rage. Anger is a tool, he told himself. Use it, do not let it use you. He repeated the dictum over and over, as he had done as a child, until he felt in control of himself again.

Verden knew he had reason to feel anger over his mistakes. He had underestimated his opponents, which was always a blunder in the combat of life. He had relied too deeply on native equipment; stone walls and iron bars should have been enough to hold the humans. He had trusted the native guards, who had not noticed the escape until Verden had returned to the cell with the interrogation drugs. And yet-who could have expected the humans to fetch along a thrice-d.a.m.ned saw?

Ubinew was supervising the hunt at his station. Verden did not waste his time and concentration by demanding a report; he could read the indicators and displays for himself. Half of the castle's native guards were scouring the woods around Gatyn's castle. They wore Ferengi night-goggles, but Verden doubted they would find anything. The native troops had little experience with night-goggles, and the humans had a small but precious head start on their pursuers.

Verden sat down in the command seat. He wished that he had sent his own people out there, with their own equipment. That would have made short work of the hunt-but he had to consider the human starship. One sensor reading-or one prisoner-would tip off the humans to the Carda.s.sian presence on this world. So far the risks Verden had run had been successful, but he refused to push his luck.

I must face the worst, he thought. The two humans knew that the Ferengi were not the only aliens on Megara. The amba.s.sador had already been suspicious, and Chudak's interference had forced Verden to reveal too much. If they got back to their ship, they would report what they knew. So the two humans must be killed before they could return to their ship-no, that was no good. The Federation ship would investigate their deaths.

We must destroy the ship, Verden decided. That would require him to call the Fleet for help, a decision that did not please him. His pride demanded that he remain as the commander, and not subordinate himself to another person- Abruptly Verden got out of his chair and left the intelligence room. He found himself alone in one of the bunker's narrow pa.s.sageways, where he remained until his training and discipline had subdued his instincts. Pride is unworthy, he told himself in shame, as he repeated the mantras of his earliest lessons. Selfishness is unworthy. I must think of others. Alone we are weak. Together we are strong. Are my legs weak because I stand upon them? It is better to share in victory than to stand alone in defeat ...

At last he could accept the humiliation of calling for help. There was a binary neutron star less than a light-year from the Megaran system, and its radiation fields concealed a powerful Liburnian-cla.s.s warship. The ship waited there for the chance to ambush any enemy vessels that pried into the Megaran operation. A battle against a Galaxy-cla.s.s starship was a gamble, but the alternative was certain discovery and failure.

Verden returned to the intelligence room, where he went to the communications officer. "Signal the Fatal Arrow," he told Bwolst. "We shall require their presence to destroy the human ship. And have the 'Prophet' keep the city stirred up."

"I obey," the man said.

As do I, Verden thought. He went to Ubinew and stood behind him. Verden frowned as he saw how disorganized the search pattern had become. The native troops were no good at this. One group was so thoroughly lost in the woods that it was running away from the castle.

Chapter Ten.

I NEVER KNEW there were so many shades of black, Picard thought wryly, as he and Offenhouse stumbled through the woods. There was just enough starlight to let him see a few dim shapes, but not enough to let him distinguish between inky shadows and fallen branches. The captain's only consolation was that the amba.s.sador had tripped and fallen more times than he had.

Offenhouse stumbled, fell flat on his face and cursed. "Picard," he said quietly, "would you say we're lost?"

"Thoroughly," Picard answered.

"Then there's not much point in moving on, is there?" Offenhouse asked. "For all I know we're heading straight back toward Castle Dracula. I'd rather sit quiet and not attract attention."

"I see your point," Picard said. Carefully, he sat down and rested his back against a tree trunk. "We should try to think of a way to signal the Enterprise."

"With what?" The vague shape that was the amba.s.sador sat down by a tree. "Think their sensors will find us?"

"Possibly," Picard said. "The question is, will it occur to anyone to search outside the castle for us?"

Offenhouse chuckled. "I hope you're not suggesting we go back. You know, it isn't going to take our playmates long to start looking for us, and I'll bet they've got night-vision gear, or whatever you people use nowadays."

"We use something that we call night-vision gear," Picard said. "Of course-"

The amba.s.sador hushed him. "Light," he whispered.

Picard craned his head and spotted a feeble green glow moving in the woods. Not Ferengi, he thought. Their equipment would not give itself away with any light. The same rule applied to Federation equipment.

The light grew closer, and Picard saw several human shapes among the trees. He saw more lights and realized that he and Offenhouse were surrounded. If they stayed absolutely still, the searchers might miss them- The search was too efficient for that, and within moments a trio of men found them. One man carried a wooden staff, which was covered by a glowing green moss. A corner of the captain's mind noted how the Megarans used a bioluminescent plant as a night-light. The feeble light glinted oddly on another man's bulging eyes-No, Picard realized, he's wearing infrared goggles. That's a Ferengi design, too. Curiouser and curiouser.

The other two men carried swords, and they gestured for Picard and Offenhouse to stand. One man tapped the amba.s.sador's elbow with his swordpoint, making him raise his hands. "Do you affect everybody this way?" Picard asked Offenhouse in exasperation while three more armed men joined them.

The man with the staff hissed urgent words. Deprived of his translator, Picard could still guess his meaning: Keep quiet. Come with us. Or else. The captain knew better than to resist; he hoped the amba.s.sador felt the same way.

What happened next made little sense. A knife flashed, and the man with the staff fell to the ground with a gurgling sigh. His killer hissed harsh words to the other men, and the soldiers answered with sullen mumbles. The killer picked up the erstwhile leader's staff.

The Megarans led the two humans away. The phosph.o.r.escent staff gave enough light to make walking easy, and they struck a brisk pace. Picard tried to estimate the distance they crossed by counting his steps. He gave up after the first five kilometers.

They had walked through the woods for several hours before they reached a low stone building. Their captors opened the door, guided Picard and Offenhouse inside and then closed the door on them. Picard heard a heavy bar rattle into place, locking the door.

Offenhouse sniffed loudly in the darkness. "I'd be careful where I sat down, Picard."

"Yes," Picard said. "I imagine that this place doubles as a stable."

"Or a goat pen." Offenhouse sighed. "Our pals don't act like they work for the Ferengi. What do you suppose they want?"

"I can't imagine." Picard moved along the walls, feeling them with his hands. "They are, or rather were, the Vo Gatyn's soldiers; that's how they knew we were out there, and that's where they got those goggles."

"And then they double-crossed their Vo," Offenhouse said.

"It would appear there's yet another player in the game." Picard found the door and probed it with his fingers. As he had expected, it was quite stout. He felt the low ceiling; the smooth texture told him it was slate. The stone would interfere with a sensor scan; given the general similarity between humans and Megarans, the Enterprise might mistake Picard and Offenhouse for natives.

Picard sighed. "This is embarra.s.sing," he told Offenhouse. "Starship captains are not supposed to allow aliens to capture them."

"Really? I heard that it happens to starship captains all the time," Offenhouse said. "Beam down to a planet, get captured, escape-"

"-jeopardize your crew and mission with a rescue," Picard finished. "That sort of carelessness is considered bad form, Mr. Amba.s.sador. As for getting captured twice in the same day-" Picard shook his head ruefully. "I may never live this down."

"Take it easy," Offenhouse said. "It's after midnight now. You've only been captured once today."

"So I have. That's a great comfort." Picard sc.r.a.ped at the floor with a foot until he decided it was reasonably clean. He squatted down. "Well, Mr. Amba.s.sador, it would seem we have privacy and time in good measure. Shall we discuss the diplomatic situation?"

"Why? It's as bad as the air in here." Picard heard Offenhouse settle to the dirt floor. "One thing's obvious. Chudak thought Verden was a native."

"While Verden is quite clearly an alien," Picard said. "It would seem that Ensign Shrev's inference was correct. The Ferengi are working for an outside party."

"Who haven't told the Ferengi what their real plan is," Offenhouse said. "Chudak is as much in the dark as we are."

"So it appears." The Ferengi were normally quite canny; Picard found it odd to think that someone could use them as a tool. "I wonder what game is being played on Megara."

"A dirty one," Offenhouse said promptly. "Verden's people wouldn't play games if they were on the up-and-up."

"I quite agree," the captain said. "I imagine that this is a military game, as you suggested. Aside from the secrecy, there is the enormous expense involved here."

"That fifty billion credits," Offenhouse said. "That's a big enough budget for a military operation. Maybe Verden's people hired the Ferengi as defense contractors. That still doesn't tell us what Verden is, though."

"Quite true." Picard's dark-adapted eyes noticed a dim glow coming from a small vent in the hut's ceiling. Dawn, he thought. By now Riker would be searching for him and the amba.s.sador. "Speaking of military operations, Mr. Amba.s.sador, you took quite a risk when we encountered Chudak's ship."

"I wouldn't say so," Offenhouse said. "Chudak shot down that probe, and he might have done the same with the Enterprise. We were safer this way."

"You still gambled with my ship," Picard said. "Military force is a dangerous tool, Mr. Amba.s.sador. The threat of its use often provokes a violent reaction from one's adversaries, especially when that adversary feels surprised and insecure. Even when force seems justified, it has often dragged its user to his own destruction, and more than a few victors have found that they were worse off after 'winning' a b.l.o.o.d.y war than they were beforehand. Your own twentieth century offered ample proof of this-"

A crude, grating buzz interrupted the captain's words. He listened for a puzzled moment before he recognized the noise. As it grew louder Picard sighed wearily. Ralph Offenhouse had a snore that would have impressed a Klingon.

"Something's wrong," Riker said when the captain failed to answer his call. Picard hadn't checked in for hours. That wasn't unusual on a diplomatic mission, but after the riots it made Riker uneasy. Riker clasped his hands behind his back as he paced the deck. "Data, get a fix on the captain."

Wesley watched the android cross the bridge to the science officer's station. He worked the controls for a moment, then faced Riker. "Sir," he said, "I can locate neither the captain nor the amba.s.sador. I am commencing a scan of the castle environs."

"I don't think we'll find them that way," Riker said.

"They may have been taken hostage," Worf said.

"That seems likely," Riker agreed. He stepped up to Worf's station and looked at his display. "Ferengi, Carda.s.sians, riots, a.s.saults and now an abduction," he said sourly. "To coin a phrase, Mr. Worf, things have never been better." The Klingon grunted thoughtfully at that.

Wesley gave Data a puzzled glance. "The words come from a twentieth-century motion picture," Data explained quietly. "In their proper context they describe an extremely dangerous situation."

Wesley nodded. He'd heard that Riker and Worf had developed an interest in ancient movies. Riker paced for another moment, then settled into the captain's chair and glowered at the main viewer. "Mr. Worf, let's start looking for the captain. Hail the Ferengi ship."

The Ferengi bridge appeared on the screen. Wesley looked at the man in the center, and saw that it wasn't Chudak. "I want to speak to Chudak," Riker said.

"The Daimon isn't available," the man answered. "I'm Oshal, his second-in-command."

"Where's Chudak?" Riker demanded.

Oshal shrugged. "He's conducting business with the Vo Gatyn. If your business cannot wait, you must do it with me."

Wesley scanned the Ferengi ship as Riker closed the channel. "Commander Riker," he reported, "there aren't any humans on board the Ferengi ship, and they haven't used their transporter recently."

"But there is something odd beneath the castle," Data said. "There are anomalous energy readings, suggestive of a small, shielded installation."

"Can you be more specific?" Riker asked.

"No, sir," the android said. "The installation is masked by the castle above it, and by electronic interference from the surroundings. I have only a few extra energy traces."

"Well, at least we know where the Carda.s.sians have their headquarters," Riker said. "It makes sense that they'd stick close to their puppet. But we can't get in there while their shields are up." Glancing over his shoulder, Wesley saw him tap his fist on his chair's armrest in controlled frustration.

"Sir," Data said, "might I suggest that we signal the Carda.s.sians and open negotiations?"

"That is a bad idea," Worf rumbled.

"I agree," Riker said. "The Carda.s.sian presence is an act of war. Officially, we don't know they're here -because the minute we do know, we're back at war."

"And Carda.s.sians execute prisoners of war," Worf noted.

Riker nodded. "That would be hard on the captain ... and the amba.s.sador," he added after a thoughtful pause.

Wesley looked at his instruments while Riker, Worf and Data discussed their options. The helm position had its own sensors, and while they weren't as sophisticated as the ones at the science station, they were still quite capable. Wesley focused them on the Megaran castle.

It was night down there, but the infrared imagers placed an adequate view of the castle on Wesley's display screen. On a hunch, Wesley narrowed the bandwidth, so the sensor would detect only objects within a few degrees of human and Megaran body temperature. The image on his screen turned to a score of white points on a black field. He stared at it for a minute, puzzled, then saw how the points were moving. "Commander Data?" he called. "Look at the infrared image. Something odd is happening outside the castle."

"Outside the castle?" Riker repeated.

"That is correct," Data said. Wesley heard the computer station bleep quietly as the android fed in commands. "There are a large number of individuals outside the castle walls. Their motions suggest they are searching for something."

"Such as escaped prisoners," Worf said. "Can the sensors differentiate between humans and Megarans?"

"Not from orbit," Data said. "The differences are too subtle for long-range observation."

Worf growled in discontent. "If the captain has escaped, we must move quickly."

"But not blindly," Riker said. He got up, went to Data's station and looked at the display. "Which one of those dots is the captain?"

Wesley thought of something. He turned his seat around and looked at Riker. "Commander, maybe the Megarans could help."

To Wesley's relief he didn't laugh. "A little while ago these same Megarans attacked our people," Riker said.

"Not all of them were involved, sir," Wesley said. "I think we can trust one of the people I met down there, a shopkeeper named Anit."

"What could he do?" Riker asked.

"I'm not sure," Wesley admitted. "But he's an ex-soldier, and he knows the land and the people."

"This has possibilities," Worf said.

"It has more possibilities than sitting around," Riker agreed. "Mr. Worf, take an away team and look for the captain."

"Yes, sir," Worf said. "Commander Data, Cadet Crusher, follow me."

Wesley followed Data and Worf into the turbolift. "Tell me about this Anit," Worf said to Wesley as the lift took them to a transporter room.

"He's an ex-soldier," Wesley repeated, "about thirty years old. He needs money to take care of his family, so I think we could hire him even if he doesn't like aliens. He lost an arm and an eye in a battle, but he's sharp and he has a lot of connections."