La Forge next focused his senses on what was happening above him. Brief flashes of light reflected off the rocks and edge of the crater, but they were too diffuse for him to have a real sense of what was occurring. He imagined a Maquis assault on the fighter, but the Cardassian ship was too powerful.
A shudder radiated through the ground. Rocks rolled down the crater’s sides, plumes of dust rose high enough for La Forge to see them from his position. With his comm system down, he had no idea what it was but thought perhaps somehow the fighter crashed. The silence was driving him nuts with his heavy breathing the only sound.
Slowly, he regained his footing and decided he needed to risk climbing back up and take a visual sweep of the vicinity. After all, his tricorder was in the case, which remained on the surface, and he prayed it remained undamaged.
The climb was harder than he had expected even with the lighter gravity. He tried not to favor his left leg and went for as steady a climb as possible, despite the pain. His effort took, he estimated, some twenty minutes, but he managed to reach the top and then braced himself, slowly raising his helmet above the rim.
Not that far away and fortunately nowhere near the Anaximenes, he saw the wreckage of what had been the Cardassian fighter. Somehow, it had been hit and damaged enough to cause it to smash into the surface. Arcing energy and gouts of fire erupted, only to be snuffed out in the vacuum. He studied the wreckage through the gray haze created by the dust and could see no survivors emerging. He saw no one at all on the surface, so whoever fired must have done so from one or both of the Maquis ships. If anything, it evened the odds a bit, with now four Cardassian fighters versus the Anaximenes and the two Maquis ships. He still didn’t like their chances and wouldn’t breathe easier until they were en route to Deep Space 9.
La Forge pushed past his pain, figuring there’d be at least some first-aid supplies on either ship. All he wanted right now was to reach the damaged ship, strip off the space suit, and have a drink of cool water. Simple enough, he considered, but not something that would happen while rooted to the dusty surface.
He felt stiff and could only imagine the bruises he would be sporting for the next few days. Slowly, he looked over the surface and sought his tool kit. He would need that if he ever reached the Maquis and, after all, it was his favorite kit and he would be damned if it got left behind on this oversized rock.
Once he retrieved it, he started moving slowly, gaining a sense of rhythm and momentum. He focused on the size of the ship growing in his field of vision. Each step made it incrementally larger, a tangible sign he was making progress. He focused everything on moving forward and not slowing down.
As he neared the ship, he began looking for a hatch to gain admittance. With his comm down, he couldn’t ask them to open the door, and transporters were most certainly out. He found his target and adjusted his angle. There were no portholes, no way to communicate visually with the ship’s complement, so he only hoped they recognized his suit and did not mistake him for a Cardassian survivor. Each step that was not met with a burst of fire was welcomed, and La Forge trudged forward.
Finally, the hatch cracked open and smoothly slid into position, granting him access to the interior. Glowing green lights let him know that the air had been cycled out and it was safe to come aboard. Gratefully, he stepped inside. The door silently slid closed, and the green light switched to amber, then quickly to red. La Forge stood still, his breathing hard, his heart beating faster.
Seconds ticked by, and finally the light switched back to green and a second door spiraled open to grant him access to the ship proper. On the other side of the doorway stood Riker with a Tellarite. Only one of them was smiling.
“Welcome aboard, Geordi,” Riker said.
“Thanks, Commander,” Geordi replied.
“You look a little beat up.”
“I feel worse. I hope this ship has first-aid supplies—I hurt my ankle.”
“Poor baby,” the Tellarite said in his gruff voice.
“Geordi La Forge, this is Tregaar, one of the Maquis leaders and our guide.”
“Swell,” La Forge said by way of greeting and began to take off his gloves. He winced as he found a new bruise and strained muscle.
“You don’t expect to just litter that thing around the airlock,” Tregaar said with a derisive snort.
“Of course not. Just show me a locker,” La Forge said without much emotion. The Maquis pointed to a locker across the corridor, and he shuffled in that direction, finally taking time to notice the rank air. At least there was plenty of it. And then he began adding things to his to-do list, objecting to its growing size.
As he shucked off the suit, carefully checking it for rips and serious damage, La Forge asked, “How’d you gun down the fighter?”
“Thank Daniels,” Riker replied, a sparkle of admiration in his eye. “We must have spotted it around the time you did. He suited up and grabbed their most powerful weapon, a Klingon disruptor rifle. You should have seen him, standing atop the ship and taking careful aim. I bet only Data or Worf could have shot with better accuracy.”
“Thanks for the compliment, sir,” Daniels said, climbing up from a hatchway.
“More than deserved,” Riker responded.
“I have to thank you for your help, Geordi.”
La Forge blinked. “Me? How?”
“They were so busy concentrating on you they never noticed me. I had several clear shots, which allowed me to take out their engines. They never imagined needing shields given the easy pickings.”
“Glad to be of help,” La Forge said, then winced as he eased his injured left leg out of the suit.
“Let me help you,” Daniels said, kneeling and helping the engineer get rid of the last pieces of the suit. He then secured everything in the locker while Riker took a grateful La Forge to their medical bay for some quick treatment.
“You know this means they likely told the others where we are,” Tregaar complained as they walked.
“I suspect they were arrogant enough not to mention anything, assuming they could gloat after the kill,” Riker said. La Forge just wanted the bickering to stop so he could concentrate on his body, then the ship. Politics could wait.
“You hope,” the Tellarite said.
“That I do.”
They reached what was essentially a small alcove with a single medical bed. Riker helped La Forge up and they were joined by a Bolian woman who introduced herself as Mesit, the closest thing they had to a medical officer. She was an older woman, her blue skin showing darker blue, almost purple, age spots. Mesit was missing an ear, and her neck showed badly healed scars.
Still, she seemed to know what she was doing, examining his foot and ankle, then taping it tightly. She measured out a dose of medicine and efficiently gave him an injection. Almost immediately, many of the aches stopped clamoring for attention. He was grateful for that and nodded in appreciation. She ignored the gesture.
“You look dehydrated. Drink,” she said in a slightly accented voice. A small cup of water was thrust his way, and as he sipped at it, the coolness of the liquid made him feel better. She gave him a second injection.
“What was that?” Riker asked.
“A basic dosage of vitamins. He’s here to fix the engine, and I’d rather not report to the engine room that he fainted.”
“Thank you again,” La Forge said, sincerely this time.
Again she ignored him and decided she was done. Mesit walked away as silently as she arrived, leaving the three Starfleet officers and Tregaar alone.
“Are you ready to work?” Tregaar asked.
“The sooner the better,” La Forge replied, annoyed at the expectations. Still, a deal was a deal, and he really would rather not leave them to be easy targets for the Cardassians, personal feelings aside.
The Maquis ship wasn’t very big, he noted. It housed at best twenty crew, and the ship probably topped out at warp six-point-five. The ship was probably also purchased (or sto
len) used, and none of the crew was skilled maintenance staff. No one seemed able to use cleansers either.
The door irised open and he could hear misfiring injectors before seeing anything. Coolant leaks were also apparent, adding a fresh scent to the air, tempting him to clean the atmospheric exchange system first, but he doubted Tregaar would approve. La Forge looked around from the doorway and then hobbled inside. One lone man, another Bolian, was fiddling with a pile of isolinear chips, but La Forge couldn’t figure out what he was doing.
He walked over to the master control board, set down his beloved tool kit, and snapped it open. Feeling much more in his element, he withdrew his tricorder and achieved a connection with the ship’s systems. On the board itself, he ran the routine master diagnostic before going through things system by system.
Feeling several pairs of eyes on him, he looked over his shoulder. “Guys, this is gonna take a while.”
Riker got the hint and led the others out of the engine room. As the door closed, La Forge leaned back and relaxed for the first time that day.
Riker excused himself to return to the command center to talk with Maass and await La Forge’s report. That left Daniels with Tregaar, who looked none too pleased to have the security chief standing in the same corridor with him.
“What’s your problem?” Daniels asked.
“Nothing,” Tregaar said.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
They walked aimlessly through the ship’s corridors, every now and then passing another member of the Maquis crew. Most matched the Tellarite’s scowl and look of disapproval at Daniels being aboard.
“It’s not easy having you here,” Tregaar finally said.
“You represent the enemy.”
“Starfleet shouldn’t be anyone’s enemy,” Daniels said. “We’re largely an exploration operation.”
“Right. When was the last time you did any of that, mister security man?”
“I’ll admit our main mission has been set aside, but it’s not like we invited the Dominion to the quadrant. Do you really think we go looking for fights?”
“Don’t you?”
“No, and I object to your tone, mister angry at the galaxy,” Daniels shot back. “Really, what’s your problem with us?”
“You abandoned the people living in the DMZ. You let the Cardassians in and preferred politics to actual protection,” Tregaar said, his tone actually softening as they spoke. They stopped by a room filled with containers of different shapes and colors. There were two straight-backed chairs in and around the stuff. He gestured and Daniels gratefully sat.
“Which world were you on?”
“Tellar,” Tregaar said.
“Then you’re not even affected by this,” Daniels said, more than a little surprised.
“I grew…disillusioned…when I saw how my government could willingly abandon its people rather than fight a recognized evil. I attended many meetings, heard a lot of provocative ideas…”
“So you just bought into the rabble-rousers. Did you even bother to ask any of the residents what it was really like there?”
“No, no I didn’t,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I needed to. The news services more than clearly showed how hard things were getting. And then as time passed, the DMZ protests remained but the main coverage diminished. There were other things for them to waste time on, like the elections.”
“So you just up and left home to become what, a freedom fighter? I don’t get it, Tregaar. Let’s say the Maquis win, whatever it is they want. Let’s say it’s dumping both the Cardassians and Federation out of the DMZ. People move back to Salva II and everyone can prosper without fear. What happens to you?”
The Tellarite stared at Daniels, anger in his eyes. He breathed deeply several times, looking ready to yell or leap across the space. Daniels tensed, expecting the argument to become a brawl. Instead, his host seemed to calm down and finally form a reply.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Then what are you fighting for?”
“I want them at least to have a chance,” Tregaar said, practically imploring Daniels to understand. “It’s all they deserve. I want the original agreements followed. What about you, great explorer? You’re in security, the strong-arm division of Starfleet. What do you get out of exploration?”
“I want galactic peace,” Daniels said, somewhat challenging Tregaar. “Neither one of us are likely to get that.”
“You certainly knew how to handle that disruptor,” Tregaar said, with a hint of admiration.
“I wouldn’t be much of a security officer if I couldn’t hit a target that big,” Daniels said.
At that, Tregaar actually laughed.
“Commander, we have a problem,” La Forge said over the combadge.
“What’s wrong, Geordi?”
“Better you come and take a look.”
Riker looked at Maass, who nodded and rose from his chair. Together the two men walked down the decks to the opposite end of the ship in silence. They’d pretty much said what they needed to, aired out their sides.
When they reached the engine room, La Forge was the only one in sight and then only his legs were visible. The rest of him seemed deep inside an open manifold, one foot moving back and forth, keeping silent time.
“We’re here, Geordi,” Riker called.
The engineer wriggled out of the tight space and shook his head in resignation. As he got to his feet, Riker could see he was still favoring his injured leg.
“Basically, this system has been held together with spit and baling wire long enough for the wire to rust. They don’t have the replacement parts to make this thing spaceworthy, and neither do we.”
“What happened? It was fine before we were forced to land,” Maass demanded, his tone adding an unspoken accusation.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” La Forge said.
“Essentially, once this ship landed, and real gravity took hold, things settled, and not for the better. I don’t think this can generate enough thrust to lift off, let alone break orbit.”
“A tractor beam could help,” Maass said.
“Maybe, but you’re putting the crew at risk, not to mention possibly warping the hull’s integrity. That neutrino leak isn’t going away and is going to get worse. You’re low on deuterium and the Bussard collector was damaged in the landing. The injectors look like they haven’t been serviced since installation. Want me to go on?”
Maass seemed resigned. “What can we do?”
“I recommend you guys pile into the other ship and get out of here. Maybe we can fake some life signs and let the Cardassians blow this one up and let you escape.”
“Nice idea,” Riker said.
But Maass was shaking his head. “The other ship has fifteen people on it and it’s built for twenty. Where am I supposed to put everyone?”
“We can take a few,” Riker offered.
“You’d do that?”
Riker felt himself flush with anger and frustration so tried to control his voice when he replied. “Do you honestly think we’re going to abandon you on this moon to certain death?”
Maass was silenced and merely shook his head.
“What shape is the other ship in?” La Forge asked cautiously.
“Better than this,” Maass said.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” La Forge said.
“We don’t have time for me to take a look.”
“It’ll fly fine,” Tregaar said with defiance.
La Forge shrugged at Riker.
The first officer tapped his combadge. “Riker to Daniels. Report to the engine room.”
“Aye, sir.”
Moments later, it seemed, Daniels and Tregaar arrived, both looking curious. Riker quickly outlined the ship’s dire condition and the need to split the crew between the other Maquis ship and the shuttle.
“How many can you take?” Maass asked.
“Five, for a brief period. It’ll be a litt
le uncomfortable,” Riker said.
“Tregaar, take Kalita and three others and follow the commander to his craft. I’ll evacuate the others with as much of the supplies as is practical.”
“Sir,” Daniels said, “by the time we’re ready to lift, the Cardassian sensors should all be back to normal. Not only will they be looking for us, but they’ll wonder what happened to their fighter. Getting out of the system won’t be easy.”
“Since when is our mission supposed to be easy?” Riker locked eyes with Maass. “We’ll get everyone out.”
“Understood.”
As they set about their work, Riker wondered if he had enough tricks up his sleeve to get them out and survive. Or was that asking for one miracle too many?
CHAPTER
6
“Tell me you have EVA suits,” Daniels said to Kalita.
She glared at him in response, then walked three meters away and pulled open a locker that contained a set of gear. Without a word, she tossed pieces to Tregaar and then grabbed a set for herself.
La Forge and Daniels shared exasperated looks while Riker was introduced to the other three who were to be their guest on the Anaximenes. One was a young human woman, barely out of her teens, the second was another Tellarite, and the final person was a Deltan man with the largest biceps the commander had ever seen.
“Geordi, is Maass’s idea a practical one?”
La Forge thought a moment, rubbing his chin, a habit Riker recognized all too readily. The delay told him that his engineer had ideas, probably several, considering the ship wasn’t in great shape to begin with.
“Yes, sir,” La Forge said. “I would think we can rig a time-delayed overload of the engine. I want us well away from here before the antimatter pod ruptures.”
“How big a yield would the blast be?”
“I see where you’re going,” Daniels jumped in. “The blast would most certainly reach the fighter and take it as well, making for a bigger burst.”
“Big enough to attract the Cardassians’ attention and let us slip away,” Riker said. “You know, I forgot you were our resident demolitions expert.”
A Weary Life Page 5