planet’s biosphere has completely adapted to their presence.”
Picard started to rise from the barstool on which he was perched. “Damn this place’s rules about captain’s discretion,” he said, looking squarely at Cap. “I need to alert Starfleet Command immediately.”
Riker placed a gently restraining hand on his fellow captain’s shoulder, a move he would have found unthinkable only weeks ago. “It’s really not necessary. I looked into it already, and Starfleet Medical has already declared Pelagia safe for all known humanoid species. The nanites self-destruct when they’re taken out of the planet’s magnetic field, and they’ve so far proven to be incompatible with all non-Pelagian life.”
Looking more annoyed than entertained, Picard straightened his uniform tunic and recovered his seat. “All right, Will. Continue.”
Riker nodded. “It was the nanites, of course, that—”
—had very quickly repaired all the injuries suffered by the pirates during the recent fighting. Pirates who should have died from what would have been mortal injuries had they been suffered anywhere else by anyone else, were practically good as new only a few hours later. It seemed that the only way a Pelagian could die by violence here was to be very deliberately chopped into many, many pieces, or to be dropped straight into an active volcano.
And this, I realized, was the very reason why Deanna was in more danger than I previously had thought. The Pelagians’ “Small Spirits” not only kept them alive despite their violent encounters, but also encouraged a certain casual attitude toward violence itself.
In other words, Deanna’s interrogation was liable to be lethal in and of itself. Torr’ghaff could easily kill her without even meaning to.
And I was alone and unarmed, locked in the dank bilge of Torr’ghaff’s ship, with who knew how many armed guards standing between me and Deanna.
My glum thoughts were interrupted by a visit from Torr’ghaff himself, who threw the door open with a crash. I didn’t need Deanna’s empathy to tell me he was very frustrated.
“My men tell me you are concerned about the false pirate queen’s fate, heh? Why, eha?”
I decided to take another gamble. “You claim to know my work, Captain, neh? You ought to know that I am unenthused by brutality.”
The pirate chieftain looked disappointed. “You are not at all as I imagined you, neh.”
“How is the woman?” I asked, assuming that if she had been badly injured or killed, I would have sensed it through the bond we shared.
“Her answers to my questions are frustrating, heh. And she tends to giggle. My wine affects her far too easily, neh?”
I shook my head in amazement, wondering when the Pelagian booze that had got her into this jam was finally going to wear off.
“Why are you so interested in this offworld woman, Urr’hilf? Is it merely the renowned love you harbor for the females in your audience? Or is it something more, eh?”
Now did not seem like a good time to show him the front of any of my cards. “She means nothing to me, heh. Other than that she reminds me of my first.”
“Then I will have my men carve her to tiny pieces. She will feed the fishes, Small Spirits or no.” He turned to leave.
This was going very badly. “Wait!”
He stopped in the open doorway and looked back at me with an impatient scowl. “Yes?”
I took yet another gamble then, the only one I could think of at the moment. “Your men require diversion, neh?”
He nodded. “We have been at sea for over a fourmonth.”
“Then I can help. Make landfall at your nearest friendly port. Once there, I will entertain your men with a concert. And you can still get your ransom by proving to all the world that you have me, neh?”
I could see the wheels turning in Torr’ghaff’s battle-scarred head. He must have already been planning to charge admission, and trying to figure out how many Pelagian ducats the traffic would
Learning to Kill: Stories