“What’s your grand plan?” Picard asked. “Killing me? Would full Federation intervention really meet your end?”
Another Hidran chortle. “Is that how precious you are? How many Federation Starships would be deployed to hunt me down if I killed you now? Two? Three? Five? A hundred?”
Jaw hardened, Picard held his anger in check. “There will be political implications if you kill me, Urosk. More if you attempt to attack the Klingon ship. And the Enterprise will stop you.”
“I will allow nothing to stop me, Picard. Not you, not your ship. The Klingons want war and I will prove to them such a move would be much more unhealthy for them than any virus.”
Picard’s hands flinched. He wanted to grab the Hidran, shake him. It was unfortunate that logic couldn’t be beaten into people. “My people will stop you, Urosk.”
With his gravel voice grinding into every ear, the Hidran captain gestured to Picard’s chest with the phaser that was once his own. “If your people do stop me, you may never live to see it. I would not mourn if you went the way of your Klingon lieutenant.”
Bleeeeeeeep.
Both Picard and Urosk turned to Batok.
The young Hidran spun around. “Captain, one of their communicators signals.”
“Bring it here.”
Batok rushed over. He held the comm badge in the palm of his right hand. The gold tips were wet where he’d touched it.
Bleeeeeeeep.
“Activate it,” Urosk ordered, then turned to Picard. “Answer, but take care in what you say. You will tell your people to disengage your communications jammer.”
Tentatively, Batok tapped the face of the comm badge.
It chirped to the open frequency.
Picard opened his mouth to speak, and Urosk thrust the phaser into his gut as a reminder.
“Picard here.”
“Lieutenant Worf here, sir. We have a situation in the Klingon delegates’ chamber. There has been another murder.”
Chapter Twelve
“TAKE COVER!”
Riker fired again but Deanna still hesitated. She stood there, motionless, as the roving machine grew closer. He upped the phaser another level and fired. A thick orange rod of fire spread over the machine—then dissipated, not fazing it.
A wicked bolt of white plasma launched from the robot’s middle.
Deanna shrank behind one of the machines that wasn’t trying to kill them, as Riker rolled in the other direction. He hurled himself into an alcove of equipment, and fired again as the robot sailed ominously closer.
It was a meter high and hovered off the deck, bobbing and weaving as Riker fired. The first ones weren’t like that—they had taken their phaser hits squarely and crumpled into debris. And the potshots they’d fired—some sort of pulse beam that felt like a mild electric shock—had been harmless.
Had been.
Now the machines were getting stronger with every generation. Riker would destroy one, and another would appear within minutes—bigger, or more adept at avoiding the phaser, or sometimes just able to take stronger and longer hits before finally succumbing.
The robot in front of them spat energy that sizzled over Riker’s head and sparked against the wall behind him. Riker fired again—connecting for a moment—bouncing the machine back. The steel monster swung quickly out of the way and recovered its floating course toward them.
Riker glanced hastily toward Deanna. “Stay down!” He didn’t know if it would go after her—she didn’t have a weapon and wasn’t a threat to the other machines as he was. No way to be sure, though. Nothing about this ship was right. No people—just machines guarding machines. Not unheard of, but what’d it have to do with Velex? Were they even still in orbit. Or in the star system.
A prickling charge skittered across Riker’s skin as another bolt of energy carved out a dark blotch on the bulkhead behind him.
He chewed his lip and considered whether or not he should raise the phaser to its maximum level. One quick clean shot and the rover would be turned to dust . . . but what would come in its place?
Rover. That’s what this devil machine was: a snarling, angry dog. Every neighborhood had a mongrel like that—some barking, spitting, gnarled mutt that lived to swipe baseballs and chew the pockets off kids’ butts. Riker’s neighborhood especially—Alaska and dogs still went hand in hand.
This dog was a new breed of Rover, though. It didn’t want his pockets—it wanted him.
Riker raised his head and fired. The beam plunged forward and caught Rover in its middle.
The robot tried to move out from behind the beam.
“Uh uh,” Riker grunted. “Bad dog!”
He stood and aimed the phaser as Rover moved, making sure to keep the beam straight into its middle.
Finally a bright flash and a crashing sound: Rover the Fifth fell to the deck, disintegrating into chunks of smoldering, crackling debris.
Slowly Deanna lifted herself up. “Are you all right?”
Riker stepped out from his alcove, nodding. He moved toward the debris, looking it over.
Deanna followed. “How’s your leg?”
“Fine,” he said shortly. The bleeding had stopped and he hadn’t noticed the pain much until she mentioned it. Suddenly the leg throbbed with pain and the inner heat of the burn.
Riker knelt down to inspect Rover’s carcass. He pushed the charred remains back and forth with his phaser, sifting for something, he wasn’t sure what. Some clue as to how it was made.
“It doesn’t appear to have a simple ‘off’ switch,” he said tiredly, pushing himself up with a grunt.
Deanna grabbed his arm, helped to steady him. “Where are we?”
Riker shook his head. “I lost track three dogs back.”
Deanna’s brows shot up. “Dogs?”
The slightest smile shadowed Riker’s face. “Rovers.” When her face still expressed perplexion he added, “Never mind.”
He looked around, keeping his phaser at hip level, and put his arm around her shoulder for support.
“Let’s try to find our way back to one of our floor marks. I want to know where we’re going. Especially if another of Rover’s brothers shows up.” He motioned with the phaser toward the shards of computer and robot left on the deck.
“They’re getting harder to destroy,” he added. “It took setting twelve this time. That’s five higher than the first one—five Rovers, five settings.”
She pulled him forward. “Wonderful. Let’s get out of here before we end up with more of them than there are phaser settings.”
He chuckled nervously. That was a very real concern. There might be endless litters of little Rovers—the ship was big, and whatever its purpose was, there appeared to be a wealth of material. Who knew? Maybe that was the ship’s full-time function: Rover fabrication.
He limped, she walked, and together they trod down the corridor, over the debris of the robot that had forced them off their marked trail.
“There’s something odd going on here. All these machines . . .” he said, testing his right leg with more and more strength every other step. He needed to be able to run again if chased. He couldn’t lean on Deanna, that would drag both of them down.
“Odd how?” She looped her fingers around his hand as it came over her shoulder. “It makes sense to me: an automated ship with automated machines and automated robots to protect them. And an automated transporter that brought us here.”
“Maybe,” Riker said, trying to cover his fatigue with a strong voice, “but I don’t remember seeing another ship when we entered this system. And if we were somehow beamed right off the planet and out of the star system as well, that still doesn’t explain what all this is—or how the sensor readings back on Velex fit in.”
She nodded, her soft hair pressing against his arm as she did. “Will, where do we go from here?”
He almost lied—made up some tale about a plan he had in the back of his mind . . . but he was too tired, and she was too smart. No
food—no water—they were trapped.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Survive for now—” He stopped, pulling her back. “Listen . . .”
A flurry of sound rumbled up the corridor from behind them. The unmistakable vibration of metal and circuits: Rover number six. There was no place to take cover, and no strong legs to run on. Riker set his phaser on the next level and turned toward the sound, waiting.
Did he send Deanna to hide somewhere, behind a door maybe? Or would that put her in more danger? She had no weapon. If a Rover came up behind her . . .
He looked up the corridor toward the sound, then down the other way.
“Let’s go.” He motioned toward the far corner where one hall forked into two. “We’ll get a little cover from the bulkhead.”
Once there he pulled Deanna behind him.
“Crouch low,” he said. “Make yourself as small a target as possible.”
The roving machine turned down the hall toward them, hovering, and about the size of the last five, Riker noticed this one was . . . smoother in appearance, like a giant tool—something for utility, not protection. Then again, Riker thought, a phaser looked just as benevolent.
Slowly Rover VI moved toward them. A ring around its middle was where the charges would come from. Something told him they’d be even stronger than the last time.
He thought the Rover moved stalkingly, as if there was something personal in this battle. The robot didn’t just want him to stop destroying the other machinery—that sentiment had been lost four Rovers back.
He was the goal: revenge for its roving brothers. Okay, maybe he was reading more into the ma chine’s motive than was there. Maybe there was nothing personal and it was just programming—“defend ship until threat is suppressed.” Something like that.
One thing was certain: the machines wouldn’t stop until their prey was dead.
He fired and a flashing spike leaped from his weapon to the Rover. The blast was absorbed fully. The smooth metal casing glowed white, then orange, then dissipated, leaving the Rover still heading toward him.
A bolt spat forward from the rover—and from farther than the other ones had been able to fire.
No time—
Powerful fingers of energy, luckily only the tendrils of the bolt rather than the full brunt, gripped Riker and tossed him back and into Deanna as it passed close to them. They crunched together in a fluster of limbs. Riker rolled off her, reset his phaser to its highest, took careful aim . . . and fired above Rover’s head.
The ceiling over the robot exploded into a shower of spark and rubble. Riker kept the beam steady, and finally a heavy chunk of bulk slammed into the floor.
Crushed under the wreckage, Rover VI abdicated the throne.
Choking on the smoke drifting up from the debris, Riker pulled himself up with Deanna’s help. They nodded their “okays” to each other and stood a moment, gripping one another.
“Well, I have to commend their ability,” Riker grumbled. “They change designs like Starfleet changes uniforms. And all theirs work.”
He turned and glared at the debris, then back to Deanna. “Why don’t you have a phaser?”
“I’m a psychologist,” she said. “I just question people into submission.”
He waved away the comment. “From now on I want you to carry a palm phaser on away missions.”
Nodding, her arm around his waist to lend him support, she asked, “You all right?”
“I’ll live if I can get a good steak and a cold drink within the next five minutes.”
“Must you always make light of your own health?” she huffed.
“Making light of anyone else’s is rude.”
She shook her head and they continued around the corner.
“Any idea where we’re headed?” she asked.
“Away from those damn robots. They all seem to be coming from the same direction.”
“You think there will be others?”
“I’d bet credits. I’m assuming there’s some central store room or manufacturing room or something. Maybe we can get as far away from that as possible, and at the same time . . .”
Looking up, she cocked her head, probably sensing what he was feeling. “What?”
“We’ve still got to find some way off this ship. Maybe there’s a communications room or deck. Some way to try to contact the Enterprise.” He looked down at her, no longer masking his thoughts, because he knew she was aware of his feelings. “We haven’t got much time. We’re either going to run out of phaser settings or phaser power . . . or life. We can only last a few days without water.”
And which of them would go first? He was weak, had lost a lot of blood. If he gave in to that weakness, she would be left alone. If lack of water was to be their undoing, he would go first, but what if one of the Rovers got her before that? Which was worse? His being without her, or she without him? And with one phaser, they couldn’t even safely split up to lure the Rovers away from the other. Especially since the pack of Rovers got stronger and better with every litter.
All these things ran through Riker’s mind, and so quite possibly through Deanna’s. He tried to stop thinking that way.
He gripped her arm and turned her toward him. Don’t worry yet. “We’ll be fine.”
“I know,” she said. “And I won’t . . . yet.”
They turned down the fresh corridor and made a few steps headway before Riker stopped them. “Not again!” He cocked his head forward. “Another one. Hear it?”
She nodded brusquely. “Yes. What now?”
He pulled her down and behind him as he shrank down to one knee. “We drop and fight.”
Another Rover, similar to the first six, came floating around the corner. As soon as Riker made visual contact he aimed and fired. The shot went past, Rover dodging and bobbing as it came down the corridor in a zigzag pattern, swiftly making its way toward them.
“Here, puppy . . . here, boy.” Riker fired again, and the phaser beam crackled the air, making a fire bridge between them. Rover was struck in his middle and whimpered as the energy engulfed him.
Suddenly the robot spun away out of the beam, then around, avoiding a second shot.
Riker fired again and missed.
He aimed for the ceiling again, bringing it down in an avalanche of hot metal and burning cinder.
Rover flew back away from the cloud of debris as it dumped harmlessly to the deck. Through the rising dust and smoke, the robot began again to make its way toward Riker and Deanna.
As it sped closer, Riker jumped up and started to run.
Toward it. As fast as his throbbing leg would allow.
“Will!” Deanna shrieked. “Will! What are you doing!”
Rover closed in, the band around its middle starting to glow with the pulse of a deathly charge.
Riker dove forward, head first, twisting onto his back. He slammed into the deck just under the robot and fired. A brilliant trunk of energy pounded out of his phaser and into Rover.
The robot tried to move away, but Riker kept the beam locked on its underside.
He stuck up his arm, as if he could pound the beam through Rover’s heart. The beast glowed red then white, and finally shattered from inside and outside simultaneously. Riker pushed himself away and rolled halfway up the ceiling debris, burning his back as the robot crashed to the deck in a thousand pieces.
Riker pulled himself out of the wreckage and shakily got to his feet. He looked to see Deanna was all right, then glanced at the twisted and melted workings of the late Rover.
He nodded approvingly at his handiwork. “Good dog.”
Deanna stood and rushed over to help steady him. A strand of her thick curly hair had fallen over her eyes and she blew it out of the way. “You scared the daylights out of me.”
He put his arm around her shoulders again. “Didn’t have time to explain. I—”
Hummmmmm.
They turned . . . and there he was—Rover the Eighth, larger, and looking determi
ned.
“Enough of this!” Riker moved Deanna back and yanked up his phaser again. “I’ve had it!”
He reset the phaser to its highest level and fired. The beam bounced off into small sparkles of fire. Bounced! Riker fired again connecting longer, letting the beam pound into the robot. The machine staggered back a moment, then began to move forward, into the phaser beam—through it—
Riker rested the phaser, holstering it, and spun around. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Now!”
They began to run. Toward a far door. If they could get through—lock the door behind them—
Riker stumbled, pulling Deanna down. They collapsed hard against the floor. “Go,” Riker barked. “Leave me. You have a chance.”
She ignored him, pulled him up.
No.
They ran again, Rover following, humming, and, eerily, not firing. What was it waiting for?
Moving faster, Riker ground out the pain with clenched teeth, as they limped toward the door. We’ll make it. He wasn’t sure if that was his voice or Deanna’s in his head, but he pushed on.
As they approached the door, Riker turned and let Deanna go forward. He aimed at the Rover again and fired a last time. The shot sizzled off its hide like water on a skillet.
“Come on!” Deanna called from the door way, as Riker spun around and leaped through, the door closing behind him.
He stumbled forward, unable to stop himself—
And nearly fell off the ship.
He grasped the handrail that pressed into his stomach and struggled to keep his balance. He heard Deanna gasp—turned to look back at her—but his gaze caught itself on the horizon.
The horizon.
Before him, extending forward as far as the eye could see, was group after group of machines, tube after tube of conduits, pump after pump, after machine after . . .
Riker looked through a haze of warm air at the ocean of machines, and at the far, far distance, where the ceiling met the floor.
FOREIGN FOES Page 16