The Battle of Betazed

by Charlotte Douglas

  “Understood,” Picard replied.

  “And prepare to receive several thousand Betazoids coming from the cargo bays. They definitely need medical teams. We’ll transport them to the shuttlebay from here,” Riker added, hoping O’Brien and La Forge could make the unfamiliar system work.

  “Dropping shields,” Picard told him. “Initiating transport.”

  Before Picard had finished speaking, Cardassian soldiers broke through the locked doors of the laboratory and started firing. Riker grabbed Moset and ducked behind the equipment cabinets.

  “Energerizing,” La Forge announced, and the Betazoids in the lab disappeared from their pods in a sparkling transfer of matter to energy. “We got the ones from cargo bay three, too.”

  Riker wrapped one arm around Moset, knowing the transporter would pick them up as one mass.

  The Cardassian soldiers advanced, and the fire from their weapons streaked through the lab like lightning and ricocheted dangerously close. The away team had no place to retreat.

  O’Brien checked his chronometer. “Fifty sec—”

  The engineer’s voice and matter dissolved into bubbles of dancing light. Riker felt the familiar tingle. The captain had pulled them out just in time to prevent their being overrun by the advancing Cardassians.

  Instead of finding himself in the Enterprise’s transporter room, Riker discovered his team had materialized on the bridge. The commander immediately handed the scientist over to his team’s security detail. “Lock him in the brig.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The team left the bridge with Moset, La Forge rushed to his station, and O’Brien joined him. Riker’s quick glance at the viewscreen revealed the Tulwar and Scimitar darting through space, firing at the weapons arrays of two Galor-class attack cruisers holding positions in close proximity to Sentok Nor where they had followed the Enterprise in. A Jem’Hadar attack ship nearby listed at a sharp angle, plasma streaming from its engines. With the station’s communications down, Riker realized with satisfaction, the enemy captains had received no warning that Sentok Nor’s self-destruct sequence had been activated.

  “Fifteen seconds to self-destruct.”

  “Signal the Tulwar and Scimitar to clear the area now!” Picard ordered. “Helm, go to full impulse. Get us out of here.”

  A surge of speed at one-quarter the velocity of light, and the remains of the Starfleet task force to Betazed was away.

  “Put Sentok Nor on screen,” Picard ordered.

  Riker watched, expecting the station to explode in sections. When the end came, however, due to Cardassian efficiency, the deuterium blast took out every section at the same time. The energy produced was so massive, the explosion so complete, Riker detected no pieces, no debris. Just an orb of flame that expanded outward, destroying the remaining Jem’Hadar attack ship and consuming the Cardassian cruisers.

  Within seconds, the light collapsed in upon itself. Where once had floated a massive Cardassian station, only star-dappled Betazed space, free from conquering invaders, remained.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE SUN WAS SINKING behind the Jarkana mountains when Deanna announced that they had reached the rendezvous point, a ledge overlooking the valley where she had often picnicked during her internship. A slight indentation in the cliff wall provided shelter from the elements if they had to spend the night waiting for Worf. Tevren collapsed facedown on the ledge, winded and exhausted. “This makes prison seem like a palace.”

  Data gently laid Vaughn in the shelter of the small cave, and Beverly dug out her medical kit. After examining the commander with her tricorder, she looked to Deanna with worry in her eyes. “We need to get him to a proper facility.”

  “Data?” Deanna asked.

  The android shook his head. “Still no response to my signal. You and Dr. Crusher should get some rest. I will take the watch.”

  He settled at the opening to the small cave, phaser at hand, pulled out his tricorder, and swept the valley below. Urgently, he said, “Counselor, we have a problem.”

  Deanna left Vaughn’s side and knelt beside Data. “Only one?”

  “Several, actually,” Data said, “But our most immediate is that nearly one hundred Jem’Hadar troops are advancing on our position from three directions. Our only avenue of escape is to continue climbing the mountain.”

  Beverly had joined them. “If we move Vaughn again, he’ll die.”

  “How long before the Jem’Hadar reach us?” Deanna asked.

  “Traveling at a quick march,” Data said, “not less than fifteen minutes. Unless there are shrouded soldiers closer of whom we are unaware.”

  Tevren pushed to his feet. “You have only one chance to defeat that many troops.”

  Deanna stared at him, her stomach queasy with the knowledge of what he was about to suggest.

  “Have Dr. Crusher remove this damned inhibitor from my brain,” Tevren said with a pleasant smile, “and I’ll take care of them for you.”

  Data continued to scan the countryside. “Once the Jem’Hadar reach the mountain paths, the steep terrain should slow their pace.”

  Deanna furrowed her brow. “I can’t think of a strategy to improve the odds between a hundred enemy troops and the three of us. Suggestions, Data?”

  “Ascending the mountain might buy us time,” he replied. “However, if we take Commander Vaughn, he will die from his wounds. If we leave him, the Jem’Hadar will capture or kill him.”

  “Any response to your transponder signal?”

  “None.”

  In the growing darkness, the counselor paced the rocky ledge, their rendezvous point with the Defiant, a ship that might no longer exist. Her personal survival was the least of her worries. Her orders were to deliver Tevren to the resistance, and, in addition, whatever decision she made would determine whether Elias lived or died. The more she deliberated, the more her options narrowed to the one she least wanted to consider.

  She left Data and Tevren on the ledge and entered the small cave where Beverly knelt, watching over Vaughn. “How is he?”

  “I can keep him comfortable,” Beverly said softly, her voice heavy with frustration, “but I can’t keep him alive much longer without a medical facility.”

  “Tevren’s psionic inhibitor.” The words were gall in Deanna’s mouth. “How long would you need in order to remove it?”

  Beverly had studied the device in preparation for this mission. “A few seconds.”

  Deanna nodded grimly. The time factor, at least, would work in their favor.

  The doctor sat back on her heels and stared at Deanna. “Is that your plan, for me to remove the inhibitor so Tevren can kill the Jem’Hadar?”

  “If you can think of a better one, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  Beverly shook her head, then frowned. “But what if he kills us, too?”

  With a grimace, Deanna stiffened her spine. “We’ll be no less dead than if the Jem’Hadar get us.”

  Beverly’s gaze met hers, and her friend nodded in tacit agreement. She reached for her medical kit and began rummaging through its contents. “Send him to me. I’d better get started.”

  Deanna returned to the ledge where Data stood calmly with his tricorder. His composure was a balm to Deanna’s frazzled nerves.

  “The first wave will be upon us in approximately ten minutes,” Data announced.

  Tevren stepped from the shadows of the rocks. His psionic inhibitor prevented her from reading his emotions, but she could sense his eagerness in the tension of his muscles and the anticipatory flick of his tongue across his thin lips. “You’re going to let me do it, aren’t you?”

  Deanna’s eyes bore into him. “A hundred Jem’Hadar are approaching out there. How many can you prevent from reaching our position?”

  Pride glowed on his sallow features. “All of them.”

  “And us?” Deanna asked.

  “How could you even think such a thing?” Tevren appeared offended. “I consider you my friends.”
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  From a man who had taken great delight in torturing and murdering his own parents, Deanna found his assurances unconvincing. “How close do they have to be for you to have an effect on them?”

  “They’re close enough already,” Tevren said.

  “Go to Dr. Crusher. She’ll remove your inhibitor. Data, roll these large boulders in front of the cave opening. We’ll need them as a protective barrier in case any Jem’Hadar get too close.”

  Data handed her the tricorder, and she monitored the advance of the Jem’Hadar while the android fortified their position. Suddenly a mixture of joy and hate washed over her, so powerful it almost dropped her to her knees. Beverly had disconnected Tevren’s inhibitor, and emotions emanated from him in a strength she’d never felt in another Betazoid.

  Footsteps sounded on the path beneath her, and she clambered behind the boulders and raised her rifle. Tevren had moved as close to the opening of the cave as he could without exposing himself to enemy fire. He cast her a gleeful smile, then closed his eyes.

  Within seconds, screams of agony ripped the mountainside below them. Not the sharp, abrupt cries of lives cut suddenly short, but the prolonged, suffering wails of beings in torment. For a species known for its high tolerance of pain, their anguish was testimony to Tevren’s killing skill and lack of mercy. He was extinguishing them slowly, hideously. The emotions of a hundred Jem’Hadar—anger, confusion, and excruciating pain—pummeled Deanna, assaulting her with the savageness of their deaths. Tevren’s pleasure in killing, his elation at the Jem’Hadar’s injuries, his intoxication with his own power mixed with the anguish of the dying. Sickened, she longed to slide to her knees and wretch, to cover her ears to block the horrifying screams, but she forced herself to stand watch, ready to fire on any Jem’Hadar who survived Tevren’s sadistic assault.

  The killing went on until she thought she could endure no more, and she feared her own mind would be ripped asunder by the onslaught of such intense emotions. Just as she reached the limits of her tolerance, quiet descended around her, and she sensed only Tevren’s jubilation at the success of his massacre.

  She tossed the tricorder to Data. “Anyone left out there?”

  “I will have to step outside to make a broader sweep,” Data said, “but present readings indicate no one within twenty meters.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Tevren said, “in case a squad of Jem’Hadar deshroud.”

  “Keep an eye on him,” Deanna ordered Data. “And continue signaling Worf.”

  Data nodded and stepped outside the cave with Tevren. Deanna was happy to see the killer go. His self-congratulatory smile sickened her. Even if his homicidal skills had saved them, his savage delight in the deaths of their enemies offended every moral and ethical fiber of her being.

  She glanced at Beverly, who knelt beside Vaughn, monitoring his vital signs. The usually unflappable doctor appeared badly shaken.

  “None of them died quickly, did they?” Beverly asked.

  Deanna shook her head. “Tevren saved our lives, but I’m less certain now than ever that taking him to Betazed is the right thing.”

  Beverly blinked in surprise. “You don’t intend to disobey your orders?”

  Deanna shook her head. “I’ll take him there, if Worf ever shows up to get us out of here. But I’ll present strong objections to the resistance. I don’t believe they’re fully aware of what they’ve asked for.”

  Beverly frowned at the readings on her medical tricorder. “I hope Worf comes soon.”

  Deanna nodded. She worried for Worf, and she wondered how Captain Picard and the Enterprise were faring against the Dominion fleet guarding Betazed. By now, Will and Miles and Geordi had boarded Sentok Nor, and she prayed they would survive their mission. She’d lost too many friends already, and her shipmates on the Enterprise were more than friends. They were family. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing any of them.

  Weariness seeped through her, and she shook it off. She couldn’t give in to fatigue.

  “I’ll see if Data received an answer to his signal.”

  Deanna stepped outside the cave into eerie quiet. No wind rustled the leaves, but the resinous scent of Jarkana pines filled her nostrils. Where minutes before the screams of dying soldiers had saturated the night air, not even a small animal stirred. Nor was there any sign of android or Betazoid.

  Data and Tevren had disappeared.

  The long-forgotten sounds of laughter and celebration rolled through the tunnels of the resistance stronghold, but for Lwaxana Troi, they came too late. She had not been among those who rushed to the cliff tops to watch the warships battling in the night sky above Betazed.

  Chaxaza came running to Lwaxana’s sleeping niche, her young face alight with excitement. “They’ve come, Lwaxana! The Federation has sent help. We received word from our contacts at the Ridani spaceport. Sentok Nor is destroyed.”

  With the first surge of hope in days, Lwaxana looked up from her listless son, who lay cradled in her arms. “Any contact from Starfleet?”

  Chaxaza’s glance fell on the ill youngster, and her enthusiasm wilted. “None. But it may come soon.”

  Lwaxana pushed the boy’s tousled curls back from his tiny forehead and absorbed the dry heat of his fever through the palm of her hand. “Barin is almost out of time.”

  Biting back tears, Chaxaza spun on her heel and rushed away.

  With a weariness that made her feel older than her years, Lwaxana placed Barin on his small cot and wiped his limbs with a damp cloth in a futile effort to reduce his fever.

  “Water,” he choked through a parched throat.

  Lwaxana reached for her cup and held the last drops of her water ration to his lips. He drank greedily, emptying the vessel. “More.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “There is no more, my darling Barin. Not until the men return from the river tomorrow morning.”

  The boy was too ill to protest further. He had contracted the Rigelian fever the previous day, and the disease had progressed rapidly. Without ryetalyn, he had no chance of recovery, and with the increase of Jem’Hadar patrols in every village within a hundred kilometers, no one had been able to obtain more of the medicine.

  Three other children of the resistance cell had died after the night Enaren had been forced to take Okalan’s life, but since then, the doctor had discovered an antidote. Processing a serum from a relative with a matching blood type, he had transfused antibodies from the vaccinated adults into the ailing children. The serum did not cure the fever, but it prevented the disease from killing its victims. Since the introduction of the serum, not a single child had perished.

  Until now.

  When Barin was stricken, Lwaxana had begged the doctor to use her blood to produce a serum of antibodies for her son.

  “Your son is only half Betazoid,” the physician had replied with deep sadness in his tired eyes. “An infusion of serum created under these conditions from pure Betazoid blood might kill him outright.”

  “But the fever will surely kill him if we do nothing!”

  “We must wait—”

  “For what? A miracle?”

  “There is always the possibility the next scouting party might return with ryetalyn.”

  Lwaxana had shaken her head in despair. “We might as well wish the Jem’Hadar off-planet. Both possibilities are equally remote.”

  The doctor had laid his hand on her shoulder. “You will know when the time comes. Call me. If there is no hope, then the serum will do no harm.”

  His words echoed in her memory. She felt the fever rising in Barin’s rugged little body, draining the life from him, and sensed the time to alert the doctor had come.

  Shoving wearily to her feet, she stumbled to the opening of her sleeping niche and drew back the curtain. “Chaxaza?”

  Her cousin hurried toward her from the common room, her face drawn with fear. “Barin?”

  Lwaxana shook her head. “He is still with us. But the doctor must come quickly. Please, fi
nd him.”

  She dropped the curtain and returned to her son. As a leader of her people, she was required to be strong, to represent hope, to keep up their spirits. But as a mother, she had already lost one child. Her darling Kestra had drowned when she was a beautiful little girl of seven, and her death had devastated Lwaxana so terribly, she had repressed the memory for over thirty years. As a result, Deanna had been a grown woman before she’d learned she’d had an older sister.

  Losing Kestra had almost killed Lwaxana. Compounding that blow had been the deaths of Ian Troi and Timicin, the two loves of her life. Now she faced the death of her only son, the beloved child of her older years. She knelt and buried her face in his cot, letting her tears flow.

  Footsteps sounded in the tunnel, and the fabric covering the sleeping niche was brushed aside. With tear-stained cheeks, Lwaxana glanced up, expecting to see the doctor.

  Instead, she discovered Sorana Xerix, but the woman lacked her usual haughty expression. Worry lined her forehead and bracketed her mouth, and her eyes were moist with unshed tears. “I brought you this.”

  In stunned surprise, Lwaxana accepted the bowl Sorana handed her. “But this is your entire day’s water ration.”

  “I regret it’s all I have to give.”

  With a cry of gratitude, Lwaxana wet her almost dry cloth and sponged her toddler’s searing flesh. Then she tilted Barin’s head for a long drink.

  “The doctor is gathering his medical kit,” Sorana said. “He’ll be here soon.”

  She turned to leave, then hesitated in the opening. “It’s not good to be alone at such a time. If you wish, I’ll stay with you.”

  “Please.” Lwaxana gestured toward the niche’s only chair.

  With a nod, Sorana took the seat, her presence surprisingly comforting.

  “We’ve had our differences,” Lwaxana admitted. “Why are you here now?”

  “Because we also have shared tragedy,” Sorana said. “Like you, I lost a child when I was much younger, but one does not forget the pain.”

  Lwaxana gazed at Barin, lying too quiescent on his tiny cot. “I’ve lost one child,” she said fiercely. “I refuse to give up another.”