"Well," he said, "pop that helmet, and let's see who we've caught."
Mokasso stepped forward, snapped open the connecting clips, and lifted the helmet away, revealing the reticulated skin patterns, the pale blue eyes, the dishevelled mousy topknot of hair -
"Ah." Thrang smiled. "The persistent Talaxian! Pexlini, isn't it? I just missed you on Eta Meridia V. Of course -" he tapped his holstered pistol with one finger "- I wasn't actually aiming at you."
"You've gotta be Kalevar Thrang," Pexlini said. Her eyes narrowed, looking hard at the sonic antiproton pistol at Thrang's hip.
"Astute! I like that. Shall we make some introductions?" Thrang sat up straight, gestured with his left hand; his right was tapping in commands on the chair's console. "My delightful Deonsa at the helm, Shaltri on engineering - Mokasso, I think you've met, and that's Mituz holding your right arm - and on your left, well, I think he should introduce himself -"
"I am Seralok Masgrabolus," said the Thexemian, "and when I say my name, men turn pale and women run and hide."
Pexlini craned her head round over the neck ring of her suit to look at him. "You guys have gotta be a real blast at cocktail parties," she said.
Thrang laughed. Masgrabolus glared. "Well," Thrang said, "this is all very pleasant - Deonsa." His voice was suddenly hard and businesslike. "Pursuit status?"
"No problems," the Orion woman said. "The warbird's been disabled by the virus. Might recover, might crash into the planet - no danger to us either way. The Hazari escort is in pursuit, but it only has standard warp drive. No chance of catching us."
"Excellent." Thrang beamed at Pexlini. "The Farah is very probably the fastest thing in space. Borg-style subtranswarp and an asynchronous warp field, the best of both worlds. Our current speed is -?" He looked inquiringly at Shaltri.
"Equivalent of warp 35," the Troyian said.
"We can really move, when we need to," said Thrang. "However, we were slightly lucky, in that the Farah was within range - even her greatly extended range - when the intruder alarms indicated traffic in the Dexian system. Now, what was that in aid of? You have an invitation, I believe, to meet with my agents at Nali Caerodi?"
"Yeah," said Pexlini, "like I had invitations to meet 'em at Eta Meridia and Nimbus, right? And we both know how that turned out. So what's your problem, huh? I'm trying to make a deal here, that's all, why are you making it such hard work for everyone?"
"A deal," said Thrang. His right hand was still working at the console. "For your Hazari patrons in the Delta Quadrant?"
"That's right. Look -"
Thrang's hand stopped moving. "No," he said, looking down at the console. "No, that's not right, is it?" He rose to his feet, stood straight, squared his shoulders. "Not right at all -" He saluted smartly and clicked his heels together. "Is it, Captain Pexlini? Or, rather, Admiral Pexlini, of Starfleet Intelligence?"
Pexlini's jaw dropped. Deonsa turned to face Thrang, her eyes troubled. "Watch the road, my dear," said Thrang. She turned back to the helm.
"It is true," Mokasso said. The Lethean's voice was thick and gloating. "I see the truth of it in her mind."
"Well, you don't really need to." Thrang smiled at Pexlini. "Your biometric data was, of course, classified when you joined Intelligence. But Starfleet's classified data has no secrets from me."
"I don't doubt it," said Pexlini. "All arranged by someone who's just turned to soup, yeah? Crazy way to operate. You gotta have spent years setting that up -"
"Well," said Thrang, "it was just a phage I was going through." He laughed. No one else did.
"OK," said Pexlini. "So maybe I'm who you say I am, but you know what? We can still make a deal here, can't we? Maybe a better deal than you thought you could, even. Starfleet's resources are way better than the Hazaris', we can pay you more for the archive, that's gotta be good news for you, right? You -"
"You talk too much," said Mituz.
"Yeah." Pexlini swallowed audibly. "I talk when I get nervous, right? It's a failing, I know it is, particularly in my line of business, but, y'know, whaddaya gonna do? But I'm still talking sense, aren't I?"
"Oh," said Thrang, "in a way."
"We should shut her up," Mituz said.
"If she gets tiresome, just put her helmet back on," said Thrang. His eyes were hard, calculating. "I take it Starfleet is liable to be... boringly traditional... about ransoms?"
"You know the deal," said Pexlini. "Ransom for a Starfleet Admiral, well, that and twenty energy credits will buy you a hot raktajino. Listen -"
"Oh, let's not bother with the charade," said Thrang. "You know, by now, that selling off the Rehanissen Archive is not a factor in my plans." Pexlini's eyes flickered. "Oh, yes," Thrang continued, "my plans. Are Starfleet and Imperial Intelligence still looking for my mysterious backers? They'll be looking an awfully long time."
"There's just you?" said Pexlini.
"I might take issue with that word just," said Thrang with a smile. "Oh, no, I'm not just anything or anyone, my dear Admiral."
"OK," said Pexlini. "So, um, the way these things are supposed to go is, like, you explain your master plan now, and then put me in an easily escapable death trap?"
Thrang laughed. "Kill her," said Deonsa.
"Oh, no," said Thrang. "No, no, no. Or, at least, not yet. Not before I've found some use for her. Never turn down a gift from the gods, my dear." His voice hardened. "Mituz, Seralok, take her to the brig. The secure holding area, I think. I have a healthy respect for Intelligence's agents... I don't want her breaking free and causing annoyance. I'll decide what to do, later on."
"Listen," Pexlini called out desperately as the two thugs dragged her to the door, "whatever it is you want, we can maybe come to some sort of deal over it, can't we? C'mon, you're a businessman, make me an offer! We can negotiate, damn it!"
"You have no conception," said Thrang, "of what I want. We'll talk, later. Possibly."
The bridge door hissed open, then shut. The sound of scuffling in the corridor beyond faded away.
"Kill her," Deonsa said again. "No games, no plotting, just kill her."
"Only if I can't find another use for her," said Thrang. "I'm not wasteful, my dear."
"She knows too much!"
"She knows nothing," said Thrang. He sat down in the command chair, and casually crossed his legs. "She doesn't even suspect anything interesting. And a Starfleet Admiral... is a resource. Not one to be thrown away."
"You think you can use her?" Deonsa asked. "For -"
"Oh, no, not that," said Thrang with another smile. "No, Intelligence officers lead such rackety, disreputable sorts of lives, they're no use for that part of the plan. No, for that, I need a much more presentable sort of Admiral, one with a long, distinguished record, and unimpeachable public morals. One with credibility."
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