by Various
Another beam slammed into the ground at Vash’s feet. An explosion of rock fragments drove her back into the nearest open tunnel. Cursing herself for not being tough enough to do what was necessary, she turned and ran deeper into the unknown passageway. She fired back at the cave entrance, setting off a miniature cave-in that effectively cut her off from her pursuers…at least for the moment.
Hot tears streaked her sooty face as she dashed headlong through the never-ending maze of tunnels and grottoes. Her searchlight illuminated the way ahead, alerting her to dangers waiting in her path. She leaped over dangerous chasms and crevasses, while living in fear of finding herself trapped in a dead end. Childhood memories surfaced, bringing echoes of ancient stories that had once made her shiver beneath her covers. She suddenly felt like Becky Thatcher of old Earth, being chased through unmapped caverns by Injun Joe.
If Becky had a disruptor rifle, that is.
Angry shouts and commands, reverberating through the tunnels, confirmed that her enemies were still hunting her. What? she thought bitterly. My friends weren’t good enough for you? As cell leader, she knew her primary responsibility was to avoid being captured herself, but that didn’t make leaving the others behind any easier.
She squeezed through a familiar cleft to find herself back in the roomy chamber at the base of the five-hundred-meter drop. Her searchlight found her rappelling cable, still dangling against the face of the underground cliff. Unfortunately, it was of no use to her now. She couldn’t possibly scale the sheer rock face quickly enough. Chances were, she’d get caught halfway up the cliff when her pursuers found her. One quick disruptor blast and she’d find herself impaled on a stalagmite in no time.
Her beam swept the vaulted chamber, looking for a safer way out. After a minute or two, she spotted a small lava tube that appeared to angle up toward the surface of the planet. The mouth of the tube was less than a meter in diameter, but that might be enough to crawl through. Could be worth a shot.
She stepped forward to take a closer look, only to be caught off guard as a muscular figure lunged from the shadows and grabbed her from behind. “I got her!” the Klingon shouted, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist. He tore her rifle from her hands, nearly breaking her fingers in the process, and hurled it into an open shaft several paces away. His hot breath blew against the back of her neck. She heard the rifle scrape loudly against the side of the shaft as it plummeted out of sight. Vash fought to free herself, but the Klingon’s grip was too strong. He leaned back, lifting her feet off the ground. “Squirm all you like, Terran! You’re not going anywhere!”
To hell with the rifle, she thought. Plucking another fusing piton from her belt, she swung it back over her shoulder and into the Klingon’s bony forehead. Sparks flared as she triggered the fusing mechanism, welding the spike to the warrior’s brow. Howling in torment, he dropped her like a sack of stem bolts. She scrambled away from him before turning around to observe his reaction.
The Klingon reeled about wildly. His fists were wrapped around the piton as he tried and failed to detach the spike from his skull. In his pain and distress, he tumbled over the edge of an open shaft. A second later, Vash heard a grisly splat.
But her troubles weren’t over yet. Drawn by the Klingon’s shouts and screams, the rest of the guards converged on the grotto. Sizzling beams targeted Vash from all directions, forcing her to duck behind a large rock formation. The blazing rays crisscrossed above her head, making escape impossible. The mouth of the lava tube was only a short dash away, but it might as well have been in the Gamma Quadrant. She’d be stunned senseless a dozen times over before she got even partway there.
Not good, she thought, assessing her chances. Although she had lost the disruptor rifle, she still had her own disruptor, but what good would that do? She was ridiculously outgunned. This is that nightmare on Penthara IV all over again. She had been lucky to get out of that ambush in one piece. What were the odds she could pull that off again?
Not very high, she estimated.
A purple disruptor beam came at her from another angle, requiring her to shift position around the rocky outcropping. To her surprise, her right foot landed on something slippery, throwing her off balance. Grabbing onto the rock to steady herself, she looked down at the slimy mess beneath her foot.
Fresh bat droppings. Of course.
Vash remembered the tremendous flock of Celtran bats roosting overhead. A wild idea occurred to her. Reclaiming her weapon from her belt, she fired up at the ceiling. Shattered stalactites rained down on her foes, but that was just the beginning. The concentrated light and heat woke the bats from their slumber…and threw them into a panic.
Suddenly, the cavern was alive with dozens of furry bodies flying about frantically. The startled cries of the Alliance soldiers were almost lost amid a cacophony of high-pitched squeaks and the flapping of countless leathery wings. Besieged by the frightened yellow bats, the Cardassian and Klingon warriors swatted at the winged creatures, trying to bat their stinging claws and teeth away from their faces. Colorful obscenities tested the universal translator’s capacity for invective.
Almost forgotten amid the chaos, Vash took advantage of the confusion to scurry toward the lava tube. Bats didn’t scare her; she had spent too much time poking around in forgotten caves and catacombs with Jean-Luc Picard. Reaching the mouth of the tube, she jumped headfirst into the open tunnel.
The sounds of the crazed bats and soldiers faded into the background as she crawled on her hands and knees up the sloping tube. Pitch blackness surrounded her and she had to feel her way through the cramped tunnel. It was going to be a long, hard uphill climb, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to get out of these godforsaken caverns.
If only Selar and Bagro were coming with her…!
She hated the idea of leaving her comrades in the hands of the enemy, especially a sadistic bastard like Gul Madred. But all she could do for them now was honor their memory, and devote all her energy to ensuring that their heroism had not been in vain. You will be avenged, she promised them silently.
Perhaps when the Borg came.
Practical matters intruded upon her grief. Had any of the soldiers seen her face? She had to assume that the spoonheads would identify her eventually, which meant that she needed to get off Celtris III as soon as possible. I’d better contact Odan as soon as I reach the surface, she decided. The crafty Trill owed her a favor.
She tried not to think too hard about the fact that this entire mission had turned out to be a huge error on her part. Two Resistance members had been captured, just to eliminate a top-secret military installation that didn’t really exist!
She just hoped that, wherever they were, Jean-Luc and Soong were having better luck than she was.
5
W eeks later, Stargazer hid behind a moon as she waited for a Romulan warbird to pass by. The runabout’s murky cockpit was lit only by emergency lights; Picard had powered down all but the most essential systems to avoid detection. Hell, he was tempted to turn off the artificial gravity as well. Anything to avoid showing up on the warbird’s sensors.
“That ship must be gone by now,” Soong insisted. Riding shotgun beside Picard, he fidgeted impatiently in his seat. “We should be on our way.”
“Not yet,” Picard said, playing it safe. He wasn’t taking any chances where the enemy vessel was concerned. The unarmed runabout was no match for the massive warbird. At Gul Madred’s insistence, Stargazer was equipped with only defensive systems. Unfortunately, there was no way to scan for the other ship’s presence without risking exposure. “We wait a while longer.”
“But we’re going to be too late!” Soong protested. “Again!”
Picard understood the other man’s frustration. After finding the same magnetic resonance traces at the other Romulan outposts, they had been trying—and failing—to catch up with the Borg ever since. Here in the Nequencia system, they had arrived mere hours after another attack, only to discover that the
Borg had already moved on. At least we know that we’ve extrapolated their trajectory correctly, he thought. Which means we know where to go next.
“What about the lovely Vash?” Soong pressed him. Picard had transmitted their future coordinates to Vash right before the warbird had warped onto the scene. “Surely you don’t want to keep her waiting?”
“I don’t want to end up in a Romulan prison camp either,” Picard said gruffly. He was anxious to rendezvous with Vash, but not enough to gamble with their lives. “Or worse.”
Had the warbird been responding to a distress call from the doomed colony? By now, its captain and crew must surely have discovered that they were too late to save the outpost. Another good reason to avoid being caught here, Picard thought. Never hospitable at the best of times, the Romulans were likely to be on edge after these recent assaults on their bases. He had no desire to attract the attention of a trigger-happy Romulan commander.
Soong muttered unhappily under his breath as Picard waited another two hours before powering up Stargazer once more. The lights came back on in the cockpit, and he heard the thrum of the runabout’s impulse engines. Stargazer crept out from behind the uninhabited moon as Picard cautiously scanned for any sign that the formidable warbird might still be prowling the system. His fingers hovered over the warp controls, ready to go to warp at the first hint of a Romulan energy signature. He held his breath.
Next to him, Soong ceased his grousing. The restless scientist was not so obsessively focused on catching up with the Borg that he didn’t appreciate the potential danger. He leaned forward in his seat, peering at the viewscreen. “Olly, olly, oxen free,” he chanted, crossing his fingers for luck. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“All clear,” Picard said after a moment. He scrutinized the sensor readings just to be sure. “Looks like our green-blooded friends have left Nequencia behind.” He wondered how the Imperial Senate back on Romulus was reacting to the news that yet another of their outposts had been wiped out of existence. “I’m guessing that they’re hunting for something a whole lot more impressive than one little runabout.”
“Then why are we still here?” Soong asked. He drummed his fingers against the armrests of his seat. “Hit it, Picard. The Borg are waiting for us!”
And so was Vash.
Going to warp, Stargazer made a dash for the Neutral Zone. According to their calculations, the Borg’s next target was likely to be a Klingon listening post on the other side of the Zone. Unlike the Romulans, the Klingons didn’t bother disguising their surveillance stations. Little did they know, however, that a foe even more powerful than the Romulans had their outpost in its sights.
The Alliance was about to meet the Borg head-on.
“Please, I’ll tell you anything!”
“Of course you will,” Gul Madred said softly.
The prisoner, a foul-smelling Tellarite, lay curled in a fetal position on the cold steel floor of the interrogation chamber. A coarse gray robe barely covered his porcine form. Noxious bodily fluids puddled beneath him as he groaned weakly.
“So you confess to taking part in an unlawful attempt to sabotage this base?” Never mind that the facility he had hoped to destroy did not actually exist. The lure of those fictional metagenic weapons had proven just as irresistible as Madred had hoped. The terrorists had taken the bait like the miserable vermin they were.
“Yes, yes!” the Tellarite exclaimed. Trembling, he rose to his knees. Greasy tears leaked from his piggish eyes. Mucus streamed from his snout. A surgical scar could be glimpsed on a shaved portion of his chest. Dried blood and vomit caked his bristly yellow beard. “I built the bomb myself! Using concentrated trinitrogen chloride from some cleaning solution!”
“See, I knew you could be cooperative,” Madred said approvingly. In truth, he was somewhat bored; breaking the Tellarite had posed no challenge at all. He glanced at his notes. “Who is the leader of your Resistance cell?”
The prisoner hesitated, apparently reluctant to implicate his former comrades.
“You disappoint me.” Madred sighed. “It seems you have a re-markably short memory.” He calmly activated the agonizer implanted in the Tellarite’s chest. The prisoner collapsed onto the floor, squealing like a stuck targ. His stubby limbs convulsed in agony. Shaking fingers clawed impotently at the scar on his chest.
As always, Madred admired the efficacy of the device. A human invention, he recalled. The Terran Empire’s one lasting contribution to galactic civilization.
He let the Tellarite suffer for a moment or two before turning off the agonizer. “Who is the leader of your Resistance cell?”
“V-Vash,” the prisoner gasped. He quivered on the floor, the last vestiges of his recalcitrance completely shattered. In Madred’s experience, Tellarites had a usefully low tolerance for pain. “A Terran female named Vash.”
That’s better, Madred thought. He reviewed the reports on his desk. According to the officer in charge of the operation, a Terran woman had managed to escape when the Tellarite and one other accomplice had been captured. Madred had looked forward to breaking the Vulcan female, but she had cheated him by taking her own life first. The jailkeeper whose sloppiness had allowed the woman to escape justice in such a manner now occupied the Vulcan’s former cell.
Madred keyed the name “Vash” into his computer interface, and a grainy photo of a brown-haired human female appeared on his screen, alongside a litany of suspected Resistance activities and contacts. Apparently, this “Vash” was quite the enterprising terrorist. A pity she got away, he thought. He made a mental note to circulate her image among his security personnel. Chances were, she had already fled Celtris III, but you never knew. Perhaps we’ll get lucky.
“Ask him about the scientist,” a gruff voice instructed him. A Klingon warrior stood alongside Madred’s desk, observing the interrogation. Commander Nu’Daq had recently arrived in search of a wanted fugitive by the name of Soong.
Madred scowled. He rather resented the Klingon’s interference, but he had no choice but to tolerate Nu’Daq’s presence in the interest of harmonious relations between allies. So long as this doesn’t take too long. He was determined to finish up this tedious business in time for his daughter’s birthday party later this after-noon. Jil Orra would be expecting him, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. Family is important.
“Very well.” He fixed an icy gaze on the prone Tellarite. “What do you know about a Terran named Noonien Soong?”
The agonizer had taught its lesson well; this time there was no hesitation. “That crazy old man?” the Tellarite said, slowly rising to a sitting position. He stared bleakly at his feet. Blood stained his whiskers; apparently he had bitten his tongue during his convulsions. “He was with us for a while, but not anymore. We smuggled him onto a ship weeks ago, hidden inside a cargo container.”
Nu’Daq cursed in Klingonese.
“What ship?” Madred demanded.
“Stargazer!” the Tellarite volunteered. “A beat-up old runabout named Stargazer.”
Madred stiffened in surprise. He struggled to conceal his shock from the Klingon. His gaze drifted guiltily to the ancient Ventanian thimble sitting on his desk, then hastily darted away again. Anger flared brightly behind his veiling expression.
Picard!
“You know this ship?” Nu’Daq asked darkly.
Madred nodded. “And I know how to find it.” He summoned his guards via the comm. “Take this creature away,” he said, indicating the cowering Tellarite. “See that he’s disposed of promptly.”
The alien screamed and pleaded for mercy, but Madred wasn’t listening. He had more important matters to deal with now.
Forgive me, Jil Orra. It seems I won’t be attending your party after all.
“Hurry, Picard!” Soong urged him. “Can’t this ship of yours go any faster?”
“I’m going as fast as I dare!” Picard replied. Celestial bodies streaked past the windows at warp speed. Stargazer’s overt
axed engines were already close to their limit. The entire ship vibrated alarmingly, sending jarring tremors through his body. He kept his gaze fixed on the viewscreen ahead. “Hold your horses. We’re almost there.”
He slowed to impulse as they entered the Carraya system. In theory, Vash was supposed to meet them in orbit above the system’s fourth planet. He smiled as their sensors detected another vessel directly ahead. He hoped she hadn’t been waiting long.
“There she is,” he stated as an antique Vulcan shuttle that made Stargazer look like the fabled I.S.S. Enterprise appeared on the viewscreen. The smaller spacecraft occupied a geostationary orbit above Carraya IV, safely out of sight of the Klingon base on the opposite side of the planet. “Picard to Vash,” he hailed her on an encrypted frequency. “Sorry for the delay. We had a close call with a predatory warbird.”
He waited for her response.
And waited…
“Picard to Vash,” he repeated, his smile fading. “Please respond.”
Static greeted his hails.
Soong’s palsied fingers operated the control panel in front of him. “I’m not detecting any life signs aboard,” he reported. “Terran or otherwise.”
“What about life support?” Picard asked anxiously.
Soong scrutinized the readings. “All systems seem to be operational, and there’s no obvious damage from weapons fire.” He turned toward the other man. “I don’t think she’s aboard, Picard.”
Then where the hell was she? Peering at the viewscreen, Picard confirmed with his own eyes that the shuttle’s hull appeared both intact and devoid of scorch marks. He couldn’t see any obvious reason why Vash would have had to abandon her ship like this. Had the Klingons taken her into custody? Or the Borg? He stared at Carraya IV. Jungles covered much of the lush green world. Nighttime shrouded the planet’s eastern hemisphere, which was currently turned away from the sun. Had Vash beamed down to the surface for some reason?