Invasion!, Book Two: The Soldiersof Fear

by Kristine Kathhryn Rusch

  “Captain,” Data said, as if the captain hadn’t heard. “The ship is heading back to the other ships near the Furies Point.”

  Picard said nothing. He watched the screen.

  “Shall I fire, sir?”

  Again, Picard did not respond. His face, which earlier had been a mix of emotions, held none now.

  “Do you think this a ploy, sir?” Riker asked.

  Picard let out his breath. He had obviously been holding it.

  “We’ve lost shields on decks four, five, and six,” Data said.

  That seemed to snap Picard to attention. The ship continued to head toward the Furies Point.

  “Shall I fire, sir?” Worf’s voice held a barely contained disdain. If he were alone, Worf clearly would have finished off the second Fury ship.

  “No, Mr. Worf.” Picard returned to his seat. “Unlock torpedoes and resume our previous position.”

  He did not take his gaze from the screen. Riker glanced at it again. The Fury ship took its place in front of the third ship. Somehow it seemed out of place there, as if the formation were incomplete.

  Which, Riker supposed, it was.

  “We surprised them, Number One,” Picard said. “We won’t be able to do that again.”

  Riker swallowed. The fear returned, if only for a moment. “I know,” he said. But the surprise had gotten them this far.

  “Mr. Data,” Picard said, “how long until the Madison and Idaho arrive?”

  “Fifty-two minutes, sir,” Data said.

  The attack had taken less than ten minutes. Riker returned to his chair. Somehow it felt as if it had taken longer than that.

  “The Klingon ships will arrive at the same time,” Worf said.

  “Thank you,” Picard said. “Mr. Data, have you an estimate on how long it will take until that wormhole is large enough to let more Fury ships into the sector?”

  “According to my calculations, sir, the wormhole will allow a Fury ship to pass through within eighty-one minutes. I do not know, however, what the status of the wormhole is on the other end.”

  Eighty-one minutes. Riker glanced at the screen. The four ships hung in space, the wormhole invisible near them. It was growing rapidly, and once it reached the right size, an invasion force of unparalleled proportions just might come through to enslave the sector.

  And at the moment, the Enterprise was the only thing that stood in its way.

  He finally understood how the Klingons felt all those centuries ago, facing the invading Herq. Insignificant.

  Doomed to failure without a lucky break.

  “I hope your estimates are right, Mr. Data.”

  Data swiveled in his chair. “Why would I report incorrect estimates, sir?”

  Riker shook his head. The others on the bridge knew what Picard had meant. If the timing was somehow off, if the wormhole was growing geometrically instead of arithmetically, then the Furies would arrive before the reinforcements. The rout would be ugly.

  It would make the attack on Brundage Station look like an evening on Risa.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “THAT WAS CLOSE,” La Forge said. He closed the panel he had been working on, and collapsed in a chair beside it.

  Redbay used the laser driver to lock the panel closed. His shirt was plastered to his back. La Forge was right. That had been close. Too close.

  When Picard gave them only five seconds to modify the shields, Redbay had thought it impossible. La Forge hadn’t even blinked. Two seconds later, five levels of shields had failed, and La Forge was still working. Four seconds after that, La Forge had effected most of the changes.

  “I thought you said you needed ten seconds,” Redbay had said.

  “Captains always shave time off estimates,” La Forge said. “Build a bit of shave into your estimates and you look like a miracle worker.”

  “I never would have thought of that,” Redbay had said.

  “Neither would I,” La Forge said, moving to a new panel, “but an expert once assured me it would work. And believe me, it has. Every time.”

  Now La Forge was staring at the main console. Redbay slipped into a nearby chair and called up schematics on his console. Something about the Furies’ attack worried him. The shield failures should not have happened, at least not so rapidly. The Furies had somehow interfered with the shield harmonics. Even with the shield failures, though, the block that he and La Forge had set up continued to work. But he doubted it would work much longer.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of engineering. Three crew members were rebuilding the damaged portion of the shields. Several others were still working on the warp core. They had lost four members of their staff to the initial terror, not counting the folks who were already out sick.

  He turned his attention back to the console before him. “It amazes me that they weren’t able to demolish all our shields,” he said.

  “I’ll wager they didn’t think they needed to,” La Forge said. He looked preoccupied, his fingers dancing across the console as he worked. “They thought we were terrified of them. One blast should have convinced us to surrender.”

  Redbay nodded. That made sense, but it still didn’t get at what was eating him. He was missing something.

  “But if they come back any time soon, they’ll get us,” La Forge said. “Our emotion block is eroding. I think it’ll deteriorate within ten minutes.”

  That was what he had been missing. Redbay glanced over at La Forge’s console. La Forge was right. They would lose their main protection soon.

  “Fixing it shouldn’t be hard,” Redbay said. On his console he sketched a plan for repair that would leave both the shields and their emotional protection in place.

  “Good idea,” La Forge said, “but you want to tell me how we’re going to do that without shutting down the shields while we repair them?”

  Redbay’s mouth instantly went dry. The terror had eased for him; he now only felt a slight undercurrent of anxiety, less than he had felt as a cadet in the Academy. But he never wanted to feel that kind of terror again.

  Ever.

  “It’s not possible,” Redbay said.

  “I know,” La Forge said. He took a deep breath, then tapped his comm badge.

  “La Forge to bridge.”

  “Picard here.”

  “Captain,” La Forge said. “We’re going to lose our shields in the next ten minutes. I can repair them, but I’ll have to shut them off while we’re working on them.”

  “We can’t do that, Mr. La Forge.”

  Redbay could almost believe he heard a slight note of panic in the captain’s voice. Picard had understood at once that if they lowered their shields, the wave of terror would again hit the crew full force.

  “We can, sir,” La Forge said, “if we move away from the Furies Point.”

  Redbay felt some of the tension in his back ease. La Forge was right. Moving them would help.

  “Mr. La Forge,” Picard said, “I’m given to understand that the beam the Furies have leveled on us expands at greater distances. We would have to go well into the sector to outfly it. We don’t have the time.”

  “The beam weakens as it stretches, sir,” La Forge said.

  Redbay was punching numbers into his console as fast as he could. They could survive the pressure if it remained the same as it was here.

  “I am not convinced, Mr. La Forge.”

  Within seconds Redbay found that spot and pointed it out to La Forge on the screen.

  La Forge nodded and gave Redbay the thumbs-up. “Sir, we don’t have to go far. If we travel seven minutes at warp eight directly away from the Furies Point, we’ll arrive at a place where the beam is the same level of intensity as what we’re feeling now with the shields up. It won’t take us long to fix the shields. I think we’d be back here within half an hour.”

  There was silence on the other end. La Forge glanced at Redbay.

  “Why isn’t he answering?” Redbay whispered. He could feel his stomach
clamping up at the thought of dropping the terror shield this close to the Fury ships.

  “He’s checking to see what the reinforcements are doing,” La Forge whispered back.

  “All right, Mr. La Forge,” Picard said. “We will leave this site for exactly one half hour. No more. Is that understood?”

  “Clearly, sir.”

  “You are making new modifications on the shields, is that correct?”

  Yes, sir.”

  “Then send the changes, encoded, to the incoming starships. We want them to be as protected as they can be when they meet the Furies.”

  “Aye, sir,” La Forge said.

  Picard signed off.

  “Mr. Anderson,” La Forge said, “you will monitor our changes over here, and encode them for the other starships.”

  Anderson left his post near the warp core. “But sir, the core still needs repair.”

  “This is top priority, Anderson,” La Forge said.

  “Aye, sir.” Anderson pulled over one more chair, took the remaining console, and waited.

  At that moment, the engines wailed, like wind through a cave, as the ship went to warp speed and headed away from the Furies Point.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Redbay said. He’d heard warp drives sound a thousand times better on freighters.

  “It’ll be all right,” La Forge said. “She’s a good ship.”

  Redbay frowned at La Forge. “She might be a good ship, but that doesn’t mean I trust my life to her when she’s damaged.”

  La Forge grinned. “Neither would I,” he said. “But I inspected the warp core. The damage is superficial and very noisy. Our concern is these shields. We have to make these modifications rapidly and precisely in order for the work to be completed in that short timeline.”

  Anderson glanced at La Forge. He obviously heard the undertone in La Forge’s voice. If the repairs weren’t made and made correctly, not only would the crew of the Enterprise suffer, but so would the crews of the Idaho and the Madison.

  “Nothing like a little pressure,” Redbay said, “to keep the job interesting.”

  La Forge slapped him on the back. “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Redbay shook his head. He was doing anything but enjoying it. How had Will managed this all these years? Flying test models of new shuttles suddenly looked very relaxing. His old friend was a very strong person.

  The air was thick and teemed with food. Dea had done her job, much to Vedil’s surprise, but if she thought that would give her a command position again, she was sadly mistaken. The interior lights were dim, blocked by thick air. The humidity felt good on his scarlet hide.

  He sat in his command chair, hooves extended.

  Something about the Unclean was bothering him.

  He tapped his nails against the arm of the chair, staring at the screen before him. He had called up a screen on the chair arm itself—in this murky atmosphere, seeing beyond the navigator’s array was nearly impossible—and was staring at the debris, all that remained of Sse’s ship.

  Sse had not been the best commander. Most of the core could not see beyond her fluffy pink fur and wide blue eyes. Not all the Furies were monsters.

  Still, he could not blame the destruction of her ship on a commander’s error. It had taken thought.

  Thought which, his experiments with the young Terran’s mind on their guard station had assured him, would have been impossible under the circumstances. The Unclean on that ship should be frozen in fear by now. Not fighting back.

  “I want a reading on that ship,” Vedil said.

  “Vergo, Your Eminence, sir,” Prote said, “the shields were disrupted before the Kalyb pulled away.”

  “And the significance of that is?” Vedil asked.

  “They should be feeling our power tenfold. I personally have checked our weapon’s beam and increased the intensity as by your orders.”

  Vedil continued tapping his fingernails, the sound dying in the thick mist and damp air. “Should be,” he said. “They should be feeling our power. But I see no evidence of this, do you?”

  “Vergo, sir,” B’el’s second head said, “they have released two more communications.”

  “What do those communications say?” Vedil asked, knowing the answer already.

  “We haven’t broken their code, Vergo,” B’el’s second head said. “They are, apparently, changing base language on us with each transmission.”

  “We have superior intellects,” Vedil said. “We should be able to break any and all codes quickly.”

  “We broke the first, Vergo,” B’el’s third head said.

  “You did not report this.”

  “Because the communication was insignificant. Simply a report on the status of Brundage Station.”

  Vedil tapped so hard his nails left tiny dents in the metal. Must he lead them all by their cilia? “If such a communication was insignificant,” he said, “why did they encode it?”

  “I do not know, Vergo,” B’el’s first head said.

  “Of course you do not know because you do not think! Examine the message again. See if there was a code embedded in the communiqué.”

  “Yes, Vergo.”

  “And tell me why those creatures are not terrified of us.”

  “We do not know how you have come to thisssss conclussssssion,” O’pZ said.

  “They attacked in a reasonable manner. They are sending encoded communications. They—”

  “They are leaving, Vergo,” Prote said. His wings unfurled with surprise, catching tiny maggots on the sticky tips.

  Vedil returned his gaze to his screen. The ship had turned. Within seconds, it winked out in a flash of colored light.

  “See?” Prote said. “We did terrify them.”

  “It sssseemsss very long to wait after an attack to flee,” O’pZ said.

  Vedil frowned at the screen, his hide pulling along his forehead. It did seem long. “Examine those communiqués,” he said. “The Unclean were prepared for us this time. They waited at the Entrance to Heaven, and they sent this ship which destroyed one of ours. Perhaps this is a ploy.”

  “Perhaps they are going for more ships,” B’el’s second head said.

  “Perhaps they are fleeing,” Prote said.

  “Perhaps,” Vedil said. Then he leaned back. Unlike most of his crew, he had studied the Unclean. He had studied all the information sent back through the Path to Heaven after the Rath had failed in its mission. And since he took their puny guard station, he had continued his study. What he knew was this: Individual Unclean could be broken. The Unclean could be enslaved. But as a group, the Unclean had amazing recuperative powers.

  The defeat at the Entrance to Heaven a generation before was another example of Unclean determination.

  The Unclean could be fleeing. But Vedil doubted it. They were planning something. And he would have to determine what that something was before the fleet came through the Path to Heaven.

  Chapter Seventeen

  DESPITE HIMSELF, Picard felt relief as the Enterprise moved away from the Furies Point. He had thought the fear was buried thanks to his efforts, Dr. Crusher’s, and Mr. La Forge’s. Yet the distance was making a huge real—and psychological—difference.

  Guinan had been right. This hatred and fear went very very deep.

  He sat in his command chair, the restless feeling gone. The bridge crew had focused on the work before them while he had double-checked La Forge’s engineering plan and found it sound. Then he had checked on the status of the crew. Most were doing well despite the overwhelming feelings. Most were recovering, and only a few had completely lost control and not yet regained it.

  Deanna was one of those. Understandable, of course, but he needed her. He felt blind without her council. He hadn’t realized quite how much he relied on it in situations when his own emotions were untrustworthy.

  “We’ve reached the target point, sir,” Ensign Eckley said.

  “All stop,” Picard said. “Mr
. Data, what is the intensity of the Furies’ beam at this distance?”

  Data hadn’t left the science console since the last meeting. The Furies’ beam, their wormhole, and their powers were his focus at the moment, in accordance with his orders. And as always, he brought to bear his full and considerable powers.

  “It is exactly one-tenth of the strength that it had been in our previous position.”

  “Excellent,” Picard said. Mr. La Forge had been right, as always.

  The bridge crew were watching him expectantly at this point. They knew what was going to happen next. Eckley had braced herself, her fingers white on the console.

  Picard glanced around. Worf maintained a stoic fierceness. Riker sat beside Picard, hands folded loosely in his lap. They all seemed back to normal. But that would change in a few moments. Even at one-tenth power, that beam was still strong. And was still very capable of undermining the confidence of even the strongest person.

  Picard hit his comm badge. “Mr. La Forge, are you ready?”

  “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.”