by Gene DeWeese
“Come,” he snapped. “We have no time for gawking.”
Denbahr straightened with a start. With an obvious effort, she tore her eyes from that outer world and turned her back on it. For a fleeting moment, her eyes met Picard’s, and he saw the longing in them, the plea for the help he only hoped he could give. A moment later Koralus turned from the window, his face revealing nothing. Then they were all following Albrect as he hurried down the lushly carpeted hallway beyond the door he had opened.
“Not that anything will matter much longer if you can’t keep your ship out of their hands,” Albrect said grimly, glancing at Picard. “What few hopes we still have would all be finished then, along with what’s left of both Krantins.”
At a door at the far end of hall, he repeated the identification process, this time with his right index finger. This door slid open more ponderously than the other, revealing what appeared to be a meeting room with table and chairs that had been pushed to one side to make room for a bed.
And on the bed—
Picard’s eyes widened as he realized that the emaciated figure on the bed was Zalkan. The scientist looked as if he had aged a decade or more in the hours since he had been snatched from his lab. He was still fully dressed, his eyes closed. A man, as dark as Albrect and with Directorate insignia on the front of his tunic, sat stiffly in a chair at the table, the upper half of his face covered by a heavy blindfold. A woman, slightly darker than the blindfolded man, sat across the table from him, holding a projectile weapon loosely on the tabletop as she faced him.
“You are all familiar with Zalkan, I gather,” Albrect said quickly. “As for the others, the blindfolded one is called Strankor. He claims to have defected from the Directorate for reasons of conscience. The one guarding him is one of our agents within the Directorate. She brought him to us when she heard what he had to say.” Albrect grimaced. “I sincerely hope he is a spy and has not told us a word of truth. That would be immeasurably better than believing his story.”
On the bed, Zalkan roused enough to open his eyes. He smiled weakly as he saw Denbahr, but his face fell when he recognized the others standing just behind her.
“Why are they here?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
Quickly, Albrect recounted Denbahr’s brief explanation of how Ormgren’s mission to warn the Enterprise had gotten twisted out of shape by Khozak’s paranoia.
On the bed, Zalkan struggled to raise himself, and Denbahr hurried to help him and then support him once he was sitting up. “Picard,” he said, his voice seeming to gain strength now that he had forced himself to sit up, “I must return with you to your ship. It is the only way to save Krantin.”
Then it is surely lost, Picard thought bleakly. The scientist could probably not survive being taken from the room, let alone the jump back to that other Krantin.
“Before we make any rash decisions,” he said, nodding at Troi, “I would like to hear just what it is we’re up against.” He turned to the blindfolded man. “Whatever you told them, tell us now—quickly!”
The man stiffened, his head coming up as if to look at Picard despite the blindfold. “You are the captain of the ship from the stars?”
“I am. Now tell me your story.”
And he did, quickly and succinctly, painting a picture of a Directorate leadership as self-centered and callous as any group Picard had ever encountered. The moment the leaders had learned of the existence of the Enterprise and that it was proposing to help Krantin, they panicked and withdrew all the ships the Directorate had operating in the asteroid belt. They also immediately ordered that all the secret recording devices linked to Jalkor’s computers be monitored continuously in hopes of finding out what the Krantinese knew about the “star people” and what sort of “help” the Enterprise and its “Federation” were offering. The only worthwhile piece of information they found, however, came when they stumbled across Khozak’s search of the records computer and learned that the records involving the onetime mining area had been virtually wiped out. This led them to have their own Directorate computers checked more closely, where they found similar smaller alterations in the hundred-year-old records of a massive strip-mining project in the corresponding area—now a pit nearly two kilometers deep—on their own world. And in what appeared to be overlooked remnants of even older records, they found that it was this mine, not the asteroids, that was the actual source of the scraps of dilithium that still existed in their world.
Their immediate reaction was to want to call in one of their biggest machines, even more powerful than those used to jump the massive ore carriers in the asteroid belt. They would use it to scoop out the ground above the dilithium in great chunks, then retrieve the dilithium itself.
But they were too afraid of the Enterprise to actually put that plan into action. Instead, they decided they would first have to either destroy or take over the Enterprise, which, with their jump machines, they felt confident they could do. With the Enterprise out of the way, they would take the dilithium and then breach the walls of Jalkor, killing its five million inhabitants—not because they posed a direct threat but because the Directorate feared that, if they were allowed to live and if another Federation ship ever came to that other Krantin, the story of what happened would come out and the Federation might someday be able to pursue the Directorate to their own Krantin.
When Strankor was finished, all questions answered, the guard, at a word from Albrect, prodded the man to his feet and took him into the hall, closing the massive door behind them.
Troi looked up at Picard and nodded grimly. “He is frightened and far from certain that he has done the right thing,” she said, “and there is more to his reason for defecting than his professed horror at the Directorate’s planned destruction of Jalkor. There is a fear that he might be in danger himself. But I am virtually certain that he is otherwise telling the truth.”
* * *
“Engineering, Deck Thirty-six,” the computer announced, following up with a set of precise coordinates.
On Deck 36, the security ensign nearest the coordinates, phaser set on heavy stun, had already seen the flash around the nearest curve in the corridor and was racing toward it, eyes peeled for yet another of the black-clad invaders. All other lookouts, on 36 and all other decks, maintained their positions, backs against the corridor walls, eyes scanning both directions, phasers ready. On Decks 35 and 37, at least one pair of eyes darted to each door that opened on the emergency stairs that gave access to every deck on the Enterprise in the event of a catastrophic power failure that put even the turbolift system out of commission.
This time it had actually been two almost simultaneous flashes. One of the black-clad figures was lurching in one direction, firing a projectile weapon seemingly at nothing, when the security ensign came in view. The other, momentarily unnoticed as the ensign’s eyes focused on the first, seemed to have overcome the initial unsteadiness that had plagued all the others and raced full speed toward Main Engineering.
The first was brought down within seconds and vanished like all the others in a second flash as his unconscious body skidded along the corridor floor. The second, both hands seemingly empty, came within a few meters of Main Engineering before he went the way of the first, brought down by one of Geordi’s people, on loan to security for the duration of the alert.
On the bridge, Lieutenant Worf continued to monitor the tactical station readouts, wondering if the current lull—the twin surges in Engineering had been the only ones for more than a minute—was just that, a lull, or if whoever was sending them was finally running out of volunteers. With the phasers set at their current level, just short of lethal—Worf had recommended an even higher setting—the intruders would not be available for a second run for some time yet.
Worf had long ago lost count of the number of energy surges. The first intruder, the one who had wounded Ensign Thompson, had gone uncaught for nearly five minutes, racing around the decks of the crew quarters like someone
lost and frantically looking for a way out, finally somehow finding the emergency stairs and darting up to Deck 5.
Three others had appeared within seconds of the first, two in the shuttlebay and one in the corridor outside sickbay, and a minute later another four. For nearly an hour it had continued—so far. Setting up security fields had helped, but not enough, and they often were a hindrance to getting a wounded security officer to sickbay. Several times intruders had slammed into fields full-tilt, but the effect was the same as that of a phaser. Within seconds, they vanished, and sooner or later another would show up on the other side of the field.
At one time, there were at least thirty scattered about the Enterprise like a cloud of biting gnats, firing their projectile weapons at any crew members they saw, then racing off in seemingly random directions, sometimes firing blindly down an empty corridor. One had even emerged from the turbolift onto the bridge but had been phasered by Riker before he could fire his own weapon. Like all the others, he had vanished in a burst of light almost the moment he hit the floor.
Geordi had experimented briefly with the blocking field but found it essentially useless under these conditions. As he had feared from the start, its effects had proven at least as damaging to living tissue as the fields it blocked, so it could not simply be turned on and left running. To be effective at all, it would have to be timed to come on only for the second or two during which an intruder was attempting to come through, and there was no way that that could ever be predicted. Even if he were able to hook directly into the sensors and set them to trigger the blocking field at the first indication of a surge the sensors picked up, it would not be soon enough. The time to build up the blocking field seemed to match within a few milliseconds the time it took the field they were trying to block to build up. And even if he could have cut the buildup time of the blocking field, even if he could have blocked every intruder, he wouldn’t have dared do it. By the hundredth one, if his computer models were correct, the cumulative effects of even those brief bursts of the blocking field would have been verging on lethal for everyone within range, which was essentially every living being on the Enterprise.
What finally seemed to have stemmed the tide was nothing technological, unless you counted turning the task of announcing surge locations over to the computer, just an application of common sense. Riker had blanketed the ship with security people and regular crew members, every one with a ready phaser set on heavy stun. In the last twenty minutes, no crew member had been wounded and no intruder had remained active more than twenty or thirty seconds. Most were dispatched almost before the flash announcing their arrival had faded.
If this was an attempt to take over the Enterprise, Riker thought as he waited for the next energy surge and the virtually simultaneous announcement of its location by the computer, it was an extremely clumsy one. If they had sent the intruders all through simultaneously, it might have worked. At the very least, the casualties would have been much worse, the damage to the ship from their projectile weapons much greater. Whatever it had been—
“Commander!” Worf announced abruptly. “Someone is attempting unauthorized entry into the shuttlecraft on the surface. It is lifting off on automatic, no occupants.”
The captain’s shuttlecraft? “You’re certain no one is inside? Not even one of our shoot-’em-up friends from up here?”
“No life-forms are indicated, Commander. The shuttle sensors, however, indicate a half-dozen life-forms on the ground directly beneath the shuttlecraft.”
“The ones who tried to break in,” Riker said with a grimace. “Did those communicators we left outside the airlock pick up anything?”
Quickly, Worf called up the records, but there was little in them. The grating sound of the airlock opening, which at least indicated that the would-be shuttlecraft hijackers had come from the city. Footsteps, several sets, as they approached the shuttlecraft. Noises, subdued at first, then louder, as they poked and prodded at the shuttlecraft. And finally, unintelligible shouts and the sound of the shuttlecraft lifting off.
“Khozak again,” Riker said with a scowl. “First he takes the captain prisoner and now he tries this!” He turned to Ensign Curtis at the Ops station. With the tactical station fully occupied with the seemingly omnipresent intruders, the comm function—and the continuing attempt to establish an EM link with someone on the surface—had been transferred to Ops. “Any response at all, Ensign? Any indication anyone is even listening to us?”
“I believe someone is, Commander,” Curtis reported. “An unmodulated EM carrier is present, indicating at least that the equipment down there hasn’t been turned off. Whether anyone is listening, however, is another matter.”
“Very well, Ensign. Keep at it.” He shook his head. “Tell them that until they respond and give us proof that our people are still safe, President Khozak can forget about talking to anyone higher up in the Federation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You might also mention that we do not appreciate attempts to tamper with the captain’s shuttlecraft and—”
“Energy surge, Commander,” Worf broke in, “on the planet.” He darted looks at other readouts. “The shuttlecraft sensors picked it up as well. The surge was inside the city, within a few hundred meters of the shuttlecraft’s original position outside the city’s airlock.”
Riker thought for a second. “Lieutenant, access the shuttlecraft’s computer log for the last hour. See if it picked up any surges down there while we were being swamped up here.”
“Only one, sir,” Worf announced a moment later, “somewhere near the center of the city. Its magnitude was similar to the more recent one—and to those on the Enterprise.”
Riker turned back to Ensign Curtis at Ops. “Is their equipment still turned on down there?”
She glanced at a readout. “It appears to be, Commander.”
“All right. Patch me through and set it up to repeat until we get a response. I’ll take a shot at them. Figuratively speaking—at least for now.”
Her fingers darted across the face of the console. “Ready, Commander.”
Riker pulled in a breath. “President Khozak or whoever is listening down there: This is Commander William Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise. First, unless you respond and provide proof that Captain Picard and the others are still safe, the discussions you requested with Federation authorities will not take place. Nor will any such discussions ever occur unless and until you satisfactorily explain the attempted assault on the captain’s shuttlecraft. Second, there have been two energy surges in your city in the last hour, one near the center, the second only moments ago in the vicinity of your airlock. Finally, the Enterprise has been under attack for more than an hour. Black-clad intruders with projectile weapons not unlike the ones with which your guards greeted my away team have been appearing on all decks, and I would very much appreciate any information you might have. If you do not respond, we will have no choice but to assume you are in some way responsible and act accordingly.”
Signaling he was finished, Riker grimaced as he turned back to the tactical station and wondered just what “accordingly” meant. With any luck—not that they’d had much so far—Khozak would come to his senses and he wouldn’t have to figure it out.
Chapter Twenty
KHOZAK LISTENED to Riker’s message for the third time, his stomach knotting more tightly each time. Virtually everything he had done had turned out wrong, and now—now they suspected him of having something to do with an attack on their ship! And the energy surge near the airlock—Denbahr and the star people returning, hoping to reach their shuttlecraft? He hoped it was as benign as that, and not someone from the Directorate coming through.
Blinking, he came out of his self-induced paralysis and stabbed at the button that put him in communication with his people at the airlock. Tersely, he ordered them to recall the ones who had attempted to enter the shuttlecraft and then to leave, to disregard his earlier orders to allow no one throu
gh. The last thing he wanted now was for them or anyone to try to recapture the onetime prisoners.
He turned to the radio, the same one Denbahr had used to contact the ship a seeming lifetime ago. There was nothing for it but to throw himself on these people’s mercy and hope against hope that Denbahr’s naive belief in their goodwill and patience was closer to the truth than his own far darker suspicions. And that whatever Denbahr had done to or for the four, it had not resulted in death or capture by the Directorate, even though he could not keep from his mind the thought that the Deserter Koralus and the Directorate deserved each other.
He touched the switch that would send his voice on its way. Pulling in a shuddering breath, he said, “This is President Khozak, Commander Riker.”
Picard was grim-faced as they descended in Albrect’s private elevator, made even more crowded by the presence of Zalkan, his frail body cradled in Data’s arms. He knew the scientist was right, that his plan was the only chance to save both the Enterprise and what remained of Krantin, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier to watch a man purposely hasten his own death. He would unhesitatingly offer himself up for lesser gains, had in fact done it more than once and had found it far easier than this. His creed, one of the reasons he had joined Starfleet, was to protect others, not to stand by when others sacrificed themselves, no matter how high the stakes or how narrow the options.
“Picard,” the scientist had said when Troi had vouched again for the reality of the threat and the truthfulness of his own analysis, “you spoke earlier of a short-term treatment your doctor could administer to me, a metabolic enhancer. Would it give me the time I need?”
“I don’t know,” Picard said. “There are too many variables. The only certainty is that you would be dead within hours.”