Star Trek - TNG - Vendetta

by Peter David

  all its force, and they resisted with everything they had.

  Dantar had grabbed the nearest piece of

  furniture, but in so doing had lost his grip on

  his blasters. He watched in horrified

  helplessness as the weapons skidded across the floor

  and out into the vast of space.

  Reannon had been closest to the window, and she

  was yanked up off her feet. Her arm went through the

  hole and her head was about to follow, when a screaming

  Geordi La Forge leaped forward, heedless of his

  own safety, and grabbed her by the leg. Geordi

  then lashed out with his own foot, hoping to hook it

  around a table leg, and he missed. He was dragged

  forward inexorably by the pull of the air and then

  stopped as Data clamped his hand onto

  Geordi's ankle. Data, for his part, had

  sunk his fingers right into the table top and wasn't

  budging. Guinan was holding on fixedly also, her

  flowing gown whipping around her, and she was trying

  to shout something that no one could make out.

  Data, Geordi, and Reannon formed a

  human chain, Reannon suspended in midair,

  one arm out the window, the rest of her barely

  anchored within the safety of Ten-Forward. And even

  that safety was becoming questionable. Her feet were

  floating above the floor as the air rushed around

  her, her head bumping up against the window.

  Geordi was shouting her name, his fingers quickly

  becoming numb as the temperature dropped.

  He thought he was that way for months, years.

  Actually, it was barely seconds, and then the great

  pull of space promptly ceased. Reannon

  thudded heavily to the floor, doing nothing to break

  her fall, and there was an audible hiss as air

  flooded back into Ten-Forward to replace that which

  had been sucked out into space.

  Geordi knew that as the emergency systems of the

  Enterprise kicked in, a force shield

  sprang into existence directly over the hole,

  re-establishing hull integrity until an

  emergency crew could arrive to more permanently

  repair the breech.

  Geordi let out a gasp and released his grip

  on Reannon's leg. Then he flexed his fingers

  to try and get the blood flowing again, and even as he

  did so he was calling out, "Is everyone okay?

  Everyone all right?"

  There were ragged cries of confirmation from all

  around, as the shaken crew members verified that they

  were in one piece.

  Dantar was lying on the floor, staring up at the

  ceiling. "Did I kill her?" he was moaning

  over and over again. "Did I kill her? Can my

  family rest now?"

  "Your family!" shouted Geordi from across the

  room on the floor. He put one hand down

  to start and push himself upwards. "Your family would

  be thrilled to know you've turned into a--"

  And then he stopped as his hand felt something warm

  and wet and sticky beneath it. His head snapped around,

  trying to discern the source. And when he realized

  what it was, he shouted out, "Data!" with more

  alarm than the android had ever heard in the chief

  engineer's voice.

  Reannon was lying on the floor, blood

  pouring from her left shoulder, a shoulder that had no

  arm.

  She didn't know enough to cry out in pain or

  shriek. She merely stared at the absence of

  appendage with a kind of distant fascination, as if

  it were happening to someone else.

  Instantly Geordi realized what had

  occurred. When there was a breech of hull

  integrity, the force field covered over that breech

  and sealed it off. It had also tried to push

  Reannon's arm back in--but instead, the arm had

  been sheared off as it was shoved up against the jagged

  remains of the transparent aluminum window.

  "Data!" Geordi cried out, not exactly

  sure what he expected the android to do. Data,

  however, did something immediately. He moved quickly

  to Reannon and lifted her up in his powerful arms.

  Within moments the front of his uniform was soaked red

  with blood.

  Geordi was on his feet, tapping his

  communicator and alerting Crusher that he was on his

  way down to sickbay with the severely injured

  Reannon. They ran out just as Worf and the

  security team ran in. Worf's face

  registered amazement for just a moment as he saw the

  truncated stump that had once been Reannon's

  arm, and then Geordi and Data were gone.

  Data's legs were churning up distance with formidable

  speed, and it was all that Geordi could do to keep

  up.

  Worf's face returned to the normal

  Klingon scowl with which he was far more comfortable, and then

  he and the security team strode across the

  Ten-Forward lounge to the prostrate form of

  Dantar. A crewman was sitting flat

  on top of the Penzatti to make sure he

  didn't go anywhere. They needn't have worried.

  Dantar was still asking over and over again whether the

  Borg was dead and his family avenged.

  Worf frowned, an expression only

  slightly different from his normal one. If the

  Penzatti man had lost his mind, or was even

  faking having lost his mind as a bid for sympathy,

  he was about to find Worf an extremely

  unsympathetic audience.

  Dantar looked up at him, wide-eyed, and in

  a broken voice he said, "They kept crying out

  to me. The soul s of my family, crying out. They

  wouldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Are they at rest

  now? Are they?"

  "Yes," said Worf with no trace of

  patience. "Their souls are resting comfortably in the

  brig, and you'll be joining them momentarily." And

  without another word he hauled the Penzatti male

  to his feet and dragged him out of Ten-Forward.

  Picard entered sickbay and walked directly

  to Geordi, who was standing outside the operating

  room, unable to bring himself to go in and witness firsthand

  how things were going. Data was with him, having had no

  particular compunction about entering the operating room,

  but sensing that his friend could use whatever support

  Data's presence might entail.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Fine, Captain. A little shaky, but fine."

  "Guinan said the Penzatti was wielding some

  sort of blasters," said Picard. "Where the

  devil did he get them?"

  Geordi cleared his throat. "I did some

  checking on that," he said. "They were being stored in the

  armory, and entrance to the armory is governed

  by computer access. But the Penzatti have always been

  extremely good with computers, and Dantar managed

  to discover the access codes and get in to retrieve

  them. It's moot at this point. I saw them get

  sucked out into space."

  "I want the access code changed--"

  "Already done, sir."

  Picard nodded approvingly. "Good. And I


  understand Mr. Worf has attended to new living

  arrangements for our rather aggressive guest. So the

  remaining problem is our former Borg patient."

  Crusher emerged from the operating room, having

  already disposed of her bloody garments and switched

  to fresh ones. Normally the fields that were

  generated around the operating arena cleansed wounds

  immediately. But when a patient was bleeding as

  profusely as this one was, one couldn't help but

  get her hands dirty.

  She came straight towards Geordi, her

  fury boiling over. "You said you could take care of

  her!" she said angrily. "You said you'd be

  responsible! You stood right here and sweet-talked

  me about all the good you were going to do her. A fat

  lot of good you've done so far, wouldn't you say,

  engineer?"

  "I saved her life!" protested Geordi.

  "Doesn't that count for something?"

  "I sent a woman out of here with two good arms

  and she came back with one. That's what counts."

  "Mr. La Forge is clearly upset with what

  happened, Doctor," Picard said with command

  firmness. "I hardly think it necessary to berate

  him."

  "You're not the one who was ankle-deep in

  blood," said Crusher.

  "I sure was!" said Geordi hotly.

  "There was blood on my hands, and on my uniform,

  and on my conscience, because all I was trying to do was

  help this woman and instead she keeps getting

  injured while in my care. So you want to heap

  guilt on me, Doctor? Go ahead. Go right

  ahead. Because it's only going to be a fraction of

  what I've already heaped on myself."

  She pursed her lips and then stepped to one

  side. "You want to go in and see her? Go in and

  see her."

  Geordi nodded briskly and then went past them

  and into the operating room.

  Crusher watched him go and then shook her head.

  "I don't get it," she said. "I just don't

  get it. What is this fixation that Geordi's

  developed on this woman?"

  "He fixes things," said Picard with a shrug.

  "He lives every day with something that repairs his

  eyesight. Plus he has his duties as chief

  engineer which, at its core, means that he is in

  charge of all sorts of repairs. So instead of a

  broken machine, he sees a broken human, and

  he feels the need to repair her."

  "It may be something else as well," said

  Data thoughtfully. "It may be that when he looks

  at her, he sees her in a way that we do not, and

  perceives possibilities where others would only

  see ..."--and he paused, searching for the

  right word--"... windmills," he finished.

  Inside the operating room, Reannon was

  sitting up. And she was staring.

  "How are you, Reannon?" asked Geordi.

  In his mind he heard the saucy voice of the

  holodeck Reannon replying, "Just fine, how

  the hell are you?" Here, though, in the real world, he

  was getting nothing.

  She continued to stare, and Geordi realized that

  she was looking at something very specific. She was

  looking at her arm.

  "It was the best I could do on short notice,"

  came Crusher's voice. Behind her, Geordi

  heard the distinctive footfalls of Picard and

  Data. "Given time, I can clone her a new

  arm once I've had time to grow skin samples.

  Or, if she decides to stay with this, I can

  create skin grafts over it to hide the metal.

  It'll take a bit of experimenting to match her rather

  pale complexion, but I can do it. No one will

  even know it's a prosthesis."

  Reannon was studying her new arm. Its ribbed

  metal sections glinted in the soft light of the

  sickbay operating theater. The fingers came

  to slight points rather than the rounded edges of

  normal fingers, and when she closed her hand into a

  fist, it made a soft clacking sound.

  "She appears much more attentive to objects

  and the world than she did before," observed Picard.

  "Obviously her time with Mr. La Forge is

  having some degree of positive influence." The

  remark was aimed rather pointedly at Crusher.

  It was a mild barb that was not lost on her. "So

  it would seem," she admitted. "Still, I'd feel

  more comfortable if Deanna had some time with her.

  Psychology is her field, not Geordi's."

  "The Counselor wasn't picking up anything

  from her earlier," said Picard, "but it's more than

  possible that--"

  "Look!" Crusher said suddenly.

  Reannon was staring at her mechanical hand,

  and the edges of her lips had turned up ever so

  slightly.

  "She is smiling," observed Data. "That is

  the first significant facial reaction that she

  has displayed."

  "She is smiling," said Crusher, regarding

  Reannon closely. "I'll be. All right,

  Geordi, you have my full apologies. You're

  clearly making headway with her."

  "No, I'm not," said Geordi sourly.

  They looked at him with surprise. "How can you

  say that?" asked Crusher. "To get an emotional

  response from someone who seemed as brain-dead as

  ..."

  "Yeah, but don't you see what she was

  responding to?" He took the metal hand

  firmly in his own. "She's happy because she has

  a part attached to her that's mechanical.

  Artificial. She's smiling because whatever part of

  her is alive in there is happy because she's taken

  her first step back towards being a cybernetic

  organism."

  "You're saying that--" began Picard.

  And Geordi nodded. "Yeah. The only

  reason she's displaying any sort of emotion is

  because she thinks she's taken the first step toward

  becoming a Borg again. And she's happy about it."

  He released her hand and, with a discouraged shake

  of his head, walked out of the operating room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "That's all we can tell you, Jean-Luc. I

  wish we knew more."

  The face of Ariel Taggert was on the screen,

  having replaced the image of moments ago of the

  Repulse hanging in space, moving at

  one-half impulse power. When the Enterprise

  had arrived in the Kalish star system and found a

  battered starship and several planets missing, they

  had thought the worst ... until they managed to open

  a channel to the Repulse and learn that loss of

  life had been minimal. "It's a big monster,

  and it's powerful," continued Taggert. "I've fed

  you all the specs that our sensors were able to pick

  up. When we last saw it, it was heading out of the

  system at two-eleven mark four."

  Data, seated at ops, quickly ran the

  coordinates through on his charts. "Captain," he

  said, and then amended, "Captains," since the comment

  was really addressed to both of them, "that would be in

  line with our projected origin of the device."

/>   "Device." Taggert shook her head. "A

  chronometer is a device. This thing was a

  monstrosity. This thing, and whoever was

  controlling it."

  "You definitely communicated with it," said

  Picard.

  "Ooooh yes. And it had a few choice words

  for us that, boiled down, amounted to, "Stay the

  hell out of my way." If she's out for the

  Borg, then I certainly wouldn't want to be in

  the Borg's shoes."

  I've been there, and I wouldn't want to be

  there again, either, Picard thought. Out loud, he said,

  "Shall we take you in tow, Ariel?"

  She made a dismissive wave. "Save your

  energy. We'll have repairs effected within

  twelve hours to be on our way again. Besides, in

  the condition we're in right now, we wouldn't do you a

  damned bit of good. A few phaser shots and some

  maneuvering tricks aren't going to help. Not that

  attacking that thing with all systems go would do you any

  good."

  "It's that powerful?"

  "Oh yes," she said with quiet conviction.

  "I've never seen anything like it, Jean-Luc.

  Not ever. You can't stop it. No one can stop it."

  "We'll have to try."

  "Then God watch over you, Picard."

  "If he will. Enterprise out."

  Ariel's image vanished, replaced by the

  Repulse, and Picard turned to Data.

  "Mr. Data, what will be the next star system that

  the planet-killer encounters?"

  Data didn't even have to glance. "If it

  continues its present course, the planet-killer

  will next enter Tholian space."

  "Oh, wonderful," said Riker. "They'll be

  thrilled to help out."

  "Sarcasm, Number One? Perhaps you can

  employ it against the planet-killer," Picard

  said.

  "From what Captain Taggert was saying,

  phasers and photon torpedoes had no effect,"

  Riker said drily. "Perhaps other weapons might

  be in order."

  "I'll have Mr. La Forge prepare some

  slingshots. Mr. Data, set course on

  two-eleven mark four. Warp factor seven."

  He pointed slightly in that small shooting motion

  he'd developed. "Engage," he said.

  The Enterprise leaped into warp space and was

  gone.

  Taggert watched them go, then said, "Bridge

  to sickbay. How you doing down there, Kate?"

  "Holdi ng up," came Pulaski's reply.

  "You didn't send us as many injuries as I

  figured you would."

  "I'm mellowing in my old age," said

  Taggert.

  "Old age beats the alternative."