INVASION!, BOOK TWO: THE SOLDIERS OF FEAR

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “As ready as we’ll ever be, sir,” La Forge said.

  “Stand by,” Picard said. “Open a channel to the entire ship, Mr. Worf.”

  Worf gazed down at the console without moving his head. Just a slight flicker of the eyes. Worf was in Klingon battle mode.

  “Done, sir.”

  Picard nodded to him. Then he leaned back in the command chair. He didn’t want to sound in any way stressed or alarmed. “This is a general announcement to the Enterprise crew and passengers. As most of you are aware, our proximity to the Furies’ weapon increases the level of fear on board the ship. Mr. La Forge has made changes in the shields which protected us from most of that fear. Now, however, we will have to drop the shields in order to repair them.”

  He took a deep silent breath and went on. “We have moved several light-years away from the Furies Point. The level of terror you will feel will be considerably less than the terror you felt earlier. However, the terror will return. Those of you guarding small children will need to explain this as best you can. As for the rest of you, please remember that this increase in the levels of anxiety will be short-lived. I expect you to continue your duties. Picard out.”

  Riker nodded to him. “Well done, sir.”

  Picard smiled a smile he didn’t feel. “Mr. La Forge,” he said. “You have ten minutes.”

  “We’ll be done in eight,” La Forge said.

  Picard stood. “Ensign,” he said to Eckley, “drop our shields.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said.

  He took a deep breath.

  The fear returned instantly, but he had been right; it wasn’t as bad as it had been before. It was a low level of terror, merely an anxiety—although, if he hadn’t been prepared, it would have slowly built into a full-fledged panic.

  Eckley was pale, but continued at her post.

  Riker had stood and gone over to the science station.

  Worf stared at the screen ahead of him, as if he could see all the way to the Furies Point.

  Picard let out the breath he’d been holding and crossed to the science station too. He still had a lot to do while La Forge worked on the shields.

  He stopped behind Data. Somehow it was soothing to see Data checking figures, the screen scrolling before him at a rate too rapid to read.

  “Mr. Data,” Picard said. “You have been studying this wormhole for some time now. Tell me about it.”

  Data pushed his chair back from his console. He reminded Picard of a professor Picard had at the Academy, a man who loved to expound on things he knew, a man who was full of more knowledge than Picard could amass in a lifetime.

  “The wormhole is clearly artificial, sir,” Data said. His long pale fingers still flew across the console. Riker leaned against it, blocking his way, reminding him to place his full attention on the captain and the discussion. “Its movements are too precise to be a natural phenomenon. It is also perfectly oblong, a form in such proportions that does not occur in nature. And it opens at regular, predictable intervals. Also, the energy it gives off contains particles that are refined.”

  Data glanced back at his screen, then up at Picard. “Despite decades of study, we have been unable to discover why a drop in mass in objects surrounding the Furies’ wormhole occurs. But it does so as the hole opens.”

  “Could it controlled from this side as well as the other?” Picard asked.

  “No, sir,” Data said, “unless the devices are on the ships themselves. I believe if that were the case, the wormhole would have fluctuated when we destroyed one of their ships.”

  “I did some tests on this too, sir,” Riker said, “when I was looking for the source of the fear beam. The Fury ships are as trapped here as we are. The wormhole is being controlled on the other side.

  “How do you know?” Picard asked.

  “The wormhole is maintained by a carrier signal that enabled me to scan through it,” Data said. “It appears to be controlled by a device on the other side. From what I can tell, the device is located quite near the wormhole entrance. It is quite large, but its projection antenna is small enough that it could be destroyed with a photon torpedo.”

  Picard spoke quickly. “A photon torpedo could disable this device?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “So all we have to do is get close enough to do some precision firing through the wormhole?” Riker asked.

  “No, Commander,” Data said. “I ran the schematics for that. The particle fluctuations within the wormhole, while they are predictable, would either render the photon torpedo useless in the worst case or, in the best case, throw it off course. The device must be destroyed at an exact point on the other side of the wormhole by a weapon fired from that side.”

  Picard bent over the science console so that his two officers could not see his face. He had told Guinan that he wanted a peaceful solution, a solution that would enable them to turn the Furies away without war. She had suggested negotiation. He had tried that, and would again. But if negotiation failed, then he had this.

  Destruction of the wormhole.

  A suicide mission.

  “Do you think we can get the Enterprise through there?” Picard asked.

  “The odds are six hundred and fifty-six thousand to one, sir,” Data said.

  “Assuming, of course, that more Fury ships wait on the other side.”

  “I did not run any other scenario,” Data said. “We made that determination.”

  Picard was cold. He felt better sending in the entire Enterprise than doing what he was about to suggest. “And the odds on a single vessel? A shuttlecraft, perhaps?”

  “There are too many variables,” Data said. “A shuttle, once inside, could make it through the wormhole undetected, but the same particle fluctuations that affect the photon torpedo’s trajectory will interfere with the shuttlecraft’s. Also its hull structure is weaker than a larger ship’s.”

  “So you’re saying that a shuttlecraft has no chance of success,” Picard said, almost relieved at the thought.

  “No, sir. I am saying that I cannot give you exact odds. But all the scenarios I ran with the shuttlecraft gave odds anywhere between one hundred to one and two to one.”

  “What was the difference?” Riker asked.

  “The pilot,” Data said. “I believe that a talented pilot, able to compensate for all the variables, would be able to make it through the wormhole and fire the shot.”

  “I am the most accurate at target destruction done manually,” Worf said. He had turned around, his right fist clenched, the only sign of his increased anxiety. “I would like to go on this mission, sir.”

  “And I am ranked as one of the best pilots in the fleet,” Riker said. “And the best on this ship.”

  Picard looked at his two officers. If he sent them, they would not return. He would have to run the Enterprise without them.

  “Sir,” Data said, “Allow me to add that my abilities in manipulating data, my imperviousness to the Furies’ emotion device, and my proven talent at precision flying within one-billionth of an inch would make me the best choice for this mission.”

  “There is no mission yet,” Picard said. “At the moment, this is all speculation. We need to see how Mr. La Forge’s device works, whether Dr. Crusher’s drugs can keep us calm, and if the Furies are willing yet to negotiate. We still do not know for certain what they want in this sector.”

  “They say they want total and complete domination of this area of space,” Riker said.

  Picard nodded. “But you forget the old tool of negotiation. Ask for everything, settle for less.”

  “I doubt they’ll settle for less,” Riker mumbled.

  “Engineering to bridge.” La Forge’s voice echoed over the monitor.

  “Seven minutes,” Eckley whispered in awe.

  Picard smiled. Mr. La Forge was quite reliable. “Go ahead, Mr. La Forge.”

  “We’ve finished, sir. We’re about to bring the shields back on-line.”

 
; “Will they block the Furies’ terror beam?”

  “Absolutely,” La Forge said, his voice bouncing with confidence. “On the way over here we also studied the effect that weapon had on our shields. We think we can withstand anything they throw at us, whether it’s a terror beam or a modified shield fluctuation shot.”

  “Or a photon torpedo?” Eckley mumbled. The fear was showing in her increasing disregard for protocol.

  Apparently she mumbled loud enough for La Forge to hear. “Anything,” he said.

  “Excellent, Mr. La Forge.” Picard decided to ignore Eckley’s comments. He would have to be somewhat lenient after the Furies’ beam pummeled them. “Have you sent your schematics to our reinforcements?”

  “Yes, sir. In code.”

  “Good.” Picard swallowed. He had been waiting too long to give this next order. “Then turn on the shields. We have work to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” La Forge said.

  Picard left the science console and returned to his command chair. He sat down, and as he did he felt stronger, as if he could face anything. Amazing. This must be how he felt most of the time. He only noted it in its absence.

  “Mr. Data,” Picard said. “When will the other ships arrive at the Furies Point?”

  “In twelve minutes, sir,” Data said.

  Picard smiled. “Ensign Eckley, time our arrival back there exactly thirty seconds ahead of the other ships.”

  “Course laid in, sir.”

  “Engage,” he said.

  As the ship moved forward, Riker joined Picard in the command area. “This is quite a force that will appear right in front of the Furies.”

  “That it is, Number One,” Picard said. “And unbeknownst to them, we will be protected against their emotion manipulation and their weapons.”

  “We’ll have the advantage.”

  “And they will know it.” Picard stared grimly at the stars streaking across the screen. “This time the Furies will talk to us.”

  They had to. Picard was not willing to sacrifice his best officers, his ship, or the Federation.

  This time, he would make the Furies listen.

  Chapter Eighteen

  GEORDI’S SHIELD MODIFICATIONS must have worked. Beverly was calm even though the Enterprise was approaching the Furies Point.

  Beverly glanced at the screen in her research facility. She had it focused not on sickbay but on the stars themselves. She wanted to monitor the proximity of the Furies Point.

  Her sedative had worked. She felt good about that and kept repeating it to herself. But it worked best in combination with the shield modifications.

  The problem was that the effect of the gas was going to wear off soon. She was trying to modify the gas slightly so that it would last longer. She had downloaded information from Geordi and was working to match the amount of Theragen derivative in the gas to the interspace field they were surrounded by. At best it was a guessing game. But she had to guess right, because she knew the crew needed it during the battle.

  They had to have some protection if the shields failed.

  Then her assistant Ensign Orne peeked through the doorway. “Dr. Crusher,” he said, “you need to see this.”

  She set the test tube in its tray and stood. Probably Lieutenant Young. She had awakened him, as Deanna suggested, and he had taken one look at Beverly and screamed. Certainly not the reaction any physician wanted.

  But it turned out he was terrified of her hair. She called over her assistant Restin, who kept his skull neatly shaved, and Young calmed. Restin had been spending the last hour talking with the boy, and even though his vitals were unchanged, he seemed calmer.

  At least he wasn’t screaming.

  Restin was still talking, slowly and quietly, to Young. Young’s readings were the same as they had been when he slept—a good sign, since when he was conscious before his readings had been elevated. He wasn’t out of danger, but his odds were improving by the minute.

  But Ensign Orne wasn’t leading Beverly to Young. She was leading her to Deanna.

  Her eyelashes were fluttering, but no REM sleep was recording on the overhead board. She was near consciousness, though, and she shouldn’t have been. That sedative Beverly gave her should have lasted much longer.

  Beverly took her hand. “Deanna, are you all right?”

  Deanna’s large eyes opened. They focused instantly, and were clearer than Beverly had expected them to be. “Something changed,” Deanna said.

  The shields. So part of Deanna’s sleep had been instinctive protection against too much emotion.

  “I lightly sedated the crew a while back, and Geordi has modified the shields again to more completely block the Furies’ beam.”

  “People are still frightened,” Deanna said, “but not like they were.”

  “They shouldn’t be frightened anymore,” Beverly said.

  Deanna shook her head just a little. The movement was almost imperceptible. “It’s normal,” she said. “ ‘Frightened’ is too big a word. People are worried. As they always are when the Enterprise is in danger.”

  And Deanna was obviously used to that level of worry. Beverly felt herself relax.

  “Except.” Deanna looked over her shoulder. “That boy. He’s still terrified.”

  “We’re doing all we can,” Beverly said.

  “It may not be enough.” Deanna closed her eyes and sighed. “Is the Enterprise in danger?”

  “We’re heading back to the Furies Point—to take them on, I suspect. But knowing Jean-Luc, he will try to talk with them again.”

  “Again?” Deanna opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. “He shouldn’t negotiate without me.”

  “You were hardly in any condition to help him, Deanna.”

  “But I can help him now,” she said.

  Beverly shook her head. “I can’t let you. Only an hour ago, you weren’t in much better shape than that boy.”

  Deanna looked at him, her face filled with compassion. “If I stay here, I will have to help him. And I’m not sure I can delve into that level of emotion just yet. Besides, the Furies are complex beings. I’ve been dreaming of them.”

  “Dreaming?” Beverly asked. She was always amazed at the twists and turns Deanna’s abilities took when she encountered a new race.

  She nodded. “They’re in my subconscious like a pattern. It must be the human part. But that opens the Betazoid part. I have dreamed about being on their ship.”

  “You said they were afraid of us.”

  “They are,” Deanna said. “But it is a different kind of fear than the terror they’ve been projecting toward us. It is the nagging fear that somehow, over the millennia, we have grown even stronger than we were when, they think, we drove them out of heaven.”

  Beverly laughed, although she didn’t mean to. “You’re kidding?”

  “Not at all,” Deanna said. “And it got worse for them in the last eighty years. The generation since their defeat at the hands of the original Enterprise has felt weak. This trip is to prove their strength as well as enable their return to this section of space.”

  “Rather like a Klingon loss of honor.”

  “Rather,” Deanna said. Her voice held just a trace of irony. “On a grander scale. From what I can tell, their entire culture is based solely on returning here.”

  She swung her legs off the bed. “I have to go to the bridge.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Beverly said. “If the shields break down, if the gas clears, you will be overwhelmed again. Your system still hasn’t completely recovered. It may not be able to take another shock like that, and I might not be able to help you.”

  Deanna was watching Lieutenant Young. His mouth was open and a thin line of drool ran from his lips to the pillow. He was as close to mindless as a human could be and still feel. Even Beverly knew that, and she was no empath.

  “I understand,” Deanna said. “But it’s better to risk my life and be at the captain’s side than risk losing
this opportunity with the Furies.”

  “Deanna,” Beverly said, “Jean-Luc is used to diplomatic dealings. He can do this without you.”

  “I’m not so certain,” Deanna said. “He is having the same trouble being calm as the rest of the crew. But you know the captain. He won’t show it.”

  Beverly suppressed a smile. It was so like all of them to believe they were indispensable. That was one of the things she liked about working with this crew. Usually.

  “But you are being overwhelmed at the detriment of your own health,” Beverly said softly.

  “Not right now,” Deanna said. “Besides, I am used to thinking through intense emotion brought in from the outside. He is not. If something were to change, he might need my counseling more than ever.”

  She had a point, much as Beverly hated to admit it. The only person on the ship used to working through a haze of outside imposed emotion was Deanna. And to try to face the Furies without her was foolish. What had Jean-Luc said when he learned that Deanna was in sickbay? Hadn’t he mumbled something about needing her?

  “All right,” Beverly said. “It’s against my medical judgment to let you go, but these are extenuating circumstances.”

  “Thanks,” Deanna said. She swung her legs off the bed. “I’ll be all right. I promise.”

  Beverly nodded. She even smiled. But she watched carefully as Deanna left the room, memorizing each step, each movement.

  Beverly had a hunch she might never see Deanna alive again.

  The bridge crew was calmer. They were going about their business with a rapidity that meant their movements were unencumbered by unfamiliar emotions.

  Picard felt the shift inside himself. Instead of dreading the meeting with the Furies, he welcomed it. If he could convince them to negotiate, then all would be solved.

  He didn’t want to think about Data’s other solution.

  At least, not yet.

  The Enterprise dropped out of warp, and took up its previous position, facing the four remaining Fury ships. They looked smaller somehow. The loss of the fifth ship had diminished them. Or maybe it was the loss of the fear. Something a person fears always looks bigger.

  “Mr. Data,” Picard said. “What is the change in the wormhole’s growth?”