"Present Commander Data with the original weather control proposal."

The system obliged, and Data skimmed material that was dense with equations and diagrams at a speed that startled Dr. Keat. "Can't your system scan any more rapidly?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not."

He swiveled the chair to face her. "You are planning a planetary net of four hundred satellites?"

"That's right. We'll be using a variety of electromagnetic radiation to produce and manipulate magnetic fields as well as raising or lowering atmospheric and oceanic temperatures."

"Yes, I could see that. But in addition to the actual launching and maintenance of so many satellites, your network will require large amounts of energy and will have to be controlled by a complex and infinitely adjustable computer program."

"Quite true, Commander Data. How we've 109 mastered those obstacles ... well, that's the part I can't reveal to you. Not now, at any rate."

Data's head tilted. "When?"

The enigmatic half-smile curled the corners of Keat's mouth again. "That will depend on how strong an alliance is formed between Thiopa and the Federation.

We're more inclined to reveal secrets to close friends."

"Enterprise to Commander Data." Captain Picard's voice issued from Data's uniform communicator.

He touched the chest insignia to reply. "Data here, sir."

"Commander Riker is preparing to beam down with Mr. Undrun. I'd like you to return to the ship.

In view of recent events, I'd like to minimize the number of senior personnel down there at any one time."

"Yes, sir. Please stand by." He stood and looked at his host. "Thank you for your time, Doctor. I found my visit quite enlightening."

"If you and your captain have any more questions, feel free to ask. I can't answer everything, but I'll answer what I can. Oh, and don't forget to ask the captain if I can see those files on weather-related projects."

Data nodded, then tapped his communicator again.

"Transporter room, this is Lieutenant Commander Data. Ready to beam up-energize."

Riker watched as Data's form sparkled and took solid shape in the transporter chamber. The android stepped off the platform. "Did you acquire any useful information?" the first officer asked.

"Quite a bit, Commander," Data replied.

"Good. I'll look forward to hearing about it."

The door hissed open. Undrun entered from the corridor and Data headed for the bridge. The amba.s.sador was bundled up against what he still perceived as arctic temperatures inside the starship. Riker felt the involuntary p.r.i.c.kle of his neck hairs-Undrun's presence was all it took to boost his blood pressure.

"What's the delay, Commander Riker?" Undrun demanded.

"Delay? I was waiting for-was Riker caught himself, closed his eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. "Never mind." He motioned the diminutive envoy onto the platform, then took his own place-on the far side of the chamber. Neither looked at the other. "Energize," said Riker.

"If that so-called storage facility isn't cleaned up-was The hum of the transporter swallowed Undrun's voice.

Seconds later Undrun's voice regained substance at the same rate as his rea.s.sembled body. "comI simply will not agree to handing these supplies over." They had materialized inside the depot this time, midway between the building's airlock and Supervisor Chardrai's office. Hands on hips, Riker looked down at Undrun and made an unsuccessful attempt to smooth the aggravated edge in his voice. "Amba.s.sador, at least give the man a chance to show us something other than the inside of his office."

"It's not my fault our first inspection was interrupted by a terrorist bombing," Undrun sniffed.

They walked briskly to the supervisor's office, where Chardrai was waiting for them. The same guard stood at his post just inside the door. Chardrai greeted them curtly. "Gentlemen, if you're ready, I'll give you that tour of the facility now."

"Will we be safe?" Undrun wanted to know.

"The place is as secure as we can make it.

If you'll come this way ..." Chardrai led the visitors back out to the corridor, then through a metal door to a caged-in catwalk suspended high over the depot floor five levels below. The guard trailed a few paces behind. This pa.s.sage, with heavy grating for its floor and open-mesh sides and ceiling, was connected to a network of similar walkways winding through the warehouse's cavernous interior, with ramps, ladders, and freight elevators linking upper and lower storage platforms and sections. There were few solid walls and floors, lending the place a skeletal look.

"Down there is where we'll keep the seed,"

Chardrai said, pointing to the floor below.

"We'll-was "Enterprise to Commander Riker." The voice was Captain Picard's, and it came from the communicator on Riker's chest.

"Excuse me, Supervisor," Riker said.

He activated his comm channel. "Riker here. Go ahead, sir."

"We're picking up an indeterminate number of Nuaran vessels at the edge of sensor range."

"Intent?"

"Unknown as yet, Number One."

"I'll beam back up, Captain."

"Not necessary."

"But if the ship could come under attack, I should be there."

"Are you saying Mr. Worf and I are incapable of handling a few Nuaran interceptors without you?"

"Not at all, sir. It's just that-was 112 "Without the element of surprise, it's unlikely the Nuarans pose any danger to the ship, Number One. I just wanted you apprised of the situation in case we do come under attack and we can't beam you up for the moment."

"Captain," Riker said, "their pattern is to strike quickly and flee. Any combat situation is likely to be of brief duration."

"Lieutenant Worf agrees with your a.s.sessment, Number One, and we're taking the necessary precautions.

"Make sure you protect those cargo ships!"

Undrun said, leaning into Riker's chest to make sure he could be heard.

"We will, Mr. Amba.s.sador," Picard said firmly.

Riker was still concerned. "I'd be more comfortable back up there, sir." "You've got a mission to accomplish, Commander Riker."

"Very well. But keep me posted."

"Affirmative. Enterprise out."

Chard equals ai, who had remained silent during the exchange, arms folded tightly across his chest, now spoke.

"If you're ready, Commander..."

"We are quite ready, Supervisor," Riker said.

"Lead on."

Chardrai took him and Undrun through a pa.s.sage bridging two platforms. Below them was a straight fifty-foot drop to the bas.e.m.e.nt floor. Though little activity could be seen from their vantage point, the mechanical noises of motors and chains and pulleys echoed and creaked through the girders and grates that were this building's bones and sinew.

Undrun's habitual bl.u.s.ter seemed tamed for the moment by a fear of falling; he kept a steady grip on the catwalk's railing.

"How old a facility is this?" Riker asked.

"About thirty years," the Thiopan manager said. "The bomb damage is the first time it's ever needed structural repairs. Pretty solid, overall."

"Have those repairs been made yet?" asked Undrun.

Chardrai gave him a disbelieving stare. "It hasn't even been a day."

"The Federation has made a major investment in this shipment of relief supplies. What if other bombings damage other parts of your warehouse? How do I know that investment will be safe?"

"As I said, we do the best we can. If your Federation would help us control the terrorists who are doing the damage-was "We can't do that," Riker said. "Our laws are very strict when it comes to interfering in the affairs of other worlds."

Chardrai grunted mockingly. "That's what the Nuarans told us."

"Closing at high speed, Captain," Commander Data reported. "Five vessels this time."

Picard sat calmly in his seat. "Hailing frequencies, Mr. Worf."

"Open, Captain."

"Enterprise to Nuaran vessels. This is Captain JeanLuc Picard. We request communication in the interest of avoiding further hostilities."

Worf frowned. "Captain, I suggest that we raise 114 shields and arm weapons systems, in view of the Nuarans" previous actions." "Patience, Lieutenant. Raise shields, weapons on standby. I hope we won't need them." Picard repeated his message.

"No response, sir," Worf said. .

"They are still closing, Captain," Data said, scanning his console. "Course-evasive."

Once more, Picard thought. "Enterprise to Nuaran vessels. I repeat, we are on a peaceful mission, and we request communication with you."

Picard drew in a breath of frustration.

"Lieutenant Worf, go to yellow alert. Arm phasers and lock on targets."

"Tracking lock engaged on all five vessels, sir. Awaiting your order."

Picard leaned forward in his chair. "Range, Mr. Data?"

"Thirty thousand kilometers ... twenty . .

"Optimum range, sir," Worf said.

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant," Picard said, unperturbed. On the big viewscreen, the five Nuaran s.p.a.cecraft had grown from flitting pinpoints to sleek harbingers of death. Three ships peeled out of their ever-changing formation and swung wide around the Enterprise, then dived toward the freighters trailing behind while the other two intruders cartwheeled toward the starship.

"Hold your fire," Picard said calmly. His gaze never wavered from the on-screen image of the enemy ships, closing, closing, swerving and swooping like acrobats.

Worf tensed over the phaser controls, his warrior's muscles coiled for battle.

The ships moved closer, filling the viewscreen, rushing like mad birds of prey, then speeding past the Enterprise and off into s.p.a.ce without firing a shot. There was an audible release of held breath on the starship bridge. Geordi shook his head.

"Playing chicken with a starship?" Data flashed a quizzical look over his shoulder. "Imitating barnyard fowl?" "An old earth game involving foolish dares," Geordi explained. "As I understand it," Troi said, "there is a serious purpose to this game-to test the nerve and resolve of a potential opponent."

"That's right," Geordi said. "Make the other guy commit himself, and maybe force him into making a fatal mistake."

Data's brows arched. "Intriguing premise.

What is the proper response?" "Making a first move," said Picard, "that could also be the final move. Enterprise to away team."

"Riker here, sir. Trouble?"

"Affirmative. Nuaran interceptors have reentered our orbital quadrant. No shots fired yet."

"We're fine where we are, sir. We still have more to see. We'll stand by." "Very well. Picard out.

Mr. Data, any signs of the Nuarans?" "No, sir. They have gone out of sensor range again."

Worf growled deep in his throat. "They'll be back."

"The Nuarans weren't exactly happy to go when Protector Stross broke those trade ties,"

Supervisor 116 Chardrai told Riker and Undrun as they watched five overhead winches perform an intricate ballet, transferring storage containers across the depot's wide central bay. The hydraulic arms were anch.o.r.ed somewhere up in the dark rafters, with silver cables spinning down like spider's silk.

"How did most Thiopans feel about the Nuarans?" Riker asked. Chardrai shrugged.

"They were robbing our planet and leaving garbage behind.

Friends don't do that," he said simply. "Let me take you down to where we plan to store the Federation supplies."

Riker and Undrun followed the Thiopan to the end of the walkway, where an elevator cage dangled in a latticework shaft. The guard lagged behind, mumbling into his wristband communication device.

"Jeldavi," Chardrai called, "what's the delay?"