Back in the alley the two Starfleet officers had left behind, Tomas Ellmore disarmed the last of the Offworld cronies and pushed her to the wall. Tahl was right behind him.
"Why were you attacking those people?" she asked the woman pleasantly.
"Like I'm going to tell a pair of Jedi," she snarled, fear evident behind her bravado.
Tahl swung her hand in an easy gesture across her front. "You can tell us," she said. "It would be better for you to say."
"Yeah, better," the woman said, her manner more dull now. "Xanatos wanted us to take them hostage, or take them out, while he directs the attack."
"And what attack would that be?" Tahl asked, her manner still easy.
"To capture their ship. The one with all the fancy technology, that no one's ever seen before."
"And where is their ship?"
"Trying to hide behind the blue giant."
"Ah. Thank you for your help. You've done well." Tahl's voice, still gentle, took on the authority of command. "Go, now."
Tomas gave the woman a little shove, releasing her. She wandered bemusedly toward the entrance of the alley. The two Jedi returned to the back of the cul-de-sac, to the corner from which the two strangers had disappeared just as they arrived.
"A brilliant flash of white light, and they were gone," Tomas told her.
"So that's how Obi-Wan disappeared from a closed room under Qui-Gon's nose," Tahl mused. "They must have him on their ship."
"Time for us to go, before we attract more Offworld company," Tomas suggested. Tahl nodded. The two gathered the Force around them, and jumped, all the way to the roof of the building from which they had dropped into the battle, intending rescue - and an answer to why Tomas had sensed... something... about the strangers. Something important.
"At least we have some answers," Tahl told her companion. She pulled out her comlink.
"Jinn here," her friend answered her signal.
"You'd better come get us, Qui-Gon, we're in something of a hurry. We have a lead on Obi-Wan's whereabouts."
"On my way," he answered, tense with eagerness and worry.
-
All conversation in the Ten-Forward came to an abrupt halt at the signal for red alert. The Captain's voice echoed over the intercom. "Attention all crew. A fleet of vessels of unknown intent has appeared in the system. They probably have nothing to do with us, but I ask everyone to take red alert positions in case they should be hostile. Thank you." Immediately all officers and regular crew left the lounge to report to duty; civilian crew filed out more slowly, heading to their assigned emergency gathering points.
Wes Crusher searched the crowd for his young friend. To his surprise, Ben was nowhere in sight. Hadn't he just been watching a poker game from the port windowsill? Wesley headed that way, still craning his neck, searching. "Have you seen Ben?" he asked an Ensign from engineering, one with whom he had occasional animated discussions about the newest warp drive designs. She had been part of the poker game Ben was observing.
"He was here just a moment ago," she answered. "Should I gather a group to help you find him?"
"No, thanks, I'll find him," Wes told her, not wanting to delay the young engineer further. She nodded and left him.
Wes looked again at the windowsill where Ben had been sitting, and saw something was still there, something small. He went to retrieve it. It was a padd - Ben's padd. Damn. So much for being able to trace him that way. So where could his friend have gone?
-
When Will Riker and Deanna Troi stepped from the turbolift onto the bridge, they were already back in uniform; they had changed from Lansarite clothing on the shuttlecraft. Will had decided against checking in with Wes to see how Ben was doing; doubtless the two boys had enough on their minds coping with procedures for red alert. He and Deanna stepped immediately to their places, one to either side of the Captain's chair.
"Number One, Counselor: it's good you're back. We're trying to decide if we've been detected yet, or if not, if we can leave undetected. Mr. Data, status on alien fleet?"
"Still moving at point-one-four light speed, roughly toward the planet. Complement of three medium-sized ships, comparable to a Klingon bird-of-prey; one larger ship, eight smaller ships, and perhaps sixteen individual or two-person craft."
"Captain, the Lansarites are certain that it's a company of ships brought in by the Starways resort, to take over the planet," said Deanna.
"Can they mount any kind of credible defense?" Picard asked.
"They don't believe so," Will said. "They were discussing calling in help from a powerful neighbor - the 'Republic', they called it - and the Republic's agents for their Justice Department, whom they called 'Jedi'.
"We can only hope for their sake that these Jedi arrive in time to be of help, then. Even if the fleet is indeed here to threaten the planet, for the sake of the Prime Directive we need to remain here, out of anyone's sensor range, and hope our sensor probes aren't discovered."
"Warp Engines?" Will asked.
"Geordi assures me that Engineering needs at least twenty-two more hours to complete the repairs. Once that's done, we can hopefully exit the system at warp nine with no one the wiser."
"Crusher to Will Riker." The computer patched through the communication.
"Riker here. What is it, Doctor?"
"Ben's gone missing. He was with Wesley at the Ten-Forward until red alert was declared. Then Wes lost him in the rush. We think he might be in your quarters, but he won't answer."
Will felt a sinking in his gut, and tried to tell himself it was nothing serious - the boy was just frightened; maybe he feared the flotilla of ships belonged to Xanatos. The Commander looked to the Captain, who nodded. "Go ahead and look for the boy. I'll call if we need you up here. You too, Counselor, it sounds like you might be needed."
"All right, Beverly, Deanna and I are heading down to my quarters now. Thanks for letting us know. Riker out."
-
In a Jefferies tube, or service corridor, about ten decks below Will Riker's quarters, Obi-Wan sat with his guardian's padd in his lap. He had his program loaded and ready to go; he was just checking it for errors now. At the touch of a button he would be able to recalibrate Enterprise's shields and main sensor array to deflect an ion attack. Hopefully from there whomever was manning the defenses would get the idea and use his plan again.
Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes, seeking calm. Danger was near, he could sense it. Xanatos was near. And still no one on the ship guessed the dark Jedi's true intentions.
From the Ten-Forward Lounge he had made his way to Will's quarters, alone and evading anyone who might ask questions. His padd he'd left behind, minus the security component keyed to his hand readings which was already tucked in his pocket - he couldn't afford to be easily traced through the padd's locator beacon. Alone in Will's apartment, he had switched padds. But soon after he was done Wes had come looking for him. Obi-Wan did not answer, and after a few minutes Wes had gone - the doors here, unlike doors at the Temple, were kept locked by default. But Obi-Wan had a feeling his young friend would soon return. As soon as he felt the corridor outside was clear, he'd let himself out and into the Jefferies tube system - another bit of knowledge from his research with the padds that he'd been able to make use of.
Now it remained only to wait, and to hope that he was not found before the attack began.
-
"Captain. One of the vessels in the convoy is approaching a point where it could sense our presence. It's large... Half our size, and it appears to be heavily armed."
"Identify."
"Type unknown. Vessel approaching at mark oh-one-six. Coming into sensor range... now. It's broadcasting at a wide frequency, but the signal is coded. Slowing... Captain, they're hailing us."
"On screen."
Captain Picard straightened his jacket with a tug to the bottom, clasped his hands behind him, and raised his chin. The viewscreen flickered to life before him to show the face of a human male, about thirty years old: handsome, soberly dressed, with pale skin and blue eyes, and long dark hair pulled back in a thick tail. A c-shaped scar marked one cheek.
"Captain Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise," Picard announced himself.
"Greetings, Captain. I am Xanatos. I believe you have in your keeping a rather valuable item I recently... lost. A boy. I have come to claim it."
"Xanatos." Picard's voice went flat. He kept tight reign on his outrage. "It is true that one of my people found a child planetside who was in desperate need of medical attention. As the Federation does not condone slavery, I cannot consider this child to be your possession. If you know the whereabouts of his parents we will be happy to return him to their custody."
Xanatos laughed. "Your candor and ethics are admirable. However I must point out that you are acting under misguided assumptions. The object of our discussion is not a child at all. It has no parents. It was grown, not born, to my specifications."
Picard's voice deepened; his words grew terse and clipped. "However the boy may have come into being, he is human, and sentient, and deserves a sentient's rights."
"Ah. And are you willing to endanger your ship and the lives of your crew for the life of this... boy?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"Straight to the point. A man after my own heart." Xanatos' smile was eerie. "In a word, yes. But also, I am granting you a warning. You see, I am generous." He leaned back in his seat and raised his hands, pressing the fingertips together. "The human simulant you took from me is an exquisitely crafted assassin. Though it understands and will respond to human speech, though it can display emotion, it is incapable of communication with anyone but myself, and that by means of a transmitter it carries." Xanatos leaned forward conspiratorially. "You can see how effective this design is. No one would suspect a child of being dangerous."
"The very suggestion is abominable."
"Precisely why it works so well. It is a tool: with inhuman reflexes, speed, and combat abilities. Yet anyone who looks at it, even those who know its true nature, will see a child; their instinct is to protect it, not to guard against it." Xanatos tipped his head to one side, leaning back once more. "The communications transmitter cannot be removed without destroying the simulant. I can feed it instructions at long range, as well as extract data from it. It need not be awake for me to do so. And just before making contact with you I instructed it to... eliminate... any being with whom it comes into contact after one hour, if it is not returned to me within the hour. Failing that, it will self-destruct in three hours. If I have not retrieved it myself by that time, of course."
"That is the most preposterous -"
"I warn you, do not underestimate me, or the abilities of my simulant. I am sorry, Captain, but you shall have to either destroy the simulant and face my wrath, or return it to me. It is utterly loyal to me. I promise you, I take good care of it as a rule. Your crewmember found it in poor condition because it had just saved my life from a dangerous enemy. That enemy has now been terminated. Return the simulant, and forget about it. You need not endanger your crew, because the simulant does not need your protection."
Captain Picard stood silent, shocked speechless.
"You have half an hour to consider my offer, Captain. After which I will have to pursue a course which will regrettably end in considerable loss of property and lives, for both of us. I am certain you will make the right decision."
The screen blinked off.
Picard turned to Data. "Mr. Data, is that vessel still broadcasting in code?"
"No, sir, it stopped just before hailing us."
"Can you decipher the code?"
"I am already working on it, Captain." Picard imagined he heard a note of smug satisfaction in the android's voice.
"Computer. Locate the boy Ben, ward of Riker. First priority for the sensor arrays."
"Initiating search."
"Captain," Worf addressed him from the tactical station behind him, "If it is true that Ben has been communicating remotely with Xanatos, we must assume that Xanatos now has the information necessary to analyze our defenses as far as Ben has seen and understood them."
"How likely do you think it is that Xanatos's story is true?"
"Can we afford to assume it is false?"
Picard sighed gustily, angry but resigned. Worf's point was a valid one. "How much does Ben know?"
"He may understand a great deal more than we assumed, Captain. It seems half the crew has grown fond of the boy..."
"And we've given him a grand tour of the ship, as well as the same access we would grant to any of our own inquisitive youngsters."
"I take full responsibility, sir, for not following Starfleet procedure in this matter: I should have been treating him as an alien of unknown intentions."
"I am as much at fault as you in that regard, Mr. Worf."
The smooth voice of the computer cut in. "Ben ward of Riker: bioprofile found on level twelve, in the service corridor beside access ladderway 5661."
"What the devil is he doing in the Jefferies tubes?" Picard tapped his communicator. "Picard to Riker. Did you find any clues in your quarters, Commander?"
"None, Captain. What's going on?"
"We've located Ben at level twelve. Meet me at access door 5661. I'll explain there."
"Aye, sir."
"Lieutenant Worf, come with me. Mister Data, you have the bridge."
"Sir." Worf fell into step behind him, and joined him in the turbolift. The door slid shut behind them. "I have ordered the computer to seal all entryways onto the area where Ben is currently located. I have also called for reinforcements to join us at deck twelve, Captain."
"Do you think that's necessary, Worf? I don't want to frighten the boy."
"We should not take the chance that he will escape, especially given the limited time before Xanatos has said he will begin hostilities. The Jefferies tube network is extensive. We'll need extra hands to watch the exits." Worf did not add that, having seen the boy's fighting abilities, he wanted to take no chances that Ben would turn on the security crew. Starfleet procedure recommended that security officers work in pairs for any search-and-capture operation on board ship. That should be enough justification for the extra numbers to satisfy the Captain. Enough to satisfy Commander Riker, on the other hand - that he simply could not judge.