Foreign Foes

Chapter One

IF THE KLINGON MOVES,kill him .

For a moment, no one moved. The Hidran ambassadors order crashed off the meeting halls stone walls and
into the ears of theEnterprise officers. His breathing mask muffled the threat, but made it no softer,
no less a demand.

Captain Urosk crushed his phaser into Worfs chest.

If Worf moved, he would die.

He tensed, his wide shoulders tight, his dark face clenched in anger.

Hold it! Commander William Riker yanked up his phaser and took a step toward them. Close enough to
smell themnot to stop them.

He motioned Data forward from the other side.

The hall had grown uncomfortably large. What had been a meter between them now seemed much more. The
only thing within reach was Rikers regret at having brought Worf when judgment should have told him
better. Klingons and Hidran never mixed.

Urosk and Ambassador Zhad glanced at Riker. It was long enough for Riker to see their eyes, dark green
marbles set under brows of wet red leather.

Worf seized the moment of distraction and swung his arm, slapping Urosks weapon away.

But Urosks tall frame gave him advantage, kept him on his feet. He whipped the disrupter back around.

I said stop! Riker jumped forward and wedged himself between his own security officer and the two
Hidran.

Riker was tall as welltall enough to shoulder the Hidran captain back in a sweeping motion. Why hadnt
he seen this coming?

Kill him!Kill him! Zhad shouted to his captain. Lieutenant Commander Data came up beside them, the
androids gold-skinned hand gripping his holstered phaser, ready for Rikers order to draw.

You insult us with the presence of this animal! Ambassador Zhad spat, his glare intent on Worf, his
voice gravel beneath the breathing mask that shrouded half his face.

Urosk took only one step back. The Hidrans long scarlet fingers anxiously pumped the handle of his
weapon, waiting to finger the trigger.

How dare you? Zhad growled, his tall body shaking, his red hue darkening in anger.

Riker looked from the Hidran to Worf and back. How darewe? Staggering audacity. To demand that the
Federation help the Hidran people, then act as if they were doing the Federation a favor by accepting
such charity . . . Riker had to restrain himself from explaining to the good ambassador just where he
could stuff his vainglorious attitude.

He took in a settling breath, then regretted it as he choked on the Hidrans musty odor. He should have
been ignoring the stenchhumans probably smelled to a number of alien racesbut that was easier said
than done when the alien next to him reeked like mold and wet burlap.

What do you know of seventy years of oppression? Zhad roared, his voice shaking the hall, his dark
eyes burning with contempt. Or twenty years of war? And twenty more of harassment? He pounded a ruby
fist on the granite table next to them. Rock on rock. When was the last time your comrades were killed
in cold blood? Was your family murdered in your home? He angrily wagged a dripping crimson limb at
Worf. Hehas done this to us!He has ravaged our homeworld, and strangled our future!

Worf straightened stubbornly. Ihave done nothing.

The Klingons deep baritone and skyscraper posture were a reminder of just how intimidating he could be.

Riker stepped back. Your war was with the Klingon Empire, gentlemen, he said. Not the Klingon race.

That is a matter of opinion. The Hidran ambassador turned his head away. I will speak with your
captain now.

Hell be here, Zhad. Riker couldnt force the anger from his tone. His body held it toofists
clenched, jaw tight.

Data moved his hand away from his phaser.

Not yet. Riker shook his head once, and the android gripped the weapon again.

Zhad was too unpredictable, too irrational. Every ambassador was a creature of rhetoric, but Zhad was
also a bully who coerced his way to victory. His reputation said he twisted facts to suit his purposes,
freely perverting his opponents arguments, all despite the breathing mask that distorted his voice. He
was a rooster who announced the dawn with such arrogance that he convinced every ear hed created the
sun himself. It had worked for him and his race, and was why he was present.

That thought stiffened Rikers spine, for if Zhad had a purpose here, so did Urosk.

And Urosk was a soldier. Riker had watched the Hidran captains eyes as he surveyed his situation and
summed it up. There was little Urosk would do without reason. Captains were all alike in some ways. At
least the ones who survived were. And that was why the Hidran captain was the danger. Loudmouths with
fists were annoyingclever thinkers with fists were dangerous.

Riker assured himself he would not be caught off guard again.

Nothing ever went quite as planned. Riker had been ordered to keep the Hidran
occupieddiplomatically.Cant be done . And adding Worf to the mix hadnt been the wisest move. Hed
hoped it might show the Hidran how Klingonscould be. No such luck. Now it looked as if an argument was
the only way they would communicate.

Well not wait much longer. Zhads face twisted into what Riker assumed was a frown.

Ambassador, were here because your planet is dying, Riker said.

Interesting lie! Zhad spat. Agreements are signed over subspace. Why has the Federation brought us to
this godforsaken planet, where we are met by our enemy and forced to wait at his bay?

Lieutenant Worf isnt your enemy, and this godforsaken planet was the only one your government would
agree to, Riker said.

Enough! Zhad axed Rikers platitudes off with a bark and turned back away. He slithered the perimeter
of the table, spying every corner of the large hall.

Weare the only ones here. Riker gestured for Data to follow the ambassador.

Zhad flashed an unamused eye at Riker and ran his palm along one of the tapestries that lined the high
walls. With two quick tugs he tested the strength of its hold on the ceiling. He lifted it and looked
behind.

Klingons dont come that thin, Riker grumbled dryly. And their assassins dont hide in the cracks of
walls. If we had brought you here to kill you, youd already be dead.

Perhaps I was interested in the rugs, Zhad said. They are quite old, Ambassador. Data motioned to
the tapestries. They are believed to be the work of the ancient Velexians.

Zhad shot a glare at all three Starfleet officers. Who cares?

Data began to answer, but Riker shook his head again.

The ambassador stomped back and stood next to Urosk. Summon your captain or we leave now.

Ambassador, Captain Picard said zero-eight-thirty hours, and he meant zero-eight-thirty hours. Riker
squeezed the grip of his phaser and felt the tension grow. It had smothered all diplomacy since the
first weapon had been drawn, and now it threatened to spoil what civility was left. In fifteen
minutes

Captain Urosks communicator screeched wildly and he yanked it off his belt. A voice crackled from the
small speaker. Sir, a Klingon warship enters this sector. Its weapons are charged and it cruises at
battle speed.

Riker groaned.Great. Just great . . .

Urosk pulled his disrupter up again and roared into the communicator. Shields up! Arm for battle! Pull
out of orbit.

Understood, sir.

Zhad grabbed Urosks arm and yanked the communicator to his mask. Destroy the Klingon vessel!

No! Riker stepped closer, but stopped himself from jumping on Urosks weapon. Instead, he nodded Data
back behind the Hidran and held his own ground. TheEnterprise is up there! Let them handle it!

Zhad wheeled around and rammed the butt of his disrupter against Rikers shoulder, knocking him to the
ground. Rikers phaser went clattering across the marble floor.

Pain arched Rikers back as he pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at the ambassadors weapon,
which that had come from . . . where?

Towering over him, Zhad aimed very deliberately at Rikers head.

So, this is the Federations word of honor. As much a lie as Klingon honor. He turned to Urosk.
Weve been betrayed. Thiswas a trap! They have brought us here to die!

Status report!

Captain Jean-Luc Picard marched onto his bridge. The lift doors whispered closed behind him.

Were on yellow alert. Lieutenant Anderson vacated the command chair and returned to her tactical
station. Sensors indicate Klingon battle cruiserthis sectorarmed. The Hidran have raised their
shields and moved out of orbit. They are transferring power to weapons. She paused, checked a readout
on her sensor board. The Klingons are on an intercept course.

Picard nodded and surveyed the approaching disaster on the viewscreen. The Klingons were early. Too
early. Hed wanted time to deal with the Hidran, time to explain that the Klingons would be coming. Time
to explain to the Klingons as well.

Explanations were no longer an option.

Shields up. Battlestations.

Alert panels flashed red and the captain could almost sense his crew racing to their stations throughout
the massive ship. He shared a brief glance with Counselor Troi who sat to his left. The thought that she
might be feeling his tension crossed his mind. He was sure the rest of the crew believed his calm
demeanor. Deanna was the only one who could know better.

Ensign DePotter, Picard said, his attention now squarely on the Klingon vessel that steadily retreated
on the screen, take us out of orbit, heading two-ten mark six. Put us right between them.

Aye, sir. The young mans fingers flew over the navi-console, pushingEnterprise gracefully out of
orbit, placing her steelgray hull between the Hidran ship and the now closing Klingon battle cruiser.

Under Picards order,Enterprise hovered there. To the other ships she must have seemed to dominate
space. That was as Picard wanted. His ship could be a looming reminder of just how powerful power could
be.

The Klingons are trying to maneuver around us, sir, Anderson said.

Crowd them out, Mr. DePotter, Picard ordered.

The Klingon vessel turned and twisted, andEnterprise echoed each move, barring them from the Hidran ship
at every angle. Picard watched the starscape shift wildly across the main viewer and was annoyed by the
Klingons tenacity. He fought the urge to remove his ship from this nonsense, and leave the Klingons and
Hidran to the violent fate they coveted.

The captain pulled in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Patch me in to the Klingon vessel,
Lieutenant.

On screen, sir, Anderson said.

The forward viewer image of the battle cruiser washed away, replaced by the harsh features of a Klingon
commander.

I am Kadar, commander of Imperial CruiserHIv SuH.Captain, we assume you are under attack by what we
identify as a Hidran warship. We offer assistance. Move, so we may destroy them .

The Klingons manner was cool, his tone measured. Despite that, Picard saw through to piercing anger.
With revenge in the pot, Klingons had poor poker faces.

This is Captain Picard of the FederationStarship Enterprise . His voice was calm and hard.

Sir, Anderson interrupted, her voice low, Commander Meliosh of the Hidran ship is signaling.

Picard nodded and thumbed a button on the arm of his command chair. Captain Kadar, I appreciate your
concern, however, none is necessary. I assure you we are in no danger. Please stand by. The captain
motioned to the screen. Put Meliosh on.

The bridge of the Hidran ship came onto the viewscreen. Meliosh sat in a command chair that could hardly
be seen for the water vapor that filled his ship.

This is Captain Pic

You have broken your word, Picard!Meliosh bellowed.

We broke no word, Picard said. You asked our help. Conditions on that are not yours to set.

You claim aid, yet summon our enemies to murder us. No, Picard, you have lost our trust!Melioshs
color glowed ruddy and his lips curled around sharp little teeth.Remove your vessel from our path. We
have an enemy to defeat!

Picard rose and stepped closer to the viewer, hoping his compact stature would appear more imposing as
he filled the Hidrans screen.

You wont defeat anyone, Meliosh, he said, his voice firm and even. You dont want to risk another
war.

Meliosh raised his head proudly.Weve beaten back the Klingons before. We will again.

Abruptly, the starscape returned to the screen.

Transmission cut, sir, Anderson said. Im reading a power surge on the Hidran ship. Theyre moving
offlocking torpedoes on the Klingons.

Tactical, Picard ordered sharply.

A corner of the forward viewer flashed a graphic display of the sector. The Hidran ship warped out of
the solar system with the Klingon battle cruiser turning to follow.

Picard frowned and frustration gnawed at his will to help those who so vigorously rejected it.

Shields on maximum. Picard leaned down to the helm. DePotter, doexactly as I say.

The Hidran ship twisted about and fired a spread of torpedoes. Wicked orange bolts flashed across the
viewer as they rounded toward the Klingon vessel.

The young ensign looked up. Picard gave him a reassuring nod and ordered: One-one mark twenty. Warp one
. . . now!

Enterprisejumped into warp, forcing herself into the path of the salvos.

Picard glared at the main viewer. One after another, the torpedoes pounded against the shields, cloaking
the starscape in a blur of electrical flame. Each explosive sizzle of energy rattled theEnterprise and
jolted her a little off her course.

The captain gripped the back of DePotters chair as the bridge shook around them. Fingers of electricity
crackled across the screen as theEnterprise was gripped and wrenched to one side. Stabilize, Picard
ordered over the din of every deck reporting in. Hail those ships, Anderson. Request a three way
conference. Demand one. If they refuse, force it. He pointed at the navi-console. Full stop.

Minimal damage to engineering decks three through seven, sir, Anderson said. Shield strength holding
at eighty-seven percent. Commander Meliosh and Captain Kadar standing by on three-way.

Damage control teams, Lieutenant. Picard smoothed out his tunic and glared at the viewer. There was a
rage that filled the captain when he was forced to put his ship and crew in the line of fire. That anger
narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Put ourfriends on, he said slowly.

Meliosh appeared on one side of the screen, Kadar on the other. Picard could see by their expressions
that they also could now see each other.

Commander Meliosh, Picard said, his voice a hammer. Youve fired on a Federation vessel. That is an
act of war. Stand down from battlestations and resume orbit around Velex.

Well not lower our shields with an armed Klingon warship at our throats!Meliosh raged.

Commander, Picard said, perhaps you could defeat the Klingons in a war. Perhaps even the Federation.
But certainly not both.

There was silence as Meliosh considered the threat.

The Klingon captain smiled.

Theres nothing to smirk at here, Kadar, Picard snapped. You havent won anything. Your peoples need
each other. Youwill work something out.

We do not talk with Klingons,Meliosh said.

You will, if you want to live, Picard corrected. And I dont refer only to your suffering homeworld.
Im willing to overlook your attack on my vessel, but only for the moment. Picard out. The captain
gestured toward Anderson, and Meliosh faded from the main viewer. Now only Kadar filled the screen.

Scan them, Picard ordered.

Anderson jabbed at her console. Hidran moving back toward Velex, sir. An orbital maneuver.

Picard nodded and pivoted back to the screen.

Kadar, disarm your weapons as a show of good faith.

Out of the question, Picard,the Klingon chuckled darkly. Your quaint little tactics may work with the
Hidran. I am a different matter.

When it comes to the needs of your peoples, there is no difference.

You dishonor us, Picard. We were lured here with a lie.

Picard pressed his lips into a thin line. That was true. He had wagered that there would be enough time
to prepare the Hidran to talk with the Klingons and vice versa. Hed gambled that he could keep both
sides in the dark as to the others arrival. Hed lost.

An arguable point, Captain, but you are here, and your government has asked the Federation for
assistance that only the Hidran can supply.

Kadar lost the grapple with his anger and growled at Picard. I will not talk with them! You are fools
to trust the Hidran! They do not kill for honor or for game. They just kill. Without thought. Without
reason. We will not stay!

Thats your choice, Kadar. I cannot force you to stay. Picard turned his back to the screen.
Lieutenant Anderson, inform Starfleet Command we request another Klingon delegation for discussion on
the Hidran matter. One thatcan handle the situation.

The main viewer shimmered back to the starscape view. Picard glanced at Deanna.

Anger and frustration clashing with intense pride, the empath said. I think you have him where you
want him, sir.

A corner of Picards mouth drew down. He wasnt quite ready to believe that.

Captain, Anderson called, the Klingons have signaled that our message to Starfleet is unwarranted.
Theyre entering orbit around Velex.

Picard glanced at Deanna. His brows went up, a little surprised that a failed plan had so quickly given
way to one that had workedfor the moment.

Well, Deanna sighed, that was more difficult than we thought.

Picard shook his head and lowered himself back into the command chair. That, Counselor, was the easy
part.

Chapter Two

PHASERS DOWN! Data leveled his weapon at the two Hidran. I would not want to injure either of you.

Zhad and Urosk laughed, a loud mocking growl that could not be mistaken for anything but ridicule.

Riker accepted Datas glance. There was no annoyance in the androids features. How often had Riker
looked for a flash behind Datas gaze that could not be dismissed as merely electrical? The android
shouldnt have liked to be laughed at, if even just a little, but that didnt play on his face, behind
those bright sulfur eyes.

Suddenly Urosk tensed and launched himself forward.

Riker snapped his attention back. Data! he warned.

The android twisted to one side and with his free hand sent Urosk stumbling across the floor and into
Worf.

Ambassador Zhad aimed his disrupter and fired.

Riker rolled away, then skidded to his feet as the orange bar of energy scattered on the marble floor.
He wasnt sure if it was the weapon blast or anger, but he felt a flush of heat rise in his face.

Worf seized Urosk, spun him around and rammed a knee into the small of the Hidrans back. The Klingon
pulled Urosks elbows together with his right hand and wrenched the weapon away with his left.

Riker squinted as Zhad targeted him again. At the edge of his focus he saw Data grab the ambassadors
leathery wrist and bend it backZhad cried out in angry pain. The android holstered his phaser, ripped
Zhads own weapon away, then released the ambassador from the vice with a quick shove.

Zhad stumbled back, crumpling like so much musty laundry, a mound of damp limbs against the cold stone
wall.

Data reset the ambassadors disrupter to stun and trained it on its owner.

Riker spotted his weapon on the floor, snatched it up, and aimed it at Urosk. With a nod he gestured for
Worf to release the Hidran captain.

The Klingon loosened his grip. Urosk jerked himself away, spun around, and faced the one whod
humiliated him so. Dank burgundy fingers tensed over an empty holster.

Thats enough! Riker said.

The Hidran captain braced himself, but did not move forward.

Worf stood in front of him, looking like an Old West gunfightera phaser in each fist.

Furious and insulted, Zhad dragged himself up and over to Urosk. I will see that you all die for this.
He pulled the communicator from his captains belt and growled into it. Meliosh, tell me you have
defeated the Klingon ship.

Ambassador, I regret to report . . . a stalemate.

Zhad sharpened his glare on Worf, but spoke to Urosk. Relieve Meliosh as first officer. He does not
deserve the rank! He held the communicator before the captains face.

He is a competent warrior, Ambassador, Urosk said in a tone that Riker almost recognized as one hed
often heard from Picard.

Do it!

But Urosk hissed at him in the Hidran tongue and pulled him toward the far end of the hall.

Riker rubbed his tender shoulder and croaked out an order for Worf to keep an eye on them.

Nodding, Worf handed the Hidran weapon to Riker. The Klingon shifted his own phaser to his right hand
and set out to follow the two Hidran at a distance.

The comm badge on Rikers uniform chirped. He tapped a channel open. Away team.

Picard, here. Report, Number One.

The Hidran are a bit . . . resistant, sir, but alls under control down here. Theyre off sulking,
hopefully ready to bargain.

Dont be too sure, Mr. Riker, Picard said. These are a hard people, by necessity. In their
experience, those who bargain are those who die. Its going to take more than one threat to change that.
Ill be down shortly. Picard out.

Riker rubbed the knuckle of his thumb against his lower lip. He wondered if Picard meant there would be
more threats, or that threats were useless. And he wondered where his part in the next move would lie.
If one thing was true it was that Picard could still pluck surprising rabbits out of hidden hats.

Unfortunately, thanks to the Klingons irritatingly early arrival, this plan of Picards had failed.
Originally the captain had hoped to talk the Hidran into accepting a conference with the Klingons, who
were to arrive after Picard had a chance to make sure they understood the conditions hed worked out
with the Hidran. The fact that neither side knew the other was coming was supposed to assure no one
would cause an incident that would politically require the other side to drop out.

Riker shook his head.Nothing ever , evergoes as planned .

That was a nice move with Ambassador Zhad, Mr. Data, Riker said, still keeping one eye on Worf and the
Hidran across the hall. You acted very quickly. In fact, you saved my tail.

Data nodded a salute. Thank you, sir. However, I was surprised by Captain Urosks attack. I did not
expect him to underestimate my abilities.

Examining the Hidran disrupter he rolled in his palm, Riker chuckled. You assume its obvious that
youre an android, dont you, Data? he asked, thumbing the weapons safety.

I have never considered it, sir. I suppose so.

Riker looked up. Why wouldnt he think you were human? Because you dont lookexactly like other
humans?

There was silence as Data considered.

Let me put it this way, Riker continued. Would you notice minor variations in a Hidrans appearance?

I believe so, sir.

Riker swallowed a sigh. All right, wouldI notice ? Data paused and considered that too. I do not
think so, sir, he said finally.

Riker shook his head, a chuckle rising in his throat

Drop all weapons!

Riker swung toward the unfamiliar angry voice. A womans voice.

Who was she? And why was she pointing a phaser at him?

As she stomped toward theEnterprise officers, silver-blond hair brushing her shoulders, she kept her
weapon high in spite of the two armed security men flanking her. I said drop them.

Im Commander Riker he tried to explain.

I dont care if youre the presidents personal shoe stretcher! There was phaser fire in here, and that
wasnt part of the bargain. Youre the ones holding the phasers.Put them down!

Riker looked from her to the security men and back. Hired help. One of them had his weapons safety on.

Okay. He shrugged, holstered his phaser, and nodded for Data to do the same. Theyre down. Now, who
are you?

She took another step toward him, her phaser angled down only slightly. Impatient hazel-green eyes
blazed with a steady determination. Whats going on in here?

The rent-a-bicep security men were less resolute. They wanted to be behind the woman, not next to her.
There was probably nothing in their three minutes of extensive training that mentioned anything about
pointing phasers at someone in a Starfleet uniform. Starfleet personnel just werent the bad guys. They
were the ones called when the bad guys showed up.

I asked you first, Riker said.

Barbara Hollitt. Im in charge here.

Yes, you are, arent you?Riker suppressed a smile. She was not gorgeous. Not a vision. But she was
exciting somehow, attractive.

What happened in here? I was assured thered be no problems.

Im sorry, Ms. Hollitt, Riker said, gesturing to the dark smudges where Zhads disrupter had scorched
the floor. We had a little trouble, but its under control.

She glanced from the floor back to Riker. See that it stays that way, please.

We will, Riker said. And something tells me that if we dont,you will.

Barbara smiled and a spirited flash glinted in her eyes. Indeed I will, Mr. Riker.

Not less than twelve men, Picard,Kadar said.

Picard tapped his communicator off and leaned his compact form against the meeting halls granite table.
Mr. Riker, what about the Hidran beaming down twelve crewmen?

Riker turned to Data who shook his head.

Impossible, Captain. The first officer clasped his hands behind his back. Their landing party is only
outfitted for six.

Then have them add six more to their regular team, gentlemen.

It is not that easy, sir, Data said. The Hidran need to breathe one hundred percent humidity with a
substantially higher oxygen mix. The masks they wear are surgically implanted and only a few members of
their crew are so equipped.

The captain let out a short breath and touched his comm badge. Captain Kadar, you will beam down only
six crewmen, including yourself.

Twelve, Kadar insisted.

Six. Not twelve. Not seven. Six. Picard out. The captain hit the communicator again and it signaled
off. Everything is a struggle, he muttered. If the Hidran have six men, the Klingons want twelve, and
then the Hidran want twenty.

Im afraid I sympathize with the Klingons on this one, sir, Riker said. The Hidran are a tough lot.
Anyone who can win a war with the Klingons . . . Theirambassador eats Klingons for breakfast.

Datas eyes widened. Sir?

Dont be so literal, Mr. Data, Picard said. The android lowered his gaze. Sorry, sir. They are a
curious people. Early contact with them by Federation surveys classify them as combative, but hardly as
hostile as they are now.

Seventy years of war might change that, Commander, Picard said, taking on that professorial tone Riker
knew too well. The Hidran had to be harder, stronger, to survive a war with the Klingons. The Hidran
may not have won, but they certainly did not lose.

Riker stood straight by his captains side, but his focus was not on his duties. Barbara Hollitt had
entered the hall by the far doors, and his thoughts faded away from his responsibilities. He shut his
eyes, tried to listen to Picardthe man whose control he envied, whose demeanor he wanted to emulate.

. . . you too would find that which was necessary to survive.

I am fascinated, sir, Data said.

Picard nodded. Splendid, Commander, because I want you to do a little research into the Hidran side of
this conflict. Were quite familiar with the Klingons history. All we know of the Hidran is that, like
the Klingons, they claim both victory and victimization. Find out what you can. Perhaps the Hidran will
allow you access to their computer banks.

Aye, sir. That should give us a different perspective.

Indeed. The captain raised a finger. Also, I want a frequency shield to block unauthorized
transporter and communicator use during the negotiations. I need no last-minute maneuvering by either
side. But we will want to keep access for ourselves.

Data nodded. We could blanket the planet in a white-noise transmission, sir. That would mask out their
frequencies but leave certain coded ones available to us.

Good. I want that within the hour.

Aye, sir. I believe that from the sensor array we can transmit a

Picard cut him off with a wave of his hand. Yes, yes. Work now, explain later, Commander. Dismissed.

You Klingons know nothing but death. You should taste of it yourselves!

You, Zhad, are not fit to be killed!

And a Klingon is not fit to kill me!

Id like to test the truth of that statement.

Are you calling me a liar, Klingon?

Twelve faces, wrenched in anger, sat at opposite ends of the large table.

His hands hidden beneath that table, Riker gripped his holstered phaser. He flexed his fingers, trying
to cool his sweaty palm. He wanted to shift the weapon to his left hand but refused to take it from its
holster if it wasnt necessary. And he just knew that in the one moment when the phaser was out of hand,
hed need to use it to stun a violent delegate.

Make sure no one dies, Picard had ordered, giving Riker the most difficult task of all. He knew they
had weaponssecurity couldnt very well frisk-search official government delegations. Theyd be insulted
and,boom the talks would be over.

No, this was the only way. Riker just had to be sure his timing was right. A shot too soon, and the
Federation would be taking sides. A shot too late, and someone would die. The line was painfully fine.

He clutched the phaser handle tighter, tense fingers squeezing the perspiration from between his
knuckles. He was a raw nerve, with nothing to rely on when his moment to act might be, if at all, except
for Deanna. She sat at his right and had promised to touch him, mentally if necessary, if the feelings
of hate in the hall grew to the point of murder. His eyes would shift between her and the delegates, and
he prayed he wouldnt be looking one way when he shouldve been looking the other.

He glanced at her, and lingered too long. She wrung her trembling hands, all the emotions biting at her,
twisting her heart as well as her head, while Picard sat on the other side of her, relaxed, withdrawn.
The only thing missing from the picture was a book in his hand and his legs outstretched over the table.

You will stay away from our mining planets or we will destroy you! Zhad spat.

Kadar pushed himself half out of his seat, pressing his palms flat on the tabletop.

Riker stretched forward a little, ready.

Those planets are ours! They are the spoils of war! Kadar roared.

Picard looked from Kadar to Zhad, waiting for a response.

The Hidran ambassadors color grew ruddy with anger. The treaty we were forced to sign was a one-sided
piece of rubbish. We have the moral obligation to deny its edicts.

You were forced into nothing! Kadar pounded his fist on the table and the vibration sent a computer
clipboard clattering onto the floor. Riker forced a flinch inward.

Zhad hammered the table with both fists, as if to one better the Klingons with his own storm of anger.
You assure us no alternatives and call that choice?

Picard said nothing, but this time looked up with intent. There was something more than insult there.
With the Hidran insulting the Klingons, the Klingons insulting the Hidran, and both threatening death
for what had seemed like hours, finally theyd grown weary enough to deal with actual issues. And Riker
knew that had been Picards wager.

Kadar rumbled to the captain, The Hidran lies about a treaty that is one-sided in their favor. It is
obvious that nothing will come of these . . . discussions.

We lie?Zhad bolted from his seat.

Riker moved his thumb on top of the phasers trigger.

Sit down, Ambassador, Picard ordered.

Zhad remained on his feet, his thick legs pressed against the table, his fists tight rocks against his
thighs. Do you not hear these lies? Do you listen to your trustworthy allies? he hissed.

Picards eyes hardened and he stood abruptly, his chair grinding the floor as he pushed it back. The
captain paced over to Zhad and Pulled out the ambassadors seat. Sit down.

Indignant and offended, Zhad sat back down. I will be talking with your superiors, Picard, he
muttered. You have ruined these negotiations.

No matter. The negotiations are over.

A brief roar fell into mutters, then into death-like tacitness as Picards glare seemed to strike every
eyeexcept Rikers.

Youve had the chance to talk. You chose to argue instead. Kadar, the Hidran need aridium shielding for
the power reactors you left them

That theytook from us one of the Klingons bellowed.

Irrelevant! Picard hammered down the outburst. They have the reactors, they need the aridium. Only
you can supply it. You will.

Kadar folded his arms and sat back. Really?

Picard ignored him and pivoted toward the Hidran. Ambassador Zhad, the Klingons need the vaccine for
the virus they contracted on your planet.

A virus they were blessed with whiledestroying our planet! Zhad interrupted.

Thats all in the past, Picard said. The treaties were signed twenty years ago. The war is over.
Perhaps that is what distresses you. So much hate, so much anger . . . and no one to kill.

You are mistaken, Picard. Zhad burned Kadar with a glare. Ihave someone to kill.

Not here, Zhad. Not on this planet, and not in Federation space.

Velex isnt a Federation colony, Urosk countered. It was the first time the Hidran captain had spoken
in more than an hour. Riker had expected him to be one of the more vocal delegates, but he hadnt been.

Velex is a Federation protectorate, Picard corrected firmly, and there is a starship in orbit.

With that threat Picard let the anxiety grow. That the delegates werent human didnt
matterapprehension showed on every alien face.

Picard began moving around the hall, stalking, closing in on each side as he spoke. This is the way
its going to work, gentlemen. The Klingon Empire will supply an amount of aridium that will be
determined and collected by the Federation. On the Hidran side, he said, holding the back of Zhads
chair, Ambassador, your government will give the vaccine to us, and when both sides have contributed,
they will receive the supplies they need.

Zhad twisted around in his seat. What is to gain by these talks if we get nothing but the aridium? Will
they stop raiding our outer planets mining colonies? Will they continue to harass our vessels?

I dont know, Ambassador, Picard said frankly, and I truly do not care. I can tell you that you gain
your life, and the lives of your people. Your power plants will safely produce the energy your society
needs.

And Kadar gains the health of his people, Riker said, a more relaxed thumb over his phasers trigger.
The captain hadnt really needed his help, but two rational voices were always better than one.

Picard nodded. The Klingons will get the vaccine for a crippling disease that neither kills nor is
curable.

We will not consent to this, Kadar said. They must agree not to attack our mining ships.

Zhad gripped the arms of his chair until his fingers were a bright pink. The mining ships that destroy
the planets of our system! We will not agree unless they arrest all mining!

Enough! Picard barked, moving back to the head of the table. The only terms of this agreement have
already been stated. The Hidran get the aridium, the Klingons get the vaccine. That is all. It is
agreed.

It is not agreed! Zhad wailed. You have no right to delegate terms to us, Picard.

Really, Picard! How dare you presume to tell us when we agree

To what, Kadar? Picard asked. To survive?

Kadar and Zhad exchanged a hateful look, then turned it to Picard. The captain appeared to be struggling
to keep a smile from his lips. He had achieved his goal and angered the two parties into working
togetheragainst him. They were finally joined in something, Riker thoughttheir resentment of the
captain.

You will agree to these terms or the Federation will not help at all, Picard said as his comm badge
sounded. He hit it immediately. Not now, he snapped, and stabbed it back off.

Perhaps the Federations help is bought at too high a price, Zhad hissed.

Perhaps, Picard agreed bitterly. Perhaps it will take your cities growing dark and your people
freezing before you put behind you the prejudice of a war twenty years passed. The captain then spun
about toward Kadar. And perhaps it will take a disease destroying your fleet before you can do the
same.

Kadar averted his gaze.

Zhad looked down at his ruby fist for nearly a full minute. Then, in his first calm moment since his
arrival on Velex, he said, You seem to leave us without alternative. But let me tell you this, Picard.
You and the Federation have much to learn. You think that because you have had a form of peace with the
Klingons for some time that they are like you. You are wrong. You may be worthy of trust, Captain . . .
but it is naive of you to think the Klingons are the same. The ambassador rose slowly, calmly. I
suspect you will regret your dealings with the Klingons, Picard. I know I will.

Chapter Three

IAPPRECIATE THIS , CAPTAIN, Barbara said. Private operations so far out just dont see state-of-the-
art equipment.

She gestured to the small cluster of makeshift buildings that made up the Velexian industrial colony.
Except for the ancient meeting hall, they were sparse boxy structures, built more for function than
form. She gave Riker and Picard the grand tour, all five minutes of it, and diminished her
accomplishment at building it all in a weeks time. That wasnt what she was here to do. Anyone, she
thought, could dig a hole and pitch a tentcolonies had been popping up everywhere for hundreds of
years.

But Barbara was supposed to be investigating the planets native crops, not just starting a colony. She
wanted to get past building labs and opening boxes. Shed run into difficulty, and she worried about
explaining her problems to those who had hired herat her insistenceto market the Velexian grain.

We set up a few labs with some basic equipment, she said, but resources are tight. Im hoping the
reason we cant scan the indigenous flora is because our equipment is inadequate.

Captain Picard looked over the colony as if he himself were scanning it with sensors. My science
department reports that we are unable to scan your grain as well. It may contain some native compounds
that evade traditional scans. Commander Data wanted to do a crust/core sample before we left to see if
we could isolate the substance.

Perhaps we could work together, Captain?

Were always willing to share our facilities as time provides, Doctor, Picard said.

If your facilities can help me figurethat out, Ill be indebted. Barbara pointed toward the rolling
saffron-colored grain that could be seen at the eastern edge of the camp. Where the dirt path ended,
grain began, and ran into the horizon. It waved her forward, stalks of jasmine swaying and calling in
the breeze. They paraded down to the edge of the camp, where the field began suddenly, an army of wheat
marching to the tune of the wind.

Picard plucked a stalk out of the ground and turned it back and forth in his fingers. It looks like
normal grain. Whats so mysterious beyond the sensor problem? He handed the tawny stem to Riker.

Hands behind her back, unwilling to touch it herself, Barbara said, Well, it grows in soil that has few
nutrients. We tried transplanting on our second day here, to see if it would grow on other planets, in
systems closer to the trade routes. It withered and died the next day. She lowered her voice and glared
out at the field. As far as we can tell, it shouldnt be growing here at all. Nothing should.

Im afraid I havent done my homework, Riker said. Whats so important about this particular grain?

Everyone wants it, Mr. Riker. I admit I didnt believe the myths and stories myself, but I tried it
personally earlier this week. It has the strongest medicinal effects of any unprocessed naturally
growing flora ever discovered. When ingested . . . well, it has a measurable effect on your health.

You mean it makes you feel better, Riker said.

No, she corrected. You actually get better. Nothing miraculous that weve found yet, but weve
measured some physiological improvements. The effect varies from person to person and species to
species.

How does it work?

I honestly have no idea, she said quietly. Thats why I agreed to host this circus you call
diplomacy. I need your computers, Mr. Riker. I need your technicians. I need your assistance. And if I
cant solve this one little problem, Ill need another job.

Im sorry. I hope we can help. Riker pressed her shoulder and guided her away from the grain. He
preferred her spirited smile to the frown that touched her lips now. We should be getting back.

She nodded and they started toward the meeting hall, three pairs of boots plodding along the gritty
stone street. Captain, I can set up some simulations and tests and leave them running, if youll allow.
Once the initial data is in, Ill return for the feast were having tonight. Despite little to
celebrate, Ive been talked into commemorating our first week here. You, the delegates, and any members
of your crew who wish to, are welcome to attend.

I appreciate your hospitality, Doctor, Picard said. It might be just the thing to keep our friends
occupied while we await final treaty confirmation from the Hidran government. I only hope the use of our
research labs can return the favor to you.

As Riker held open one of the thick wooden doors to the hall and allowed Barbara and Picard to enter,
she smiled, that certain kind of glint in her eye again. Perhaps Commander Riker will return the
favor.

Riker flashed his best little-ol-me? grin. Whatever I can do . . .

Be my escort tonight?

After the slightest nod from Picard, Riker said, Id be honored.

She turned smoothly on a heel, her silver-blond hair swinging softly behind her. I should be back by
three oclock. Anyone here can tell you where my home is. Will you meet me there?

Before Riker had the chance to answer, she was back out the door, and he and Picard were alone.

The captain crossed his arms. Three oclock is closer to teatime than suppertime, Number One.

Riker shrugged and his brows went up. Wouldyou argue with her?

Deck twelve.

Datas order to the lift barely allowed Barbara to slip between the doors before they began to close.

I am sorry, Doctor. I did not realize you might be unaccustomed to the turbolifts.

Im not usually. I should have been watching, Barbara said, trying not to stare at him.

There wasnt a scientist in the Federation who hadnt heard of the android whod joined Starfleet, but
relatively few got to meet him. Sure, there were interviews and early studies, every once in a while A
Discussion with Lieutenant Commander Data would be the cover story of some tech journal, but he was
hardly at the beck and call of anyone with curiosity.

What surprised her so was that he hadnt anticipated her hesitation into the lift. Wasnt he an advanced
calculator with legs? Wasnt he supposed to considereverything? Thats what computers were forto search
out possibilities and run them down to conclusions. It was the reason she was begging time from a
Starfleet supercomputer. So that nothing would be left out.

She averted her gaze from himit?and studied the slit between the lift doors. What did one say to an
android? Did computers do small talk?

Anything was better than silence.

I appreciate all your help, Commander.

The lift doors opened and this time he waited for her to exit. I am happy to assist you, Doctor. The
captain ordered me to investigate the Hidran side of the Klingon-Hidran conflict. I have downloaded
their own history texts and can easily view them from the research lab you will be using.

She smiled, a bit more nervously than she would have liked, and they started down the corridor. Happy.
He washappy to assist. Just using an expression?

How close are you to marketing the grain, Data asked.

Barbara looked up at him curiously. You know about our plans to harvest for marketing?

The android nodded. I requested information from your company regarding Velex when we were ordered to
this sector.

One thing was clearData learned fast: at the research lab he held his hand over the open door and
waited for her to enter.

The android waved her in. Right in here, Doctor. This should suit your needs.

Beyond his pale hand was the finest, brightest computer Valhalla that Barbara had ever seen. She was
impressed not only with the bank of computers and equipment that was now at her fingertips, but that
such things, like the android next to her, were possible. She felt as if she had been years away from
such new technology. And she wasnt likely to see any soon. They just didnt risk new equipment on long-
shot colonies in the middle of nowhere.

She stepped into the lab, unable to imagine any problem being insoluble with help like this at her
fingertips. This was what she needed. This was why she had risked having time-bomb negotiations in the
middle of her burgeoning industrial colony. With thesethe brains of a starshipshe might make it all
work out.

Thank you, she murmured.

My pleasure, Doctor.

She looked at him, and at the bright canary-yellow eyes that were not even supposed to connote emotion,
but seemed to. Wrong, Mr. Data. The pleasure is all mine.

It is safe, is it not? Data poked at the pellets of grain that rolled around his palm.

Barbara hesitated. Its safe, she said flatly.

You do not sound quite convinced.

I would be more convinced if I could find outwhy it was safe. She dabbed at the stations panel,
turning herself away from the thoughts of past tests, and toward future solutions.

Data looked from the grain to her, then back to the grain. What exactly will it do?

An android looking for a cure-all? She chuckled at the thought. To you? Probably nothing. With most
people its highly therapeutic. I mean, its no fountain of youth, but it does have a measurably
positive effect. It brings about a homeostatic condition in the body. Race or species doesnt seem to
matter. She cocked her head toward the grain. Go ahead. Try it.

Species does not matter? Data asked. But races can differ so widely. One races nourishment can be
anothers poison.

There are seventeen races in my colony. All tested and all reacted favorably. Thats the mystery,
Commander. She smiled. I dont think it would hurt you.

Data brought his hand to his mouth, tossed in the grains, and swallowed.

Barbara lowered her gaze back to the console, then looked back up when he spoke again.

Interesting, Data said, pressing his lips into a thin line. I am unable to determine its molecular
makeup.

Pardon?

That is how I taste, Doctor. I suppose you might say I have tasted better.

Hetasted? Then what was it about him that wasnt human? Or did he just say he tasted? Why did this
android, in form and function created to be like a man in every way, have those bright yellow eyes and
that sallow color of lifelessness? The ships computer spoke to her in a similar tone. What was it that
made him different from the computer she was programming now? The thought distracted her, made her
uncomfortable, curious.

But every moment she spoke to him, every moment he spoke back, that discomfort melted away.

The androids face fell blank for a momentblanker than usual anyway. I detect no change in my internal
systems.

Barbara smiled. Im not surprised. The bread it makes doesnt affect my toaster, either.

I am far from a toaster.

Her smiled faded and she felt her face flush. Im sorry. I didnt mean any offense

I cannot be offended, he said. How long does it usually take to affect someone?

Well, it depends on the person. Sometimes immediately, sometimes a few hours. But youre an android . .
.

I do have certain organic fluids, he said. Perhaps it will only take more time with me.

With a pat on Datas hand, Barbara said, I wouldnt hold my breath.

Perplexed, Data shook his head. Neither would I.

It was blinding light and a small pang of irritation that brought Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge
from theEnterprise to the planet below. He always avoided directly blaming the prosthetic VISOR that
allowed him his sight. Doing so seemed . . . unappreciative. But the transporter could sometimes cause
such a flash, especially when a strange frequency was being used, or extra power was added to the matter
push. And both were happening thanks to the captains order of a transmission jammer.

When his vision cleared and the pain dulled into a normal ache, he saw Captain Picard near the meeting
halls large table and walked toward him.

Glad you decided to join us, Mr. La Forge, Picard greeted.

Us, sir? Geordi scanned the room and saw only a few colonists setting up small tables at the far end
of the hall. I hate to be the first to break it to you, Captain, but youre alone. The chief engineer
smiled. Where is everyone?

We have two security details keeping the delegates separated until the dinner, Picard said. The
Hidran governments approval should come through any moment and we can sign the documents after dinner.

One of Geordis brows shot up. Hidran and Klingons eating together, sir? Sure youre not asking for too
much?

A corner of Picards mouth turned down and Geordi assumed the captain had been wondering the same thing.

Youd think that a race intelligent enough for space travel would be rational enough to use discussion
to settle differences, Geordi said.

One would think so, Picard said sardonically. Wouldnt one?

Sunlight streamed through the windows and folded itself over the pillows scattered across the floor.
Riker lightly brushed Barbaras cheek where the butter-colored rays caressed her milky skin. He couldnt
remember feeling so comfortable with anyone . . . not since Deanna.

I dont usually fall into bed after Ive just met someone, he said.

Were not in bed, Barbara said, rising. She smiled and as she rose, the brightly colored throw that
had been around her collapsed into the bars of sunlight. The brilliant reds and forest greens of the
blanket caught the light and tossed it throughout the room. But that is good to hear, even if I dont
believe it, she added as she walked into the next room, her nude form also catching the light as she
left.

Riker pushed himself up against the overstuffed chair that held his empty uniform. She disappeared
through the doorway and he chuckled softly. He didnt know what it was about her. All he knew was that
she either understood that social graces were left floating near the dock when you spent your life
tearing through the galaxy, or she didnt care about them in any case.

From the folds of his collapsed uniform, his communicator sounded. He dragged the red tunic toward him
and pressed the arrowhead comm badge. Riker here.

Deanna here, Will. The captain wants us to report to the meeting hall as soon as possible,she said.

On my way, Riker said quickly.

He and Deanna might not be together anymore, but they tried not to rub each others nose in the fact.

Imfar on the other side. Ill meet you there. Riker out.

He jabbed the communicator off.

School teachers and empaths, they could always tell. Never lie to either.

Trouble, sir?

Riker was all business. He stood laser-straight between Deanna and Barbara, and looked only at Picard.

Possibly. The captain raised a silencing finger and spoke into his comm badge, his voice low. He
wanted to assure neither the Hidran nor the Klingons across the hall overheard. Repeat for Commander
Riker what you just told me, Mr. Data.

Aye, sir.Datas voice seemed to boom from the communicators speaker and Picard quickly thumbed the
volume down.The white-noise transmission blanket is taking considerably more power than it should.
Sensors indicate the source of absorption is somewhere on the planets surface.

Riker moved forward and asked into the comm badge, Any ideas as to whats causing it?

Nothing concrete. However, I am formulating a hypothesis.

Picard allowed only a brief pause. Well? be prodded.

I suspect the Klingons may have some covert operation under way, sir. They may have found a way to
breach the transmission blanket. It would explain the energy drain. Or perhaps they have a cloaked base
of operations somewhere on the surface.

Activity from the Klingon ship? Picard asked.

Nothing at this time, sir,Data said.

Any indication that they have another landing party on the planet?

There was a pause, then finally Data answered.No, sir. But the transmission blanket is interfering with
the accuracy of our own sensors.

Picard felt his brow furrow. No proof. He could hardly go accusing without evidence. In fact, he could
hardly go accusingwith it. The last thing they wanted was to upset either delegation. And both the
Hidran and the Klingons were ready to welcome any chance to scuttle the progress that had sailed so
calmly until now. Calm being relativeno one had been killed yet. Very well, Mr. Data. Do what you must
to get to the bottom of the situation. Commander Riker and myself will see what we can find out down
here. Picard out. He tapped the communicator off and nodded toward the delegates. Mr. Worf and the
security detail can handle the dinner, Number One. I want you to see if you can find the source of this
energy absorption Data is talking about.

Aye, sir. Riker tried to relax his posture, his muscles.

Picard hadnt noticed the man was a knot of tension until the tightness began to fade.

Captain, do you still think its a good idea to have Worf around? the commander asked. It didnt work
well this morning.

I do, Picard said. The Hidran need to see that the Klingons have indeed changed in some ways. Worf is
an excellent example of that.

Riker nodded.

Perhaps it was for the best. He seemed pleased with the order that would take him away from the dinner.
And Picard could send Deanna as well. He wouldnt have to keep considering the effect of all this hatred
on her. Neither delegation liked having an empath present, and it was exhausting for the empath as well.

You and Counselor Troi can take one of the low-atmosphere craft the colonists use. Picard turned to
Barbara and quickly added, With your permission, Dr. Hollitt.

Of course, Captain, Barbara said.

Picard smiled a thank-you and looked to Riker. Once again the first officer was a clenched fist, his
spine beam-straight.

Picard toEnterprise .

For all the festive noise that filled the hall, all the laughing and talking and chattering that came
from a hearty dinner, it was the silence that was irritating Picard. The silence of the Klingon and
Hidran delegates who sat brooding at each other across untouched plates. The silence of a ship that
refused his call.His ship.

The captain pursed his lips and shook his head at Commander La Forge. He tapped his comm badge again,
searching for a better channel. Picard toEnterprise .

Finally:Data here, sir.

What the devil took so long? Picard demanded.

Sorry, sir. I am the only one with clearance to override the transmission blanket. I was occupied for a
moment.

There was the slightest delay in the androids response. Probably the fault of the white-noise blanket.

I didnt order restricted clearance to communications forEnterprise personnel. Why isnt Mr. La Forges
communicator working?

I took the prerogative of deactivating all communicators on the surface aside from yours and Commander
Rikers, sir. In case someone were to appropriate them.

I see, Picard said. I want themre -activated, Commander. If Mr. Worf or another member of the
security team needs to reach the ship, I want them to be able to.

Aye, sir,Data said in his normal, even tone.

Stand by to beam Mr. La Forge up. Picard turned to the engineer. Geordis coffee-brown features were
twisted into a pained mask. The captain grabbed the mans elbow, waiting to lend him support at any
moment. Is it worse?

Geordi struggled to force a smile. Well, bad enough to get me to leave a meal halfway through.

Report to sickbay as soon as youre aboard. And no matter what the doctor says, I want you to rest that
stubborn head of yours.

Geordi gasped and pressed the heels of his palms against his throbbing temples. Agony, spikes of it,
ripped through his head and down his spine.

Eyes that never saw the warmth of light now burned as if open to the sun. He thrust his VISOR away, far
way.

Aching knees wobbled and gave, and he crumpled toward the transporter pad.

Hands grabbed him before he hit the floor and he felt his cheek against a body he could not see.

Emergency medical team to main transporter room! Hurry!

The universe was a blur of pain, until needles of white and sharp yellow finally melted into blackness.

No, thank you. Captain Picard placed the flat of his hand over his glass and nodded the waiter off. He
looked down the length of the main table and nearly sighed. Twelve beings, two races, and not a damned
thing for them to agree on. For two hours they had just sat there, not eating, not talking, not finding
any common ground as Picard had hoped they might.

This isnt going well, Mr. Worf, he said, leaning toward the tall Klingon standing at his side.

Worf looked from the stoic Hidran Ambassador Zhad to the somber Klingon Captain Kadar. They headed their
separate delegations of dark, angry comrades.

It is not, sir? Worf asked wryly.

Picard suppressed a smile. Ive been to more joyous funerals.

Worf glanced down to meet his eyes and tried to force away a smile.

Perhaps funeral is a poor choice of words, Picard added.

Indeed.

Picard nodded. But not wholely inaccurate. He looked up at his security officer and wondered just what
it was that allowed Worf to joke about an issue that had his Klingon cousins ready to start another war.

What do you make of all this, Mr. Worf?

The tall Klingon leaned down, as if he wanted to be sure only the captain heard his deep voice.

I expected as much. From both of them.

Picards brows drew up in surprise. He knew it was a look that demanded Worf elaborate.

The Hidran are quick to anger, sir, Worf continued. You have forced them into an agreement, the
benefits of which they do not yet fully understand. Captain Kadar on the other hand is more enraged at
the dishonor. His hand has been forced. Through his indignation, he can barely see it was in the only
direction he could move.

You dont side with the Klingons on this matter? Picard asked.

They are wrong, Worf said in that matter-of-fact tone that no one would dare take issue with.

Picard pushed out a short breath. Theyre being stubborn.

Stubbornness is a Klingon trait. Being wrong is not.

Nodding, the captain said, Prove it to the Hidran.

Worf thought for a moment. How?

The captains eyes thinned and he studied the Hidran delegation across the hall. He looked smartly up at
Worf and gestured toward the ambassador. Distrust passes with familiarity. Why not show them who you
are?

With forced gentility and a dozen Klingon eyes burning into his back, Worf awkwardly lowered himself
into the seat adjacent to Ambassador Zhad. Not in frontnot across from him.Next to him.

It went against his grain, and he had to force the tension from his muscles and wrench a casual look
onto his face.

The Hidran turned his head and hammered Worf with a glare. What is this?

It is a dinner, where honorable beings may meet and break bread together, Worf said calmly. Maybe too
calmly. It was a strange balance for him: his tone had to be severe enough to warrant respect, yet soft
enough to broadcast appeasement.

Zhad said nothing. He stared. Everyone was staringthe Hidran, the Klingons, Picard. Another knot in
Worfs spine.

Worf reached out for the platter of grain-bread in front of them, and as his fingers touched the handle
of the knife, one of the Hidran began to rise.

The Klingon stopped, let his fingers fall to the table. He looked up to see Urosk gesturing the Hidran
soldier back down.

One slice with the knife and Worf had a large piece of the Velexian delicacy. He made sure he held the
knife not one moment longer than necessary.

Tearing the bread into two chunks, he dipped one into a dish of gravy and held the other out to Zhad.

The ambassador looked away. Better to die than eat with a Klingon, he spat.

It was Worf who remained silent this time. He would not prove Zhad right about all Klingons by speaking
in anger. His race was inflexiblehe did not have to be. He had the cushion of a Terran upbringing to
support him, and he could use that hereditary Klingon obstinance to make sure he did not slip into
impulsiveness.

Do you fear me so much that we cannot have a meal within the same walls? Worf finally asked.

Zhad turned so quickly he nearly spun out of his seat. He grabbed the bread from Worfs hand and pushed
it through the electronic field in his breathing mask. A loud gulp and it was downwhole.

They locked eyes, Worf and Zhad. Klingon and Hidran. Enemy to enemy.

No, not enemy. Worf knew he was not the enemy. Neither friend nor foe, he was a symbol, and the irony of
that nipped at him. He would never feel fully Klingon, yet here he stood to represent all Klingons. An
alien on Earth andQono S, he fit only in Starfleet, and now found himself the embodiment of two
cultures that would never completely accept him. That he could never completely accept.

If we can have a meal in common, perhaps we can share a trust, Worf said slowly.

We will sharenothing!  Zhad pushed back his chair and sent it grinding across the floor. He turned,
his slick black cloak twisting around him as he stormed through the nearest door.

Worf glanced back at Picard, but did not wait for an order or even gesture. He rose, and followed the
ambassador out.

The gall of these animals.

Zhad angrily paced the dim corridor. The only thing worse than an arrogant Klingon was an insufferably
condescending Starfleet Klingon.

He wondered if even Picard fully trusted Worf. Or was it just another of the Federations tricks?

How could he learn to fight the urge to crush those ridged skulls? How had the Federation? It was no
secretStarfleet had been at odds with the Klingons for decades. How did Picard now trust a phaser to a
Klingon on his own crew?

Ambassador?

Zhad pivoted toward the deep baritone he knew was Worfs. His muscles tensed and he readied himself for
the attack.

I have not come to antagonize you, Worf said.

Your existence antagonizes meas your people have done for a hundred years, Zhad sputtered.

His throat felt tight and he adjusted a control on his mask to allow himself more air.

War is a fire that can rage out of control, Ambassador, Worf said. But only when both sides feed the
flame.

A Klingon saying for every occasion,Starfleet Lieutenant Worf? Zhad snorted. He took a step closer to
the Klingon he nearly towered over. You slip into stereotype. Do you know the Hidran reply to your
saying? How many times must we be blistered before the flame is finally smothered?

I am sorry, Worf said. I did think there was some hope for you. I see I was wrong.

Dont you pity me, Klingon mongrel! Zhad balled his fists and leaped forward. If anyone needed a few
hard jabs of pity, it was this pompous Klingon.

Worf jerked up his arm and belted Zhad away.

Pain knocked Zhad off his feet and pinched his eyes shut. He fell hard on his knees, then rolled
forward, his hands covering the breathing mask that had been pounded into his face.

My apology, Ambassador, Worf said as he turned to the door that led back to the main hall. I hope in
the future we can both learn to feed the flame a little less.

The Starfleet Klingon left, abandoning Zhad in a puddle of pain and awe.

Zhads throat was parched with anger and hate. Still somewhat dazed, he straightened his tall frame and
worked his way to his feet. If Worf had stayed another moment, he would have been on the floor now. And
there would have been no getting up.

Too much of a coward to even finish what he starts,Zhad thought.

Taking a deep breath, Zhad felt the scratchiness of dry air. He adjusted the mask control again and felt
a twinge of pain ripple through his body.

He sucked in another breath. Dry. Too Dry. Like the grit the Klingons filled their own lungs with.

Frustrated, Zhad snapped at a dial on his mask. More moisture, he muttered, then found himself doubled
over in agony.

He gasped, tried to suck in a breath. Any breath. Couldnt!

His hands flew back up to the mask and grabbed wildly. No air! His chest heaved, his lungs sharp and
tight. He struggled to tear the mask awayto gulp any air if not his own.

Wet fingers clawed at the tubes that now burned his skin. He yelped in pain and twisted them out.
Anything!Anything to stop the pain!

He felt warm blood drain from the holes in his cheeks down his shoulders and into his skin.

Staggering forward, he looked at the air tubes that had once fed him life. They now dangled useless in
his hands. He coughed a dry hack . . . and knew he was dead.

The Klingon! Hed known just where to strike the blow! Just where to snap the mask and force it to
destroy its owner!

Hatred took over where panic left off. Zhad drew the dagger hidden in his cloak. His throat closed and
his chest ached for freedom from its desert grave. He scrambled up, determination the only wind his
lungs could feel.

He nearly fell through the doorway and into the hall, a trail of blood pouring from his exposed mouth.

Where? Where was the Starfleet Klingon? Where was Worf! He did this thing!He would pay!

Vision began to cloud into a mesh of color, and the ambassador cursed himself a fool for not killing
Worf when hed had the chance.

He held the dagger close and squinted across the room.

No one moved toward him. The hall was alive with noise, yet all he heard was the silence that was his
absent breath. Worf was too far across the hall, and Zhad knew he would not reach him.

Another Klingoncloser.Any would do.

He would avenge his own death, and prove to his people that the Klingons could not be trusted.

He croaked out a puff of air, and took in the alien breath that was sand in his lungs.

A moment passed, and felt an eternity.

Zhad fought to focus . . . feet away . . . one Klingon . . . alone . . .

Slowly, the Klingon delegate began to turn. Zhad saw his victims eyes. It was his due, to see the look
on the Klingons face as they met death together.Everything has a price, Klingon! That you shall learn!

Zhad drew back his arm, and with all the strength he had left, with all the strength his people had
left, plunged the blade down.

The Klingons hands moved too slowly to stop the dagger from piercing his armor and cutting through his
rib cage. Zhad reveled in the feeling of sinew tearing against steel, bone cracking against hate. A gush
of alien blood warmed his cold fingers.

The Klingons grunt shook the room, and he fell back, pulling Zhad down with him.

What a sight! What a shadow they would cast, both of them collapsed into a heap in the center of the
halls floor. His death . . . his victory . . . how the legends would be!

He struggled to raise his head one last time, to taste with his eyes the Klingons blood that gurgled
round his blade.

Zhad saw, and savored his success for a final, fleeting moment.

Slowly, his hand fell away from the dagger that triumphantly stuck in the Klingons chest: a flag
beckoning on the brink of war.

Chapter Four

EMERGENCY STRETCHERto main transporter room! Stat!

Beverly Crusher lifted Geordis head gingerly off the transporter pad with one hand and ran her medical
scanner over his tearing, sightless eyes with her other.

Howm I doin, Doc? Geordi croaked out softly, droplets of perspiration streaking down his skin.

Youre going to be fine, she told him.

It was a lie. She didnt know that. She wasnt sure of anything right now. It was just what doctors told
patients when they were critical . . . what doctors told themselves when those patients were friends.

Beverly glanced at her hand-scanner for the third time in as many moments, then gazed at Geordi again.

Not a brain hemorrhage. Not an aneurysm. Not something simple. Nothing she could just give him a pill
for and make go away. And no magic technological wand to wave. This was the kiss-and-jab of being a
doctor to her closest friends: she could cure them when she knew the answer, but had to watch them
suffer when she didnt.

Setting the scanner down, she slipped her hand into Geordis and held it tightly.

Suddenly he convulsed, every muscle pinched and shaking. He writhed forward, plunging off Beverlys lap
and onto the transporter dais.

She dived for him, scooping up his head, keeping it from cracking against the hard deck.

Pain seized his bodya hot poker of agony that jerked his muscles one way, then the other. She reached
around and hugged himhalf motherly instinct, half medical trainingkeeping him from hurting himself.

The readout on her tricorder told her nothing she couldnt see for herself: Heartbeatrapid.
Breathingshallow. Perspirationby the bucket. The pain indicator on the graph might be malfunctioning,
but not as badly as Geordi was.

Did she dare give him a pain depressant without knowing the cause?

His neck was a knot in her hand as he pitched back and forth. He cried out, and his hands flailed back
up to his temples, fingers scratching at the glowing implants.

She yanked her head up to the nurse and pointed at the medkit. Four CCs zenapantocene!

Geordis trembling body went slack as the hypo hissed into him.

She pulled his limp body back onto her lap and slipped her hand back between his slack fingers and
squeezed.

Come on, come on! Wheres that damn stretcher?

* * *

The turbolift droned upward. Rushing was always too slow when life was at stake.

Beverly Crusher bounced on the balls of her feet, as if to lighten the drag on the lift or get her
closer to the deck . . .something .

She hung tightly on to Geordis hand, her thumb lightly brushing back and forth against his clammy skin.
Too clammy.

The lift released them, but the door to sickbay was still an endless corridor away. They hurried,
Beverlys long red hair an annoyance in her eyes as they ran.

People . . . walking . . . in the way . . . Move it!Doctors orders .

They exploded into sickbay, Doctor Crusher barking commands. The room became a beehive, with Geordi its
center and goal.

Lifesign indicators at minimum, Doctor.

Get him into the bio-bedactivate a sterile field.

I want that cart over here. And move MacCaffy out of the way!

Where?

Post-op.

Set up cranial scan!

Beverly ushered the medical team over to the diagnostic bed in the middle of the room. She had to pull
her hand free of Geordisnot from any grasp of his weak fingers, but from her own.

Set up the O.R., she ordered the young medic whod closed Geordi into the diagnostic table. I want a
complete neurosurgical team standing by. Dr. Peiss to assist.

Raenna is already on her way.

Good.

Beverly paused a moment, looked down at the stretcher that held only Geordis VISOR now. The eyes
without their master. Or was the VISOR the master here? Was it the reason he was now in sickbay?

She turned away from it, looked back to Geordi, and frowned at the sight of his unconscious body. So
lifeless . . . with that bright, humming diagnostic equipment enveloping him. It flashed, pulsed,
clicked . . . as if it were alive for him.

Fumbling with the bio-bed control pad, Beverly cursed her fingers for not working right, not knowing the
places on the console that would be second nature if . . .

She ordered another doctor over, and pushed herself toward the wall comm. Sickbay to Bridge.

Yes, Doctor,Data replied after a moment.

Were running tests on Geordi, she said quickly, turning to the screen next to her, taking in the
initial data from the more comprehensive scans of Sickbays sensor bio-bed.

How is he?Data asked.

Beverly shook her head. Not well. She poked something into a control panel on the wall, shook her
head, cleared the screen, and tapped it in again. Hes sedated, but still in a great deal of pain.

Cause?

I dont know yet, she said, and cursed the fact. I cant seem to relieve the pain. Maybe a viral
infection. She pressed her lips together and frowned, dissatisfied with her own non-answers. I dont
know, she repeated quietly. The area around his neural implants is inflamed.

Diagnostics are running on the transporter systems to discover sabotage, if any. Have you found such
evidence?

Beverlys brows wrinkled in confusion. Sabotage? No. She shrugged, wondering who would do such a
thingand why. Im going to have Bioengineering look at the VISOR, though.

Understood, Doctor, Data said. Contact me when you know more.

The channel beeped closed and she pulled in a breath, her brow wrinkling. Your concern is
underwhelming, she muttered, and looked back to Geordi.For godssake, Data, what could possibly be more
important than your best friend?

Computer.

Ready.

Request access to primary and secondary communication frequency controls.

Access denied. Command security code required.

Override command security code, personal authority.

Confirm authority.

Lieutenant Commander Data, currently in acting command ofU.S.S. Enterprise . Reference ships log
stardate 47511.3

Pro tem command only. Access denied.

He tapped quickly into the control panel.

Access denied.

He paused a moment, thought, then typed again, longer this time.

Restriction released.

Re-restrict primary controls, my personal code.

Complete.

Encode all secondary frequencies with encryption procedure in file Commander Data two-zero-three point
five-nine-three.

Encryption complete.

Computer, link all frequencies through my console.

Complete.

Function switch, main database.

Database ready.

Search all sub-bases, Klingon military tactics. Topic: covert operations. Subtopic: espionage. Cross-
reference: Hidran-Klingon conflict of twenty-two ninety-two.

Searching . . . Complete. Four hundred thirty-six files found.

List topics.

Data glanced over them rapidly, then pecked a few orders into the console.

New cross-reference: current Klingon tactics based on military reports.

Complete. Seventy-seven entries found under Tactical subtopic, one-hundred fifty-one entries found
under Federation/Klingon Liaison sub-topic.

List entries, maximum speed.

Stop squirming! Deanna snapped.

Riker pulled away, more from her tone than from the pain in his leg.

She pulled the bandage back around his calf and twisted. His hand lurched off the control panel and the
small shuttle rocked. Deanna found herself jammed between Rikers leg and the small alcove under the
console.

Flying manually by choice was exhilarating for Rikerhavingto do it was just nerve-stretching, and his
injured leg wasnt helping.

She pulled herself back up, grabbing the ends of the makeshift bandage again.

Watch it! He reached down, flexing his toes and feeling the caked blood that had stuck his uniform to
his calf. He wanted to rub at the wound but couldnt bring himself to reach any farther than his knee.

Deanna slapped his hand away and theflitter shook again.

Just let me do this, and you fly the ship, she said. Why not try to get the autopilot working?

Cant be fixed for the same reason we cant reach the captain.Enterprise s white-noise blanket must be
having some effect on it. He stabbed at the autopilot control, then felt the ship shudder and lose
altitude. He quickly turned it off. Well just have to continue manually.

She twisted at his bandage again and he grimaced. Thats a little too tight, Deanna, he said,
squinting at the console in pain.

His only answer was a bandage that pinched even closer around his leg.

Youre cutting off my circulation!

Youre circulating all over the deck. Im trying to stop the bleeding.

Theyd been sniping at each other since takeoff and he was ready to let himself circulate to death if it
would quiet her up. Shed wanted to turn back when the ship had lurched and hed crammed his shin into
the jagged edge of the console panel. He had decided theyd go on.

Riker didnt believe that their minor disagreement was what edged Deannas emotions, though. Maybe she
hadnt released the tension shed absorbed from the delegation. . . . He didnt know, and he might have
cared more,if she hadnt been taking her anger out on the gash in his leg.

What kind of transport doesnt carry a med-kit?Riker glanced back around the small shuttle the colonists
used for short-distance surveys. It was old and small, with barely enough room for the two of them and
their tricorder. A thick layer of gray dust covered every surface. Riker had wiped down the controls
before powering up, but that had only removed a decade of grime.

Dustand the sight of his own blood. Things he usually enjoyed living without.

He sneezed, and his leg pulsed with pain. The small ship jostled again and be and Deanna grunted as she
bumped against his leg.

The pain and the frustration weighed upon him, with her anxiety a mound on top of his own. He struggled
to keep his glare on the small crafts controls and off her as she worked on cleaning and dressing his
mangled shin and calf. Well, maybe not mangled, but itfelt that way.

We should turn back. she said.

No, he growled, burying his thoughts in the console, pounding at the controls. Too minor a reasonhe
wouldnt turn back just because he was in a little pain.

He looked down at the strip of uniform that now acted as his bandage. A laser suture on boardwould have
been nice, or even a roll of gauze, but the lack of either wasnt enough reason to squelch a mission.

We have our orders. Im not going to let this stop us.

Orders. He bent his lips into a frown. The captain had asked the impossiblenot unusual for Picardbut
this time Riker saw no reasonable way. Thousands of square kilometers of land couldnt be surveyed in a
flying dinghy with a souped-up tricorder.

Deanna gave a final tug at the bandage and pulled herself out of the small crevice she had been folded
into. Its not a small injury, Will. No ones been on this planet long. We dont know what kind of
microbes . . .

She let her sentence trail off.

What kind of microbes what?

She settled into the only other chair, the copilot seat, and looked out the starboard window. A real
window. With real blue-green sky and endless fields of grain below.

Nothing, she murmured.

He pursed his lips and silently fumed, unable to stem the burst of emotion he knew would probably catch
Deannas empathic attention. He could feel her staringthose know-all-tell-nothing eyes of a
counselorand wondered where the intimate eyes of a friend had gone. Or did he even want them?

And what didThomas Riker see when he looked into Deannas eyes?

Therewas a strange and confusing turn of events. Recently Riker decided he led a . . . well, anodd life.
What normal person wakes up in the morning to find that a transporter malfunction years ago had created
an exact duplicate of himself? It had been strange to look inthat mirror . . . to see a man he could
have beenwouldhave beenhad things not happened at certain turns in his life.

ThomasRiker, as Wills duplicate now called himself, had been stranded early in histheir?career,
marooned at an abandoned post. ThatLieutenant Riker, as he would remain while Will Riker received two
promotions, lived his life not among the stars, but scraping an existence from day to day. Thomas Riker
only dreamed of the life thatWill Riker was actually living. More than that, Tom Riker was still in love
with Deanna Troi.

Not so surprising, that. So why wasnt Will Riker? And why did he feel those twinges of jealousy and
guilt when Tom and Deanna had began . . . or was it continued? . . . where he and Deanna had left off?

Maybe he was still in love, in a way. He still enjoyed her companymore than any woman he had ever
known, but he wasnt really interested in rekindling anything at this point, was he? Falling in with
Barbara was evidence of that. Then why did he feel those twinges?

It probably didnt matter. Deanna wasnt interested in Will Riker anymore, it appeared. She was
interested in Tom Riker. Even if Willdid want to rekindle anything . . . well, he didnt know if that
was possible. It all depended on Deanna, and she wasnt an open book right now.

What else was new? For a psychological counselor she was a master at uncovering other peoples feelings
while shielding her own. She could sense, feel and report on others, but so often bottled her passions
while seeming to be open.

Right now she didnt even seem that, and it was beginning to annoy. Since when didnt she confide in
him?

Since Tom.

The manual control, the frustration of not even knowing what they were looking for . . . itall had worn
on him. Mile after mile of grain and mile after mile of edged talk was not a prescription to stop the
throbbing of his leg or to find what on the planet was absorbingEnterprise s energy.

All he was sure of so far was that Velex seemed to be a giant power sponge that soaked up the white-
noise blanket with fervor.

Every last bit of the flitters reserve power had been diverted to sensors to hack through that blanket.
That left manual navigation turbulent, and what energy was left being drained by the planet as well.

He gritted his teeth and tried to think about his piloting more than anything else. If he was going to
be resentful about something he should at least take it off of her. She could be reading him. Another
problem with empaths . . . theyd leave their victims wondering what thoughts had been listened to.

Each attempt to block his emotions just frustrated him further. Like trying to blow out a camp fire, he
was only fueling what hed hoped to smother flagging for perusal those thoughts he wanted hidden. The
harder he tried not to be read, the easier he would be to read.

Sensor penetration? he asked, knowing the answer was the same as ten minutes ago.

She looked from one screen to another. Twelve kilometer radius and holding.

Monotone. Distant.

Dammit, Deanna!

He was looking at her, and she snapped her eyes up to his.

What? she asked, perplexed.

Riker hesitated, then decided to push forward. Whats with you today?

She looked at him for a moment, then looked away, back toward the window. Im not sure.

Concern thumped around his gut, pulling his jaw tight. His leg throbbed with the pumping of his heart
but it seemed the least of his problems.

He stared at the back of her head, then looked out the starboard window, trying to follow her gaze to
whatever it was she saw, or felt.

He leaned over, nudged her shoulder.

Deanna, I didnt mean to snap, he offered a bit softer, knowing it should have been a lot softer.

She shook her head a little, looked up. You didnt, she murmured.

You all right?

Fine.

But she wasnt.

I know when youre fine. Whats bothering you? She turned to him, those mahogany Grecian eyes catching
his and pulling him in. There was such confusion pasted on her face . . . pain almostworse than when
she was swept up in a tempest of emotions that were the Hidran and Klingon delegations.

She stared at him a bit longer, looking the little lost girl. Perhaps trying to put thoughts into words.

He glanced out the window, made a course adjustment, tried to lose his tension in the churning jasmine
fields below. Tried to, but couldnt and swiveled back to her.

They rode up and down an air pocket and she said nothing. Riker got the feeling she was trying. Her
knuckles were white marbles on her lap and he half twisted out of his seat to face her.

She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, folding her hands together thoughtfully on the edge of the
console. I dont quite know how to put it.

Riker tapped the autopilot control, but the white-noise blanket still interfered with compu-nav-sensors
and the computer refused his command again. He grumbled something and had to turn back to the console.
Tell me what youre feeling.

This planet . . . theres something unnerving about it, she said slowly. It was barely noticeable
before . . . but as we get farther from the colony . . .

From the corner of his eye he noticed she was looking out the port again.

The planet makes you uncomfortable? What could do that?

Cocking her head to one side, as if listening to something in the distance, she focused her eyes on a
remote point and whispered, Nothing.

Rikers brows knitted. He shifted toward her, forgetting their mission to scan and just allowing the
flitter to travel off in a relatively straight line.

She bit her lower lip softly, then finally spoke. What do you hear when you go to the beach?

His brows shot up. Excuse me?

Seriously, she said. What does a beach sound like?

People

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. No. Say youre alone.

He shrugged, briefly wondering why hed be alone on a beach. Birds, the surf. I dont know. What else?

Right. She nodded. Even blindfolded youd know you were near the ocean. Entire planets are like that
for Betazoids. The millions of life-forms, from insects to people, put out a sort of . . . hum of life.
I can sense it. Sometimes I can even tell one planet from another by how itfeels to me.

How does this planet feel to you?

There was a cold silence for a moment, but Riker suddenly realized it wasnt an emotional cold. It
wasnt passionless. Picture your beach without sound, she said. The tide coming and going silently as
if you were deaf. But you could still hear the sound of your own voice and your boots crunching the
sand.

The image sent a shudder down Rikers spine. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Maybe a better way to describe it is like walking down that beach breathing stale air. She was raising
her voice now, almost angry at the situation. It sickens you. Suffocates you.

Riker frowned again. What do you think it means?

She gripped his arm, her fingers now talons and her eyes burning with small tears. She was scared. One
emotion he hadnt thought ofshe was scared.

As sure as were alive, Will, she said, I know this planet is dead!

Klingon! You are dead!

Urosks bellow cracked through the hall and yanked Picard to his feet. It echoed as Worf spun to see
Zhads form collapse over a Klingons. Worf looked up at Urosk, and the indicting Hidran finger that
meant to bore through him.

Picard followed the line of Urosks arm straight to Worfs eyes. Surprise tinted the Klingons features
only a moment before becoming angled with strength. He bent his knees and braced himself.

Captain Picard vaulted over his table, phaser drawn, and stabbed at his communicator. Enterprise!Beam
down emergency security team!

Urosk, down on one knee, grabbed the dagger in the dead Klingons chest. The armored corpse jolted up
with the blade, then fell back down as Urosk shook the body free. Urosk hurtled forward, toward Worf.

Picard bolstered his foot against the edge of the table in front of him and shoved. It went sliding
across the room, grinding toward Urosk. It slammed into the Hidran captain, barring his way to Worf for
the moment.

The other Hidran smashed their chairs on the hard stone floor and instantly each one was armed with a
strong, threatening club.

Splinters flew as wood cracked against marble and the Klingons suddenly had equally sinister weapons.

The Hidran captain held his blade, clamped tight between rust-red fingers. Iwill kill you myself,
Klingon!

Picard pulled Worf back and squared off with Urosk himself. A moment more and another security team
would beam down around them. Picard would have to hold them off until then.

But no shafts of light and sparkle appeared. No hum filled the hall, and Picards phaser seemed less and
less adequate in his palm. He didnt want to end up with a roomful of stunned carcasses. That would save
Worfs life, but lose the Klingon-Hidran peace. Not exactly how his mission orders read.

He looked back at Worf, hoping the Klingon wouldnt lose his cool in the shadow of Urosks posturing.
Worf was not the only one he had to worry aboutthe remaining five Klingons came up behind his security
chief, flanking him. Protection?

If so, the protection was capricious at best. With five Hidran, five Klingons, Worf and Picard, all
crushed into a few square yards in the center of the festival hall, something had to give.

Picard jabbed at his comm badge again. Enterprise! He heard the dull electrical tone that told him the
channel was blocked.

We will have vengeance! Urosk cried, grabbing a club from one of his men and shaking it wildly in the
air.

Kadar clutched at his own dagger. We are the ones who shall have that!

Picards muscles tensed and he balanced himself against a possible onslaught. His eyes became slivers
and he quickly pinpointed the positions of his few security men and Barbaras two guards. If it came
down to sheer numbers, he had control. Unfortunately Klingons and Hidran could count as two apiecetheir
rage turned even odds into poor ones.

Hollitt! Picard called, Get your people out of here! Close off the hall!

The Klingons closed tighter on Worf to barricade him, yet moved forward toward their foes.

Kadar put his hand on Worfs shoulder. We will stand with you.

The security chief pushed away. I stand with my captain.

Picard wasnt sure if Worf was acting out of loyalty or tactics, but he heard and nodded as his officer
moved out from between the cloister of his protectors. It looked bad to have Worf with them, as if there
had been some conspiracy to kill the ambassador.

The Hidran pushed closer, and the two groups began to square off against each other, space-faring races
whod clung to daggers in their lust for death by any weapon.

The captain gestured for his personnel to surround them. He hardened his shoulders, looked briefly at
Worf, then back to the throbbing mass of hostility that called itself a diplomatic delegation. Civilized
pretense had been lost. A pretense he was supposed to have preserved.

Phaserson stun, Picard said, rather quietly, to Worf.

Kadar, blade in hand, bulldozed the table between him and Urosk. They were feet apart and Picard thumbed
the trigger of his phaser. A brilliant orange rod of power slammed into the floor between the two
adversaries. A whine of energy rang throughout the hall, and dark smoke settled onto a frozen audience.

There will be no more death today! he thundered.

Every glare blazed rage and hate.

Indignantly, Urosk shook his knife in the air. We have had enough of your idleness Picard! Let us fight
our enemies or become an enemy yourself!

You dont want to be my enemy, Urosk, Picard barked. I will not have this. Cease, and we will find
the cause of your comrades death.

Kadar held his dagger in one hand and gestured to the fallen Klingon with his other. Will we not see
why my first officer died, Captain? he bellowed.

Picard nodded at the bodies. His murderer is dead. What more would you seek?

The Klingon turned toward Urosk, his blade outstretched, his voice a low, threatening growl. More.

Urosk dived forward, crimson arms extended, cloak flowing.

Picard locked eyes with Worf and gave the slightest of nods. Worf fired, and a sizzling lance pinned the
Hidran captain.

Urosk deflated, falling back into heap of groggy confusion.

The Klingons seized the moment and rushed forward.

Picard pointed, a threatening motion. His finger marked Kadar.

The Klingon commander toppled to his knees, dazed by the blast from Worfs phaser. Orange rivulets of
spark grappled his form, and his knife clattered onto the stone floor.

The captain looked from dagger to dagger, Hidran to Klingon, and wondered how many other traditions they
shared but would admit no common ground. Their problem was not their differences, he thought, but their
similarities.

He tacked back to the remaining Klingons. Four violent, savage scowls gouged with surprise. Not only had
a Starfleet ally phasered down the commander of an Imperial Battle Cruiser, but Worf had fired the blow.
Bitterness overpowered his pride in Worfs loyalty, though. The captain nodded and said: Phasers will
now be set toheavy stun.

A grating hum filled the hall and pressed into them as every energy weapon sang with more power.

Shall we go at it again? Picard asked harshly.

One Hidran officer, his furious eyes defiantly burning into Picard, exploded toward the Klingons.

Worfs phaser came up but Picard pushed the Klingons hand down and fired his own weapon.

The Hidran officer snapped forward, then convulsed and went flying back, his weapon clattering to the
floor.

No one reached to pick it up.

Well, gentlemen, Picard said, pitiless, how do we get ourselves out of this bloody mess?

We demand the right to prosecute him! A Hidran court must judge this matter!

Urosk had unfolded himself from off the floor and now stood before Picard. If the Hidran captain was
still feeling the effects of the phaser stun, as he should have been, he wasnt showing it. He pulled
the dark cloak around his slick skin and took in a short, angry breath. Well, Picard?

A good two feet shorter than the Hidran, Picard somehow managed a glare that lookeddown at Urosk. Worf
still at his side, the captain holstered his phaser and nodded a firm chin toward the Klingon. And then
execute him, Captain? I think not.

We have our rights! Urosk bellowed.

And so does Lieutenant Worf, Captain.

Urosk scowled at Worf and ground those sharp little teeth that flashed through his mask. Murderers have
no rights, Picard. Especially Klingons.

I am not convinced a murder has been committed by anyone other than Ambassador Zhad, Picard said. I
assure you an investigation

Investigation! Urosk twisted away then pivoted back. And while you act to protect your security
chief, do not think I will not act on my own!

Youd better not. Barbara Hollitt came up beside Picard. She held her own weapon, and matched Urosk
glare for glare, her green to his. Everybody in this hall is under house arrest until further notice.

Urosks face crumbled into a scowl. By whose authority

Mine, Barbara said coldly and turned to Picard. My guards will remove the Klingon delegation to the
back hall. No one comes in or out without my say-so.

Picard nodded approval, glad the Klingons would be separated from the Hidran, but uneasy with Barbaras
guards doing the job. Where were his own? Why hadnt his communicator connected with the Enterprise?
What other problems were burning elsewhere?

I will not stand for this, Picard, Urosk said.

You will, Picard said slowly, darkly, whether you wish to do so quietly or not I do not care, but
youwill do it. The captain leaned closer to Urosk, over and up. I am in control of this situation,
Urosk, and if anyone else gets injured it will not be me or my people.

The Hidran captains wide florid lips snarled up into a smirk. That we shall see, he said, and spun
quickly on his heel, leaving a swirl of sour air twisting under Picards nose.

He and Worf shared a glance as the captain pounded his comm badge. Picard toEnterprise .

Data here, sir.There was no delay.

Where in hell were you ten minutes ago? Picard demanded.

In sickbay with Dr. Crusher, sir,Data said in something slightly more concerned than his normal tone.

Geordi? Picard asked quickly.

Yes, sir,Data said.After beaming up he collapsed on the transporter pad. He has been in emergency
surgery since eighteen twenty-two hours.

Picards brow furrowed, his skin felt tight. Surgery for what?

To have his temple implants removed, sir. A total malfunction of his VISOR bio-circuitry.

Picards gut twisted and he suppressed a shiver. His crisp hazel eyes focused on Zhad for a moment. Is
he in any mortal danger?

No, sir. Not at this time.

Keep me informed every step, Mr. Data.

Aye, sir.

Thoughts of Geordi still chewing at him, Picard pushed on to more pressing matters. Commander, when I
needed communication with the ship

Yes, sir. Sorry for any delay. I was transferring all frequencies to my control for security purposes.

The captain looked up at Worf and shook his head. Quite inopportune, Mr. Data. We needed an open
channel.

I am sorry, sir, Data said. I thought there may be a chance that the Klingons could use our open comm
channels if we left them available. They have used similar tactics in the past.

Any evidence of unauthorized use? Picard asked.

No, sir. But I am pursuing a hypothesis.

Pulling in a deep sigh, Picard nodded. He didnt want to step on any of his officers initiatives, but
Data might have caused problems, even deaths.

I understand what you were trying to do, Commander, but youll have to work on your timing. More harm
than good might have come of it.

Aye, sir,came the simple reply.

Any word from Riker?

Not yet, sir.

Contact him and have them return directly here. A small energy drain is the least of our worries right
now.

Yes, sir.

Can Doctor Crusher leave Mr. La Forge?

Once shes out of surgery, I believe so, sir.

Have her beam down as soon as possible. There have been two deaths. Picards eyes narrowed on Zhads
collapsed form, still crumpled over the Klingons dead body, soaking in a pool of alien blood. I want
to know ifboth were murder.

Stabilize! Riker pounded the console with his fist. Come on! Come on! Get up there! he scolded the
flitter as it pitched forward and down, a burst of power burning through it.

He slammed hard against the console as Deanna toppled out of her seat.

What the hell was that? he choked, pushing himself away from the controls, trying to fill his aching
chest.

I dont know, Deanna groaned, pulling herself back up into her chair.

Riker scanned the different computer screens and worked to balance the shuttle further. He wasnt used
to roller-coaster rides where he could plummet to his death. He also didnt usually yell at his
equipment, but with only Deanna here . . . well, this wasnt the bridge of theEnterprise .

Sensors show we just passed through that anomaly you read. No energy drain down there.

Im reading something else. Deanna swiveled away from her console. Theres a sensor beacon here. The
tone in her voice was less anxious than before. Telling him what shed been feeling, getting into words
what she hadnt even been able to get into thoughts, must have taken a weight off her shoulders.
Unfortunately, all the weight was now on his.

Riker punched up the visual on his screen. A lump of barren rock at the center of a wild grain field
stared back at him. He looked out the port window and saw the same: gray-brown slabs of stone chunked
together in the middle of all that wheat.

As if someone dropped their cargo from a quarry ship, he said.

Riker had theflitter circling wide around the outcropping. He punched in a command for a tighter spin,
then looked up at Deanna. What do you think?

I dont think its naturally occurring, Deanna said. It is broadcasting a beacon, Will. Weak, and
certainly not on a Starfleet band, but on someones. If we hadnt been looking . . .

Maybe someones trying to hide it, Riker said, thinking aloud. He shook his head and a few strands of
dark hair fell over his brow. But you dont hide something from someone who isnt looking. Anything you
want to hide you make sure is hidden when someoneis looking.

She looked at him for a moment as they were quiet. He angled back toward the port and looked down at the
boulders and sheets of stone that were suddenly so out of place on a planet of continuous fields.

We should report back to the captain, Deanna said.

Agreed, he needs to know what youve told me . . . but this is too good to pass up. Lets try and take
back more information than the planet makes Deanna fidget.

He rubbed the back of his neck. That didnt come out the way I meant it to, Deanna. All the tension,
now this puzzle . . . Can we forget that comment with a few other choice ones Ive made in the last few
hours?

And I thought I was the empath. Deanna smiled. You read my mind.

He laughed, reached for her hand.

Okay, he began, well find out a little more, then head back.

She nodded, gave his hand a squeeze, and turned back to her console.

Square one, Riker said. What kind of broadcast is it?

Deanna shrugged. Short. One or two seconds, then it repeats.

Try a standard hail on its own wavelength.

She tapped at the console, then lifted her head. Nothing.

Riker began to tap his foot nervously, then remembered the pain in his leg. He winced and sucked in a
quick breath.

Computers ask standard log-in questions. Maybe this is some kind of a log-in computer prompt, asking
for a response or a command, she suggested.

That would take forever to find, Riker said. Try simple codes.

A moment later she shook her head.

His hand dropped back down to his knee and he rubbed. My kingdom for a bullet to bite on.

Deanna continued to type something into her board but stooped down to check Rikers bandage. Is the
pain worse? She asked. Youre bleeding through my handiwork.

I promise to wash it before I return it.

She shook her head. Why are you so stubborn?

You love it, he said, bobbing his brows up and down, giving his bearded face a devilish tinge.

There goes your rating as an empath. The only thing Id love right now is amedical doctor looking at
your leg.

Well compromise. Well try a few more things. If nothing works, we head back.

She nodded agreeably. Okay. What next?

Try anything, he said. Play back its own signal, transmit a binary request for communication,
whatever. He watched her peck away at her console. Somethings down there, he said. We cant scan
under the rocks, yet we get a beacon fromthem . The signal cant be from the rock itself, can it?

Deanna gave a soft shrug. Transmitting. Maybe we dont have enough power to penetrate the rock
withEnterpri 

Suddenly Deanna was quiet. Riker twisted to ask

Craaaaaaaack!

Riker slammed to a stop in mid-motion, his muscles straining against air that suddenly was thick as wet
sand against his chest. He couldnt move . . . saw Deanna at his side . . . motionless . . . turned to
stone.

With all his will he tried to push against whatever fist held him in its grip. What was it? He didnt
care. He wanted to turn, to breathe, to move.

His muscles ached, his head pounded with pain . . . there was no give from whatever held him. Riker felt
himself trembling against the strain, but knew he wasnt really moving. Frustration held him as tight as
the paralysis.

From the edge of his vision he saw the dim gray rock spiraling up toward the port window.

His vision abruptly fogged to black. He could still hear the whine of air rushing against the shuttle,
and there was horror when the awful whine began to fade.

It ended with the crunch of metal collapsing against rock.

He felt a twinge of soreness ripple through his body, then . . . nothing.

Chapter Five

HIS FACE LOOKED NORMALwithout the glowing temple implants. Eyes closed, no one would have known he was .
. . blind. Beverlys mind choked over the thought as surely as her throat would have if shed tried to
speak it.

Blind.No fooling blind.

There was no medical reason for her to be there. She couldve been checking on Rileys arm or Tsnatsus
fluid intake . . . she should have been. But she left it to others, to be here holding a hand.

Watching the movement of his eyes under closed lids, she wondered what he envisioned in a dream. Did
Geordi see as she didcolors, forms, definable lines and shapes, or did he dream in whatever impulses he
usually saw through his VISOR?

It struck her that Geordi hadnt really been blind since he was a child. No more than anyone who could
turn their sight on and off with a desire. There was no permanence when he took his VISOR off at night,
just as there was no permanence when she let her own eyes drift shut.

Now all that had changed. His VISOR was elsewhere, the implants that allowed it to work were goneand
his eyes might never open again.

Beverly squeezed his hand and looked up at the vitals screen, more for distraction than anything else,
until Datas voice pulled her gaze toward the doorway.

Geordi?

Hes still under the anesthetic, she whispered, rising, yet keeping her hand around Geordis.

Data nodded and glanced up at the monitors. How is he?

Resting easily. She gently released Geordis hand and joined Data near the doorway. Lets talk
somewhere else.

Data hesitated. He wanted to stay. Should he? No logical reason presented itself, so he turned and
followed the doctor out.

In silence they walked to the next door and entered Beverlys office. She let out a long sigh and fell
into her desk chair. Beverly looked tired, eyes weary, shoulders weaker.

I guessed right, she said. Removing the bioneural implants worked.

Guessed, Doctor?

Beverly looked up at him, then back down. Without time to review procedures on the operation I had to
let the computer lead the way and suggest the answers. We had to make an educated guess as to the
problem.

Data nodded. Dr. Crusher had good stamina for a human, but her voice was spiritless and she seemed not
to wish to go into the details Data needed. And that problem was? he prodded.

She rubbed her foreheadanother sign she was tired. His temple implants were breaking down and
inflaming his tissues. She frowned, glowering at her hands as she clasped tightly on top of the desk.
We took them out. Now hes fine.

Then you acted correctly. Data was trying to be consoling and he wondered if it came across that way.

Did I, Data? I let a computer be the doctor and ended up taking out a mans eyes because he had a
headache. Not exactly a method of which Hippocrates would have approved. She ran her thumb along the
edge of her tunic jacket and mumbled, Whats next? Decapitations for dandruff?

She was being overly dramatic, Data decided. I would think that out of the question, Doctor.

The slightest smile appeared on Beverlys lips. Why? Surely she didnt want him to take the comment
seriously.

Beverly gestured for Data to take a seat.

He did, knowing that humans disliked an inferior position in any discussion. Do you know what happened
to the implants?

They looked decayed to me. Something that shouldnt have happenedthe implants should outlast
theEnterprise. Bioengineering is examining them. Theyve ruled out a problem with the VISOR itself. She
tapped a few commands into her desk computer and swiveled the screen toward him.

Data looked down at the screen a moment. The text said nothing she hadnt told him. Why show him? Just
for the sake of having done it? Humans were fidgety.

Prognosis, Doctor?

Hes stable now. Hell be fine . . . except for his sight.

Is the blindness permanent?

Speaking slowly, she whispered, I dont know.

How was he to react? The injury of a comrade was serious. That the disability may be permanent made it
doubly so.

He knitted his brows in an expression he thought was regret.

Judging by the sadness in Beverlys eyes he probably came close.

Doctor, I am sorry to ask you to leave, but the captain requires your presence planetside.

Her expression changed to anger without thoughtonce round brows now arched up. Like hell. I cant
leave Geordi right now

You did just say he was stable, Doctor.

Yes, but . . . leave? Now? Out of the question. She shook her head. Under no circumstances. When
Geordi wakes up, I have to be here. Hes going to wake up blind, Data. Truly blind. Do you know what
that means?

Data thought he did, but something told him that Beverly had another meaning in mind.

Its going to take more than an order from the captain to get me off this ship right now, Mr. Data.
Itll take an act of god.

Itwas an order from the captain. What more could he say? There has been a murder, Doctor.

Beverlys face became red. Whether from guilt or anger or disgust, Data could not be sure.

She picked up a medical tricorder from the edge of her desk. I guess an act of stupidity is as close as
Ill get to an act of god.

Captain Picard?

Barbara was able to catch up with Picards gait across the hall as he stooped down to snatch a spoon off
the floor. He walked so quickly shed had trouble keeping up with his stride.

She stopped, letting him march a few paces without her. Finally he realized and turned.

Picard stood there, slapping the cup of the spoon against his palm anxiously. Dr. Hollitt?

She flattened her lips. Im sorrywere we supposed to be racing?

He glared and walked toward her. Point taken. What did you find out?

Barbara gave an apologetic nod. She hadnt meant to be so flippant, just wasnt sure how to react to all
these Starfleet people. And she wasnt sure how she felt about Rikers disappearance. A few days ago
Velex had been a small colony of scientists fumbling in the fields, and she was an overworked and
underpaid botany specialist. Now Velex was becoming the battle ground of a war and she was in the middle
of it, worrying about a man shed just met a few hours ago. Shed stepped into that relationship
expecting nothing more than the moment, and she couldnt really explain the feeling of loss. All she
really could explain was that she didnt feel Picard was doing enough to stop the entire situation from
falling out of control.

But what should she do? Assert herself as leader of the colony? Or maybe just sit back and let the
soldiers do their jobs.

She looked at the hard line of Picards jaw and the captains determined brow.

We dont show them on scanners, but your transmission blanket makes our equipment pretty useless.

Picard nodded and they continued across the hall again. This time the captain seemed to be watching his
gallop to assure she wouldnt fall behind.

He huffed out a breath and clacked the business end of the spoon against his comm badge. Picard
toEnterprise!

Enterprise,Data here, sir.

Mr. Data, I want a scan of the planet for the away teams shuttle.

It would be necessary to disable the white-noise transmission, sir.

Do so, Commander. Restore when scans are complete.

There was a pause. Too long, Barbara assumedPicard was surprised enough to stop his trot across the
hall.

Acknowledge that, Mr. Data.

Barbara flinched at the bark in Picards voice.

Yes, sir. Do you think it is wise considering Commander Rikers failure to report in?

The captain shifted his weight from one leg to the other and Barbara saw his shoulders tense. Was he as
anxious to find out about Will Riker and the counselor, or was he just cross at being questioned by a
subordinate?

Explain, Commander. Quickly.

Mr. Rikers unexplained absence may be due to . . . Klingon interference. Interference that could only
increase if the white-noise blanket is disengaged.

Picard looked sharply back toward the center of the hall, a clanging noise distracting him.

Barbara followed his gaze. Just someone setting a table upright.

I see, Picard said flatly.

Wasnt this news? Wasnt this important? Just a bit cold-bloodedto discuss a missing crewmen so
dispassionately. Which was the android, Data or Picard?

Thats the second time youve made such an assertion, Mr. Data. Picard was focused again, his eyes off
the table and pivoting around the room. Upon what do you base it?

Barbara opened her mouth to speak.

Picard waved her off.

Instinctively she took a step back. His gesture wasnt threatening, but was certainly a warning.

Will Riker was a kind, delightful good time. How did he get along with this captain? They werent just
day and nightthey were separate seasons.

Evidence is inconclusive at this time, sir.She frowned. Damn. No news was . . . well, no news.

Then carry out my orders, Picard said.

Aye, sir.

How soon can I expect Dr. Crusher?

She is on her way to the transporter room now and will brief you on Commander La Forges condition upon
arrival.

Very well. Alert me as soon as you know something about Riker and Troi. Picard out.

The spoon clanged against the communicator, signaling it off.

Picard glanced back toward the middle of the hall and Barbaras gaze followed.

From here, Zhads body was nothing more than a long gray blob, his tall form covered with a tablecloth.
A few feet away lay a similar blob, the ambassadors Klingon victim.

None of this is going away, she said.

No. The captain shook his head. Its not. He pivoted toward her. Whats the maximum range of one of
those flitters of yours?

She shrugged. Under five thousand kilometers without refueling Id guess.

Spaceworthy?

No. Strictly low atmosphere. Captain . . . Barbara hesitated, unsure she wanted to ask her question.
She might get an answer. What do you think has happened to them?

Picard began thwacking the spoon against his leg. Was he finally nervous? If he was that may be worse
than when he wasnt. Why was he concerned all of a sudden?

Somethings happened, he murmured. Maybe they found something.

Disengage white-noise transmission, Mr. De Potter.

The young ensign looked up at the android and nodded. Aye, sir. Hed been all worked up for first
shift duty, which meant posting with the captain on the bridge, and hadnt expected to be under command
of the second officer. Not that it was a problemjust that Commander Data wasnt who hed been ready
for. And with a starship under his fingertips he wanted to be more than ready.

He ran his hands along the console. Nonstandard transmissions were always a problem. If he even
missedone key sequence . . .

Disengaged, sir.

DePotter looked down at his board to confirm the disbursement of the frequency field. Stay on top of
things, anticipate questions, and you look good.

Sir! DePotter poked at the board again to make double sure.

Data rose from the command chair. Report.

Seismic activityplanet wide! It was there. . . .  DePotter looked up, expecting to see incredulity
reflected back at him. All he saw was Datas expressionless face and it startled him. He stumbled. Then
it . . . it was gone a second later.

The android leaned down over the ensigns shoulder and scanned the readouts. You are correct. Three-
point-three-two magnitude for point-seven seconds.

I know, DePotter said, then quickly added, sir. Mistake number fifty-two since he had been
transferred to his first bridge rotation a day ago . . . and he knew he wasnt the only one counting.

Unique, Mr. DePotter.

Yes, sir.Shut up. Do your job. Say aye, sir a lot.

Data tapped a finger at one of DePotters console readouts. A fleeting earthquake of significant
magnitude, less that a second in length, with no after shocks.

Aye, sir.

The last aye shoulda been a yes and the yes shoulda been an aye.He was overanalyzing, and knew
that introspectiveness only led to . . . perspiration.

Data stood up straight. Ensign?

This was itsomehow hed caused the quake and now thereal boom would be lowered.

Sir?

Was not your previous assignment Geological Sciences?

DePotter fought to keep himself from cringing. Uh, yes, sir. Back to the gravel pit he went. Shortest
bridge rotation in Starfleet history.

Commander Data looked down at DePotter with a serious expression. What do you make of the situation
then?

The quake, sir?

What a dunsel question! Of course the quake.

The android simply nodded.

Well, DePotter began slowly, trying to draw out his first moment of real comfort on the bridgeat
least this he could answer. Theres no overt volcanic activity of any kind, but sensors have been
unable to penetrate the crust. We are assuming a solid core considering the age of the other planets in
this system . . . He looked from Data to the planets image on the main viewer and back, analyzing what
he knew out loud. I dont think theres ever been an instance of seismic activity occurring
simultaneously over an entire planet. Especially one that has no tectonic activity. At least theres no
recorded record of one.

Recorded record? What was that? Is that like a yelling scream?

Data nodded. I concur. He turned toward the science station. Scan for the away team and the Velexian
shuttle, and download all sensor data on the tremor to the science station. Then reestablish the white-
noise broadcast.

DePotter poked at his console, and tried to salvage his self-esteem. Aye aye, sir.

No one could be having a worse day.

Captain Picard had given his version of a sigh again. Hed done it more than a few times in the last
hour, and that concerned Barbara almost as much as Will Rikers whereabouts. She decided the outcome of
this entire situation rested on Picards shoulders, and that he was suddenly uncertain . . . well, that
was something to worry about too.

Maybe there was no blessing in the captains asking her to join him in private, but shed needed to get
out of the main hall. There was something unnerving about that room now. Two dead bodies and so little
activityno screams, no weeping, just a lone doctor hovering over them, and even she had seemed rather
detached to Barbara.

Barbara wasnt sure which was better: when these people didnt seem to care . . . or when they did.

She couldnt read Picard right now.

Thank you, Mr. Data. Let me know when you have something more. Picard out.

The wooden chair creaked as Barbara leaned forward. Well?

Rising, the captain began to circle the table that filled the room. He barely had room to pace.

My science officer confirmed the earthquake. Whats puzzling, the captain said, his finger whirling in
a small circle to encompass all of Velex, is that it was concurrent planetwide.

Barbara looked up, tensely gripping her hands on the arms of the chair.Well?

Picard looked at her a moment. If he wondered what she was talking about, it was only for a fleeting
moment. He also said there was no sign of the away team or the shuttle within the radius of its
presumable range.

She could feel tears beginning to well and she blinked them away. It was crazyshed only met him today.
It also wasnt just himthat was a lie to herself. The whole situationwhat had happened to her simple
plan? Maybe an after-effect of the white noise . . .

Unlikely. Im having the entire planet scanned, but if theyvehe looked down quickly, then back
uplanded somewhere, itll take time.

She nodded and pushed herself out of the chair.

Doctor, Picard began, as if he were deciding whether to confide in her, has a quake like this ever
happened here before?

Back to something other than Will and his companion. Maybe Picard couldnt deal with it, so he had to
think about something else. Barbara didnt know what to make of anything anymore. The only thing she did
know was that she didnt like Picards inaction.

Ever? She cocked her head to one side. I cant speak to ever. Ive only been here a little over a
week.

Picard scowled across the table at her. What is this annoying tendency of scientists to be so damned
literal?

Thats what science is all about, Captain.

Picard gave a harrumph and looked down at the spoon he still held in his hand. Dr. Hollitt, I
appreciate your help so far, but I need serious answers. Has there been a similar quake while youve
been here?

She gave her hair a defiant flip. I would have told you if so.

A simple no would have sufficedbut maybe thats one of the reasons civilians like her werent in
Starfleet.

Why do you ask?

Asking too many unnecessary questions was another of those reasons.

Picard thumbed his lower lip and she thought he was either considering an answer, or considering
answering.

I have a hunch.

She laughed. Ah, I see. That explains your problem with science. The laugh was nervous and she thought
it showed. Here she was depending on this stranger and he had a hunch . . . What did that say about her?

I dont have a problem with science, Picard said. In fact, its because of my disbelief in
coincidence that I have this hunch.

Whats your hunch?

The captain shook his head. I dont know yet. Some possible connection with the quake and the away
teams disappearance perhaps.

Youre right, that is scientific, Barbara said dryly. Picard flashed a glare.

If looks could burn, Barbara would have been a cinder.

Lieutenant Worf, reporting as ordered, sir.

Five feet from the door, Worf still blocked Picards view of its polished wooden frame.

The captain looked up at the tall Klingon and nearly said, At ease, but knew Worf would feel more
comfortable at attention.

Picard sat up straight. Mr. Worf, we have a very delicate situation. Youve been accused by the Hidran
of murder, and Id rather not exacerbate matters by keeping you on duty. I must relieve you.

Understood, sir. Worf yanked his phaser from its holster and placed the weapon on the table. I stand
relieved.

The captain pursed his lips. Worf had spared Picard from making the longer speech hed been dreading,
but that was no real relief. He trusted Worf, believed in him, and didnt enjoy having to relieve him.
He just couldnt keep Worf on duty considering the circumstancesit would only serve to anger the Hidran
further.

The Klingon, still ram-rod straight, looked down and relaxed the expression on his face. Regulations
require it, sir. I would do the same in your place.

Of that Picard had no doubt. But he wondered if Worf would feel the same regret. What was the Klingon
feeling now? The severity of his thick brow and that bony forehead left most emotions masked. Pride was
always there. Anger, sure. Loyalty he wore like a badge. But regret? Picard couldnt remember finding
regret in those dark, shadowy eyes. And as the Klingon stood there, the paragon of a soldier, Picard
knew he couldnt conceal the remorse in his own.

If anything was clear from the events of the past few hours, it was that Worf was no murderer.

Lieutenant, Picard said, waggling a finger at Worf, were going to prove your innocence.

Beverly Crusher closed her medical tricorder and pushed herself up from her half-kneel over Zhads body.

A disgusting sight. Not the sight of blood or the scent of the Hidrans wet flesh, but the sight and
scent of murder itself.

Well, Doctor? Picard prodded. What do you think?

I think theyre dead. She spat the words at the captain, and meant to.

Picard shook his head. Youre not being enlightening, Doctor.

Fine, you want to know what I think? She crooked a thumb angrily over her shoulder. I think the
Klingon was stabbed and the Hidran had his face ripped off. That is myofficial medical diagnosis.

Doctor, Picard scolded harshly.

She knew ironic answers where not what the captain had in mind. He never did. But to be herecleaning up
the mess of people who . . . well, who werent Geordi. She just wanted to be up there, mending the
living rather than sweeping up after the dead.

Picard gripped Beverlys elbow with his strong fingers and pulled her to his side. His tone was at once
understanding and harsh. Mr. Worf needs your help as well.

It was as if Picard knew where her thoughts were. A doctor with a ship full of patients had a thousand
different concerns for a thousand different crewmen. Shed forgotten that a captains thoughts radiated
fartherthe crew, the ship, Starfleet, life, death, right, wrong . . . and Geordi too.

She lowered her gaze and nodded. A little guilt was a good thing now and then, someone once said. Come
to think of it, a doctor probably said it.

Worf needed help . . . okay. Maybe she could do something. I dont know enough about their physiology
to determine anything more than the Hidran died of suffocation. Maybe with some files on general anatomy
from their ship and sickbay

The captain shook his head. Im afraid thats not one of our alternatives at this point, Doctor.
Diplomacy.

Beverly held up her tricorder. Science, Captain. And diplomacy has nothing to do with science.

Picard motioned to the two dead bodies. But plenty to do with murder.

I am not willing to sit and wait to be murdered!

Be seated, Batok.

You know they will protect their own and we will not see justice! You know we will be killed?

Captain Urosk rose slowly, evenly. If hed had a knife it wouldnt be the tension he would cutit would
be Batoks throat.Sit down, Batok.

Batok paused, testing his captain, then angrily snapped back into his seat.

Urosk knew that bringing the young hothead along was going to be problematic. He cursed his own
decision. Once in space he could have backed out on his promise to allow the ambassador to choose the
security force. He should have known Zhad would favor those politically aligned with him.

The Federation is different from the Klingon Empire. Urosk spoke more to the other three, less
volatile members of his party. Even the ambassador said Picard was worthy of respect.

Batok twisted away and studied the door. That was before Picard ordered his assassination.

We do not know that. Worf is a Klingon. He acts as a Klingon. Urosk forced his tone down, cooler, and
began to pace the room.

He had to keep control of Batok. Like Zhad, the young officer was alive for his hate. If allowed to, he
would die of that hateor for it. Urosks concern was to see that Batok did not pull the Hidran race
down with him. It was true that without strength the Hidran would have died by the millions, and it
remained true. But reasonability was not weakness, and while such knowledge was common among the masters
of ships, it was less evident to a people raised on venom.

Picard is not Klingon and may not hold their biases.

Batok shook an angry orange fist at Urosk. Picard is a Klingon sympathizer! He has one in his crewhe
has been active in Klingon politicsand he speaks their language!

Urosk pivoted toward Batok, clamped his long fingers around the young officers neck, and pulled him up.
How many Hidran speak Klingonese, Batok? A third? More? He shoved the young tusk back into the chair.
Shall we slit every throat that cracks a Klingon word?

Shuddering with either fear or angerUrosk could not tell whichBatok narrowed his gaze and looked away
from his captain. The highest insult one could pay a superior.

Perhaps, Batok hissed slowly, we should.

No mask could muffle Urosks intensity, his anger, as he pressed his face down close to Batoks. There
would be no looking away. Then we wouldve had to kill Ambassador Zhad first.

Batoks angry expression dulled, and Urosk knew he had hit his mark.

The Hidran captain turned on his heel and walked toward the door. He pounded three times, summoning the
guards, and took in a deep breath of artificially moist air. He wanted to bathe, to feel refreshed by
the waters of his planet, to be out of this Klingon desert.

I will speak to Picard.

About? Batok asked defiantly.

About justice for the Ambassador and the survival of our people.

Good! Batok said defiantly, as if he had won his point. And what if in his actions Picard proves me
right?

Then we shall act at the first opportunity. But on my order, Batok.Not yours.

Speak plainly with me, brother. Kadar faced Worf head-on and gripped the other Klingons shoulders.
His grip was tight, his smile one of admiration.

Worf did not shrug off the embrace, but neither did he clamp his hands around Kadars arms to complete
it. Captain Picard wishes to meet with you and Urosk in private.

Still smiling, Kadar dropped his hands with a fraternal slap on Worfs shoulders. The Hidran have
thought us weak since we left their space. You were right to execute Zhad. You have restored our honor.

I executed no one. Anger welled in Worfs chest. He could feel his muscles tighten and he balled his
fists at this sides. And you weredriven from their space.

The words were meant to gouge at Kadar, and Worf knew they had. It wasnt just the truth that was injury
to the Klingon captainit was Worf referring to his people as you. It was a distance never spoken by
Klingons.

Kadars dark face crumpled into offense and he stepped closer to Worf, overtly making sure not to touch
him . . . yet.

What are you?

Worf knew the rote answer was to beI am Klingon . Silence furthered the insult.

Areyou my brother? Kadar growled.

Again there was silence as Worf studied the Klingon captains face. Was this the picture he himself
cast? Was his own face this severe and cold? Was he a brother to this one who would gladly kill every
last Hidran?

I am Worf, and my captain wishes to speak with you.

Did they still kill the messengers of bad news? At this point DePotter would have welcomed death.
Anything was better than reporting the demise of a superior officer. What was protocol? Should he come
right out and say it?

Sir?

Data turned from the science station. Yes, Mr. DePotter.

Slowly . . . calmly . . .just say it . Hed so wanted to find them. Wanted to save them. He didnt know
what to expecthe almost thought thered be some beacon to guide him. No such ensigns luck. Or first
officers luck for that matter.

Planetary scans complete, sir. Weve pinpointed the Velexian shuttle. Its crash-landed, sir.

Commander Riker and the counselor?

DePotter hesitated. He didnt know how to say such a thing. He just looked down, unable to meet
Commander Datas eyes.

No life signs, sir.

There, it was said. His heart shrank and a chill washed over him.

Data stood, pulling DePotters gaze upward as he did. Ensign, have you scanned for corpses?

Corpses?

DePotter looked down at the padd he carried, as if he might find the answer there. The bodies, sir? No,
sir. One too many sirs. And two too few bodies. The thought was gruesome. Hed just assumed that with
the crash . . . and he shouldnt have assumed. Im sorry, sir.

Data nodded, his bright gold eyes impassive to the error. Do not be sorry, Mr. DePotter. Be thorough.

Barbara watched Picard intently, not knowing if she should stay or go. She wanted to stayto hear
something about Will. Was all this talk classified between Picard and his ship?

She supposed that the tight little man would tell her if so. The captains jaw clenched so often it was
a wonder he hadnt worn his teeth into nubs. And he kept playing with that damn spoontwirling the thing
back and forth between his fingers. How anyone so brusque and affected was able to keep command of
hundreds was beyond her.

Answers, Mr. Data, Picard said, annoyed. Youre not giving me answers.

I only have theories at this point, sir.

At this point, Commander, Id take readings from a crystal ball.

There was silence save for some static over the communicator. Then:I am unfamiliar with that reference,
Captain.

Barbara smiled and rolled her eyes downward. There was a bit of gratification in knowing that someone
could ruffle Picards feathers.

The starship captain was obviously in no mood for this. Then you have something to occupy your off
hours, Commander. Whats your theory?

Data seemed unfazed.I have two, sir. Since Commander Riker and Counselor Trois bodies are not with the
shuttle, they may have been taken as hostages and the crashed shuttle left as disinformation.

By whom? For what purpose? Picard snapped.

I would not presume to fathom purposes while formulating such a hypothesis, sir.

One moment he demanded answers, the next he chastised Data because the answer wasnt what he wanted to
hear. Barbara had never really thought about joining Starfleet . . . and she was glad.

She was going to say something, but held herself back. Most important thing now was to hope Picard shut
up so she could hear Datas theories on Rikers whereabouts. If he had any. And she had to
believewanted to believehe did.

Frowning, Picard rose and walked to the small window across from him.

What would the Hidran gain by doing so?

Data quickly answered the rhetorical question.The Hidran, sir? Nothing.

Looking out across the saffron fields he began tapping the handle of the spoon on the window sill. This
all made such little sense. The Hidran had no cause. The Klingons had no cause.

Whats your second theory, Mr. Data?

There is some inexplicable radiation residue at the site. Conclusive answers cannot be made without
local investigation since the white-noise transmission is re-engaged, but indications are the area has
been exposed to some form of high energy other than the explosion of the shuttle itself.

Picard cradled the spoon in his hand as if it were a Starfleet-issue hand phaser. High energy like a
weapon?

That is a possibility, sir.

Disgust washed over the captain. He stared at the spoon, thumbed what would be the trigger if it were a
phaser, then dropped it to the sill.

The spoon hung for a moment, left a small silver mark on the ledges stone surface, then dropped to the
floor.

Chapter Six

DARKNESS.

Not the kind that came with sleep, at night, eyes resting. This darkness was without the familiar swirls
of shadows, and lacked the comfort of fading memories of color.

Perhaps somewhere else there was light, but not here. Here the universe consisted of pitch
blacknesschilly and sticky, a cold sweat.

It was the blindness of death, to be sure.

She reached out to grasp something. Anything. She felt nothing. There was no feeling. Was she even
moving or was there nothing there to touch? All she knew was that shewasnt dead. And that alone was
based on the fragile idea that death didnt come with headaches. If the pounding in her head was a
measure of life, she wasnt in any danger of dying.

She tried to croak out a word but found she couldnt push the air from her lungs. Thiswas a nightmare.
It had to be.

Motion! She felt! Shed moved! A harsh shudder vibrated through her, like the sensation of falling just
before drifting off to sleep.

Will?

Her own voice.

Sound! Motion and sound! What more did anyone want from life?

Her eyes were open, werent they? She felt herself blinking. They had been closed, and now she felt the
cool air on her open eyes.

Therewas light here. Faint, but lovely in its own way; pencil line shafts radiating from . . . a control
panel? Sickbay? Notoo cold for thattoo musty.

Deanna!

His voice choked dryly, echoing.Not sickbay .

Will?

Yes. Where are you?

She heard him groan and she began to rise, but her head pounded her back, dizziness washing over her,
sheets of cold fog blurring her mind. She quickly lowered herself the few inches back onto the cold slab
of whatever shed been lying on.

Deanna, stay where you are. Dont get up quickly.

I cant feel you, she sobbed, her voice raspy. An echo.Not sickbay .

Im right here.

But he wasnt there. Not in the sense she meant. She shook her head, or imagined she did, and tried to
put into words the emotions she was feeling. Her emotionsnot his. His were absent, and the loss was
palpable.

No, Will, she said slowly, trying to control the quaver in her voice. Mentally youre not here.

Riker coughed, but Deanna could have sworn it sounded more chuckle than choke. She realized just how her
comment had sounded, and some of the disorientation she felt was pushed away by the humor.

FingertipsRikerson her arm, brought back her empathic sense, and his discomfort mixed in with hers.
But so did his high spirits, and she felt herself sigh, a bit more relaxed.

She moved her hand over Rikers and gave his fingers a squeeze. Youre here now. Mentally.

Will wonders never cease?

She knew he was smiling.

The air was not as stiff as a moment ago. She pushed herself up on an elbow and moved toward Riker. In
the dim light she could see he was on his knees. His usually crisp blue eyes were shadowy in the
dimness. He rose awkwardly, holding on to his injured leg as he pulled her up. She leaned into him,
allowing him to do most of the work, her muscles weak and tired as if shed run a marathon.

His strength, physical and mental, fortified her. She continued to hold on to his arm as they turned
toward the only light they could see.

Riker toEnterprise. He tapped his comm badge and the dull tone of a closed frequency whined back at
him. Out of range maybe, he mumbled, taking a pace toward the lighted console panels.

Slowly the room seemed to brighten, the panels lines becoming crisper, Rikers form now well defined
next to her. She could see their feet. There had been light all alongit was their eyes that slowly came
on.

Three walls, smooth and metallic like the floor they had pulled themselves up from gave way to the one
wall of panels and lights they now stood before. Opposite was a vertical slit that went from the top of
the blank wall to the bottom. A door.

Still dazed, Deanna wasnt sure of anything. Was the momentary confusion she felt Rikers or her own?
She knew there was concern that was definitely histhe feeling was powerful yet comforting. His emotions
were always familiar, and their mere presence bolstered her.

Where are we? she asked, more to herself than to him.

Riker patted her hand and pulled away to step closer to the wall of lighted panels. I dont know, but
Id say weve been transported here from the planet . . . wherever here is. He rubbed his shoulder as
if hed been struck hard by something. Maybe a cargo transporter, too. Or a long distance transporter.
It was a rough ride.

She felt her brows draw together. I dont understand. How do you know that?

He moved his hand along one of the panels, avoiding any buttons or pads. I dont. Just assuming that
what were feeling is the aftereffect of some kind of transporterand since it was so abusive, possibly
a cargo beam. He looked above at blank panels which may have been inactive computer screens. You ever
used an older transporter?

She shook her head. I dont think so, why?

They used to immobilize you first before transport. And cargo transporters even today dont have the
same comforts of personnel transports. Why waste the energy on frills? A crate wont care. He made a
sweeping gesture with his phaserwhen had he taken the weapon from its holster?to take in the entire
wall. This may be a transporter console. Lets make sure not to touch anything that might set off
something serious. Last thing we want is to tell whoever brought us here that were awake and kicking.

Curiosity and anxiety were suddenly his emotions of choice, Deanna realized. They covered his concern in
pulsing swells and nearly blocked out the pain in his leg. She wondered if humans were aware of the
fluidity of their emotional broadcasts. When excited their feelings could be torrential, when relaxed
they were like slow ocean waves ebbing back and forth almost gracefully. Human emotions held a charm for
Deanna, Rikers especially.

She stepped closer to him, basking in that charm. Who would bring us here?

He turned back, that apprehension taking over the curiosity. I dont know. I was going to ask you the
same thing.

She could feel his anger well, beginning to pepper his other emotions. His thumb hovered near his
phasers trigger. He was waiting, readying himself.

Deanna needed to turn herself away from that feeling. She needed to do her job, and let him do his.

Well, she began, giving the console a serious once-over, looking at the evidence we have Id say
whoever built this console is about our height, and had digits to push buttons with. Otherwise we
wouldnt be able to reach a console that they obviously need.

Admiration and a twinge of surprise now mixed with all the other emotions that had been radiating from
Riker.

Idid go to the Academy as well, she said playfully. Reasoning 101 is a prerequisite.

Riker nodded. I stand admonished. All right,Commander,  he motioned to the panel. Ill let you open
the door without pressing the button that beams us into open space.

She glanced at the panel, then looked back into Rikers eyes. Whats on the other side of the door may
be as bad.

Riker pulled in a deep breath and squeezed the handle of his phaser. Maybe. But if were going to find
out whose ship were on, and if were going to deal with that, we cant just sit and wait.

* * *

Hidran justice must be satisfied!

Grit and dust and thirsty air ground against Urosks skin. It was not hard to maintain ferocity in an
ocean full of irritants. The Hidran captain curled his wet-cloak closer around him and hissed at Picard.
He was determined to wait no longer.

Picards flat, white teeth flashed. Is not all justice the same, Captain?

What kind of question? No, it is not. Klingon justice allows for the murder of innocent Hidran. Hidran
justice does not.

Does Hidran justice allow for the murder of innocent Klingons?

Captain, Urosk began, imitating what he thought was a human shrug, I have yet to meet an innocent
Klingon.

Picard was quick with a response. That may have been true at one time, but surely you can see they have
changed.

Urosk cocked his head toward the door. Beyond its wooden frame was the hall where his Ambassador had
died. I see death, Picard. What is it you see in Hidran blood?

Silence ground in Urosks point, as he intended.

Finally Picard spoke. I see what I see in all blood. Loss.

That answer took Urosk by surprise. If any statement could be more un-Klingon in philosophy, the Hidran
captain couldnt fathom it. This was a strange alliance indeed that brought the Federation and the
Klingon Empire together if they were truly this different. The question was, who controlled whom? Did
this peaceful Federation hold the entire Klingon population at bay with platitudes and peaceful
thoughts? Urosk thought that unlikely.

A knock at the door and Picards hazel eyes jumped away from Urosk. Curious eyes, rather dull to Urosk
who was used to a planet full of bright and glossy colors that had to radiate through the natural
thickness of a humid atmosphere. Human eyes seemed alive only when they moved.

Commander Kadar pushed into the room, followed by Worf. Both were unarmed. Only Picard held a weapon,
and that was holstered at his side. A better opportunity to avenge Ambassador Zhads death might never
present itself.

Urosk considered that . . . but lost the moment when the woman entered, her phaser at the ready as it
always was.

Id like to join you, Captain, Barbara said to Picard in a tone Urosk was unable to decipher.

Unsure of what part the woman played in all this, Urosk listened intently.She seemed to have a good idea
of her position, however, as she stepped in front of Worf and Kadar and lowered herself into the seat
next to the Starfleet Captain.

Of course, Doctor. Picard nodded and gestured toward the two remaining chairs in front of table.
Gentlemen, please be seated.

I prefer to stand. Urosk mashed his gravel voice across the room, knowing that the Klingon ego would
force Kadar to remain standing as well. There was endless benefit in knowing your enemy, and Klingons
were nothing if not well understood to every Hidran who had suffered the past seventy years. The
Klingons had turned the Hidran into a race of people bitter and angry, and while someday that might be
forgiven, it would never be forgotten. The Hidran had been a cloistered people: a united democratic
government on the edge of interstellar flight. Perhaps they were quarrelsome people in a broad sense,
but they were not alien hunters who snarled their way across space.

The Klingons were. And for their own defense the Hidran had to effectively evolve into hunters
themselves.

Or at least they had to act the part.

Picard, Urosk barked, quickly yanking his arm out from his cloak long enough to shake an accusing
finger in Worfs direction, Why isnt this Klingon in custody? Do the legal charges of the Hidran
government mean nothing?

Theyare meaningful, Captain, and I do appreciate your concerns. Picard rose, taking on a more formal
stature. I have relieved Lieutenant Worf of duty, and my chief medical officer is currently examining

Urosk bolted forward. His arms swung out from under his cloak and he slammed his orange palms flat
against the table, leaning forward. Relieved him of duty? Thats an outrage! Is that the penalty for
murder, Picard? What is the punishment for genocide? Confinement to quarters?

Urosk felt anger heat his face as silence skewered Picard back, mentally if not physically. The
Starfleet captains mouth was open slightly, an expression that could have been surprise. Urosk wasnt
sure.

Captain, Picard began, I cannot act until I know what to act upon. At this point Lieutenant Worf is
presumed innocent.

Urosk turned, twisting a glare into Worfs eyes.No. A Klingon face is never innocent .

The Hidran captain jolted his tall frame upright, away from the table Picard stood behind. Picard,
bring me your evidence of his innocence now, or I will see his blood on my hands before you can kill me
for the attempt.

Chapter Seven

HE STRETCHED OUT AN ARM,his fingers grasping for a nightstand that didnt seem to be there. Groaning
through the fog of grogginess that came with waking from a deep sleep, he tilted up and reached a bit
farther before the realization struck that he wasnt in his cabin.

The painful memory of the transporter room flooded in, as did the odor of sickbay, and he cracked out a
weak call for Dr. Crusher.

Doctor . . .Beverly . . .

Dr. Crusher is planetside, Geordi. Dr. Peiss is attending. And I am here.

The voice was unmistakable.

Data, Geordi sighed, what happened?

You are ill.

That was his friend Data, as matter-of-fact as ever.

But Geordi didntfeel ill. What he felt was . . . blind.

He angled up, eyes open but unseeing, and turned his head toward the sound of Datas voice. Yeah, I
figured I was probably here for my health. Whats wrong? Wheres my VISOR?

He heard the bio-blanket rustle at his side, and imagined Datas hand was now on the bed. The mental
picture of that, even though he couldnt be sure it was realistic, was of concern. If Data was
apprehensive about saying somethingData, the android of thousand-word answers to yes or no
questionsthen something was very wrong.

Your VISOR is in Bioengineering. Its been tested for possible malfunction, Data said finally.

Has been. Past tense. And? Geordi prodded.

No malfunction was uncovered. Dr. Crusher did find neural rejection of your visual cortex bionic
implants. They have been removed.

Geordi brought one hand to his temple, and felt the smoothness of his own skin where there had been an
input sensor just hours before. It had been decades since hed felt that smoothness. Decades since . . .

Everything is dark.

I am sorry, my friend.

Geordi wanted to answer that Data need not be sorry . . . but didnt. Instead, the chief engineer began
to listen. To the steady rhythm of the androids breath in front of him, to the hum of the medical
scanner panel above him.

He remembered what it was like for the other senses to pick up the slack for a sightless manand
remembered that it wasnt the same as eyes, artificial or otherwise.

Do you have any pain? Data asked.

No. Geordi answered quietly and quickly, and without thought. Then he realized it was truehedidnt
feel any pain, and that too was a feeling he hadnt had in decades.

Datawill I be okay?

Somehow the android must have known what his friend meant. We do not know if the VISOR implants can be
re-implanted. But you are otherwise physically sound. There was a slight pause as Data grasped Geordis
hand in his own, perhaps mimicking a human gesture he had seen before. You will be fine, Geordi.

I guess Ill have to rely on your optimism.

It is not optimism. I base my conclusion on the evidence available.

Geordi chuckled. Then I guess Ill have to put my faith in that. He felt himself smile, and noticed
the absence of the implants again as his new skin stretched in places it hadnt a day before. When will
Dr. Crusher be back?

Presumably when she has proved Lieutenant Worfs guilt.

Guilt?Geordi bent himself anxiously toward Data. What are you talking about? Whats happened?

Much has happened. It began when our white-noise transmission was taking far more energy

Give me the condensed version and save me the trouble of trying to read the book, huh, Data?

Of course, Data said, the small joke lost on him. It would appear that Lieutenant Worf has murdered
the Hidran ambassador, and that Commander Riker and Counselor Troi have either been abducted or are
dead.

Not necessarily. Deanna tapped her finger near the glowing pink button. Red doesnt have to mean
danger. Youre applying a very human cultural concept to a situation where no human may be involved.

Riker frowned and shifted his phaser from one hand to the other. His palms were moist with nervousness
and delay. If they didnt hurry, whoever had brought them here might come back. What do you suggest?
Eeny-meeny-miney-moe? We have to trysomething.

Deanna huffed. If youre going to base your decision on poor concept formation, you might as well be
arbitrary. Youre just as likely to get the wrong result. Her voice held that irritating tone that
patronized and lacked patience.

He nodded. Thats annoyingly logical. He shrugged consent and opened a palm toward the console. Okay.
Its your call. Ill go cower in a corner.

He turned his back to the console, assuming that the door would open up and someone would be waiting. He
tapped in the highest stun settingthe painful oneand stood ready.

Now, he ordered.

Riker heard her pull in a breath and slowly press the alien button into the wall.

Nothing. Not even a beep.

He began to turn his head toward Deanna, to rib her about the decision . . . but before him the wall
opposite the panel console began to silently slide away, pulling itself apart from the slit that was the
doors opening.

He turned back toward the wall and a rush of sour air rode in at him. Whoever might be waiting behind
the door obviously didnt need the fresh air Riker and Deanna did.

Beyond the now open doorway was a corridor of brightness. The incoming stale air fouled the atmosphere
in the transporter room or holding cell or wherever they were.

No alien presented itself to be shot. Somewhat disappointingly, Riker and Deanna seemed to be alone.

He nodded toward the new corridor that lay before them. Good choice.

Whatve you found, Doctor?

Picards tone, at once prodding and apprehensive, made Beverly feel as if she were back in front of a
panel of medical officers at one of her final Fleet oral examinations.

Barbara, to the captains right, with a white lab coat over what Beverly had noticed was a beautiful
gown, looked especially like one of the severe physicians meant to awe and unnerve young doctors.

Now, as then, Beverly stood uneasily before a grim jury of harsh expressions. Here, however, she was not
the one being judged. And the stakes were not her medical career and a prestigious post, but the life of
a man who had saved her life more times than she had patients fingers to count on.

Shed considered lying. Not just at this moment, as Picard was prompting for answers, but minutes before
and deeply and seriously. But lying, like murder, had consequences, and she did still believe her friend
to be innocent.

The Hidran didnt have that faith in Worfs character, and she knew that as well.

Beverly studied the Hidran captains face, half hidden by the same type of mask that had been torn from
the ambassador, causing his death. Would he give Worf the benefit of doubt? No. No mask could hide that
fact.

Ambassador Zhad died of suffocation, she began slowly, looking mainly at Picard as she stated the
obvious. From the corner of her eye she could see Urosk and Worf tense, and she cleared her throat,
another stalling tactic, before she pressed on.

His breathing mask, surgically implanted, mal-functioned and was subsequently pulled out of its
implanted base. She looked back down at the computer pad in her hand, and thumbed in a few commands.
There is cellular residue with DNA patterns matching the Ambassadors, as well as Lieutenant Worfs, on
the surface of the mask.

Urosk straightened, sucking in a quick breath.

Picard looked immediately away from Beverly and to the Hidran. Captain, so far thatdoes support Mr.
Worfs explanation of the events that took place outside the hall. Please allow us to hear the rest of
Dr. Crushers findings.

Nodding, Urosk relaxed slightly.

With a short sigh Beverly mustered her voice up again. There is chemical evidence of recent skeletal
muscular exertion, as well as the ambassadors blood and tissue under his own fingernails.

What would skeletal muscular exertion imply? Urosk asked, his demanding voice a hammer on Beverlys
ears.

She hesitated, shaking her head and shrugging. There could be many causes. Its not

The Hidran captain rose. A struggle, yes?

Taken aback by Urosks height, Beverly stepped backward a bit. Either Zhad was shorter than his captain
or seven feet tall was only intimidating when it was alive and growling. Not necessarily a struggle,
she said.

Urosk turned away from Crusher and looked straight down at Picard. But it could have been.

There was no question for her to answer, and she looked back at Worf who was as motionless now as hed
been when she entered. At Worfs side, Commander Kadarhad he been here all the time?seemed to be
covering a smile.

Well, Picard. Urosk stalked toward Worf, placing himself between the captain and his security chief.
I am convinced of the Klingons guilt. Do I take my prisoner into custody?

Picard pursed his lips and crimped his eyes into determined stones. No. Mr. Worf has the right to a
fair and objective trial. He will not be subjected to an unwarranted execution behind a curtain of
prejudice. Since that would evidently be the case if I were to release him to your custody, this is the
only choice I can make.

I see that even you are unwilling to believe the truth. Urosk folded his arms beneath his dank,
tenebrous cloak, and sat back down. Somehow, at least to Beverly, it was the most threatening motion one
could imagine.

Youronly choice, Picard, Urosk said slowly, was a very poor one.

I dont believe that.

Geordi, still in his post-op pajamas as Data led him throughEnterprise s corridors, felt as if hed
been out of circulation for years rather than hours.

Itis the truth, Geordi, Data said emphatically.

Worf is not a murderer.

Data squeezed Geordis shoulder and turned him around a person who must have just come out a doorway.
The android had insisted on the escort to Geordis cabin, displacing the orderly who would normally see
to such things. A kind gesture, Geordi thought, but with the Captain gone and Riker missing, Data was in
charge. It seemed not to faze him.

If I may point out, Data said, ushering Geordi into a turbolift, Lieutenant Worf is capable of acting
to defend what he sees as his honor.

Hey, Geordi turned toward the android out of reflex, Worf wouldnt defy orders. Are you saying you
think he did it?

There was a dreadfully long pause. The type that meant Data was lending something considerable thought
or effort. Finally the android spoke: I do believe it is within the realm of possibility. In fact, the
Klingons may also have had something to do with the away teams disappearance.

What? Did they remove my eyes, or my ears?

You want to explain that one, Data?

As Geordi felt the turbolift slow, Data pulled them both back to one side. Obviously not their deck. The
doors opened, someone stepped in, greeted Geordi and Data, and slipped silently out of Geordis world
again.

I think it best we discuss this later, Geordi. In private, Data said.

The obvious question was why, but Geordi left it unasked. Instead, he just settled back against the
lifts wall and took in a breath. Seemingly, the world had gone mad.

Damn right were going to discuss this, Geordi mumbled. And itll be more sooner than later.

Chapter Eight

BARBARA STUFFED HER HANDSangrily into the pockets of the white lab coat tossed over the gown shed worn
to the ill-fated dinner. She continued to pace the room that had become Picards base of failed
operations. At least that was what she was calling it. In fact she was thinking of having a plaque made
for the door.

Idont sympathize with your diplomatic problems, Captain, she snapped, louder than she should have.
Youve let this situation spiral out of control, and thats just as much my responsibility as it is
yours.

That of course was a lie, more to herself than to Picard. This was all her concern, especially Will, not
really her responsibility, but what was a little white lie between emotions?

Unfortunately, she knew she wasnt fooling herself, and something in Picards unflickering eyes said she
wasnt fooling him either. But at this point she was too angry for embarrassment. Too angry . . . too
worried.

Doctor, I cant accuse anyone of murder or kidnapping when I havent any evidence. The captain was
sitting for a change. She had taken his place as anxious pacer.

Im not asking you to. Im asking you take Mr. Datas suggestion to search the Klingon ship. And the
Hidran ship as well.

Weve scanned both ships

Even I know you can hide people from scans.

Dont presume to tell me my responsibilities, Doctor, Picard snapped.

Barbara leaned down, flattening her palms on the table top. She felt her face flush and hoped it looked
more like rage than embarrassment. Dont shirk your responsibilities, Captain, and I wont have need to
remind you of them.

Picard rose, grinding her back with the coolness of his eyes. My responsibility is my business, Doctor.
I cannot and will not move without evidence. Youre supposed to be a scientist, so Ill assume you
understand the value of acting only on facts.

The Hidran assassin could smell the foolish arrogance of his prey. The odor wafted through the hallway,
and he knew the Starfleet Klingon Worf was close at hand.

Bending his long frame over, Batok attempted stealth. The effort seemed foolishly uselessseven feet of
red Hidran was just illsuited to blend in against chalk-white walls.

His last glimpse of Worf had been down this corridor, so he stalked forward, toward the room where he
believed the Klingons were being kept.

The brightness of this world was an obstacle to Hidran camouflage. In fact, most things about this world
were proving a burdenits air, its lack of water, its treacherous Klingon and Starfleet masters.

Batoks long fingers shifted over the human phaser awkwardly, anxiously. The weapon had been a struggle
to acquirethe humans fought better than one might think. These Terran enigmas baffled him, and all of
Hidra. They were quiet, small beings, with a strange sense of when and where to show they could also be
loud and large.

The Hidran tried to flatten himself along the corridor wall, with little success. He held the phaser
close with one hand and pressed his empty palm flush against the chalk wall behind him. He frowned at
the dry feeling against his fingers and quickly wiped the grit onto his cloak. Irritationsthats all
the Klingons had ever brought.

He thought of Worf, and of the great pleasure there would be in permanently removing this one particular
irritation. Pleasure, fame, reputation . . . all that and more. Killing a Klingon was at one time a rite
of passage on Hidra. In his fathers time the number of Klingons a man had killed was the key to
elections and power.

That time was nearly past. Yes, the results of Klingon occupation remained, as did the hatred of the
Klingons, but so few young Hidra had even seen a Klingon in person that the bragging of young warriors
rang hollow.

Batoks boasting would be honest . . . this was his opportunity to take and shape the rest of his life.
He would not only have the chance to spit in a real Klingons face, but he would kill one and live to
savor the feeling.

Peering around the corner, he spotted another Starfleet guard. How many of them were there! How many
would stand in his way?

The Earther wasnt looking in Batoks direction, but supposedly they had excellent hearing. With ears
that large . . .

Batok set the phaser on what appeared to be the highest stun setting. For the first time he was
uncertain, not only of the weapon, but of his actions. He didnt dare kill the Terran. Had he been doing
this under Captain Urosks direct orders it might have been different. Killing the Starfleet Klingon
could be explained easily, but just killing any Starfleeter? That would not be a badge of honor and
would be frowned uponseverely. For reasons that had always escaped Batok, Starfleet was somewhat
respected by the Hidran populace.

No, killing off-worlders arbitrarily was not politically acceptable. The act might gain him pleasure,
but little else. And Batok took little risk for pleasure alone.

Yet, he also had to be sure the Starfleeter would not ruin his plans.

Quietly the Hidran lieutenant reached around the corridor, guiding and aiming the phaser. One rod of
fire whined out, lancing across the hall.

The Starfleeter collapsed into a stockpile of useless muscles.

Even your own captain knows you have acted with honor. Kadar offered Worf one of the five seats
allowed the Klingons in their cell ofprotective custody . Otherwise why would you be confined here with
us. The Klingon commander motioned to the other four Klingon officers, one of whom was now standing
awkwardly, his seat offered in tribute to Worf.

So this was the Klingon smugness and arrogance Worf had been accused of so often. Itwas annoying. He now
wanted to somehow take back a few of the punches hed thrown because of that insult.

I didnot kill the ambassador, Worf said, taking the stool, deciding to save needed strength rather
than take the unneeded pride there would have been in turning down the gesture. Captain Picard believes
that, but is bound by regulations. I understand his actions and agree with them.

Kadar thundered to one of his subordinates and was quickly handed his own stool. He sat down, a chuckle
rising in his throat as he spoke. You make brave sounds, Lieutenant Worf. I like you.

Lifting his eyes from the floor, Worf seized Kadars gaze and wrenched it into a lock. There had been a
time in Worfs life when he aspired to a position such as Kadarsthe command of a Klingon battle ship.

Having served among Terrans for these years, the Klingon condescension he was so often accused of had
molded itself into respect. Respect for his captain, not only because of the rank, but because of the
man.

A few years ago Worf would have admired Kadar for his rank alone. No longer. In the Klingon Empire one
could still attain such position more from treachery and savvy than from skill alone. There was no honor
in treachery, Worf had decided. And so, he could not give Kadar respect, until he was sure ithad been
earned.

I do not care if you like me, Worf said. And I do not care if you believe me.

Kadar rumbled a laugh. Are you telling me you were agreeable to the Hidran for no motive?

The Klingon commander was anything but subtle, yet had this irritating talent for cunningly asking the
most delicate of questions.

I was under orders from my captain. It was a lie, but Worf needed to be cunning as well. If he could
convince Kadar that the platitudes to Zhad were just thatplatitudes, then perhaps the Klingon commander
might reveal what he knew of the Hidran ambassadors death. There was a kernel of an idea that kept
pushing its way into Worfs thoughts: his Klingon brethren may well have had something to do with Zhads
murder, if it was murder.

I believe that you drown the Hidran in banality in order to gain his trust, Kadar said.

As I said, I do not care what you believe.

The Klingon smile that Worf felt so infrequently on his own face seemed to haunt Kadars. What is it
that you do care about, Lieutenant Worf? Do you care about flowers and Terran kittens and other Earther
pursuits? Do you have a pet tribble or a puppy dog?Or are you a Klingon? What is the truth about you?

Worf bolted from his seat and had his hands wrapped around Kadars neck before the other Klingons had a
chance to contemplate moving. He pressed the Commanders throat closed with one hand, pinning Kadars
head in his other hand. Worf kept the Klingon captain balanced on the stool not allowing bracing of any
kind.

It was a gamble, and the stake was Worfs life.

nIS wej, Kadar choked out, ordering his men not to interfere.

Is this Klingon enough for you, Kadar? Worf growled. Why does the question of my blood concern you
so? Why is my Klingon soul of such grave importance to you? Do you not have what you wanted?

Worf twisted his hand round Kadars neck again for effect, jerking the Klingon commander around.

The wedge is back between the Empire and the Hidran Congress. They will die, as a people, as a planet,
and you will only lose some warriors who will be proud to have given their lives to a disease because it
served the purposes of honor. And the Empire cant even be blamed because I am a Federation citizen and
not a Klingon subject.

Worf released his grip and Kadar yanked himself away. Purple marks on his neck were beginning to appear,
but his voice showed no strain. Are you suggesting that we would intentionally implicate you for a
murder you did not commit, Lieutenant?

This time Worf laughed, but only to cover his anger. Anger at Kadar . . . anger at himself. Given Doctor
Crushers inability to find any reason other than the breathing mask malfunction for Zhads death, even
he was beginning to believe his actions caused the ambassadors demise. But if there was another
explanationaKlingon explanation, then Kadar must be the one to reveal it to him. The Klingon
commanders confidence would have to be gained.

I am suggesting, Worf said, that if I have not been framed, you have fallen into good fortune. Worf
pushed past the other Klingons toward the one window in the small room. I do not believe in fortune.
Peering out the window and down onto the twisting saffron fields, Worf pressed his palms against the
pane and wished he could press right out the window and away from such cowardly Klingons who might do
such a thing. And you do not believe in such fortune either. The universe is Klingons to shape, and I
have respect for those who mold it to their liking.

Batok twisted the light Starfleeter over like a limp puppet and grabbed for his phaser. At the same time
he checked for a beating heart and a moist breath.

He felt the pounding in the Earthers chest, and was grateful. The man was alive . . . but would be
unconscious for how long? With an alien weapon there was no way to tell. He rolled the unconscious guard
into the corner, away from the doorway. Should he bind the guard? With what? Best not waste the timeif
the Starfleeter dared to rise again, he would simply stun him back into unconsciousness.

Hastily, Batok slipped the extra phaser into a pocket in his cape. Two Federation pistols and two
Federation communicators were now in his collection. Excellent. Urosks anger could not last long with
such prizes inaddition to Worfs death.

He looked up at the door that looked out of placea new security hatch phaser-welded into an old stone
building. The Starfleeters thought of everything. Had it been a normal door Batok could have opened it
quickly, found his quarry, fired, and locked the Klingons back in. They would not have had a chance to
react. Now they might.

Hed have to find Worf quickly, kill him, and close the hatch again before the others had an opportunity
to make it to the door. He could not kill all of them and still retain his rank, and he could not switch
settings on the phaser fast enough to stun the others. He had the other phaser, but one hand must be
free to control the door.

His left hand wrapped around the Terran weapon, another on the button that activated the door, Batok
readied himself. He tried to picture the layout of the roomperhaps it was the same as the one he had
been kept in, yet reversed.

He took in a deep breath of the foul air the planet provided. Just adding moisture wasnt enough to kill
the stench, especially the Klingon stench that was making him sick right through the door.

Worf . . . just beyond that door. The thought was full of angry exhilaration. Soon one Klingons stench
would be due more to burnt flesh than poor hygiene.

Hate stung Batoks eyes and he blinked to clear his thoughts. Hemust be lucid to do this quickly. And he
must not fail. To have come this far only to have his efforts end in disgrace would mean his own death.

He glanced down at the phasers settings again, hoping he had selected the kill setting that would
leave a corpse. Depriving the other Klingons of actually seeing the shell of their fallen comrade would
be too kind. If he accidentally chose the button that would vaporize Worf, well . . . it would be good
enough, but lack the meaning he intended. What Batok really wanted was a Hidran disrupter that could cut
a Klingon in half and leave him to bleed to death in agony.

Stiffly he thumbed the hatch control and slowly the door began to open. His arm tensed, his fingers
tightened around the weapon.

Worf! Where was Worf?

One Klingon, another, turning slowly.

Batok saw Kadarthe rank on his armorand moved the aim of his phaser from him to another.

That ridged head . . . turning deliberately toward him.

Worf! The murderer Worf!

Batok fired. An angry spear of energy cracked from the phaser and seared into his Klingon victim.

The boneheaded thug collapsed into a mass of charred flesh and still glowed orange as Batok jammed his
fist against the doors controls.

Another Klingon rushed toward him as the hatch closed, grunting some Klingon animal curse as they always
did when they had been defeated.

Rushing back down the corridor, Batok heard the muffled death scream that mystic Klingon fools would
make when they had lost a comrade. He had never before heard the sound. There were storiestold by those
who had heard. Hea mere Lieutenant in the Hidran Congresss grand fleethadcaused this scream that
filled the corridor with sound . . . and Batoks heart with glee.

The bay announced that he had accomplished his task. Worf had paid for the Ambassadors death . . . with
his life.

The Starfleet Klingon was dead.

Chapter Nine

APUFF OF ACRID SMOKE drifted up from the floor, dissipating uncomfortably into Rikers face. He tried to
blink the sting from his eyes as he looked down at the mark hed made with his phaser.

How many does that make? he asked Deanna.

Twenty-three.

He took two limping steps over to the wall. Bracing himself, he weakly holstered his phaser. In four
hours no one had jumped out to greet or eat them, and he thought it unlikely anyone would come calling
at this point.

If by some chance they werent alone . . . and if someonewas looking for them, at least the two of them
would be hard to find. The ship was huge with no end to it in sight.

Twenty-three corridors, he muttered, mopping the sweat from his brow with an already drenched sleeve.
Not one in a straight line, all turning back and twisting around. I dont know about you but this is
the biggest shipIve ever been on. We must have traveled miles.

Deanna came up along side him, gently pushing him down toward the deck. Sit and rest for a while.
Youve lost a lot of blood.

Riker nodded and lowered himself to the floor, glancing angrily at his blood-caked bandage. What a time
for a marathon, hm?

She stooped down beside him, touching his shoulder and looking down at his leg. You need another
dressing. My uniform or yours?

Managing a weak smile he looked up at her. Do I get to choose what part of the uniform?

Fingering the seam of her uniform at her shoulder, she tore down the arm of her tunic. I dont know why
I even bother asking you these things.

He smiled a bit again, and slowly stretched out his leg for her to work on. As she undid the old
makeshift bandage to replace it with a new one, Riker averted his eyes up the corridor and tried to use
the pain to focus his concentration.

This ship was a labyrinthhallway after hallway, passages connecting to conduits leading to corridors
that opened into other hallways. And a few doors that wouldnt open for them.That was suspicious.

Someone had built a giant space-maze, and was testing them. The riddle was obvious: whose ship? Where
was the Minotaur? That question tugged at Rikers thoughts.

It wasnt the Hidran. He doubted they had the materials to waste on anything that wasnt a weapon or a
power source.

And he didnt think the Klingons were involved either. This didnt have a Klingon feel to itof that
much he was sure. Since he had met Worf, Klingons held a certain fascination for Riker. One he indulged
by taking brief assignments on Klingon vessels and by pursuing a friendship with his Klingon security
chief.

That was unusual for him. Will Riker had never exactly had to seek out friends.

Until Worf.

Gaining the Klingons respect was a given because he was Worfs superior officer. Gaining his friendship
. . . his confidence . . . those only came with time. Its what Riker needed from a member of his bridge
crew, to make the team run smoothly.

Pursuing that friendship was easier than Riker had first thought. He and Worf agreed on much, from
tactics to politics, and Worfs loyalty to Picard and his selfless protection of the captain cemented
their friendship.

A stab of pain jolted Riker from his thoughts. Deanna was tying the new bandage. This time he didnt
complain of its tightness.

She rose, helping to pull Riker to his feet. Will, youre not clotting. The wound is too deep.

He took in a long breath and hobbled-in the new bandage, making sure he could walk. I know. Lets hope
we find someone.

Deanna came up alongside him, bracing him as he limped down the hall. I still dont sense any presence
here.

Even if theres no one here theres got to be communication equipment or something similar.

Unaccustomed to the stiffness of the new bandage, he lost his balance for a moment and gripped her arm.

Will, she said, using his lack of balance as an excuse to turn him toward her, What if there are
beings here and theyre just too alien for me to sense?

A frightening thought, in a way. Not so much that their appearance might be alien . . . but what if
their morality was. What was inside an alien mind was the real terror. Did they respect life? Even
unfamiliar life? Riker had to give them the benefit of the doubt. Theyre not so strange that they
dont have our height, or thereabout, and breathe our atmosphere and use buttons and doors and
corridors, he said.

Well, if thereis someone here, Deanna said, I think I should go looking, not you. You need to rest a
bit longer. Youve lost too much blood and could die from dehydration or a simple infection.

Pep talks arent your strong suit are they? He shook his head. But youre right. Both of us have
already been walking too long. My leg may or may not kill me, but lack of food and water certainly
will. He pushed away from her and stood on his own. Someone is here, he said. And were going to
find them.

With a sympathetic rub of his own leg, he hobbled toward the door that just a few minutes earlier had
denied them entry. He braced himself against the doorframe and dug his fingers into the gap that must
have been the seam between the sliding doors.

Its locked tight, he grunted.

Deanna peered over his shoulder. Or its vacuum sealed. How do we know there isnt open space beyond
that door?

Because docking bays usually had reinforced doors and backup systems, but he didnt feel up to
explaining. Instead he just sighed and went for the shorter answer. Trust me. We were in a corridor on
the other side of this room. Im sure.

All right, she said slowly, but what if theres a vacuum in there anyway? They may keep some rooms or
corridors without life support to save on energy.

Riker lowered his head against the door, partly out of exhaustion, partly out of exasperation. She was
right, of course, but it was an annoying habit. Most irritating was that he should have had the same
thoughtbut hadnt. Had he lost too much blood? His mind was cloudy.

He shuffled back from the door and pulled out his phaser. Okay. Well cut a small hole in the door. If
we dont hear a sucking sound or feel a pressure change, we can blast the rest of the door. Deal?

She smiled. Youre in charge.

He nodded as if it were true, and fired the phaser. A thin line of light pulsed from the weapon and into
the door. A small hole sizzled open and Riker quickly released the phasers trigger.

No hiss. No pressure change.

Something was beyond that door . . . and it wasnt vacuum.

Good enough? Riker asked.

Deanna nodded and smiled, but Riker, tired as he was, noticed something beyond that smile. Worry, maybe?
About him or their situation? He didnt know. Beyond the door was more important than beyond the smile
right now.

He reset the phaser and triggered it again. The door collapsed into vapor.

After a moment the fog of destroyed metal cleared, and they looked in.

What is all this? Riker took a step into the room, Deanna following closely.

They looked up, down, left, right, and for the first time in hours saw something other than bleak,
spartan corridor.

Machinery, Deanna said.

Riker nodded blankly, in awe of the mastery, even beauty: different-colored panels, not square but
rounded. They seemed alive. Not like theEnterprise was alive . . . these machines seemed almost fluid,
as if there was motion . . . but there wasnt. Just the vibration of something being doneprocessed or
pumped or . . . something.

These humming and thrumming machines lined the walls on all sides. The room extended as the corridor did
outsidethe other doors must have opened to this same room. A welcome sight from the desolate halls they
had been walking for a good part of a day.

However, Riker was struck by the same feeling as in the halls. No people. No coffee cups or chairs or
papers or anything that would even remotely suggest recent inhabitancy by life.

Riker trotted as fast as he could over to one of the machines. He touched its smooth, warm surface.
There wasnt a button or a key pad or a screen with a graph to be found.

He turned to see Deanna stepping away from a different device that was closer to the door. Well, he
said, busting in a locked door didnt exactly bring the palace guards down on us.

Deanna frowned.

Riker, weak though he was, took her by the shoulder. What? What is it?

Frankly, you look bad, Will.

He ignored the comment about himself and instead looked at herdark hair matted against her forehead,
perspiration over her lip. You dont look so great either, he said, noticing that the room was hot.

The machines . . . they were giving off heat.

These are all working at something, he said, gesturing with the phaser as he returned it to his
holster. Doing what?

She shrugged and sighed, clasping her hands anxiously in front of herself. No way to tell. Propulsion,
maybe?

Riker bit the inside of his lip and looked around the room. Machines. Working, busy, bustling . . .
What if they break down? Someone must be here to repair them, right?

The heat was getting to him and he shifted back toward the door way to brace himself against the wall.

He didnt wait to hear an answer from Deanna. Someone, he repeated, has to fix these machines if they
break. He pulled the phaser from his holster. And Im going to break them.

Computer.

Ready.

Locate and list all Federation vessels capable of warp speed, this quadrant.

Located.

Datas desk screen filled:

U.S.S. CHARLESTON,STARFLEET REGISTRY, NCC-42285

U.S.S. HOOD,STARFLEET REGISTRY, NCC-42296

U.S.S. EXCALIBUR,STARFLEET REGISTRY, NCC-42252

S.S. EAGLE,EARTH REGISTRY, USA-3197BL-9

S.S. TAN-SHRA,TELLAR REGISTRY, FLN-633136052SIE

Computer, which is the closest ship to our position?

The S.S. Eagle is in sector seven.

Specifics onEagle.

S.S. Eagle,privately owned exploratory craft. Registry: Lansing, Michigan, United States of America,
Earth. Crew of thirty-three. Current ownership

Discontinue. Which Starfleet vessel is the closest?

The U.S.S. Excaliburis in sector four.

Twelve days distant at maximum warp, Data said, more to himself than to the computer.

Correct.

The door chime to Datas quarters rang and the android quickly tapped the computer off.

Come.

Geordi felt the door whisper open before him. He stepped through hesitantly, unsure of Datas location.

Hope Im not disturbing you, Data, he said, looking for a response to place the android. He probably
should have just asked the mans location, but Geordi was playing the Im not really blind game and
that would be against the ruleslike being wakened in the middle of the night and refusing to admit you
were sleeping.

Geordi, Data said, just a hint of surprise etched into his voice. Should you be ambulatory?

Geordi walked toward the androids voice. Im blind, Data, not sick. He tapped his stomach and the
dark vest that lay over his uniform tunic. Proximity detector, so I dont bang into people. And I think
I should know the layout of the ship by now. Geordi used the detector to sense thingsthe sensor net in
the vest would react on his skin, pushing his flesh as he would near an object. Itwould keep him from
embarrassing himself.

There was silence.

Geordi frowned. Youre nodding again, Data. The android shouldnt have forgotten. Such
thingsanythingdidnt slip Datas mind. This was the first outward sign that something was wrongreally
wrongwith Data.

I am sorry, the android said. Can you guide yourself to a chair?

Yeah. Geordi took one more step into the room. He turned toward where he believed the chair to be,
felt the electrical twinge from the proximity sensor that told him he was correct, and lowered himself
into the seat.

He heard Datas chair swivel toward him, and he sat back. We have to talk about this thing with Worf.

Bridge to Commander Data.

Certainly, Data said to him, possibly holding an index finger up. One moment, please.

Geordi heard the tap of the androids fingers against his comm badge and imagined hed seen it. Hed
been doing a lot of thatseeing in his mind what he fancied might be happening. He wondered if he was
correct about such things, but hadnt worked up the courage to ask anyone. And who knows if theyd be
honest. It was human nature to be sympathetic to those who had come upon a loss. Already three crewmen
had tried to escort him wherever he needed to go. Despite being off duty, that had prompted him to
wear his uniform. He wouldnt be pitied. That was a cliche hed promised himself hed never indulge in
because he understood the impulseintended kindnessbut it was just different when he was on the
receiving end. He was having trouble pushing away the self-pity in his own thoughts . . . it didnt help
to have others pushing back.

Data here. Go ahead, Mr. DePotter.

Sorry to disturb you, sir, but since re-engaging, theres been a fluctuation in the drain on the white
noise blanket.

Restless, Geordi rose and walked toward the dresser that Data rarely used. There was a mirror there . .
. of little use to either man right now.

Ensign, Data said, what was the percent of flux, and was it positive or negative?

Data, Geordi interrupted, anxiously knocking a fist on his thigh, is this really important right
now?

Just one more moment please, Geordi. This may indeed be important. Continue, Mr. DePotter.

DePotter chanted on with his scientific findingsa drone of techno-babble that was irritating Geordi
right now, and he wondered if thatd irritated anyone when it came from his own lips.

A moment ago,DePotter said,I registered a point zero-zero-two percent decrease in the drain. It may
be insignificant, sir, except that this is the first drop or surge since weve been monitoring.

There was a pause, then from Data: Intriguing. What is the status of the Klingon vessel?

Sir?

Scan the Klingon vessel for any activity, Ensign, and keep me informed of anything you find, no matter
how unremarkable you believe it to be.

Aye aye, sir.

Data out.

Geordi heard the communicator chirp off.

Now, Data said, what would you like to know? Geordi shook his head. Something was wrong here.
Different. He couldnt put his finger on what exactly, and maybe there was really nothing. Maybe he was
just disoriented from his newfound blindness. Maybe.

Or maybe when something feels wrong, it is.

Data, you keep saying that Commander Riker and Deannamay have been abducted or killed by the Klingons,
and youre scanning their ship as if theyre already there, but theres no evidence

One need not have conclusive evidence to form a hypothesis.

Theyd had this conversation three times since Geordi had awakened, and Data had indulged him each time.
Unfortunately, every discussion was the same: Data with a logical argument and a shaky premise. That was
the problemsince when did Data have shaky premises?

The Klingons do have a history of such covert operations, my friend.

Geordi shot past the desk and began to pace the room. Hopefully Data hadnt moved anything since the
last time hed been here.

This is nuts, Data, he said angrily. Theres nothing to base it on. What motive would they have to do
anything like this?

As if anticipating the question, perhaps because Geordi had asked before, Data began, If they are
hiding something on the planet, which may be the cause of the drain on our white noise blanket, then
they would have motive to assure that no one finds whatever they wish to conceal. Commander Riker and
Counselor Troi may have stumbled upon whatever that may be.

Geordi huffed out an angry breath. What if theyre not hiding anything?

Then, Data said, they have nothing to fear by answering my questions and submitting to an
inspection.

The headache that was now absent, Geordi would have gladly accepted back in exchange for this warped
twist of events. Data, none of that suggests why Worf would have anything to do with the Klingons
plans.

He is a Klingon.

So? Geordi snapped angrily.

There was another pause from Data, and the silence sounded like the androids version of frustration. He
was obviously searching for a way to get his point across.

Geordi, he began, every race has specific traits that are often unique. The Klingons do not value
life in the same manner as you and I and the Hidran.

If Geordi could have gored Data with a glare he would haveand who knows, maybe he did. The Hidran?
What do they have to do with Klingon values? Or Worfs for that matter? Worf was raised on Earth, Data.
About seven thousand kilometers from where I was raised. He crooked a thumb at his own chest. Our
personalities are differentour values are not. Worf would defend the philosophy of the Federation to
his death.

Or to the death of another, yes? Perhaps that is what he thought he was doing. In any case, Data said,
and it sounded so detachedhe also has loyalties to the Klingons, and he is not to be trusted.

There was no other term for this . . . it was just plain insane.

Youre talking bigotry, Data, and I cant believe it. Youre not being rational.

Geordi, it is not bigotry to see the historical fact that the Klingons are not trustworthy. And it is
not bigotry to see the historical fact that Worf would murder because of his nature as a Klingon. I need
not remind you that Lieutenant Worf once refused to donate his ribosomes to save the life of a Romulan
prisoner.

Every muscle in Geordis back was tense with frustration and fatigue. He had awakened into a dark world
where everything had changed.

Data, Geordi said between clenched teeth, there is a big difference between refusing to sacrifice for
someone who you dont believe deserves it and murdering someone in cold blood.

Death for any reason is permanent. The Hidran might say that Klingon neglect is murder.

Geordi pulled in a deep breath and tried to settle his emotions. If Data had said Worf was not to be
trusted and had backed that up with facts that would have been one thingbut this seemed so . . . un-
Data: poorly conceived, not fully thought out . . . every argument was logical, but all were built on a
foundation of confused quicksand.

Data might be damaged. That would explain much from the absurd notions about Worf and the Klingons to
forgetting that Geordi couldnt see a nod.

Data, I think Id like to have Engineering check you out, run a series of diagnostics.

For what reason? I run a self-diagnostic twice daily.

Yeah, and Ill bet a months pay that somethings wrong there too.

Just indulge me, huh, Data?

I am afraid I do not have the time at present.

Why?

I will be leading the away team that is to board the Klingon battle cruiser.

Bolting from his seat, Geordi pressed himself against Datas desk and leaned down to the android. Maybe
he couldnt see, but Data could and needed to be sure Geordi was serious.

You cant, Data! Its unprovoked. Captain Picard would never authorize that.

Indeed, he did. His direct order was do what you must to get to the bottom of the situation. The
sigh of Datas chair cushion signaled the android had risen. And I will do what I must.

Data had been gone a good five minutes. Hed insisted on escorting Geordi back to his quarters, but
Geordi couldnt shake the feeling that it was because somehow hed lost the androids trustas Worf had.

Quiet thought had done nothing for that sense of paranoia.

There was something wrong with Data, he was sure, but had nothing but a subjective feeling to go on.
Subjective feelings were nice to look at and consider, but only told someone how theyfelt about
realityfeelings told nothing about reality itself. And that was what Geordi had to be sure about: the
reality of the situation. Did somethingseem to be wrong with Data, orwas there something wrong with him?

There was an enormous difference.

To be sure, he had to talk to someone else about what had happened while he was out of commission. At
the same time he could confirm that Data was definitely doing what the captain wanted where the Klingon
ship was concerned.

He found the desk communicator.

La Forge to Captain Picard.

He was met with the dull tone of a closed frequency and furrowed his brows.

Computer.

Ready.

Why cant I get an open comm-channel to the planet?

This station is not authorized for access.

Override. Security access: La Forge Gamma three-four.

Access denied.

Denied? Geordi pounded his fist on the table. What do you mean denied?

The computer began to bleep, formulating an answer.

Belay that. Who can give me access?

Access authorization required from Lieutenant Commander Data, acting captain,U.S.S. Enterprise.

Geordi balanced his elbow on the desktop, holding his forehead in his palm.

Well, looks like thats my objective evidence, isnt it?

Insufficient data.

He let out a short, bitter chuckle. You can say that again!

Whatever fool designed this building,Urosk thought,should be killed . He had not noticed before, but the
light was harsh and the dryness of the walls and floor were more than annoying.

But it was not a mindless architect who truly burdened the Hidran captain. It was Picard who was the
real fool. And he should be treated as fools are treated: with a firm fist and little patience.

The entire Federation was made of fools, Urosk decided, from those that had offered to help to those
that brought him here. Dullards all.

And he, for believing that any good might come of this, was the most foolish. Before coming here the
Hidran had only been on the brink of a skirmish with their foreign foes. Now they were on the brink of
war.

It was obvious. The Klingons had planned this from the beginning. They would have done anything to
assure that Hidra was left helpless enough to be re-conquered. And this time the Klingons would not
leave the people alive. The Hidran were a million thorns in the Klingon Empires skin, and these pseudo-
negotiations had been nothing more than a complex maneuver by the Empire and its Federation allies. It
was all some scheme to force Hidra back into a war they knew she would lose.

Defeat . . . only one casualty and he was thinking of defeat! A shameful thing to think of such loss,
but it was realistic and Urosk had spent too much time the last few days believing that peace was
possible. He was through with such far-fetched ideas. Yet the humiliation weighed on him. Such disgrace
was what the Klingons desired for the Hidran people, and they had even succeeded in dishonoring Urosk
with his own thoughts.

He could not let that happenhe would not. There would not be another war if Urosk was of any worth to
himself and his nation.

He straightened, smoothed his long robe, loosened his muscles.

He closed his eyes a moment, and when they blankly reopened onto the desert of the corridor, he knew
what he had to do.

His heartbeat quickened at the thoughthis strength both mental and physical seemed rejuvenated. There
was a chance to thwart the enemys plans, but that would take great skill and care to achieve: Every
Klingon on the planet . . . and above in orbit . . . would have to die. Once more it would have to be
proven that there were extreme risks to warring against the Hidran.

Urosk would have to take the mask of warrior that he wore, and transfer it to action. Perhaps for his
last time.

And if Picard and his Federation interfered

Hold a minute, sir, the Starfleet guard said to Urosk, jolting him from his thoughts.

Aware of his surroundings and the guard again, Urosk surveyed the empty corridora vacant hall where
there should have been another guard.

If there was to be an opportunity, this was it.

Connors to MacKenzie.

The Starfleeter was quick to activate his communicator, and opportunity faded.

The Hidran captain turned back to face Connors.

Strange politeness to be called sir by him. These humans could usher someone to a cell for so-called
diplomatic protection and yet treat their prisoner as if taking them on a garden tour.

There was no answer to the Starfleeters call. His guard friend was either gone by his own volition or
was inside the cell with Urosks comrades. Either way, he was not around. One on one . . . the odds were
better than even.

Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing if the humans call to his absent colleague would be carried
to every communicator.

The comm channel would have to close before opportunity materialized again.

The Starfleet guard tapped his badge again, and Urosk thought that was his signal to move. Before he
could, the Terran spoke once more.

Connors to Picard. MacKenzie isnt at his post and I cant raise him on the comm, sir.

Understood.Picards voice spat from the small speaker.Remain there. Im on my way.

Blast! Picard would be on his way now. Opportunity faded once more, even as this one called Connors
turned off his communicator.

Captain Urosk, the human said, Ill ask you to hold your position with me, sir.

Urosk nodded and quickly glanced at the Earthers phaser. Ripe for the taking . . . A phaser against all
those defenseless Klingons.

That would make the statement he wanted. A statement that said something about the Hidran and the price
one would pay for choosing the path of war.

There was little time in which to decide

Urosks muscles tensed and he waited for the Earthers eyes to drift away even slightly. He balled his
fingers into a fist and paused. One good blow should be enough.

Wait . . . wait . . . the Earther still had the phaser . . .

A sound, some creak in the structure of the building somewhere, forced the Starfleeters eyes to dart
away.

Urosks long arm reached out and struck against the Terrans head. The man was sure to be knocked
unconscious.

The human stumbled back and the Hidran captain swung again, knocking the weapon across the hall.

Connors shook his head clear and twisted toward Urosk as they both tried to get a tack on the phaser
that had gone sailing. Suddenly the strong thin rods of the Starfleeters legs were around Urosks
knees. He struggled to free himself, but unbalance tossed him forward onto the hard stone floor.

Pain tried to force the Hidrans eyes closed as the two of them pinched together, limbs digging into
each other.

Suddenly the human was on his feet again, looking down at Urosk, ready. How? This small being was no
match! There should be no contest!

Urosk jumped up, pushing the ache from his torso as he tried to eye where the phaser had fallen.
Obviously the human would seek out the weapon as well.

Urosk had to reach it first.

One more good jolt of Hidran strength should make acquiring the phaser academic. He

Two consecutive flashes of agony exploded into Uroskin his stomach, in his neckFrom where? Why was the
Earther not down? Fall! Urosk grunted to himself.

Urosk swung his large boom of an arm again and the Starfleeter caught it and spun him away. Another bolt
of pain smashed into him. Feet! The human was jumping and kicking like some crazed monkey.Klingons had
given up sooner.

Urosk let out an angry gasp and lashed back at the Starfleeter. Both fists clasped together into a club
of bone and muscle, he swung hard against the humans shoulder.

Connors went tumbling down to the ground with a hard grunt.

Finally, he was unmoving.

Urosk stooped to reach for the phaser. Another limbhe didnt know whichwhacked him in the gut and sent
him sprawling onto the floor.

The Starfleeter, on his feet again, leaped at Urosk, punching and jabbing and scratching.

Urosk felt one of his eyes swelling shut and he could feel the metallic taste of blood in his throat.
Dredging his frustration into strength, he looped his arms around the Earther. If he could not beat the
gangly human he would crush the breath from him!

Arms pinned at his sides, feet dangling at least a half meter off the ground, the Starfleeter struggled
and grunted his breath away.

Finally Urosk felt the strength drain empty from his opponents body. To be sure he crushed his arms
together three more times. He would not be fooled again.

When he released him, the Earther crumpled into a heap, a spent log collapsing into an amber bed.

Urosk snatched for the phaser and quickly set it to stun. Unconsciousness from lack of air, if what
these humans breathed could be called air, might last only a few moments. On the other hand . . . He
triggered the weapon and a bright orange halo enveloped the human for a moment. The Starfleeter was
surely out this time. And would stay that way for quite a while.

After plucking the comm badge from the guards chest he pulled the man into an alcove to hide him from
Picard.

TheEnterprise captain would be walking down the corridor any minute . . . and Urosk would be waiting.

Picard . . . he had failed to see the warning signs. He would regret his choice.

Chapter Ten

PICARD HERE.

The voice of young Ensign MacKenzie crackled back at the captain from the small comm badge speaker.
Interference again. Picard noted the irritation and promised himself hed be having a talk with Data.

MacKenzie isnt at his post and I cant raise him on the comm, sir.

Understood. Obviously Ensign Connors voice, not MacKenzies. When had all ensigns started blending
together into a blur of youth? Remain there, Picard ordered. Im on my way. He rose and shared a
concerned glance with Beverly, as well as a quick look with Barbara.

Captain, Beverly began again, slowly rising out of her seat, this is important. I left something out
of my report when the delegates were here. She cast a quick glance at Barbara. I thought it might be
best to tell you this in confidence.

Picard nodded. Understood. He didnt mind Bar baras presence. In fact, since she had voiced her wish
to do something about Riker and Troisomething that could make this entire situation worsehe was glad
to know where she was. Proceed, Doctor, but be brief.

Beverly pulled in a deep breath, held it a moment, then released it quickly. Picard had come to
recognize this as her attempt to cover a sigh. He didnt have time for sighs.

There were traces of Zhads own skin and blood beneath his nails, she said, then paused, as if that
alone should be some revelation.

The captain shrugged his response. Youd said that earlier. Isnt that expected? Wouldnt he have tried
to fix the mask?

She shook her head and a thick strand of orange hair bobbed over her ear. Gouges in his face and the
amount of skin under his nails suggest something else.

Now Picard needed to hide a sigh. It just gets worse and worse, doesnt it?

Barbara unfolded her arms, gesturing to Beverly. This is what you wanted, isnt it? This proves that
your man didnt kill the Ambassador. Or at least its some fair evidence.

Picard lowered his head, his fingers finding that pressure point on his temple. Behind there, was a
thriving headache that threatened to grow before it faded. Doctor Hollitt, I dont think Captain Urosk
would accept the suggestion that his ambassador killed himself. It would look as if we were falsifying
evidence for our own benefit. Hardly fair at all.

What if thats exactly what happened? Beverly offered.

Nodding, Picard pursed his lips. A possibility. He took another step toward the door. Ill have more
questions when I return.

Barbara shrugged, hard shoulders turning fluid for a brief moment. Why? Why would anyone do that?

To make the Klingons look bad, Picard said, wanting to satisfy all her questions even if it delayed
him. The last thing he desired was for her to tag along again. She had been an angry puppy at his feet
since this all fell apart, and wouldnt stop nipping at his heels. To give the Hidran a bargaining chip
worth something, he continued. Perhaps he was a shrewd ambassador to the last breath.

Barbara shook her head in disbelief. To kill yourself is one thing. By the looks of him he suffered.

He did, Beverly confirmed. Not just the suffocation, but tearing it out wouldve been no painless
task.

Its . . . its . . . Barbara seemed to be searching for the right term.

Fanatical, Picard offered caustically.

Beverlys lips curled down into a frown. Dimwitted is what Id call it.

Either way, Picard said, inching for the door again, the fact may not help Mr. Worf one scrap.

Barbara looked as if she were on the edge of some comment as she began to rise.

Halfway out the door already, the captain quickly shook his head. Please, Dr. Hollitt, remain here.

She raised her chin ever so slightly and ever so defiantly. I can handle myself, Captain.

Of that he was sure. But still, his orders and instinct were to protect a civilian first, and he didnt
want the regret of one more death upon his shoulders.

Whether or not you can handle yourself is not at issue, Doctor, Picard said as he closed the door
behind him. Im not sureI can handle you.

Sir, should you be here?

Looking down, trying to shield his eyes from the crewman, Geordi shook his head. There was really no
need to hidea well-rounded Starfleet officer had seen things more shocking than eyes without irises.
Despite knowing that, there was a self-conscious twinge that Geordi would feel if he thought someone
were staring into his sightless eyes.

Im just working on a little project to keep me busy, Charlie. Geordi hovered diligently over his
work.

Can I help?

Only if you want to share a court-martial with me.Well, if you really want to do me a favor, you could
cheek the particulate filtration sensors on deck seven. The air seemed a little stale up there.

Aye aye, sir, Charlie said, and Geordi heard the ensigns feet pad away toward the turbolift and a
busywork job in a far-off Jeffries tube.

There was silence, and Geordi still felt as if he was being watched . . . or his work was. In any case,
the proximity detector said no one was close enough to get in the way, so he simply tried to ignore the
feeling.

He reached over the football-sized capsule that lay open in front of him and he picked up a tool, the
location of which hed memorized. He found the place inside the exposed sensor drone where he had to
make his adjustments, and set to work.

His fingertips had to be his eyes herethe proximity detector was useless on such a small scale. He
fumbled inside the guts of the drone, sweat breaking on his upper lip. Sloppily, exhaustingly, he made
his adjustments.

He hoped.

So damn frustrating: to go from super-sight to super-darkness was a game hed played every night, yet to
stare blankly at the prospect of never playing that game againat staying forever in the dark . . .
well, it scared him, annoyed him, filled him with uneasiness, as if he wasnt in his own body but
instead in some dark cave at the edge of existence.

He refused to ask for help with the drone, of course. Not only would that be rather embarrassing, but
what position would it put the crewman in? Geordi was going against Datas obvious order not to contact
the planet without authorization. Perhaps itwas Picards order. There was too much at risk here . . .
better this particular mutiny be kept to himself for a while.

He dropped the instrument, closed the door to the drones innards, and flicked the on switch.
Somewhere to his left, perhaps at about fifteen meters down the aft corridor, there was a chute that
would launch the sensor drone outside the ship for a maintenance-pass of the starboard nacelle.

He found the sliding hatch to the chute just a few inches from where his mental picture told him it
would be. The proximity detector vesta temporary model hed replicated, and hoped he wouldnt have to
eventually have a special one madedid the rest.

With the drone down the chute, he coded in the launch coordinates. Hopefully he hadnt missed a button
on the keypad. There was no way to verify such things without sight. If he was a few too many digits off
the mark, hed be sending the small robot craft off into the planets atmosphere, out into the star
system, or back into the ship itself where it would crumble againstEnterprises hull plates. And that
was if his jury-rigging had worked at all. The drone could blow up when activated and alert Data that
something was amiss. He could see that now: Data having him confined to sickbay for psychological
analysis.

The walk back to his cabin was painfully long and his mind more on the adjustments hed have to make to
his communicator than the layout of the ship. Had it not been for the proximity vest he would have
slammed into bulkheads three times.

Damned if he didnt feel as if he was being watched all the time. Senselessly self-conscious maybe, but
just couldnt be helped. Maybe hewas paranoid . . . or was he just intensely aware? That thought made
him chuckle. Wasnt there an old saying that if you thought you were crazy you probably werent?

Okay, so Geordi felt embarrassed at his loss. That wasnt abnormal. Data was the one acting abnormally.
It had to be some sort of damage at work there. How else could Data be so against Worf? And the
Klingons? Had the Hidran found some way to tap into him? And how could the android forgettwicethat he
shouldnt nod to Geordi? Data could remember thenames of a thousand angels dancing on the head of a pin.
For him to forget anything so simple proved there was something wrong with him.

Didnt it?

Geordid let the captain decide.

He skittered into his cabin, threw himself toward a table he often tinkered at, and pulled his
communicator from his chest. He clutched the comm badge in one hand, and pulled a small contraption out
of a drawer.

It was no easy task to change the frequency of a communicator without notifying the controlling computer
of the alteration. This gadget would helpbut it would have to be tricked into it.

These were the moments that Geordi fancied himself a rather dangerous gent if he wanted to be. That idea
quickly cooled into a frightening thought . . .

Data could be dangerous as well.

Geordi hurried himself through the rest of his work: fingers flying untidily over the small, detailed
work. Had he been able to see he would have been done in moments . . .

When finished he hastily pushed his tools to one side. Leaving the communicator on the table top, he
tapped and it chirped, passing normal channels and searching for the drone that had been converted into
a makeshift jumper. The signal would find the drone and jump from there to the planet and hopefully
reach Picard through the white-noise transmission blanket.

Clenching his fists in anticipation, Geordi moved in toward the communicator. La Forge to Picard. Come
in.

Picard closed the door quickly behind him, a little awkwardly, not accustomed to a door that didnt
follow orders.A civilian doorlike its owner . He was already surprised Barbara hadnt followed him into
the hall.

Civilians. He remembered complaining to his superior for assigning him a ship that would house civilians
like some star-skipping starbase. It was dangerous, foolish . . . and yet he had coped. Riker had helped
with that. Amiable, genial Will Riker who had somehow walked the line between commander and father
figure to a crew of families. A line Picard didnt want to look for, let alone find. He was glad to
leave that to Will.

Riker. Where were he and Troi? If they were anywhere.

One fiasco at a time,Picard reminded himself as he strode toward the corridor entrance that would lead
him to Connors.

Perhaps he should try to contact MacKenzie himself. If Data had been diddling with the frequencies again
. . . There was an odd happenstance. Data had been acting quite out of character. It was like him to
suggest alternativesbut to act on them without authorization. Another officer might, but Data?

No large matter. Picard had endless other problems. Riker and Troi, Worf and the delegates, Zhads
death, the Klingon delegates death . . . All this had been so well planned. Or so hed thought. The
plan had shattered into a thousand shards when Zhad died and took the Klingon with him.

But was Zhad killed or did he commit suicide? That was now a valid concern.

Why? Why would anyone do that? Barbaras question kept tugging at him. Agood question.

What did the Hidran gain if Worf was implicated? Perhaps the Federation would owe the Hidran? The
politicians in the Federation Council might think so.

Maybe it had nothing to do with the Federation. What if such an act of self-sacrifice was for some
internal Hidran element that Zhad disagreed with? Or agreed with? It wouldnt be the first time someone
scuttled their own ship so as to paint themselves the damaged party.

There were endless possibilities.

The Hidran knew the Federation and the Klingons were allies. If a Klingon who was a Federation citizen
murdered the Hidran ambassador, the Klingons themselves may have to disavow such action by supplying the
Hidran with what they wanted: the Federation might apply pressure to that end because it was their
citizen. Two implications in one.

But which? Did Zhad want to stop the treaty because he was against it, or did he want to assure the
treaty because he thought it would be spoiled?

I suspect you will regret your dealings with the Klingons, Picard. I know I will.

Those had been Zhads last direct words to Picard. Did the Ambassador plot his own death at that point?

So many alternatives, the only one that seemed totally implausible, to Picard at least, was that Worf
intended to murder Zhad.

But what if it was an accident? Worf admitted to striking the Hidran. What then?

Which was true?

The mind boggled.

Somehow he had to reason it all out.

Reason. Reason seemed to have evaporated as of late. He had to do something to get logic to condense
again.

Without signaling, Picards communicator suddenly spat itself to life. La Forge to Pic . . . om in.
The signal broke itself with static.

Geordi? Why? What was wrong? Picard tapped at the comm badge. Picard here. Youre breaking up, Mr. La
Forge.

Little time, Captain. Jury-rigged comm. Something wrong with Datamy opinion that . . . damaged
somehow. Hes restricted commun . . . is planning to forcibly board the Klingon vessel. I believe . .
. against your orders, sir. Can you confirm?

Picard halted his gait down the corridor. What? repeat that, La Forge, he ordered, the sharp needle of
a headache promising never to fade. I have given no order to board the Klingon ship, Commander. You are
to relieve Mr. Data on my authority.

Static sputtered, filling the narrow corridor with echoing noise.

Captain, do you read me?

I read you, La Forge. Carry out my order!

Captain? If you can hear . . . at all . . . ease respond.

I read you, Commander. Relieve Data of duty. Assume command and reestablish main

Are you attempt . . . to signal back? I ca . . . no . . . as . . . cha . . .

La Forge! Youre breaking up!

The connection withered into a blank crackle of irritating noise. The captain hit the comm badge again.
Picard toEnterprise. 

Nothing.

Picard toEnterprise !

Enterprise, Datahere .

Mister Data, have you released communications as I ordered?

Not yet, sir.

Picard didnt need to ask why. Commander, are you preparing an away team to board the Klingon vessel?

Yes, sir.

I specifically forbade that plan, didnt I, Commander?

There was a pause. Specifically, sir, you said I should do whatever I must to get to the bottom of this
situation.

Picard didnt need to pause. His actions were clear. Commander Data, you are hereby relieved of duty.
Relinquish command to the duty officer and report to Bioengineering for a complete diagnostic.

Silence. No static.

Captain, I assure you I am in perfect running order. If you would allow me to explain

I havent time for explanations, Commander. You have your orders. This time make sure you carry them
out.

Captain, Data inquired in his normal, even tone, are you under duress?

No Im not under duress, Picard barked.

I believe you are, sir, and I cannot follow a coerced order.

Mr. Data!

There was silence over the comm. No static.

Commander Data, beam me aboard immediately.

I am sorry, sir. I believe you to be giving that order under threat of physical violence. I can not
release the white noise transmission blanket under these circumstances.

Commander, you are relieved of duty. Relinquish command to Mr. La Forge.

I assure you, Captain, I shall do all in my power to achieve your rescue.Enterpriseout .

The signal chirped closed, and Picard was alone. More alone than he had ever felt.

He jabbed at the comm badge again, twice, and was taunted, panicked by quiet.

It couldnt possibly get any worse, Picard said to himself as he turned back the way hed come. Hed
get back to Dr. Crusherhave her call Data and beam up to the ship. Put her in temporary command. Not
his first choice, but everyone else was either under arrest, missing, blind or insane.

He chuckled ironically, wondering which he would succumb to.

A pressure in his back, warm . . .

Halt, said a muffled, gravely voice from behind him. Do not reach for your weapon.

Urosk, a phaser pressed into the small of Picards back, pushed the captain forward as he reached his
long, orange arm around and wrested the weapon from the Starfleet captains holster.

You will come with me, Picard, Urosk said.

Picard turned slowly around to face the Hidran captain. Where are my men?

Sleeping.

What did that mean? Unconscious? Dead?

I want to see them.

The time for what you want, Urosk hissed slowly, holding both phasers on Picard now, is at an end.

Chapter Eleven

BARBARA CLENCHED THE HANDLEof her phaser close to her stomach and tried not to breathe. One overt
moveone sound that gave her awayand Picard might die. She watched tacitly as Urosk forced the captain
through the hatchway.

The door closed behind them. Picard had said something as Urosk shoved him in, Barbara couldnt tell
what.

She anxiously chewed at her lower lip. If only Urosks phaser hadnt been trained so closely on Picard .
. . Then again, the two of them were only centimeters apart. From where she was, pressed into the alcove
of a doorway, she wouldnt have been able to target Urosk if hed had a bullseye on his back. All the
training shed had with a phaser was the two-hour class offered when she purchased one a few years ago.
She knew the settings and what they could do, but even those were on a civilian hand weapon, not the
sleek, military one she now held in her sweaty palm. This she had gotten from one of her lease-a-guards.
It looked much more like a Starfleet weapon than her old phaser-pistol, and it was warmer to the touch,
pulsing with pent-up energy.

She rose, straightened herself, then quickly shrank back against the wall. Footsteps shuffled. Heavy
ones. Another Hidranshifting down the hall toward the door. She could smell the sour mustiness of him
as he passed. Unnoticed, she pushed out her breath in short, quiet bursts.

Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought that it might give her away. Not the soundthe fact that
she might have a heart attack, fall on her own phaser, and vaporize herself and half the building with
her.

The Hidran hesitated before joining the others beyond the hatch. He looked from side to side, seemingly
apprehensive, then finally disappeared through the door.

Quickly she moved from doorway to doorway up the corridor, carefully watching that hatch for any sound
or movement and pausing to hide her form behind any supporting pillar that allowed.

From behind her came a moan and she jumped. In the alcove next to her, crammed between the tight walls,
were two men in Starfleet security uniforms. Picards missing crewmen, obviously on the job.

Without a holster for her phaser she had to set the safety and tuck it under her arm as she helped one
of them up. She pulled him out into the hall, guiding him to sit against the wall. He groaned a thanks
and she did the same for the other. Both had lost their communicator/insignia she noticed.

What happened? Barbara asked.

The first one she pulled outtall and human with brown curly hairspoke in a raspy voice. The Hidran
captain attacked me . . . Tried to get my weapon.

Tried? she asked wryly.

Curly looked up indignantly. With the bruise on his jaw and an eye swelled closed he hardly looked
threatening. More like a school boy whod been in a playground scrap.

Barbara glanced at the other man, who was still dazed.

She helped the groggy one sit up straighter, cupping her hand behind his head to give it balance.

The Hidran have your captain, she said matter-of-factly, trying to mask her building panic.

Suddenly the Starfleet men were both alert. When? Curly demanded, pushing himself up into a stoop.

A few moments ago. I didnt want to try anything thatd get him killed.

Curlys eyes darted to his comrade, then to the weapon crooked into Barbaras arm. Give me your
phaser.

She grasped the weapon in her fist and shook her head. Sorry, fellas. People werent dying around here
until Starfleet showed up. Ive got mine, you get yours.

Maam, Curly said, standing straight now, looking stronger every moment, we have a situation here

Is that what you call it? Barbara snapped, gripping her phaser close. A situation? Your captain is
being held by people who dont think twice about killingthemselves for a cause let alone someone else,
and youre calling it something less than a disaster?

Maam

Your mothers a maam, kid, not me. You two want to dig up some phasers and come back, thats
fineIll stay here and watch the door, but this place is swimming with killers and Im not giving up
this weapon.

Youre not qualified

Barbara cut him off. The way I see it, Curly, you two lost yours and I still have mine, so lets not
brag about qualifications. She waved them away. Go now, so you can get back sooner.

Curly frowned, then finally pulled his buddy up with him. Fine, he said. You can stay here, but dont
attempt anything. You see that door open, get back to the main hall. Well be back as soon as we can.

Barbara covered a chuckle. Theyd do what she wanted so long as they could give an order making it sound
as if theyd thought of it. Military typesthey were all alike.

Gentlemen . . .

They stopped their gait down the corridor and turned back to her.

Just a suggestion, Curly, Barbara said, but Id see how the Klingons are holding up. The Hidran goon
who attacked your friend wasnt going out for Romulan take-out.

They both sneered at her, then were gone down the corridorback toward the main hall. Barbara shrank
into the alcove where theyd been resting and watched them leave. Runningthey were running. A few
moments ago theyd been unconscious. Theywere more qualified and she should have let them stay while she
ran for help. Or the hills. Something.

Stupidity took on new definition as she realized what she was doing: guarding five Amazon fish with bad
attitudes and superior training. She had one weapon and a two hour class in how to store your phaser
properly.Wonder if theyd go for thatchallenge them to properly store their phasers?

How many phasers would they have? Picards, the two guards . . . so maybe three. But one of them had
come back after Urosk went in with the captain. How many had he happened upon? She had to assume they
wereall armed. Five to one. Not exactly odds shed play at an Argellian casino.

She should have known something like this would happen. This is what you got when you put Hidran oil and
Klingon water in a Starfleet blender.

She shrank back into the alcove, her back to a door that led to some room shed never used. This
building, a grand stone hall with a maze of rooms and offices on all sides, was the only standing
structure on the planet that was more or less intact. Who had built it was unknown. The tapestries that
lined the walls in the main hall appeared to be of an agrarian culture, but nothing else on the planet
seemed to speak to that. There were no mills, no holding silos, no overgrown farms. There were a few
other structures she was sure . . . somewhere on the planet. There must have beenshe remembered reading
something about them in one of the articles shed seen about Velex. She hadnt been here long enough to
see for herself. Maybe Riker had found one of those. Maybe he had survived the crash. Maybe

An electronic sound, the hatch opening, yanked her away from her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet,
drawing herself up into a small crouch.

She couldnt see anything inside the doortoo dark.

What was she doing here? No one called for a scientist.

She aimed the phaser, set it on heavy stun, and fired at the door.

Nothing!Damn! The safety !

One of the Hidran poked his head from behind the door. He looked around.

Thumbing the safety, Barbara took careful aim at the Hidran that was now stepping from behind the hatch.
She fireda bright cable of energy stabbed out toward the other end of the hall. She was watching her
shaking hand and not her target, and by the time she looked up the Hidran had skittered back into the
room.

She knew hed had nothing to worry abouther shot must have flashed against the ceiling at least three
meters from him, harmlessly absorbed by the sandstone. A small flutter of dust fell to the ground in the
silence that followed.

A salmon-colored arm reached out, a phaser in hand. Barbara fell back into the protection of the alcove
as a piece of the wall near herwhere her face had beenevaporated. That wasnt the mark of a phaser on
stun. They werenot playing games.

Her hand was shaking worse. She fired blindly again, around the corner of what was left of her
protection. She heard the blastdidnt know what shed hit. Her quivering hand couldnt have helped her
aim, yet there was no sound. Maybe shed gotten lucky and stunned him.

Phaser first, at level with her nose, she peered around the corner. An orange phaser spear rushed past
her and she plucked her head out of the way. The beam struck the wall behind her and turned it to dust.
Choking, she crammed her eyes closed and tried to wave the sandy dust away from her nose and mouth.

Another phaser whineanother blast. This time they missed this side of the wall all together.

Still she needed more protectionthey had all but destroyed the alcove with their first two shots.

The phaser squeezed between her fingers, she put her hand out and firedonce, twice, three times.

And again.

Again.

She kept pummeling the Hidrans only doorway with energy as she darted across the hall to a different
alcove. She only glanced at the hatch for a moment, but saw no one thereno face looked back at her.

Safe for the moment, her protection and view of the Hidran better, she paused, caught her breath. Should
she move from pillar to pillar up the corridor and away from here? Or should she stick with the more
protective alcoves?

Another phaser blastthis time down the hall past her. She saw the beam cut through the air, sizzling
the atmosphere and singeing her hair. She was parallel with the hatchway nowthey couldnt break away at
her protection without carving through the walls of the room they were in. That would prove disastrous
for all, for the building was stone and would cave into rubble if its supports were shaken enough. Shed
already felt the dust fall on her when the Hidran phasers sent tremors through the structure.

Phaser in her right hand, the Hidrans hatchway on her left, she crept forward, ready.

Ready for what? She was outgunned and outexperienced.

She had to get out of thereothers could do this and still be alive when it was over.

Three Hidran exploded from the hatchway and three flashes of metal or plastic broke across the hall.
They were all taking aim at her position at once! The fire power combined would obliterate the alcove,
and her along with it.

She rolled away, stones and dust snapping at her.

Their aim was goodthe alcove where shed been hidden was no more. She froze behind a pillar, then
realized that using it as protection would be her death if they phasered it rather than her. The ceiling
would collapse and shed die under an avalanche of stone and brick. She fired blindly again, at least
trying to get a pause in their return, and ranshe wasnt sure toward what.

Her breath was heavythe stone under her feet evaporated as they fired and she ran. A corridorshe took
it, not knowing where it led.

Stupidit led back to the same corridor in a big loop. She now had an even better view of the Hidran and
their blasted hatch, but they also had the same vantage on her.

Aim. All she had to do was aim. Eye on target and fire. How hard could it be?

She fired, the beamnearly hit one of the Hidran. They moved so quickly for their bulk. She was just
getting use to this shoot-and-fire thing and now they were moving the targets.

Her breath coming in long strokes, her hand shaking, she lined up the closest Hidran and thumbed the
trigger. Her beam lanced past him but caught one of the others right in the face.

The Hidran soldier bounced back against the wall as if hed been hit by a thousand fists.

Well, what do ya know, she chuckled to herself. Every once in a while the broad side of a barn jumps
up for you.

One big red barn downfour to go.

The other two Hidran began firing moretaking broad steps toward her.

Barbara fired and rantoward the other path of the corridorthe one that would bring her around in a
loop, but at least put her farther from the Hidran and the hatch itself.

A flash of lightning and the pillar before her exploded and she pulled herself back as best she could.
The ceiling cracked and crashed to the floor. Flecks of rock and sand fell on her as she fell back into
another alcove. Larger stones rolled and bounced up her legs as she collapsed against the wall, crying
out in frustration and pain.

She choked as the dust cleared and allowed her to see the rubble that would become her headstoneshe was
now blocked from one corridor by the new crag, and the other by the Hidran.

There was no place to go.

And the Hidran were firing . . . and moving closer. She wouldnt give up without a fight. She pressed
herself forward, phaser ready . . .

Suddenly the two Hidran fell forward. A table, one from the lab theyd been held in, crashed up behind
them, pushing them down.

Picard exploded out the hatch and dove for the stunned Hidrans phaser. The Starfleet captain grabbed it
in one hand and closed his other into a fist along the floor. He fired back through the hatch and then
rolled forward toward the other two downed Hidran.

His phaser connected with one of them, and the Hidran sank back to the floor. The other Hidran spun
around and knocked Picard down. The captains left hand shot out, but not into a punchhis fist
openedhe threw dust into the Hidrans face.

The alien bent forward, choking and sputtering. For a momentjust an instantPicards eyes locked with
Barbaras. She nodded. She didnt know what he wanted, but she could go with the flow of it, and thats
probably all hed wanted anyway.

From out of the hatch came the other two Hidran. They towered over Picard as he spun around.

The captain slammed his boot into the instep of the Hidran behind himthe one that was still choking.
Barbara heard a yelp of pain, and Picard went down to his knees. Instantly, the captain grabbed another
handful of dust that had fallen from the ceiling and tossed it into the air. The other Hidran crumpled.

He repeated the action as he rolled away, and all the Hidran began writhing and choking, their arms
flailing, trying to clear the dust.

Fantastichorrificas if theyd been showered with acid. Here she was, cowering in a corner with a
phaser as Picard fended off all the Hidran with his bare hands and know-how.

Why wasnt she helping? Thats what he neededher help.

Barbara fired three times quickly through the small cloud of dust. She heard one Hidran fall.

She fired again, almost blindly and Picard kept tossing dust into the air as he scrambled toward her.
The beam from her phaser shot forward and caught Picard in his chest, bouncing him back into the Hidran
he was escaping from.

The dust was settling . . . and Picard was unconscious.

No!

Barbara pulled back into the alcove, wishing she could pull the beam back as well.

She heard a sound. The Hidran laughing? Her heart sinking? Both were happening. The three Hidran who
remained conscious were choking and yet still moving toward herand taking potshots with their phasers.

Picard, limp and unconscious, was tossed over the shoulder of one of them. Her fault.Hers . Shed gotten
herself into this quicksand, he had been trying to get her out, and what did she do? Pull him down with
her.

The Hidran continued to choke even thought the dust had settled. The dust

The dust!

The Hidran, born from a water planet,hated dust. Dust was their enemy, a disease to them. Picard knew
that and was trying to tell her. Its how hed fought them: his knowledge of them.

Starfleet wasnt just brawn and testosterone as shed thought. And she wished she could tell Picard that
now.

She quickly set the phasera wide beam, thinly distributed.

They were moving closer . . . closer . . .

Not as close as she wanted them, but she panicked a bit and fired. The phaser spat energy in a thin,
broad beama spatula of energy that she scraped not against the Hidran, but on the ceiling above them.

Clouds of dust, the sandstone ceiling turned to grit, rained down on the Hidran, and cut off their air.
Gagging, they crumpled like large trees being tossed in a tornado. Barbara saw Picard pitched to the
floor, a flash of red and black uniform through the chalk fog.

They tried to move forward through the dust barricade. Barbara aimed the phaser and fired again. This
time the floor spat up into a gritty barrier that mushroomed into the Hidran. Beyond the patchy
thickness she saw them choking, but they refused to retreat back through the hatch.

She choked as the dust found its way forward and reset her phaser back to stun. Stunif shed left this
to the professionals Picard wouldnt have been stunned. Then again, at least she had only stunned him. A
phaser setting more and he might have died.

Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips, suddenly frightened by the thought that he still might. The
Hidran were trapped and who knew what theyd do now?

They did.

The Hidran moved forward, despite the dust, and continued to fire.

She was trapped, and knew she had to make a run for itto get help

Taking a deep breath, Barbara leapt forward and began a sprint down the halltoward the Hidran.

The falling dust half cloaking her, she turned away from them as soon as she could and ran toward the
main hall, her muscles screaming and feet barely able to balance on the line of fear she felt.

Relief melted through her as she saw three new Starfleet security guards running toward her.

The calvary had come, and just in ti

Beside her the wall exploded into large chunks of rock and

She felt her head snap . . . and consciousness evaporated.

Saxon was glad he was only the transporter chief. That seemed almost a cowardly thought, but he knew how
many security teams were down on the planet, and wasnt really sure what Commander Data hoped to gain by
making a personal rescue attempt.

The commander, holding his phaser rifle and tricorder, waited near the transporter platform.

Lieutenant Wyckoff just signaled that the team is on its way, sir, Saxon told the android.

Data nodded. Very well. I will want to beam down outside the main hall.

Aye, sir. A wise movesensors said no one was on the streets.

The transporter room doors parted, and acting security chief Wyckoff entered, flanked by six other
security officers.

Reporting as ordered, Commander, Wyckoff said, nodding his men onto the dais before them.

Each man, Saxon noticed, was also carrying a heavy-duty phaser rifle and a few power-pack replacements.

Data nodded to the men whod taken their places on the transporter platform, then spoke to Wyckoff. The
captain is being held, presumably by the Klingons. I will not discontinue the white-noise blanket for
fear that the Klingons would attempt to beam the captain off the planet. However, keeping the
transmission jammer active means that our sensors cannot pinpoint his specific location. We are aware
that all the life-forms in question are either in the main hall or in other buildings, however, and for
that reason we will transport down outside the main hall.

Wyckoff nodded and stepped onto the transporter dais, as did Data.

The android nodded to Saxon.

Energizing, the transporter chief said, running his hand along the controls. Suddenly the console
turned dark. He jabbed at the panel, then looked up to Data. Weve lost power, sir.

Data handed his phaser rifle to the guard behind him, who, with both rifles and a utility bag hanging
off him, took on the posture of a bandito out of an old Western movie.

What is the cause? Data asked, stepping down, leaving the seven security men to hold their positions.

The chief shook his head and shrugged. I dont know, sir. Just no power to the console.

Data quickly tapped at his comm badge. Data to Engineering.

Engineering. Lieutenant Cheng here.

Transporter Room Four has lost power. Are we experiencing difficulties?

One moment, sir. There was a pause. I show your null activity, sir, but its not coming from any
engineering console. There may be a problem on site.

Data looked up at Saxon, who dabbed at his console, then shook his head.

The problem does not appear to be down here, Data said.

Well get right on it, Commander. In the meantime I can put Transporter Room Five on priority.

Very well. Data out. The android waved the security men off the transporter dais and nodded a carry
on to the chief.

Smoke was filling the room, billowing from phaser-punched holes, forming black clouds near the high
ceiling. Riker shifted his weight onto his bad leg for only an instant, then quickly switched back,
wincing in pain.

Five lovely machines, seven lovely craters burned into their sides. Riker pulled Deanna into the
corridor, then lowered himself to the floor and admired his handiwork through the open door.
Unfortunately, five minutes had passed and no one had rushed in to stop the damage. An automatic fire-
suppression had begun to work its magic, but a phaser blast had quickly terminated that operation as
well. The thought struck Riker that all this could be for nothing. What if no one was on this ship? What
if they had just done something to hamper life-support?

Deanna stooped down next to him. Your leg needs treatment, Will. You cant lose any more blood.

He nodded lethargically. I know. Im open to suggestions.

Grasping his hand in hers, she said, I have an idea, but it will be painful.

More painful than death?

She smiled weakly and brushed away the hair that had fallen over his brow. Probably.

He tried to return the smile. Deanna, my strength, he said mock-seriously. Whats your idea?

Give me your phaser, she said. Ill cauterize the wound.

Eyes bulging, he edged away from her. Have you lost your mind? Even at the lowest heat setting youd
burn my leg off!

You havent heard the whole idea

I dont think I want to.

She rose, and gestured into the room, toward one of the broken machines. Look at the wealth of metal.
All we must do is cut a piece off, heatit sufficiently, then use it to close your wound.

He looked from her to a bent piece of the metal panel on one of the damaged machines. Youre not
kidding when you say painful.

Id rather you were in pain than dead, she said.

Why are those always my only two choices? He smiled. They did this to each other in times of
stresseach tried to be the one that lightened the mood a little more. It didnt seem to be working
today. Under each smile, Riker knew, was worry and trepidation.

She held out her hand. Your phaser.

Nodding, he handed the weapon to her. Be careful.

Im going to stun you first, on the lightest setting, she said, playing with the phasers settings.
It should daze you dull the pain. I dont want to use anything stronger because your system is already
weak.

Understood. Riker didnt want all the details. Ive agreed. Just do it.

She let out a long breath, then silently aimed the weapon and fired at the large section of metal that
Riker had been looking at a moment earlier. The beam of the phaser sliced easily through the strip of
paneling and sent a metal wedge clattering to the deck.

What hit the floor was a triangular edge of some alien ore, still sizzling and spitting sparks.

Balancing on the balls of her feet, she lowered herself to Rikers injured leg. Slowly she unwrapped the
bloody bandage, revealing a deep angled wound that was as painful as it looked.

Riker was not exactly the squeamish typehe could bear the sight of his own blood, just didnt prefer
it.

Deanna wrapped the thick end of the strip of cloth shed torn from her uniform around her right hand.
Her uniform was now sleeveless, having sacrificed both arms to Rikers wound. With the phaser in her
left hand, she picked up the sharper, cooler edge of the metal wedge. A line of energy linked the wedge
and the phaser when she thumbed the trigger. They could see the orange heat creeping up from the edge of
the metal toward Deannas fingers. When the red glow was halfway up the strip of metal, and perhaps she
was beginning to feel the burn on her fingertips, she clicked off the phaser and reset it.

Im going to stun you now.

He smiled back weakly. Ive always found you stunning.

She couldnt seem to return the smile, and instead just looked at him anxiously. She aimed the phaser at
his chest . . . and fired.

Darkness blotted his consciousness in parts as the surge of energy jolted him, then sent him falling
into waking sleep where pain was just a shadow.

He thought he saw Deanna stooped over his leg. He could sort of feel her holding his knee firmly in her
free hand. Brighter than the rest of his viewin fact, the only thing he could make out clearlywas the
hand that held the wedge of hot metal.

He slipped into complete darkness for a moment, then awoke to a strange feeling . . . He scratched at
his beard as a line of sweat from his temple drizzled down his cheek.

He heard himself moan, and tried to focus. He could make out Deannas eyesthey seemed large, and he
could also see her hand shaking over his leg. Was it over?

She lowered the searing shard of metal toward the gash that was trickling blood. The wound hadnt even
tried to clot.

Pain smacked him wide awake and he had to cram his eyes shut. A spike of agony shot through his leg and
up his back. A heat so hot it felt cold, he flinched and Deannas grip on his knee tightened. Where had
she gotten such strength? He heard the sizzle of his own blood against the hot wedge of metal. He could
feel the heat on his skinit mixed with the heat of the blood until he couldnt tell the difference.

He gruntedcouldnt help itthe burningthe odor of his own flesh being scorched. He opened his eyes.
Deanna yanked the angry torch away from his leg and grabbed her own hand off. His breath pounded in his
chest, whistling through his teeth. The blood on his leg was dried and cracked and there was a red patch
where the gash had been. It would blister soon, but the bleeding was stopped.

Deanna was talking, saying something about leaving the bandage off to let the leg breathe. Riker was
exhausted and couldnt really listen. The pain in his leg was pulsingwaves of heat that radiated up his
leg and gave him a headache. Water . . . He was suddenly thirsty and wanted to be immersed in a pool of
cool water.

Are you all right? Deanna asked.

Water . . . Riker groaned. Id like water . . . I know, she said softly. Relax a moment.

And he did. The room seemed to darken and brighten as he slipped in and out of light sleep. The pain
became a steady thudding in his leg and was manageable like that. After a few moments, perhaps it was
longer, he opened his eyes wide and thanked her.

Im better, he said, and noticed the smoke was so thick in the machinery room that it was beginning to
glide out into the hall. No ones shown up, huh?

Deanna shook her head. And I still dont feel anyone.

Riker sighed. We have to get off this ship. We

He turned his head left, trying to hear down the corridor. The sound of the still sizzling machinery got
in the way. You hear that? He asked, suddenly feeling stronger, as if hed had a good meal and a long
nights sleep. He licked his lips, his mouth still dry. What is that?

I dont hear it.

He held up an index finger. Listen.

She cocked her head in the direction he was looking. I hear it. Someones coming!

Riker grabbed at his phaser. At some point Deanna mustve returned it to his holster. Help me up. I
dont want to meet our generous hosts sitting on my butt. He tested the weight on his bad leg and
decided he could live with the pain. You feeling anything?

Not a thing, she said, gripping his arm. Whoever or whatever . . . its too alien for me.

Im sorry, sir, weve lost power again.

Geordi imagined Datas brow wrinkling at that one. Explain, Data said, static etching his voice.
Geordi tried to tune the hand communicator a bit better. He laid it on a level place in a crevice of the
Jefferies tube, thanked his lucky stars that hed found itknowing the old-issue comm wouldnt be
missedand set about his work as he listened.

Same power loss as before, sir, the Transporter chief said, probably struggling with his controls.

Data to Engineering. Transporter Room Five is now experiencing a power loss.

Geordi stifled a chuckle. This was all too serious and dangerous for that, but he had to admit a little
pleasure at being such a good mutineer. His father had always told him to do his work as best he could.

And even blind, quarreling with the darkness and fumbling with his tools and the circuits before him, he
was doing just that.

Cheng here, sir. I still see you as reading full power.

Geordi shook his head. He was really going to have to spend a little more time showing Cheng the ins and
outs of Engineering. Of course, the tamperingwas being well hidden.

Quite the decision Geordi had made here. He hoped he was right. Hed heard a word or two of Picards
response to him. It wasnt enough to know what the captain had said, but itwas enough to know that
Picard hadnt been under duress. If so, why did he have his communicator? And why did he contact Data
right away, as Data himself had admitted? Chances were the captain had heard most of Geordis message
and when he contacted Data to see what the problem was, the android had slipped further into . . . well,
whatever his problem was.

Geordis problem was more obvious: he couldnt allow Data to beam down and start accusing Klingonsor,
in his absurd state, do something worse. Geordi was taking a gamble. He might lose, but knew that if he
didnt try, the Klingons on the planet surely would.

Stand by.Datas voice again. Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge.

Locating my communicator will be easy, Data. Im smarter than that, Geordi said to himself.

Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge is in cabin 2471, deck two.

Dont do it, Data, Geordi grumbled, his hands fiddling faster with the controls at the end of the
Jefferies tube. Dont force me to up the ante.

There was silence from the comm, and for a moment Geordi thought hed lost his link or had been found
out. Finally, though, he heard Datas order: Scan cabin 2471, deck two, for life-form readings.

Scanning. No life-form readings.

Geordi heard the opening of the transporter room door, and then Data again. Lieutenant Wyckoff, I have
reason to believe that Commander La Forge is either ill, or under the influence of a Klingon agent.
Security is to locate Mr. La Forge and confine him.

A Klingon agent, sir?

Well, at least someone was questioning all this . . . garbage.

It is a possibility, Data said, too damn convincingly. He sounded as if he knew something they didnt.

Aye aye, sir.

Damn. They were going to trust him. The reluctant, questioning tones were therejust not strong enough.

Also, signal General Quarters. I will be on the bridge. Please contact me when you have located
Commander La Forge.

Geordi heard an aye, sir and the swishing of the transporter room door again.

What now? If security backed Data, eventually Geordi would be found and . . . hed be powerless to do
anything.

And he would be found. Unless . . . unless he found them first. But only when he was ready.

He stuffed his tools back into his small bag, covered the access plate, grabbed the hand communicator,
and scurried back down the tube. There was no way to tell where security was going to look for him
first, but it might be a Jefferies tube that had something to do with transporters, so best to get out
of that one.

General Quarters. All hands, General Quarters. . .

The alarms began to sound and Geordi could hear the rush of people scrambling to their quarters or duty
stations. He decided to duck into a rec room bathroom.

He flipped open the hand-comm and fingered a few dials. Computer, tie in to communicator, authorization
La Forge.

Ready.

Nowthats more like it. He sat down on the heads seat, allowing his tool kit to drop to his feet. He
held the communicator intently before him, and started to map out the orders hed need to use.

Computer, locate Lieutenant Wyckoff.

Lieutenant Wyckoff is in turbolift twelve.

Computer, what is the heading of turbolift twelve?

Turbolift twelves destination is deck two.

Geordi yanked himself up so quickly that had the commode not been attached to the deck it would have
fallen back. Okay. My cabin. Good place to start.

By the time Geordi reached deck twoand he was sure to take the access ladders rather than the
turboliftshe knew Wyckoff would already be at the cabin. That was fine. Geordi didnt want to walk into
his cabin when Security was therethat would make it seem as if they were catching him by surprise. He
needed to catchthem by surprise.

And he did. When Wyckoff and his two men came out from Geordis cabin, the engineer made sure he was
standing in front of that door.

Commander La Forge

Lieutenant Wyckoff, I presume? Geordi asked. He could feel the tingling from his proximity vest that
said they were only a few feet from him. Id heard you were here. We need to talk.

Sir, Wyckoff said apologetically, Im to take you into custody. Commander Datas orders.

I know. Geordi gestured toward his cabin door.

Lets talk.

My orders, sir

Lieutenant, Geordi said, opening his eyes wide, allowing them to see his blank, white, sightless eyes,
Im blind. Im not going to try to overpower you. Im not going to phaser you. Im going totalk to you.
And if you dont like what I have to say, Im going to go with you quietly. All I want is five minutes
of your time. If I were trying to avoid you, it would have taken you more than two minutes to find me,
right? Instead,I came to you.

There was silence for a moment. Perhaps they were all exchanging glances. For all Geordi knew, a crowd
had gathered, including Data.

Okay, sir, Wyckoff finally said. Five minutes.

Geordi nodded, and walked forward, through them, and into his cabin.

As soon as the door swished closed behind them, Geordi turned and began.

Data isnt himself, Geordi said. Jim, he said to Wyckoff, you know me. Am I a Klingon agent? Worf
is your superioryour friend.Is he? 

Geordi didnt allow an answer.

Look at Datas warped facts, he continued. No one is allowed to contact the planet. Supposedly
Commander Riker and the counselor are missing, and thats the Klingons fault. Worf ismaybe accused of
murder, but it hasnt been proveneven by Datas admissionand yet Data pronounces him guilty. Captain
Picard is apparently under duress, but then why did he have his communicator? And why wont Data let me
talk to the captain as I requested? Why amI assumed to be a Klingon agent just because Ive questioned
Datas orders?

Geordi paused, and let all sink in. No one spoke and he could only imagine the expressions passing their
faces. If only he could seeto get a tack on what they were thinking.

Sir, Wyckoff began, did you have something to do with the transporter malfunctions?

Geordi nodded. Yes. I did. I cant let him go beaming down into what could be such a touchy situation.
You didnt hear him when he talked about boarding the Klingon cruiser and searching for Riker. Hes not
being rational, Wyckoff.

With all due respect, sir, Wyckoff said, this is what Id assume a Klingon agent would say.

Sweat broke out across Geordis forehead. He could feel it, and hoped it wasnt seen. He avoided
scratching his head nervously. He didnt want to give Wyckoff any body-language cues that might
compromise what he was saying.

The security lieutenant hesitated a moment, then continued. Commander, I do know Lieutenant Worf, and
Ido know you. But I also know Commander Data, and heis in command. It isnt within my purview to decide
that he should be replaced by you.

Im not fit to take command. Youcan see that. I wont ask you to make that decision. Geordi stepped
forward, pointing to his chest. Arrest me, Lieutenant. I wouldnt ask you not to. But arrest Data too.
Put usboth in the brig and sort it out later. Let the captain do it. Let anyone else do it but us. The
engineer pressed himself forward again, until the proximity vest told him he was right in front of one
of them. He hoped it was Wyckoff, or his flair for the dramatic would look farcical. Lieutenant, if
nothing else,ask Data why he thinks the captain is under duress. Ask him why he thinks Worf is a
murderer.Ask , Lieutenant . . . and base your decision on what you hear. Geordi stepped back and
gestured his hands in a surrendering motion. Ill put my trust in your reason. I sure cant trust
Datas.

What kind of coward are you, Batok? Urosk hissed at one of his men. They were both still choking.
Picard himself was choking some, but noticed the Hidran looked especially depleted. They had changed
filters in their masks and were breathing steadily, but Picard would have bet anything that this wasnt
what theyd expected at all. There werent many sandstone buildings on Hidra, to be sure.

I am inferior, sir, Batok said, slumped over, coughing. The man was obviously exhausted. I am sorry.

Sorry? Urosk muffled a gag with his ranting. We were being held at bay by awoman a verysmall
womanand all you have to say is you are sorry?

I did stun her, sir. Had the other humans not appeared

I do not want your apologies, Batok, I want your perfection!

Removing his jacket, Picard snorted, Is that all want? Perfection? Youll need it, Urosk. Youve
assaulted Starfleet officers and managed to abduct the captain of a starship. The Federation will not
play at this situation lightly.

Silence from you, Picard! Urosk growled, pointing his phaser. You are the reason we are here. Youwho
would not listen to the truth.

Truth? Picard scoffed. What truth? Your truth? All you seem to need to define truth is that you speak
it.

Silence! Urosk exploded, then turned back to Batok.

Urosk needed to be pushedbut not so hard that Picard would get himself killed in the pushing. Just hard
enough so that he might give up whatever foolish plan he had. It was on this end that such work had to
be done: there would be no help from theEnterprise. If La Forge couldnt hear him, Picard was on his own
in all this. Worf was weaponless, Crusher didnt know what was going on . . . She would soon enough,
though. On his way down the corridor Picard took notice of the two security guards. They had moved a
bitalive. They were obviously found by Barbara, and woulddo what? Contact the ship? Unlikely that
would prove fruitful. Something had obviously happened to Datasomething that had caused him to cease
thinking rationally. Or stop listening.

Picard knew he should have seen this all coming. Hed thought something seemed strange about Data, and
should have acted on that suspicion.

He looked at his plush red jacket, now filthy with tan and yellow grit, and tossed it on the bench
behind him. He mopped his brow and pulled on the collar of his turtleneck. Disappointed in himself,
angry at the situation, Picard tried to focus his thoughts on what the Hidran were saying. Any
information he could gain would be helpful.

I dont expect my soldiers to act like fools! Urosk barked.

Shedid have a phaser, sir, and Batok cut the end off his own sentence.

Urosk backhanded him and the clapping sound of flesh against the plastic-like construct of the breathing
mask echoed in the small room.

Picard cleared his throat. Batoks mask was intact and seemed to be functioning well. Obviously well
manufactured. Could Worfs blow to Zhad have been much harder than Urosks just now? Picard doubted it.
Perhaps Zhadhad killed himself.

Wanting to blend away into the background for now, to see if he could get a fix on the attitudes hed be
dealing with, Picard lowered himself silently onto the bench along the wall. He looked about the room.
Some of the dust from outside had settled on the floors and tables. Before its history as a base of
operations/holding pen for the Hidran, it must have been a lab of some type. Nondescript computers stood
along one wall and a great many tools and trays and jars of dirt were scattered on the tables. At one
time theyd probably been neatly stacked. The Hidran were obviously not known for their housekeeping.

Batoks head was down. He slouched yet spoke loudly and clearly as possible through his mask. Sir, if I
may speak . . .

Stomping awaythen back again, Urosk took on the posturing of an angry bull. If he had nostrils
somewhere under that mask, they were flaring. Shall you speak? Im not even sure if you shall continue
to live!There is the heart of my lunacyindecision as to whether Ishould kill you rather thanhow I
should!

Well, at least all captains were alike in some respects. Picard had never actually said anything like
that to a member of his crew, but he could sympathize with the feeling.

I would only speak to please my captain, Batok said.

Urosk laughed. Not possible, Batok. The sound of your voice is as grating as the dust in the air.

Sir, I have been to the Klingons holding cell. I did not leave here solely to supply us with two
weapons.

Urosk turned toward the younger, shorter Hidran who still had his eyes focused tightly on his own boots.
Despite wishing to remain seated, something in the Hidrans tone pulled Picard up. Thankfully they had
not taken his Universal Translator, or all this talk might just have been a series of hisses and clicks.

Tell me what you must, Batok, Urosk said intensely.

The Hidran lieutenant looked up at his superior, returning the intensity with his eyes. I have killed
the ambassadors murderer. The KlingonWorfI have watched him die at my own hand.

Picard rose forward slowly, but didnt move any closer than that. He couldnt if hed wanted tohis
spine, his legs, his jawall locked with the tightness of anger and fume.

All that had happened until now suddenly seemed trivial. Worf was deadtried and convicted by a jury of
one.

Chest tight, Picard balled his fists at his sides. He had let this entire predicament swing wildly out
of hand . . .

Time to bring it back in check.

Urosks eyes became slivers. He was obviously smiling behind that blasted mask. You have done well,
Batok. How many of the others did you kill?

Others? Batok battled with himselfhe obviously wanted to look away from his captain, but couldnt.

Surely you didnt only kill the Starfleet Klingon! Urosk snapped.

SirI . . .

Picard watched Urosk stifle Batok with a glare. Speak no more, Batok. You killed onlyone Klingon when
you had the chance to kill them all. He wheeled away toward the table behind him. On it he dropped the
two communicators hed collected. Together with Batoks there were four. You will redeem yourself,
Batok, by joining these into a communicator that will reach our ship.

Batok said nothing, but slithered toward the table, obsequiously silent.

Two steps forward and Picard was nearly on top of Urosk. He felt an urge to wrap his hands around the
Hidrans throat.

Worf . . .

And what then, Captain? Picard snapped. What happens when you return to your ship?

Urosk towered over Picard. We destroy the Klingonsin orbit, then on the planet, he said frankly.

Why? Picard spat bitterly. What will this do? Why must hundreds die for your revenge?

There was a choking sound from Urosk that must have been a laugh. Revenge? You know nothing of me,
Picard. Batok acted on revenge. He is a young fool. I might have done the same for justice, but there is
a grander plan at work here. The Hidran captain still kept his phaser in his palm, pointed toward the
floor. Picard glanced down at the weapon. Urosk noticed, and once again aimed up toward Picards chest.
Had it been reset to stun?

Whats your grand plan? Picard asked. Killing me? Would full Federation intervention really meet your
end?

Another Hidran chortle. Is that how precious you are? How many Federation Starships would be deployed
to hunt me down if I killed you now? Two? Three? Five? A hundred?

Jaw hardened, Picard held his anger in check. Therewill be political implications if you kill me,
Urosk. More if you attempt to attack the Klingon ship. And theEnterprise will stop you.

I will allow nothing to stop me, Picard. Not you, not your ship. The Klingons want war and I will prove
to them such a move would be much more unhealthy for them than any virus.

Picards hands flinched. He wanted to grab the Hidran, shake him. It was unfortunate that logic couldnt
be beaten into people. My people will stop you, Urosk.

With his gravel voice grinding into every ear, the Hidran captain gestured to Picards chest with the
phaser that was once his own. If yourpeople do stop me, you may never live to see it. I would not mourn
if you went the way of your Klingon lieutenant.

Bleeeeeeeep.

Both Picard and Urosk turned to Batok.

The young Hidran spun around. Captain, one of their communicators signals.

Bring it here.

Batok rushed over. He held the comm badge in the palm of his right hand. The gold tips were wet where
hed touched it.

Bleeeeeeeep.

Activate it, Urosk ordered, then turned to Picard. Answer, but take care in what you say. You will
tell your people to disengage your communications jammer.

Tentatively, Batok tapped the face of the comm badge.

It chirped to the open frequency.

Picard opened his mouth to speak, and Urosk thrust the phaser into his gut as a reminder.

Picard here.

Lieutenant Worf here, sir. We have a situation in the Klingon delegates chamber. There has been
another murder.

Chapter Twelve

TAKE COVER!

Riker fired again but Deanna still hesitated. She stood there, motionless, as the roving machine grew
closer. He upped the phaser another level and fired. A thick orange rod of fire spread over the
machinethen dissipated, not fazing it.

A wicked bolt of white plasma launched from the robots middle.

Deanna shrank behind one of the machines thatwasnt trying to kill them, as Riker rolled in the other
direction. He hurled himself into an alcove of equipment, and fired again as the robot sailed ominously
closer.

It was a meter high and hovered off the deck, bobbing and weaving as Riker fired. The first ones werent
like thatthey had taken their phaser hits squarely and crumpled into debris. And the potshots theyd
firedsome sort of pulse beam that felt like a mild electric shockhad been harmless.

Had been.

Now the machines were getting stronger with every generation. Riker would destroy one, and another would
appear within minutesbigger, or more adept at avoiding the phaser, or sometimes just able to take
stronger and longer hits before finally succumbing.

The robot in front of them spat energy that sizzled over Rikers head and sparked against the wall
behind him. Riker fired againconnecting for a momentbouncing the machine back. The steel monster swung
quickly out of the way and recovered its floating course toward them.

Riker glanced hastily toward Deanna. Stay down! He didnt know if it would go after hershe didnt
have a weapon and wasnt a threat to the other machines as he was. No way to be sure, though. Nothing
about this ship was right. No peoplejust machines guarding machines. Not unheard of, but whatd it have
to do with Velex? Were they even still in orbit. Or in the star system.

A prickling charge skittered across Rikers skin as another bolt of energy carved out a dark blotch on
the bulkhead behind him.

He chewed his lip and considered whether or not he should raise the phaser to its maximum level. One
quick clean shot and the rover would be turned to dust . . . but what would come in its place?

Rover. Thats what this devil machine was: a snarling, angry dog. Every neighborhood had a mongrel like
thatsome barking, spitting, gnarled mutt that lived to swipe baseballs and chew the pockets off kids
butts. Rikers neighborhood especiallyAlaska and dogs still went hand in hand.

This dog was a new breed of Rover, though. It didnt want his pocketsit wantedhim.

Riker raised his head and fired. The beam plunged forward and caught Rover in its middle.

The robot tried to move out from behind the beam.

Uh uh, Riker grunted. Bad dog!

He stood and aimed the phaser as Rover moved, making sure to keep the beam straight into its middle.

Finally a bright flash and a crashing sound: Rover the Fifth fell to the deck, disintegrating into
chunks of smoldering, crackling debris.

Slowly Deanna lifted herself up. Are you all right?

Riker stepped out from his alcove, nodding. He moved toward the debris, looking it over.

Deanna followed. Hows your leg?

Fine, he said shortly. The bleedinghad stopped and he hadnt noticed the pain much until she mentioned
it. Suddenly the leg throbbed with pain and the inner heat of the burn.

Riker knelt down to inspect Rovers carcass. He pushed the charred remains back and forth with his
phaser, sifting for something, he wasnt sure what. Some clue as to how it was made.

It doesnt appear to have a simple off switch, he said tiredly, pushing himself up with a grunt.

Deanna grabbed his arm, helped to steady him. Where are we?

Riker shook his head. I lost track three dogs back.

Deannas brows shot up. Dogs?

The slightest smile shadowed Rikers face. Rovers. When her face still expressed perplexion he added,
Never mind.

He looked around, keeping his phaser at hip level, and put his arm around her shoulder for support.

Lets try to find our way back to one of our floor marks. I want to know where were going. Especially
if another of Rovers brothers shows up. He motioned with the phaser toward the shards of computer and
robot left on the deck.

Theyre getting harder to destroy, he added. It took setting twelve this time. Thats five higher
than the first onefive Rovers, five settings.

She pulled him forward. Wonderful. Lets get out of here before we end up with more of them than there
are phaser settings.

He chuckled nervously. That was a very real concern. There might be endless litters of little Roversthe
ship was big, and whatever its purpose was, there appeared to be a wealth of material. Who knew? Maybe
that was the ships full-time function: Rover fabrication.

He limped, she walked, and together they trod down the corridor, over the debris of the robot that had
forced them off their marked trail.

Theres something odd going on here. All these machines . . . he said, testing his right leg with more
and more strength every other step. He needed to be able to run again if chased. He couldnt lean on
Deanna, that would drag both of them down.

Odd how? She looped her fingers around his hand as it came over her shoulder. It makes sense to me:
an automated ship with automated machines and automated robots to protect them. And an automated
transporter that brought us here.

Maybe, Riker said, trying to cover his fatigue with a strong voice, but I dont remember seeing
another ship when we entered this system. And if we were somehow beamed right off the planet and out of
the star system as well, that still doesnt explain what all this isor how the sensor readings back on
Velex fit in.

She nodded, her soft hair pressing against his arm as she did. Will, where do we go from here?

He almost liedmade up some tale about a plan he had in the back of his mind . . . but he was too tired,
and she was too smart. No foodno waterthey were trapped.

I dont know, he said. Survive for now He stopped, pulling her back. Listen . . .

A flurry of sound rumbled up the corridor from behind them. The unmistakable vibration of metal and
circuits: Rover number six. There was no place to take cover, and no strong legs to run on. Riker set
his phaser on the next level and turned toward the sound, waiting.

Did he send Deanna to hide somewhere, behind a door maybe? Or would that put her in more danger? She had
no weapon. If a Rover came up behind her . . .

He looked up the corridor toward the sound, then down the other way.

Lets go. He motioned toward the far corner where one hall forked into two. Well get a little cover
from the bulkhead.

Once there he pulled Deanna behind him.

Crouch low, he said. Make yourself as small a target as possible.

The roving machine turned down the hall toward them, hovering, and about the size of the last five,
Riker noticed this one was . . . smoother in appearance, like a giant toolsomething for utility, not
protection. Then again, Riker thought, a phaser looked just as benevolent.

Slowly Rover VI moved toward them. A ring around its middle was where the charges would come from.
Something told him theyd be even stronger than the last time.

He thought the Rover moved stalkingly, as if there was something personal in this battle. The robot
didnt just want him to stop destroying the other machinerythat sentiment had been lost four Rovers
back.

Hewas the goal: revenge for its roving brothers. Okay, maybe he was reading more into the ma chines
motive than was there. Maybe there was nothing personal and it was just programmingdefend ship until
threat is suppressed. Something like that.

One thing was certain: the machines wouldnt stop until their prey was dead.

He fired and a flashing spike leaped from his weapon to the Rover. The blast was absorbed fully. The
smooth metal casing glowed white, then orange, then dissipated, leaving the Rover still heading toward
him.

A bolt spat forward from the roverand from farther than the other ones had been able to fire.

No time

Powerful fingers of energy, luckily only the tendrils of the bolt rather than the full brunt, gripped
Riker and tossed him back and into Deanna as it passed close to them. They crunched together in a
fluster of limbs. Riker rolled off her, reset his phaser to its highest, took careful aim . . . and
fired above Rovers head.

The ceiling over the robot exploded into a shower of spark and rubble. Riker kept the beam steady, and
finally a heavy chunk of bulk slammed into the floor.

Crushed under the wreckage, Rover VI abdicated the throne.

Choking on the smoke drifting up from the debris, Riker pulled himself up with Deannas help. They
nodded their okays to each other and stood a moment, gripping one another.

Well, I have to commend their ability, Riker grumbled. They change designs like Starfleet changes
uniforms. And all theirs work.

He turned and glared at the debris, then back to Deanna. Why dontyou have a phaser?

Im a psychologist, she said. I justquestion people into submission.

He waved away the comment. From now on I want you to carry a palm phaser on away missions.

Nodding, her arm around his waist to lend him support, she asked, You all right?

Ill live if I can get a good steak and a cold drink within the next five minutes.

Must youalways make light of your own health? she huffed.

Making light of anyone elses is rude.

She shook her head and they continued around the corner.

Any idea where were headed? she asked.

Away from those damn robots. They all seem to be coming from the same direction.

You think there will be others?

Id bet credits. Im assuming theres some central store room or manufacturing room or something. Maybe
we can get as far away from that as possible, and at the same time . . .

Looking up, she cocked her head, probably sensing what he was feeling. What?

Weve still got to find some way off this ship. Maybe theres a communications room or deck. Some way
to try to contact theEnterprise.  He looked down at her, no longer masking his thoughts, because he
knew she was aware of his feelings. We havent got much time. Were either going to run out of phaser
settings or phaser power . . . or life. We can only last a few days without water.

And which of them would go first? He was weak, had lost a lot of blood. If he gave in to that weakness,
she would be left alone. If lack of water was to be their undoing, he would go first, but what if one of
the Rovers got her before that? Which was worse? His being without her, or she without him? And with one
phaser, they couldnt even safely split up to lure the Rovers away from the other. Especially since the
pack of Rovers got stronger and better with every litter.

All these things ran through Rikers mind, and so quite possibly through Deannas. He tried to stop
thinking that way.

He gripped her arm and turned her toward him.Dont worry yet. Well be fine.

I know, she said. And I wont . . . yet.

They turned down the fresh corridor and made a few steps headway before Riker stopped them. Not again!
He cocked his head forward. Another one. Hear it?

She nodded brusquely. Yes. What now?

He pulled her down and behind him as he shrank down to one knee. We drop and fight.

Another Rover, similar to the first six, came floating around the corner. As soon as Riker made visual
contact he aimed and fired. The shot went past, Rover dodging and bobbing as it came down the corridor
in a zigzag pattern, swiftly making its way toward them.

Here, puppy . . . here, boy. Riker fired again, and the phaser beam crackled the air, making a fire
bridge between them. Rover was struck in his middle and whimpered as the energy engulfed him.

Suddenly the robot spun away out of the beam, then around, avoiding a second shot.

Riker fired again and missed.

He aimed for the ceiling again, bringing it down in an avalanche of hot metal and burning cinder.

Rover flew back away from the cloud of debris as it dumped harmlessly to the deck. Through the rising
dust and smoke, the robot began again to make its way toward Riker and Deanna.

As it sped closer, Riker jumped up and started to run.

Toward it. As fast as his throbbing leg would allow.

Will! Deanna shrieked. Will! What are you doing!

Rover closed in, the band around its middle starting to glow with the pulse of a deathly charge.

Riker dove forward, head first, twisting onto his back. He slammed into the deck just under the robot
and fired. A brilliant trunk of energy pounded out of his phaser and into Rover.

The robot tried to move away, but Riker kept the beam locked on its underside.

He stuck up his arm, as if he could pound the beam through Rovers heart. The beast glowed red then
white, and finally shattered from inside and outside simultaneously. Riker pushed himself away and
rolled halfway up the ceiling debris, burning his back as the robot crashed to the deck in a thousand
pieces.

Riker pulled himself out of the wreckage and shakily got to his feet. He looked to see Deanna was all
right, then glanced at the twisted and melted workings of the late Rover.

He nodded approvingly at his handiwork. Good dog.

Deanna stood and rushed over to help steady him. A strand of her thick curly hair had fallen over her
eyes and she blew it out of the way. You scared the daylights out of me.

He put his arm around her shoulders again. Didnt have time to explain. I

Hummmmmm.

They turned . . . and there he wasRover the Eighth, larger, and looking determined.

Enough of this! Riker moved Deanna back and yanked up his phaser again. Ive had it!

He reset the phaser to its highest level and fired. The beam bounced off into small sparkles of fire.
Bounced! Riker fired again connecting longer, letting the beam pound into the robot. The machine
staggered back a moment, then began to move forward, into the phaser beamthrough it

Riker rested the phaser, holstering it, and spun around. Lets get the hell out of here. Now!

They began to run. Toward a far door. If they could get throughlock the door behind them

Riker stumbled, pulling Deanna down. They collapsed hard against the floor. Go, Riker barked. Leave
me. You have a chance.

She ignored him, pulled him up.

No.

They ran again, Rover following, humming, and, eerily, not firing. What was it waiting for?

Moving faster, Riker ground out the pain with clenched teeth, as they limped toward the door.Well make
it . He wasnt sure if that was his voice or Deannas in his head, but he pushed on.

As they approached the door, Riker turned and let Deanna go forward. He aimed at the Rover again and
fired a last time. The shot sizzled off its hide like water on a skillet.

Come on! Deanna called from the door way, as Riker spun around and leaped through, the door closing
behind him.

He stumbled forward, unable to stop himself

And nearly fell off the ship.

He grasped the handrail that pressed into his stomach and struggled to keep his balance. He heard Deanna
gaspturned to look back at herbut his gaze caught itself on the horizon.

The horizon.

Before him, extending forward as far as the eye could see, was group after group of machines, tube after
tube of conduits, pump after pump, after machine after . . .

Riker looked through a haze of warm air at the ocean of machines, and at the far, far distance, where
the ceiling met the floor.

Worf to Captain Picard. Come in. Worf tapped at the comm badge again. Worf to Picard. Come in.

Kadar grabbed at Worf and pulled him around. Your plan has failed, Worf. Your captain has abandoned
you.

Worf yanked himself free of the Klingon commanders grip. He felt his muscles knot and turned away
before he released that tension with a blow to Kadars face. You are delusionary, Worf said.
Communications are merely down.

Again? Kadar growled. Or is it an excuse to ignore you? Did you not adjust your communicator
frequency? Kadar gestured to the form of his fallen comrade as he wrenched Worf around again. We are
falling one by one! Your captain has left us here to die! I gave you the time you wanted and you have
failed. Now I say we will act.

Face hot, jaw tight, Worf narrowed his eyes and glanced at the deflated shell of the Klingon that had
died at the Hidrans hand. He then turned back to Kadar and spoke slowly, evening his angry tone with
forced composure. The death of your crewman was not random.I was the target of the attack.

Kadar jerked his grip from Worf as if hed been touching some infected leper. You do not know
that,Earther. You speak the lies of a Terranyou do not know the truth and you do not know the Hidran.

His scowl still grinding into Kadar, Worf tapped his comm badge again. Worf to Connors.

Connors here, sir.

There has been a murder in the Klingon security cell. Please notify the captain. I am unable to reach
him.

Were on our way to you, sir. The captain is being held by the Hidran.

Worf and Kadar shared a gaze, less mutually antagonistic than before, but more annoyed and angry.
Understood, Worf said, and jabbed his comm badge off. Questions, demands, flooded his thoughts. With
communications what they were, however, it would have been foolish to ramble off those thoughts. Hed
have to wait until his men showed up, and if they knew what was good for them, that would be quickly.

Do you see now? Kadar began in a low growl. Will Picard see? The Hidran are insane. There is no honor
with them. They will destroy us here, and then they will move to destroy the Empire.

They couldnot destroy the Empire.

Kadar looked at his remaining men a moment, then stepped closer and lowered his voice. Do not be so
sure, Worf. They could wreck such havoc that the Empire would not be able to defend many of its worlds.
The Klingon commander shook his head and gnashed his teeth together in disgust. Dont underestimate
them. Dont trust them. They have been building their military strength while claiming these economic
troubles and power failures. Five hundred war ships have been built! They have planetary defense bases
now that can knock a starship from orbit! Their economy is marketits recessions smallits productivity
too high. They are liarsthey have no troubles save for those in their minds. And, as you can now see,
they strike without reason.

Therewas a reason, Worf said, his voice its normal pitch. He refused to play Kadars game of secrecy.
I believe he meant to kill me. Did you not hear him call my name?

Eyes cold and dark, Kadar croaked his answer: All I heard was the death of another of my men. He took
Worf by the arm and pointed him to the body. There is the second Klingon who has died under the guise
of trying to avenge one Hidran death. How much would you wager that if the Hidran had their way, you
would be the very last Klingon killed . . . because youd be the last left alive? It is you they will
end with, Worfit is the Empire they wish to destroy first. Kadars grip on Worfs arm tightened.
Wemust act nowto preserve the Empire!

The hatch hissed open, and both Worf and Kadar turned, tense.

Connors and Mackenzie entered, nodding their salutes to Worf.

Report, Worf ordered habitually. Off duty or on, under arrest or not, to them he was in charge, and he
knew that.

Connors stepped forward. Sir, the captain was taken by Urosk. We were caught off guard

Excuses will be discussed later, Worf snapped, and got the flinch he wanted from his men. Theyd been
sloppy. Report the situation.

Yes, sir, Connors continued. Stalemate for now, Lieutenant. Phaser fire was exchanged. The captain
was stunned, as was Doctor Hollitt. They retreated back into their chambers, with the captain as a
hostage, when security reinforcements arrived. We have three of our team and two of Doctor Hollitts
for-hires guarding to assure no movement.

Worf nodded. I see. Perhaps Kadar was rightperhaps the Hidran were fools without reason. What did
they hope to gain by abducting the captain. It would merely anger their only allies: the Federation.
Has Commander Riker been found?

No, sir.

Worf nodded. What command officer is left on the planet?

Connors shook his head. Just Dr. Crusher, sir.

The captain was being held hostage. The first officer was missing. The second officer could not be
reached. The chief engineer could not be reachednor any one else on theEnterprise . The ships doctor .
. . was a ships doctor. I will need a phaser, Worf said. I am returning to duty.

Aye, sir, Connors said, handing Worf a phaser.

Possibly the ship has been attacked if it is no longer responding to hails. Worf glanced at Kadar,
torn. Part of him needed to work for the captains release . . . and part wanted to keep an eye on
Kadar. His threat to take action was not idle.

Finally, Worf turned back to Connors and MacKenzie. How many teams are still searching for Commander
Riker and the Counselor?

Two, sir, Connors said.

Call one back. I want two guards stationed outside this door at all times.

Worf! Kadar protested angrily.

For your protection, Captain, Worf said, taking just a bit of delight in the moment.

Armus for our protection! Kadar barked.

No, Worf said simply. You will remain here in protective custody. I will see to the safety of Captain
Picard, and we will remedy this situation per his orders.

You, Worf, Kadar spat, are a Terran fool.

Perhaps, Worf said as he nodded Connors and MacKenzie out the hatch. But for now I am the fool in
charge.

Datawas in charge, and DePotter had to follow the commanders orders.

Ensign, are the defense systems energized?

Yes, sir.

Then please plot a course within phaser range of the Klingon vessel.

Okay, maybe he was just a know-nothing ensign who could count his hours of bridge duty on two hands and
a foot, yet . . . all this seemed wrong.

But DePotter couldnt disobey such an order. If he did, there would be no more bridge duty. No more duty
ever.

DePotter tapped at his console. Course plotted and on the board, sir.

Hail the Klingon vessel and lock phasers on target, Ensign.

Hold, Ensign. Belay that order.

Swiveling around, his hands still on his board, DePotter saw Lieutenant Wyckoff enter from the fore
turbolift, flanked by three security guards. Their phasers were drawn.

Data stood and confronted them. That is not within your purview, Lieutenant. Your actions constitute
mutiny. You are relieved of duty.

Wyckoff shook his head.

What the hell was he doing? What should DePotter do? Sit backwait? Follow his order? Which order? Why
was this happening on his shift?

Commander, Wyckoff said, you cant relieve me of duty. Your actions lead me to believe youre either
ill or under an alien influence. In accordance with Starfleet regulations, Im turning command of this
vessel to the duty officer until Captain Picard returns.

Data nodded, almost sympathetically, or knowingly, or something. DePotter couldnt be sure if anything
was really there. He seemed so calm. Anyone else would be livid.

Lieutenant, the android said, thisis mutiny. I seriously doubt your interpretation of that regulation
would be upheld.

Maybe, sir. Ill let the captain and Starfleet decide. You can, of course, file a complaint when we
reach the nearest Starbase. Until then, Ill have to confine you to quarters. If you dont come with me
now, Ill have to make that confinement to the brig.

Silence reigned as Data seemed to consider the weight of the threat. DePotter didnt know if he should
defend the Commander or what. Sit. Wait. See what happens. He knew therewas such a regulation. He could
always lean on that. Somehow that didnt comfort him thoughhis palms were sweaty and his heart thumped
loudly in the absence of speech.

Finally, though, Data answered. Very well, Lieutenant, he said, and quickly stepped past them to the
turbolift.

Wyckoff turned, nodded his guards to stay behind, and followed the android into the lift.

Its been a long time, Geordi said to himself. Then he looked up at where he thought the guard still
was. If the security man didnt move often enough, the impulse from the proximity vest would just blend
in to the background of the wall. Why dont we check on him?

Perhaps the man noddedGeordi wished peopled stop doing that. In any case, the man agreedhis comm
badge chirped. Computer, locate Lieutenant Wyckoff. The guard was still near the cabin door.

Lieutenant Wyckoff is in turbolift five.

Computer, Geordi chimed in, heading of turbolift five?

Turbolift fives heading is deck two.

Hes headed back here, Geordi said.

Yes, sir. He decided that confinement to quarters would be enough.

Geordi leapt up. Damn! Were talking aboutData herenot some skinny ensign. You can lock me in my
quarters and youmight be able to keep me there. Youd have no chance with Data.

The man probably nodded again. Lets meet them at the lift.

Swoosh.The lift doors openedGeordi could feel the rush of air.

The guard gasped.

What? Geordi snapped. Whats wrong? To his proximity detector, the lift felt empty. Where are
they?

Lieutenant? Are you okay? The guards voice now came from Geordis feet.

Whats happened?

Sir, Mr. Data is gone, and Lieutenant Wyckoff is unconscious.

Damn! Geordi pulled the old hand comm out of his pocket, glad hed remembered to keep it. He snapped the
grid up. Computer, locate Commander Data.

Commander Data is on the Battle Bridge.

The rustle before Geordi was the guards uniform as he rose. Emergency medical team to deck two section
31-A!

Geordi reached out, grabbing the guard and pulling him forward. I need my freedom. I think my case is
proven.

Yes, sir. You sure have.

Good. Geordi yanked back the communicator and barked, La Forge to Engineering! Priority one!
Disengage power to Battle Bridge. Now!

Sir?

With Wyckoff in the turbolift, Geordi had no choice but to head for the next one. Using the proximity
vest as his only guide, he began a blind rush down the corridorliterally. And he didnt have time to
explain his actions to Engineering. Thats a direct order, Mr. Cheng. Follow it!

Aye aye, sir.

Geordi bounced into three people on the way to the turbolift. Report, Cheng.

Im trying, sir. Someones overridden with manual control.

Damn! Where was the turbolift when he needed it? The doors wouldnt open for him. Unless . . . Data
sealed off the lifts! Cheng, make sure all civilian personnel report to the saucer section on the
double if theyre not already there. And override any initiation of saucer-sep, you got that?

Aye, sir. Will do!

Geordi slammed his fist against his thigh and spun away from the closed lift door. There was a ladder
around the corner with his name on it. Whatever Data was doing wouldnt go down this flawlessly. Not on
a bet. As he ran faster than the proximity detector could handle, he bumped into a wall or two, but
pushed off and kept on going.

Gracelessness under pressure.

Computer, Geordi barked, beginning to pant, unlock all secondary hatch pathways deck seven to deck
twenty-seven.

Access denied.

No, no, no, Data . . . Its not that easy.Override on authority of Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge,
access La Forge: Theta two-nine-nine-seven.

Secondary hatch pathways now available.

Geordi couldnt help but laugh. Now thats the computer we all know and love. Before lifting the hatch
on the secondary path he closed the communicator andwhere was his tool kit?

Left behind somewhere.Damn . Three damns in as many minutes. It had been that kind of day.

Geordi scurried down the Jeffries tube. Deck eight by now? Hed go down one more to make sureif hed
lost count he could be left behind. That wouldnt do.

Hand under hand . . . foot under foot . . . he had done this quickly a million times without lookingwhy
couldnt he do it blind?

Red alert. General Quarters. Saucer separation in T minus one minute. The computer droned on,
klaxons sounding. At least Data was making sure the civs and the non-essential personnel were off the
battle section. That was the odd partsomething was wrong with his best friendhe was obviously damaged,
yet he seemed to still care what happened in most respects.He actually sounded concerned when he ordered
security to find me , Geordi thought.

He jumped down to the deck, stumbled a bit, then straightened himself. He pulled out the hand
communicator and flipped it open. La Forge to Engineering. Cheng, report.

Commander Data has overridden all Engineering access, sir. I cant stop the saucer sep.

Status of the sep?

Lift, umbilical, and SIF interconnects are separated. Docking latch servo seals are counting down to
sep.

Do what you can, Cheng. Force the warp core output to less than ninety percent! Make him
overrideeverything to get what he wants. Buy me some time. See if you cant stall some turbolifts
between the two sections. La Forge out. He rushed toward the nearest door, banged into the jam, and
cursed himself for rushing to the point where he actually was beginning to slow himself down. He
composed himself, tried to get his bearings, and spoke into the comm again. He nearly collided with the
next door and grumbled an insult at it. Computer, relinquish all control of engineering subsystems to
Engineering. Authorization: La Forge.

Access denied.

Override! Personal authority, La Forge: Theta two-nine-nine-seven!

Access denied.

Dammit! The communicator clenched in his fist, Geordi reached out to pound the wall, missed, and
stumbled. He fell to his knees, then yanked himself up and steadied himself. He was getting too worked
upfunneling his adrenaline into anger rather than action.

Computer, pinpoint location of this communicator. What deck is this?

Deck Eight, section five.

Battle bridge on this deckweapons conduits not far. Data could control the computershe couldnt
control the crew. Hell need automation to fire any weapons . . . and those systems would have to fail.

One way or another, Data, Geordi said to himself, Im going to have control of this ship.

Ships were big, but not this big. Riker had never seen one like thisthere wasnt one.

Were not on a ship, Riker said breathlessly, losing himself in the distance. He gripped the handrail
and slowly turned back to Deanna.

I dont understand. What is all this?

Look, Riker said, pointing to the clean lines of machines and bins . . . somethings doing something.
They pumped and hummed and grunted in effort. At what? There was no way to know without interrupting
them, and he wasnt going to play that game again. We didnt beamup . . . we beameddown !

Will Deanna said as she stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder with one hand and the rail with her
other. Of course! Ive had the same lack of empathy here as on Velex.

Because thisis Velex. You were right, Deanna.

Nothing on this planet is alive. Nothing! Its all machinery. Riker turned from the amazing view,
strength somehow filling his legs again. This changes everything. He gripped his arms, almost smiling,
for there was hope now, where there had been none. We must be kilometers underground . . . and we have
to get back. Find the room we arrived inif thats a transporter room then we dont have to worry about
beaming ourselves into space. If were lucky.

He looked into her eyes, those dark and tired wide orbs.

She nodded. Why? Who

Boooom!

Behind them, the wall exploded, a bubble of white heat spreading over the corridor. They were tossed
against the railing and Riker dropped to his knees. He looped his arm through one of the rail bars and
gripped on to Deanna as the wall behind them vaporized into metal dust.

As Rover the Eighth pushed through the downpour of debris, Riker forced Deanna away and fired. Again his
beam was reflected off to one side, and the Rover moved forward, unharmed.

Riker turned to run down the corridor. Deanna was well ahead of him. His leg was bellowing agony to his
brain. He pushed it out of the way. Dont think about the painit doesnt exist. Pain is a mythan evil
fantasy someone once had.

The corridor extended up against the rail for at least a city block, curving around at an angle. Riker
fired, hoping to blast Rover off balance at leastmaybe knock the robot into a wall or into the
handrail. He missed once, twice, and again . . . there was just no way to get a clear connecting shot
between the curve of the corridor and bobbing of the Rover.

Move, move! Riker barked at Deanna. Speed would be their only advantage . . . if Riker could keep his
up. And he couldnt forever. Theyd run out of phaser settings, and out of options. If they couldnt
find a way to the surface . . . well, there was no place else to go. They might avoid the Rover for a
while, but without defense, without a way to destroy the robot, they were as dead as the planet they
were on.

Damn, hed been stupid. He hadnt rethought, hadnt reconsidered his first assumptions, and it could
mean their deaths. Had he even considered the idea that they were in the planet rather than on a ship,
his entire course of action would have been different. Had he not started to destroy the machines, he
and Deanna probably could have roamed peacefully until they found a way to the surface.

Could have . . . but there was no going back.

What was it Deanna had said about poor concept-formation? Hed never let that happen again.

Up the next corridor, leaving the Rover trailing behind, Riker caught up with Deanna and they ran
together evenly.

The old dogs learned all my tricks.And its immune to the phaser, he puffed out. Try to put some
distance between us and him. As soon as we have a corridor between us

He coughed and stumbled, and she reached back to draw him along. We cant run forever, Will.

I know, he choked out. I know. His leg knew too. We have to find that transporter roomor one like
it! You run aheadcome back when you have one. I have an idea that might buy some time. If you dont
find it, just keep running.

Will

I dont want to hear it! Thats an order and I expect you carry it out, Commander! He motioned up the
corridor. Now go!

She looked back a moment, then took off, and Riker realized just how slow a snail hed become. He was
dragging her downshed stay alivefind a way to the surface and inform the captain, if he didnt become
deadweight for both of them.

As Deanna disappeared around the corner, Riker hobbled on and felt like that steak hed wanted a few
minutes earlierraw and lifeless. Sweat dripped from his hair onto his cheeks and he smeared it away
with an already soaked wrist. He looked back, listened, and heard the Rover still coming.

And it would keep coming, and even if destroyedthere would be others.

Theres got to be a way to the surface, Riker grunted, looking up the corridor to the corner Deannad
turned. Shell make it even if I dont, he assured himself as he slowed even more. The pain in his leg
wasnt buying the mythical story anymore, and his gallop had become a deadly trot.

He turned up the corridor, his limp showing. She was no where to be seen. The Rover could be heard
behind hima constant reminder.

Hope had again become the myth, pain the reality. He had no more ideas to slow it down, as hed assured
Deanna. It would be on him in moments. He was tired, and wanted to sit and wait.

Will!

Her voice came from behind himhed passed her. How had he missed seeing a door? He spun around, pushing
himself off balance as he stumbled toward the sound. She poked her head out a door that was nothing more
than a slit in the wall.

Over here!

Coming, he grunted, and tried to push the pain away again.

When he was close enough she pulled him in and the door closed behind them.

She pushed the hair from her eyes and motioned around. Recognize it?

He looked around, squinting at each corner, at the wall that was lights and panels. We started from
here, he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Deanna nodded. Either this room or one just like it.

He took in one long breath and straightened. Here. He pressed the phaser into her hand. You take
this. Youre going to buy us some time. Weld the door shut. If Rover breaks through, melt the ceiling
and make it a wall.

Im not the best with a phaser, she admitted.

Just aim and fire. Hit the wall and well be fine! Riker nodded toward the door. She aimed at the
split between the doors, hesitated, then fired. As he worked over the console, trying to determine which
way these people had invented the modern-day wheel that was teleportation, he felt the sparks from
Deannas work fly. Alien metal was bubbling up, welding solidhe could hear it. He concentrated on his
task, trying to ignore the orange nodules that spat forward before they fell to the ground cold.

The air was getting hot as he ran his hand over the many different buttons and lights, unwilling to
touch them. For now he was just trying to get a feel for the board. Intelligent beings tended to pattern
things. The eye will look for structure in randomness . . . from constellations to buttons . . . and
perhaps Riker could find a pattern here.

To his left were a series of switches and what looked like a numeric keypad with symbols. Above that was
a screen with what might have been a graph. It was unmoving, and had more symbols. He mopped his
browthe heat from the door was adding to his basic misery. After being gouged, bled, skewered,
dehydrated, chased and exhausted . . . well, he should have realized that boiling was next.

Booooom!

A shudder jostled Riker against the console and he gripped the panel as best he could. The makeshift
wall where the door had been glowed red, then cooled to silver-black.

Rover again! Riker called to Deanna. Melt more of the ceiling if you have tokeep em out!

The whine of her phaser was the only response. He spun back to the console and looked hard. No manual.
No help key. No Starfleet touch-padsjust old fashioned buttons that seemed to be laughing at him as
they kept their meanings hidden.

He looked up at the graph.If thats a zero . . . and thats a zero as well . . . He looked from the
graph to the keypad. A coordinate selector maybe?

Maybes were damn risky where transporters were concerned. Accidents happened even when people knew what
they were doing . . . guessing was . . .

Boooom!

Their only hope.

Another bolt against the door. Rover was knockingloudly. Riker could feel the heat from the blast, and
then a wave of hot air and the scream of the phaser filled the room again.

Keep it up, Deanna!

He didnt turnhis work was here, hers there. His only problem: where was here?

Enter coordinate here,he thought,and activate here. He moved his hand from one place to anotherthere
were only two main key setsthe rest of the panel was lights and indicators.What coordinate, though?

It was getting hotterthe air savaged his skin and eyes. Deanna was melting more of the ceiling into a
barrier and she was backed up against him.

Focus! Focus! None of that mattered! Rover was scratching down the wall between them and there was no
place left to run.

This is zerohe decided, touching the keys as if that confirmed his guess. But zero meant what? The
planets surface? The planets core? The transporter room itself? Could be smack-dab into the middle of
Rovers dog house for all he knew. The coordinate could be for wherever they were taken fromwhich was
two hundred meters in the air.

Booooom! Booooom!

Riker cringed instinctively and looked at the wallDeanna was running out of ceiling.

If they tried to escape they might die. If they stayed they surely would. The temperature of the room,
the walls, the air . . . Riker was ready to lose consciousness. Breath now painful to his lungs, he held
his chest with one hand, and the console with his other.

Get over here, he yelled. Stand by!

He hit the zero key three times and then jammed his fist onto the other key pad.

BOOOOOM!

The wall ruptured. Orange and red slivers hurled forward in a ball of flame. Riker felt the heat on his
faceturned to Deanna, tried to cover her with his body

The world became moltenthe explosion engulfed them

Pain was no myth. They were wrenched to the deck, and the universe closed dark around him.

Rikers agony was finally gone.

Chapter Thirteen

AT FIRST IT WAS NIGHTthe blackness, the cool dryness of the air . . . A river of cold wind washed over
him. A good feeling. Riker had thought he would never feel so cool again. Then he remembered the effect
of the alien transporter . . . brightness returned to his world, and paralysis lost its grip on him.

I made it.

Pain returned as well, and he almost welcomed the continuityhe had all his limbs, he could feel them.

Deanna . . . He called out, probably more mentally than physically. He couldnt be sure. Are you all
right?

Silence, and the distant howling of the wind, frightened him. He was in an eerie world of half-substance
and half-feeling, of half-light and half-sound.

He tried to flex his muscles and clear his throat. How frustratingto be uncertain of that which was
always so absolutethe control of his own body.

De-anna? His voice cracked dryly.

She groaned in response. Shed made it too.

His eyes fluttered open and light pounded against him, too brightly. He yanked his arm up to shield his
eyes, then rolled onto his stomach, allowing his eyes to open in the shade of his own frame.

The rock was cool against his palmsgrit and cold stone. He shuddered, chilled, and relished the feeling
after so many hours of sweaty exhaustion.

Deanna He looked to his right and saw her lying a few feet away.

Give me a moment . . . Im fine. He nodded and lifted himself to his feet, using the incline of the
rock face as a brace. This was where theyd found the sensor beaconthe same clump of rock and stone.
Somewhere around here was a crushed flitter.

Squinting into the bright day, Riker recognized the flowing Velexian fields in the distance. He tapped
his combadge, then shook his arm awake. Riker toEnterprise .

A hollow, empty frequency beeped back at him. He tapped it again.

Riker to . . . anyone.

Looking down, he saw Deanna was now shielding her eyes. He stretched his arm down to lift her up, give
her balance. He was the weaker, yet had come around first . . . the effect must have to do with
something other than just a physical paralysis.

The communicator suddenly cracked with static, then came alive with a womans voice. Halford here, sir!
You just appeared on our scope! The beautiful sound of another being.

Where are you?

Looking for you, sir. In a shuttle. ETA to your location is three minutes.

Deanna pulled herself toward Riker and spoke into the communicator. Good . . . have a medi-kit ready.
Commander Riker is hurt.

Acknowledged. Sir, mind if I ask where in hell you twove been?

Riker chuckled with the irony of that, and, still dizzy with adrenaline and blood loss, steadied himself
against Deanna. Lieutenant, he said, looking from Deanna to the sky, youre awfully close. Except it
was a bit hotter than hell.

The small combadge crackled, sputtered, then died under the weight of Urosks boot. Picard, both pleased
and disgusted at the illogic of it, nearly smiled.

Worf was alive. Alive and well and talking. But someone had died for him . . . another Klingon was dead,
and only trouble could come of that.

Suddenly, rather than turning to Batok and taking his anger out on him, Urosk twisted toward Picard. He
will not live forever!I will see to that.

Picard held his ground, neither pressing forward nor retreating from Urosks tirade. Is that your only
goal, Captain? Would you give up your entire planets life to avenge the death of one?

Urosk crunched his heel into the damaged communicator as he stepped closer to Picard. Towering over the
Starfleet captain, he ground angry words through his breathing mask. Iam acting for the preservation of
my planet! You are too blind to see it, Picard, but this entire string of events was meant to destroy
us. The Klingons want warand it is war I will avert!

How? By beginning one? None of this is any help, Urosk, Picard said. You cant stop a war by waging
one. Not when the odds are against you.

No, Picard, you are wrong. The Hidran captain turned away and walked toward the table in the center of
the room. The Klingons can be stopped. They have forgotten what a war with the Hidran means. He
pressed a button on the tabletop and a spigot rose from the center as a sink opened into the counter.
Water began to pour from the tap and Urosk ran his hands and arms under the flow. He shuddered, perhaps
with pleasure, and then turned back to Picard. They will be reminded what a war with us would mean.

Thats a gamble, Urosk. Perhaps they will be reminded of a need to eradicate your threat rather than
avoid it.

Silence, Picard! Unlike you I am not riddled with indecision! I know what I will do, and what it will
mean. I may die in the process, but the Klingons heartless empire will know that killing me wasnt
worth the price. We will destroy them here, and in orbit, and perhaps one will live to actually tell the
tale. Urosk stomped back to Batok at the head of the counter. Not only have you dishonored yourself by
killing but one Klingon, you have embarrassed yourself by killing thewrong one! You will take the
remainder of the Federation communicators, as well as our own, and find a way to break through this
transmission jammer of Picards. Thismay begin to make up for your errors of the past, Lieutenant . . .
but fail me again and Ill have your life.

Stepping forward now, voice firm, Picard hoped to still find some way to talk the Hidran out of such a
reckless plan. TheEnterprise will not allow you to destroy the Klingons, Urosk. That, of course, was
just a wild hope. He didnt know what theEnterprise would do. If Data had been damaged, and if La Forge
was unable to relieve the android, then perhaps theEnterprise was now acting not to stand in the
Hidrans way, but to further their cause.

Urosk yanked his Starfleet phaser up and aimed at Picard. I do not want to kill you, Picard. I do not
need the wrath of the Federation to complicate things for Hidra . . . but be assuredinterfere with me
and I will shatter your limbs to dust, and leave you to live in undying pain.

There was no difficulty in reading Urosks expression or tone. He was quite serious, but no threat could
stand in Picards way. The Hidran had to be stopped, and if that meant pain or death, then that is what
it meant.

Subtlety would have to be his weapon, Picard decided, as the Hidran collected all their communications
devices on the center lab table. Every few moments one of them would go to the sink and douse their
hands in the tap water. Then they would drink, with difficulty due to the awkwardness of their breathing
masks, and return to work.

The dust trick would not work again. Too obvious, and too dangerous now.

Picard watched as they pried the delta-shield covers off the three remaining Starfleet communicators. At
least this was delaying themthe white-noise transmission blanket was still intact. How long could he
count on that?

Time to act.

You use a lot of water, Urosk, Picard said, making his way slowly around the far end of the table.

Urosk looked up from his survey of the work. You no longer have concerns, Picard, except the
preservation of your own life.

Water is a scarce commodity on this planet, Captain, Picard continued, edging closer to the tap.
Youd be wise to conserve it.

The Hidran captains phaser came up and he stepped toward Picard. Move back, Captain. I care more for
comfort than conservation right now. You are dangerously close to interfering with me, Picard.

Picard shook his head. Actually, I was only going to suggest you turn the water up. That red button is
hot waterrun that and the room will fill with steam after a while. I believe that is what you want. It
will save you from constantly having to drink and soak.

Why? Urosk asked, squinting at Picard. Why attempt to help us? Why make us comfortable?

Picard pressed the red button and the tap spat a thick bar of hot water into the sink. Steam rose to the
ceiling and slowly worked to fill the small room. You have much to learn about my people, Urosk, he
said, and hoped that would suffice as an answer.

The Hidran captain jabbed his phaser in Picards direction. Thats no answer. Urosk was no fool.

Lets just say, Picard said, thinking quickly, that your comfort seems to be in my best interests
right now . . . wouldnt you agree?

Will! Beverly Crusher ran toward the halls main doors and scooped the first officer out from under
the guard who was helping him in. Whats happened to you?

Wheres the captain? Riker demanded.

With Deannas help, Beverly lowered him into a chair near one of the tables that had been forgotten in
the storm that followed dinner. She knelt down in front of him and flipped open her medical case. She
was a sight for sore . . . legs.

The captain is still with the Hidran, she said, distracted by his injuries. She flipped open a plasma-
concentrate hypo and injected it straight into his calf. How did you manage to mangle your leg like
this?

Luck. Tell me whats going on. Halford here filled us in up to the captain being taken, Riker said
tiredly, but with anger in his voice. How the hell did all this happen?

Beverly looked up to Deanna. You all right?

Nodding, but obviously exhausted, Deanna mumbled, Fine.

Doctor . . . Riker prodded. She injected him with another hypospray and he flinched. Hey!

Electrolytes. You need them. That and a good two day rest.

What I need, Doctor, is answers.

Crusher flipped open her tricorder and mumbled into the readings. Worf is on his way.

Is there anything to eat or drink? Deanna asked.

Halford nodded her auburn-haired head. I think so, she said. Permission to find some food, sir?

Riker nodded quickly. Granteddouble time!

Her medical tricorder chirping, Crusher took a moment to run the scanner over Deanna. Riker knew what
she would find: dehydration, fatigue. They were a mess. Riker didnt have a sleeve or pant leg left, and
Deanna was sleeveless as well.

Where have you two been? Beverly demanded. Riker sighed. Theres an entire underground planet to
Velex. Kilometer after kilometer of machines and rooms . . . all self-animated. Maybe. We didnt see
anyone.

Who did all this to you then? Beverly was now back working on the tangle of flesh that was Rikers
calf.

Some machines werevery self-animated. Riker glanced to Deanna. But they did have help. He smiled
weakly. Dr. Troi here played arc-welder with my leg.

With a plate of bread and a pitcher of water in hand, Halford strutted back to the table. She set the
plate down, found two glasses, and even poured for Riker and Deanna. Im afraid this is all thats
left, she said.

Riker nodded a salute. Thank you, Lieutenant. Secure the shuttle and report back for security duty.

Aye aye, sir, the woman said, and walked back toward the halls main doors.

Both Deanna and Riker tore large chunks of bread from the loaf. Riker took a long swig of the cool
water. Hed never tasted anything better. There was something to drink on the shuttle back, but nothing
so cold and natural and thirst quenching. He gulped down the bread, barely chewing, and was already
feeling like a new man before he began his second piece.

Lieutenant Worf, reporting, sir.

Riker looked up, crumbs dropping from the corners of his mouth. Fill me in, Riker mumbled, stuffing
his mouth again.

We have not yet contacted the Hidran regarding the captain, Worf said. As soon as I released myself
from protective custody, your rescue was reported and I decided you might handle the situation better in
the Hidrans eyes. If youd like me to return to custody

No, Mr. Worf, Riker said, taking a gulp of water and another chunk of the bread. Ill need your
help. He would have risen but Beverly had hold of his leg. We couldnt reach the ship. Halford said
thats been a problem.

Communications have inexplicably failed intermittently throughout the day. We believe it is because of
the white-noise blanket.

Wait a minute! Beverly rose, rechecking her tricorder and taking another reading. This cant be . .
.

What? Riker demanded. Why did doctors do thatkeep their patients in the dark to wonder which limb
would be falling off unexpectedly? Whats wrong?

Youre healing very quickly all of a sudden.

Shrugging, Riker said, So youre good. We knew that

No . . . Beverly began, mystified, running her scanner over Riker, then Deanna. Deanna checks out
normalher problems were minimal, fatigue . . . but you shouldnt be doing this well.

Sorry.

Beverlys brow wrinkled. No, Will, I mean I havent done enough yet. I didnt give you anything to
accelerate healing.

Crusher ran her scanner over them each again, then she reached up and snatched the chunk of bread from
Rikers hand. Give me that a minute.

Hey

Worf stepped closer to Riker. The Velexian grainis supposed to have some mystical health-enhancing
effects.

His bread now the center of attention, Riker looked longingly at Deannas slice as Crusher ran her
tricorder over his a second time.

I dont believe in magic, Beverly said.

Do you believe in feeding the hungry? Riker said dryly.

Oh, the doctor pulled out her hypospray again. Here, she said, pushing the spray into his neck.
This is a nutritional substitute.

Riker frowned. Mmmm. Delicious. Strength returning to him nonetheless, he turned back to Worf. I want
all available security to report here. I want the Hidrans area surrounded, both inside and outside the
building.

If they were to break through the outer wall, Worf began, the structure would crumble, perhaps on top
of them. This hall is the only standing native Velexian building, and is estimated to be more than
twenty thousand years old. It is not sound enough for such a rupture.

Riker nodded and stood. That doesnt mean they wont try it. I want the bases covered. He looked down
at his tattered uniform and grimaced, but knew his appearance was the least of his problems. Also,
there should be a subspace communications center around here. Find it, try to reach the ship. It should
have the strength to break through the white-noise jammer.

Aye, sir, Worf said.

Riker looked back to Deanna. You okay?

She nodded.

Find anything interesting, Doctor? Riker asked.

Very, Beverly mumbled. I cant scan through this bread. I cant get past the individual grains.

Neither could Dr. Hollitts equipment, Riker offered.

Beverly stood and turned toward them. No, I wouldnt think so.

If you have a conclusion, Doctor, spit it out, Riker said. We dont have time . . .

I dont have one yet. I have a guess. Where is Dr. Hollitt? With her help and the scanning equipment I
brought earlier we might be able to prove something. She held up the chunk of bread. This isnot
magic.

Do you believe in nothing mystical, Doctor? Worf asked.

Beverly flashed her eyes at Riker, then at Worf. I dowhen I can see the proof, and the equipment it
was tested on.

Chapter Fourteen

SAUCER SEPERATIONin five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one.

Only Data could have stopped the separation . . . and he was the one who wanted it.

So did Geordi, really . . . he just didnt want to be trapped on the saucer where hed be helpless to
act. And hehad to act.

He moved his hand over the wall and found the control panel that would open the door. On that door there
was a signhe couldnt see the letters, but knew what they said: DECK 8 PHASER AUTOMATION: RESTRICTED
ACCESS.

His fist tight, he punched the doors control panel, loosening it so he could snap off the cover and get
its guts. His fingers fumbled insidetoo long. Everything took too long. A minor accomplishment: to be
able to navigate around the ship blind. But if he didnt put that skill to use more quickly, in a manner
that would change the situation, then it was just a mean ingless achievement. What value was there in a
skill if it met no end?

A rumble vibrated through the ship. Geordi knew the feeling: the saucer unlocking itself from the
battle-section and pulling away. Someone was on the main bridge . . . Ro or someone, and would take care
of the saucer and its civilians. He imagined the lie that person was told by Data, how they probably
didnt doubt his veracity for a moment. Data certainly wasnt above lyingany intelligent being
understood that a lie could be a wise course of action from time to timeperhaps even moral. Who, when
asked by a murderer, would describe the location of their family? Who would tell an enemy the entire
truth? Only a fool.

While Data was most certainly not himselfhe was no fool.

Finally, sweat dripping down his neck, he fingered the override control and the doors swished open.

He ventured into the alcove and jumped through the doors quickly, then stopped himself, trying to get a
bead on where he was standing and where the controls he wanted would be.

Counting off paces to the main console, he was abruptly stopped by a wall that shouldnt have been
there. He leapt back, bumped into somethinga table, and grabbed on to it before he lost his balance.

Geordi straightened and put his hand out to touch the wall. He felt the cool plastic-like smoothness of
a computer touch-pad. Computer, what room is this?

Deck eight, section twelve: Recreation room four.

Angry, Geordi sent the chair that had been at his side flying across the room. It crashed, clattering
against other chairs and perhaps a table. The feeling was a good one, a release, but was fleeting. He
needed helphad to get to Engineering. Cheng would help.

Pulling in a deep breath, he retraced his steps through the doors and back into the corridor. Left?
Right? Hed forgotten.Deck eight . . . section twelve . . . Where was everyone?General quartersthats
right. Hed let his frustration get the best of him and was now paying the price: a muddled mind.

Think!

He turned left and rushed up the empty corridor, his open arm outstretched, fingertips gliding along the
inner wall for guidance. When his fingers didnt scrape the wall he knew there was the alcove for a
doorway, and he counted those . . .

Five . . . six . . . seven . . . eighta corridor . . . nine . . . ten . . .

Dropping his arm, he stopped. Ten was a Jefferies tube. Of course, he also knew the rec room back
there was supposed to be phaser automation control. All he needed to be was off by one step, one pace,
one count, and he could do more harm than good. Or he could slow himself down into uselessness.

He reached out, felt the cold, metal rungs of the Jefferies ladder, and knew there was no miscalculation
this time.

Slowly he made his way down the tube, one rung after another, flipping a hatch when necessary, counting
his steps as he went. There was no way hed allow Data to trap him in a turbolift, and the Jefferies
tubes would allow him access to the guts of the ship if he needed to hide. Even without a communicator,
Geordi was traceable if Data wanted to make the effort . . .

This was no way to function, thoughhe couldnt keep his career as engineer of this ship if he were to
remain blind. He wouldnt be drummed out of the service, but he would be given some desk job, or a
teaching job . . . And that wasnt what hed signed up for.

Not until then had the thought occurred to Geordi: What would become of Data? What if his damage was so
severe thathis Starfleet career was over? And what would that mean? Data wouldnt be relegated to a
desk. What would become of a sick android that couldnt be repaired? Imprisonment . . . or
worsedismantlement.

Geordi tried to shake that thought from his mind. Such a consequence could be considered laterthere
were lives at stake now, and that was the most pressing situation.

The thrumming of the shiphe knew every soundtold him the saucer was totally detached and that the
battle-section was probably maneuvering free and clear.

He reached Engineering deck and tried to get his bearings again.

Turning on his heel as he jumped off the ladder and onto the deck, he heard what sounded likeyelling!

Straining to listen as he moved toward the door, suddenly he heard hissing.

Gas.

Data was flooding the ship with an anesthizine. Had to be.He mustve found out Cheng was helping me.
Knew he couldnt rely on the crew to help him any longerknew I would be here

Geordi let out a dry cough, covered his mouth, and tried to think of an escape as the smell of the gas
began to overtake him. It burned his sightless eyes and scraped against this nose and throat.

Where? Where could he escape?

Howcould he escape his own breath?

If you do not mind me saying so, sir, I believe you are wasting your breath. Worf nodded down the
corridor toward the hatch. They will not come through there as long as we are here, and they will not
give up the captain as long as they dont have me.

Riker glanced at Deanna, then shook his head. He wouldnt consider that option. Some things werenever
alternatives. Sorry, Worf. Im not sacrificing you. And, its not a waste of breath so long as Im
buying time. He tapped his comm badge. Riker to Captain Urosk.

There was a delay, then the gravel voice of the Hidran captain: You are annoying me, Riker.

My intention isnt to annoy you, Captain.Although its a respectable side effect.My intention is only
for a peaceful outcome to this situation.

Give me the Klingon.

Riker and Worf exchanged a glance. The tall Klingon was tense, and Riker knew why. It wasnt because
Worf thought he may be forfeitit was because hewanted the honor of being forfeit for his captain, and
knew Riker wouldnt allow it.

Captain Urosk

Thats my only demand, Riker. Give me the Klingon within thirty minutes, or your captain dies.

The frequency closed.

Thirty minutes. Why? They were stalling for some purpose. In most hostage situations Riker had dealt
with hed had to beg for time. It was being given here.

Riker considered his options.Enterprise couldnt be reachedand no one knew why. That meant the security
complement on the planet, a total of twenty including Barbaras guards, was all he had. It should be
enough . . . would have been if there werent such an important hostage being held. This type of danger
was why Riker objected to Picard leading Away missions. Unfortunately, there were still certain things
that only Picard could handle, and hewas the captainif he told Riker to belay his protective attitude,
Riker would have to do so.

Deanna? Riker nudged her. She looked better than she had an hour agomore rested. Maybe it was the
grain, but Riker doubted it. Deanna was quite the trouper. Shed even given him a reassuring smile when
he and Barbara had embraced.

Im not sure if Urosk means what he says, Deanna said, her eyes etched with the pain of feeling such
anger and hate. I dont have to tell you theyre furious enough to kill. They always have been.

Riker nodded. Suggestions, Mr. Worf? he asked, absently smoothing a tattered uniform that needed
sewing rather than primping. Aside, of course, from serving you up to the Hidran with an apple in your
mouth.

Thatwould ensure the captains safety, sir, Worf said.

Maybe, maybe not.

It is our only alternative, Worf said gravely.

Rikers eyes narrowed and he glared at the hatch across the corridor. Beyond that door was the captain.
He knew Picard well. Ours maybe . . . but not the captains. He may have something to say about his own
fate.

We cannot assume that, Worf said.

We can, Riker countered, for at least the next thirty minutes.

Will!

Riker swung around toward Beverlys voice as she jogged up the corridor from the main hall. Barbara was
with her, and Riker smiled a bit, then looked back to Deanna, who smiled in return.

Weve found something, Beverly said, joining Riker and Worf. Barbara came up alongside and stood
opposite Deanna. Dr. Hollitts grain here is very special.

With thirty minutes ticking quickly by, Riker grew irritated and let them all know it. Whats so
special, Doctor? he snapped. Tell me something Idont know.

Barbara, her eyes dazzling with . . . well, what looked like cheer, spoke up. Wed never tried anything
as sophisticated as your medical equipment on the grain. We didnt think it necessaryandwe didnt have
it. We would use a simple tricorder on those who had eaten it, but didnt treat the grain itself with
anything other than bio-agricultural scanners.

Another case of not rethinking assumptions. At least Riker wasnt the only one who made that mistake. I
understand, he said shortly, if only a bit sympathetically. Butwhat did you find ?

Pulling her hand from her pocket, Barbara held out a palm filled with the small kernels of wheat. This
isnt grain, she said, almost giddy.

Then what is it? Riker demanded.

Its the best inorganic molecular representation of an organic construct Ive ever seen, Beverly said.

I do not understand, Worf huffed.

I do, Riker said, sharing a look with Deanna and holding his stomach with one hand. It means I just
ate a lot of Rovers cousins.

Computer.

Ready.

Data tapped a command into the battle-bridge Ops console. Estimated duration of unconsciousness
provided by anesthizine gas?

Twenty-three hours, seventeen minutes.

He nodded approval. It was a drastic matter, but there appeared no one left to trust. It was difficult
to fathom that Geordi may be a Klingon collaborator. But he was also friends with Worf. And once before
Geordi had unwittingly become a pawn in a Romulan plot. Perhaps something similar was happening here.

There was nothing that could be done about that now, however. Ending the captains duress was more
pressing.

Of course, without a security team he could hardly beam aboard the Klingon vessel to search for
Commander Riker and Counselor Troi, and he could hardly beam down to free the captain when the Klingon
vessel needed to be watched. Data would have to deal with the Klingon vessel firstthreaten to damage
their vessel unless they released their captives.

He hoped the destruction of their vessel would not be necessary. Such a waste was terribleso illogical.
However, the illogic was on their part, and if they did not comply, there was little choice. The Klingon
threat had to be stopped now. If not, the Federation would be as weakened as the Hidran. How many other
peaceful cultures had fallen to the Klingon threat? That was perhaps something to investigate if he
could get control of their memory banks.

Data tapped another command into his console, opening a channel to the Klingon vessel. They had been
hailing sinceEnterprise separated, and now they would be answered.

Enterpriseto Klingon vesselhIV SuH .

The main viewer flashed on. The obviously angry face of the Klingon in command of the enemy vessel
appeared. This is Lieutenant Chakba. What is the meaning of not answering our hails? Why have you
prepared your ship for battle?

Commander Data, in command of theEnterprise 

Where is your captain? demanded the Klingon.

Such subterfuge. I believe you know the answer to that, Data said. I am formally demanding that you
return to us your captives, or risk retaliation.

Have you gone insane? We are allies, not enemies! We have no captives!

I have evidence to the contrary. Surrender your vessel.

You areinsane !

May I take that as a confirmation that you do not wish to comply with my request?

The Klingon motioned to someone off screen, then said, You may take that as your epitaph!

Very well, Data said as he closed the channel and moved theEnterprise into a higher orbit. I regret
it has come to this.

Chapter Fifteen

PICARD MOPPED HIS BROWwith a sleeve and tried to breathe through his mouth. The room had filled with
warm, stifling steam. The Hidran, of course, enjoyed the moist air, basked in it, and went about their
work quickly. Too quickly.

On the lab table was a line of communicatorsthe Starfleet comm badges as well as the Hidran hand units.
They were all open and exposed, yet still functioning since Riker was able to get through.

Rikeralive, just as Worf was. Fortune was being favorable. Would Data know all this? Could they get
through to him? Perhaps no one could. If Data was as damaged as La Forge said, Rikers obvious safety
might not even register with the android. If Data had lost his rational faculty . . . well, no fact
would matter. The dank air now carried the Hidrans musty odor straight to Picards nose and eyes, and
made them burn. Perhaps this hadnt been the best of ideas.

Glancing up to the ceiling, he watched small beads of water condense and shimmer in the light. The
moisture darkened the cold stone, spreading until the rock was saturated. He looked down at the Hidrans
worksmall and delicate . . . and quite in-suited to their long, sticky fingers.

They needed tools, had few, but were making do disturbingly well. So far three communicators had been
linked together, soldered with bits of wire and thin phaser beams. Their own disrupter-phasers were of
little use herethose were for killing. Starfleet phasers could kill when necessary, but were also
tools, and the Hidran took advantage of such utility. Razor thin phaser beams and microwire were their
only real instruments, that and the few microscopes left in the lab.

Picard needed a distraction . . . something to slow them down until his plan could stop them cold. Cold
and wet.

Urosk, he called. What if Commander Riker refuses to give you what you want?

The Hidran leader looked up. You know he will. And you know that your Klingon is no longer all I want.

Yes, Picard said gravely. You also want to destroy every other Klingon.

His weapon still in hand, Urosk stalked toward him. Not every Klingon. That would be too much to hope
for. At this point I wish only to kill enough of them thatQonoS will think twice before breaching war
again.

How can you know that is what they want?

Urosk shook his head and his tone took on a pitying quality. I know it, as surely as I know my own
soul. It is in their nature.

No! Picard snapped. It is not in their nature.

The Hidran tensed, but did not bring his weapon up. Instead he spoke in a rather calm voice. The
Klingons themselves admit its bred into them.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard, who had traveled the known galaxy, met life-form after life-form, intelligent
being after intelligent being, who had himself taken in part in Klingon politics, and who perhaps knew
Lieutenant Worf better than anyone, knew what a lie that was.

No, he insisted. It may be their culture, ingrained into their society, but those are decisionsacts.
. . of volitionwhich any Klingon, any conscious being, may choose to embrace or deny.Your society and
culture had been ravaged by what their society once was

Still is.

Picard pressed on. Thepoint is that your culture changed because of an influence, the influence oftheir
culture, and now you both hold similar customs.

Urosks cheeks grew ruddy with anger and he took a step back. No! You are twisting and distorting

Listen to me, Urosk. Listen to yourself. This, Picard said motioning around him, indicating the
situation as it now stood, it is all because of the Klingons?

Yes! Urosk hissed.

Picard stepped closer, his eyes intent, backing the Hidran away. The Klingons have turned your people
into what they did not want to become, yes?

Anger contorting his expression, the Hidran captain nodded sharply.

Picard took only a moment to glance up at the other Hidran. They were listening too now, ignoring their
work. And, he continued, your culture has been totally disrupted by values you never held, and by a
morality you once disagreed with.

What is your point, Picard? Urosk yelled, taking another step back as Picard closed in.

What has happened to your nature, Captain? Has it changed? he asked. Or are you ignoring it in favor
of a philosophy that has gripped you as it did the Klingons? Has your reaction been to fight them using
your naturethat which is every intelligent beings natureyour minds, your capacity to reason, your
ability to thinkor have you been fighting them with the very tools even they are coming to
rejectanger, hatred and

Ftsssiiittssss.

They both spun as the row of communicators crackled with the electrical whine of overload, then flashed
into flame.

Silence followed for a moment, as Urosk looked incredulously at the sizzling mess. A drop of water fell
from the ceiling into one of the communicators, making the smoldering circuit hiss and sputter.

The Hidran captain looked again, and watched the raindrop after drop of water that had condensed on the
ceiling, only to fall back onto the Hidrans work.

The line of Urosks spine tensed and sank, not in defeat, but in action. He hissed something to his men,
then swung toward Picard.

Picard felt his own muscles tense, and he readied himself for a fightnot soon enough.

The Hidran captain grabbed him by the neck, then lifted him off the floor. They struggledPicard forcing
a knee into the Hidrans chestbut without leverage he had no force.

With his free hand, Urosk seized Picards right arm and twisted until they both heard the crack of bone
and a grunt of agony.

Dropped back onto the bench against the wall, Picard cupped his left hand under his right elbow as his
side filled with heat and pain. His hand throbbed and moving his fingers was white-hot misery.

Next time, Urosk spat, it will be your neck!

* * *

You were attacked by dogs? Worf glowered, and his question sounded a lot more serious than the words
implied.

Riker shook his head and Deanna chuckled.

Theyre roving machines, Worf, Riker said. And Im going to guess the industry we saw down there is
busy pumping out this grain. He turned to Barbara. Sound like everythings beginning to fall into
place?

Barbara shook her head. I should have seen this coming . . . should have put it all together . . .

Oh, come on, Riker said, thinking of his own bout of jumping to conclusions. Who doesnt miss
something once in a while?

You just didnt have the equipment, Beverly added.

Even if I had, I wouldnt have thought that the grain was inorganic. I just assumed

You did what we all do from time to time, Riker said softly.

Stuffing her hands into her lab coat, Barbara shook her head again. Its my job not to.

Mine too, Riker thought.

I think youre all missing something, Beverly said. Dont you know what this might mean?

Riker waited only a moment. Obviously not, Doctor. Tell us.

Holding up her tricorder, she pointed to a graph on the small screen. Riker could barely read it from
where he was, but it looked like his own bio-scan.

The grain isnt magic, Beverly said, but it does seem to have the properties Barbara claims. Someone
designed thisit has programing and structure, all on the molecular level. A lot like the nanites we use
in certain medical procedures, but much more advanced in design and programming.

I can probably still market it, Barbara added.

Worf sighed and shifted his phaser from one hand to another. This is all very interesting, but does not
help us in our current situation.

Agreed, Riker said, impatient. None of this would help rescue the captain.

It might, Beverly said. It hasprogramming , Will, just like my tricorder does. It enters the body and
that programming takes over. Im not sure how, but it obviously scans the body and takes some action to
balance any systemout of balance.

How does it know, Deanna asked, what that balance is?

We dont know, Beverly said. I assume it scans the DNA of whoever ingests it, and then is programmed
to restructure the body, or repair it, based on the genetic model it has to go on.

Now Riker sighed. This is all fascinating, but

Hush and listen, Beverly snapped. Geordi and the Hidran Ambassadorboth ate the grain and both had
bio-neural implants. Prosthetics arent written into DNA, so the grain probably thought they were
foreign bodies. Ive already scanned the Ambassadors body. The grain-machines are still active within
him. Idle, having nothing to do, but they are still living, for lack of a better term. All at once
she took Rikers arm and gasped. Jean-Luc didnt have any of the grain, did he?

Riker shrugged and turned to Worf.

He did not, Worf said.

Beverly released her breath in relief. Good. The time it takes for the grain to activate seems to vary
depending on the person, but if he had . . . hed be dead by now. The grain would have recognized his
artificial heart as foreign and responded the same way it did with Geordi and the ambassador . . .
rejection.

This is proof I did not kill Zhad, Worf said.

Yes, Beverly said. I can prove it. The pain of the rejection, the same pain Geordi felt, was too
great for Zhad, and he most likely tore out his mask in an effort to stop it.

Riker smiled. This is good.

I do not understand, Worf said. Why then did the grain not give Geordi his sight and allow the
ambassador to breath?

Because, Beverly began, that wasnt a condition the grain read in their DNA. Geordi neverhad sightit
is not a malady, but a condition he has genetically. I think we can safely say the grain would heal a
cut faster than the normal, but it wont rewrite DNA code or grow you a new arm. Ormaybe it will grow
you new a new arm. I dont know. But it wouldnt grow you one with a different number of fingers than
you had before. Its only a sophisticated antibody as far as I can see. So, the ambassador, by
definition of his genetics, couldnt breathe this atmosphere, and all the grain on this planet wouldnt
have helped him to. Location and needs werent listed in his DNAonly his basic physical structure was.

Perhaps already writing the marketing proposal to her company, Barbara added, And any being with DNA
and without synthetic parts could probably eat this quite safely.

Pushing out a breath, Riker glanced down the hall toward the Hidrans hatch again. He was interested,
thought he may use this information, but wasnt sure how. That irritated him, made him anxious as if he
were wasting time.

Why would anyone construct this? Deanna asked. Why disguise a machine to look so natural and
biological? The machines underground didnt look that way.

No way to know, Barbara said. Maybe if we can access any computers underground . . . right now were
just guessing they found it easier to ingest in this form, or maybe they wanted to keep secret the
planet was industrial rather than agrarian.

That would make sense, Beverly said. The grain is nearly impervious to sensor scans. You cant
imagine the backflips we had to go through with my medical equipment to get past the illusion that its
just an uninteresting new grain. In any case, theres no way to tell what their motive was for hiding
it. What we need is access to the computers below the surface.

Wedo have a more immediate problem, Riker said, his neck tight with tension. The Hidran are not going
to lay down their arms and release the captain just because we say Zhadwasnt killed by Worf. They
believed he waswithout evidence. Proof to the contrary isnt going to matter.

Theyd have to listen to reason, though, Barbara said.

Riker smiled. Perhaps a bit more patronizing that hed wanted to. No, he said. They dont.

What if we could demonstrate to them how it worked and exactly what happened, Barbara offered. dont.

Shaking his head, Worf grunted a laugh. Youd be dead before you spoke your first sentence. You can
physically force someone to take almost any action, except changing his mind.That they must do of their
own accord.

Computer, engage all auto systems. Accelerate to one-quarter impulse power and prepare to apply set
course out of standard orbit. Data quickly tapped commands into Ops console.

Acknowledged, replied the computer.

Data nodded. Bring main phasers on line, and transfer full power to all offensive and defensive
systems.

Another acknowledgment from the computer, and Data nodded again.

Engage course and display tactical on main screen. Unlike humans, Data did not need the view of the
actual scene as it would appear if the naked eye would view it. He preferred the tactical display with
its grid and specifics.

Course engaged. Leaving orbit and coming about to course three-one-zero mark five.

On the display, Data watched the Klingon vessels attitude change as it prepared for an obvious maneuver
out of orbit.

Data typed quickly, moving theEnterprise to a new course. Lock phasers on primary targets of
engineering and weapons centers. Stand-by to lock phasers on secondary targets of life support and
bridge operations.

Phasers lock achieved.

Data nodded again.

Fire.

Chapter Sixteen

ORANGE THREADS CONNECTEDtheEnterprise Battle Section with the Klingon Cruiser. Datas tactical board
sparkled. Each filament represented anEnterprise phaser blast that had hit and caused damage.

Computer, estimate damage to Klingon vessel. Damage to forward and rear shields, seventy-two and
sixty-one percent respectively. Warp engines of Klingon vessel are overloading and being taken off
line.

A series of beeps brought Datas eyes off his console and back to the tactical screen. The Hidran ship
had entered the fray, and was firing on the Klingon vessel as well. This was, of course, not truly
within their purview, but Data could hardly fire on them in return. They were only seeking to protect
themselves from the Klingon threat.

His hands flying across the controls, Data opened a channel to the Klingon vesseland continued to fire.
Klingon cruiseryou are out-gunned and out-maneuvered. Surrender your vessel.

There was no response. Klingons tended not to surrender, and to Data that was a pity: they would lose.
Yes, they were experienced and clever, but Data was equally experienced, and he knew that what he lacked
in creativity he made up for in speed and foresight. His only limitation was the automation of ships
systems: if something broke down, or was damaged, he could hardly go repair it himself without leaving
the battle.

Surprising . . . that no Klingon infiltrators had sabotaged the automation or weapons systems to destroy
the ship when engaged. Were there limits to the Klingons influence? Or, more likely, they wanted to
capture theEnterprise intact.

Data assumed there was some type of mind-control taking placeperhaps that was what interfered with
scans of Velex and also accounted for the drain of the white-noise broadcast.

Klingon Battle Cruiser is now attacking Hidran vessel, announced the computer. Hidran vessel is
damaged on port nacelleweapons systems down.

Target Klingon cruisers offensive system conduit and fire repetitive photon burst, Data ordered.

Red globes lit up across the tactical display, connecting theEnterprise and the Klingon ship.

Direct hit, the computer said. Null power reading from Klingon weapons systems.

Data nodded and re-hailed the vessel. Klingon cruiser, this is theEnterprise . Surrender your vessel.

Silence.

Computer, scan shield strength of Klingon cruiser.

Scanning . . . overall shield strength is at forty-three per cent.

Achieve phaser lock at shield generation points.

Phasers: locked.

Fire.

A pause . . . a series of tones . . . Unable to fire.

Data looked up from his console. State problem with phaser controls.

There is no problem with the phaser controls.

Tapping at his board quickly, Data took the Battle Section into a high orbit. Computer, run diagnostic
on all offensive systems.

That function is not available from this station.

That is not possible.

That statement is incorrect.

Something was wrong. Had someone escaped the anesthetic gas?

Computer, assure all command functions are routed to this station.

There was a much longer pause and a longer series of bleeps.

Computer, acknowledge, Data ordered, keeping an eye on the Klingon and Hidran vessels that were
unmoving on his scope.

Another series of beeps was the computers only reply.

Datas tactical display suddenly went blank, then his phaser controls.

He tapped in a manual override code.

Computer, transfer all command functions to manual control.

Silencethis time not from the Klingons, but from his own ship.

Computer, acknowledge.

Suddenly what was happening became clear, and Data stood.

Geordi.

Picard felt Urosks cold fingers around his neck again. The Hidran captain wrenched hard and brought
Picard to his feet.

Holding his broken arm lightly with his good hand, Picard refused to make a sound in pain.

Urosks grasp tightened.

Are you going to kill me now? Picard asked tightly through his closing airway. Is this Hidran
justice? The murder of an innocent man?

The Hidrans face was a twist of angry flesh. Green eyes blazed as he yanked his phaser up to rest on
Picards left cheek.

The heat of itthe throbbing energy . . . Picard needed to slip his one good arm up, get that phaser.
Maybe hed die in the action, but even if there was the slightest chanceit had to be taken. If it was
within his power, this conflict could not leave the plant.

As the muscles in his left arm strained, Picard brought a fist up to Urosks arm and slapped the phaser
away.

The Hidrans fingers tightened around Picards throat and Urosk dragged him toward the back of the room.

I will wait no longer, Urosk hissed, releasing Picard with a shove toward the back wall.

Picard recovered his balance as Urosk played with the settings on his Starfleet phaser, and tried to
find some means of escape. There were two Hidran soldiers on either side. He saw Urosk thumb the phaser
setting higherheard it hum as it built up the surge of power, ready to be fired.

Urosk wouldnt get the satisfaction of fear from the captains eyes. Picard would stand tall and earn a
grudging respect for the Federation by dying without a flinch.

The Hidran captain aimedand fired.

Orange flame spat forward and singed Picards face. The beam enveloped the wall behind. The stone
disintegrated, collapsing into vapor and dust and rubble. Shards of gravel snapped against his back and
arms, and he crouched to protect himself as the wall came down around him.

Another rumble shook the roomthe ceiling cracked and threatened to fall in on them and the side walls
lost their form as they toppled in.

Move! Everyone move! The Earther first! Urosk choked over the dust, but endured and pushed Picard
through the hole that had been wall. Beyond was cool air and an open alley between two buildings.

Picard stumbled through the dust, his arm hot with pain. He saw his moment for escape, and took it. He
crouched lowrolled to the left through the rising dust he knew the Hidran would not venture into.

He choked, coughed through the pain and over the stone, as he tried to push toward fresh air. Before he
could press further, long fingers coiled around his limp arm and pulled him up. He gasped in bitter
pain, but covered any outcry with a grunt.

He twisted angrily, saw he was in the grip of some Hidran soldierBatokand tried to wrench his broken
arm free of the aliens massive grip.

Thwockthwock-thwockthwock.

Suddenly the Hidran began to convulse. First a small shudder, then a series of trembles as pockets of
moist blood opened on the Hidrans tunic. The sound of wet flesh slapping against itself filled the air.

Thwock-thwock. Thwock.

The Hidran fell forward, dragging Picard to the rubble with him.

Deadthe Hidran wasdead .

No one move!

The voicedeep and angry.

With great pain Picard managed to pull his arm free. He rolled away and looked up . . .

Captain Kadar stood, some kind of metal hand weapon aimed out toward the Hidran behind Picard.

Where is Urosk? demanded Kadar. And where is the animal that killed my warrior!

What the hell was that! Riker spun toward the rumbling soundtoward the room where the Hidran were.

Worf turned an instant after him. They must have broken through the back wall!

Get back to the main hall! Riker ordered Beverly and Barbara. Deanna, youre with us. He aimed
toward the main hall and began to run, Worf and Deanna at his side. I thought you said they wouldnt
try that, he grumbled to Worf.

As they ran, Worf shrugged. I believe I saidI would not try it.

Okay, Riker huffed, suddenly realizing he wasrunning on his supposedly bad leg. We assume theyre
outside rather than crushed under the rubble. Deanna and Ill take to the roof. How many people do we
have up there?

Five, Worf said.

They all stopped at the entrance to the main hall. Riker looked into the hall, saw a few of Barbaras
security, then turned back to Worf. I want five more waiting inside, in case the Hidran decide to fall
back. Give Halford five and have her come around the eastside of the building, and you take five and
come round the westside.

Worf nodded. Understood.

This is our chance to get the captain back, Riker said as he turned toward the stairway that led to
the roof. Lets not blow it.

Stop this! Picard stood, blocking Kadars direct view of Urosk. No more!

Kadar, and the three other Klingons who had taken positions a few meters behind him, were all carrying
sophisticated projectile-firing chemical combustion rifles. Each of them had a Hidran target, and each
of the Hidran, Picard assumed, had a Klingon one.

Everyone had some sort of cover as well, behind a wall corner or the rubble from the fallen wall.

Stand-off.

The Klingon weaponswith no active power sourcewere difficult to scan for. Firearms of this type were
still used by some, for sport usually.

There was no sport here.

Obviously the Klingons had planned ahead and hidden the weapons. Amazingthat Kadar had been kept in his
make-shift cell for so long. Picard knew they couldnt be kept there forever . . . now the timing might
be used to his advantage.

Stay out of this, Picard! Kadar stomped forward aggressively.

With the four remaining Hidran loosely around him, and the dead one at his feet, Picard took a step
toward the Klingons. Lay down your weapons! All of you!

Glancing back Picard saw only the tops of three Hidran. Urosk came up behind Picard, guarding himself
from the Klingons with Picards small frame.

Yes, Urosk called, his voice rough from the dust, lay down your weapons or Picard dies.

No! Picard spun around and faced Urosk. Despite his arm throbbing with blood, swollen and numb, anger
nearly clenched his right fist. I will not be used as an ongoing excuse for murder! End thisnow! You
have each encountered loss needlessly. Talk to each othersettle differences ascivilized beings.

Urosk aimed deliberately at him and called to Kadar. I do not care what he says! Do as I say or he d

A meter behind Urosk the ground exploded into dust and clods of dirt. The whine of a phaser snapped the
air and Picard looked up just long enough to see Riker firing from the roof of the main hall building.

Seizing the moment of distraction, Picard swung his good arm around and knocked the phaser from Urosks
grasp. The weapon went flying and Urosk belted Picard out of the way as they both scrambled to retrieve
it.

Kadar took aim at Urosk and fired. Shells ricocheted off the ground. Picard jumped forward and forced
the Hidran captain down, out of the line of fire. They rolled onto his bad arm but continued to grapple
for the phaser.

Wincing relief as he tilted off his broken bones, Picard gripped the weapon and kicked Urosk in the
stomach, then the face.

The Hidran captain crumpled away, grunting in fierce pain.

With effort, Picard pulled himself up. He could feel a trickle of blood run down his right arm. He made
the break worse with every move, but had to ignore that for now as best he could. He aimed the phaser at
Urosk and took a step back, making sure he was out of assault range by the Hidrans long arms.

Excellent, Picard! Kadar laughed. Now, the Hidran will lower their weapons

If we die, we die in battle! Urosk dragged himself off the ground and into a crouched position. Not
helpless at the hands of executioners!

As you executed two of our men? Kadar bellowed.

Picard glanced up at Riker again and nodded sharply. Another bolt of phaser-lightening sizzled into the
groundthis time in front of Kadar.

No more! Picard shouted. Its over!

Because you say it is over, Picard? Urosk bellowed. Will you kill us if we choose to exercise our
right to kill one another?

You have no such right! Phaser in hand, Picard managed to keep pivoting between Urosk and Kadar,
letting both know neither had an ally right now. You cannot have the right to take away someone elses
right to life.

Tall frame shaking with fury, Urosk rose to his full height. Do you not believe in justice? Does a
mass-murderer have the right to his own life?

No, Picard snapped, there is an obvious difference between the blatant initiation of violence and the
use of defensive force

Retaliationis defense! Urosk roared.

Retaliation for what? Picard shot bitterly. A crime you cannot prove? Upon individuals who did not
commit it? Is that your justice, Urosk? He spun around to face Kadar. Or yours? Your cultures may
suggest that a son pays for the sins of his father, but who are you to force that upon others without
their consent? How can you assign to all Hidran the punishment only one should receive? He turned
again, backed up, and faced both as best he could. Both of you are guilty ofthat crimeacting outside
your purview because of some misplaced indignation.

They killed our ambassador! Urosk shouted, pointing at Kadar.

There is no they! Picard thundered. Theys do not exist! Groups neither have rights nor shared
responsibility upon which judgments can be meted out! There is insufficient proof to suggestone Klingon
killed your ambassador, let alone the entire race.

There is more than enough, Urosk growled, to see that you act to protect your Starfleet Klingon!

Stepping into the circle of angry combatantsfrom where Picard had not noticedWorf answered for himself
as he stepped toward the center. I need no protection. Ive done nothing wrong.

Worfs timing was impeccable, but Picard noticed he only held a knife, no phaser, and that might add to
the tension rather than quell it.

So says every murderer, Klingon, Urosk spat.

Picard could see the Hidrans muscles tense and knew Urosk was in want of a weapon.

One of the Hidran moved toward Worf from behind his barrier of rubble. Picard noticed and gestured to
Riker.

Another phaser shot from above, this time just centimeters in front of the Hidran aggressor. The ground
plumed up, mushrooming into a cloud of stone and grit, and the Hidran collapsed forward, choking and
sputtering. His weapon fell and he quickly scrambled for it before retreating back behind the collapsed
wall.

You will hear me out, Worf said evenly. Ambassador Zhad was not murdered. His death was a twist of
fate

It is not fate that is twisted Urosk barked.

Picard brought up his phaser. Hear him out.

There is a human saying, Worf said, and drew his knife. Actions speak louder than words.

The blade sparkled in the setting sun . . . as Worf thrust it into his gut and twisted.

Worf! Picard leapt forward, astonished, as Worf pulled out the knife and let it drop to his feet. What
was he doing? What kind of impulsive act of honor had motivated this?

Riker, Picard called up the side of the building, I want Crusher here on the double! He turned back
to Worf and demanded, Why?

No doctorno help! Worf grunted, crushing the wound with his hand as blood began to soak his uniform
tunic. The knife even the Hidran will recog nize as Klingonthe blade specially made to bring slow and
certain death.

You have a Klingon fool for an officer, Picard, Urosk laughed. His enemies need only wait for him to
killhimself .

Worf shook his head. No, I have not, he said, obviously pained as blood soaked between the fingers of
his hand. I have eaten a loaf of the bread that killed your ambassador. That shall save my life.

Ignoring Kadar and Urosk, Picard pressed closer to his security chief. Explain, he ordered.

This planets flora is artificial, Worf said. He shifted his weight, but had trouble keeping his
balance. The grain is machineryon the molecular level, with a purpose . . . healing the hosts body.

And yet it killed Zhad, Urosk spat. With your reprogramming, no doubt!

Warily, Worf shook his head. No, he said softly. Zhad died because the grain treated his implanted
mask as foreign. It was trying to heal him He stumbled forward, fell to his knees.

Beverly rushed up from wherever Worf had come, her medical case in hand.

Doctor . . . Picard pointed to Worf, then glanced quickly at Kadar and Urosk and their respective
soldiers again. If anyone takes aggressive action, Riker has my orders to fire at will.

The captain looked up and got a nod to the affirmative from Riker.

Dammit, Worf, Beverly Crusher said as she dropped to a kneel beside the Klingon, what are you trying
to prove?

The grain . . . Worf said weakly, it will restore me as called for in my DNA.

Is this true? Picard asked in a hushed tone.

Were not at all certain of all our facts, Beverly said, her voice edged with anger and anxiety. We
determined it was the cause of Zhads death and Geordis blindness, and it helped repair Rikers injured
leg, but we dont know how long it lasts or just what it can and cant do.

Urosk kept his position, but folded his arms and growled, Spare us this charade, Picard. An elaborate
act for our benefit, but your doctor will now cure the Klingon and he will claim it is this bread

No! Worf yelled, lifting up the knife from his feet. The doctor will not tend me, he rumbled and
shoved her off.

Worf! Beverly stumbled but wouldnt back away. You could die!

Picard pulled her back. Let him, Doctor.

Beverly twisted toward him. Outrage arched her brows. Captain

No, Picard said. Its what he wants. Death is what they all want. He released Beverly and pushed
himself toward the Hidran, toward Urosk. You want death, dont you, Captain? You want to die.

If I must, for my people, Urosk said gravely. Picard nodded bitterly and shook his phaser in front of
the Hidran. And I know you think this will help your people. Youre certain of it, in fact. As certain
as Kadar is that all Hidran are insane with murderous rage. As certain as Worf is that his life will be
saved by a loaf of bread!

Nothing can save his life, so long as I am alive, Urosk growled.

Ah, Picard snapped back, but if heis saved by that grain, then your entire premise fails, doesnt it?
Doesnt it! And you have killed for no reason. How many ofyour people have died because of such
erroneous rationalizations? How many will continue to die?

Anger pounding in his heart, he pivoted to Kadar.

How many of your people have been killed for the same reason? And how many, he finished slowly, have
you both killed yourselves?

Worf grunted again in pain, fell onto his side, propped himself up with the hand that had been covering
his gut, then held up his knife as Beverly tried to approach. Stay back, Doctor.

Shall I stun him? Picard asked of Kadar. Shall I force Lieutenant Worf to submit to treatment and
save his life for him? He spun around and paced toward Urosk. Should I hand you the phaser and let you
kill him, even though your entire reason for hating him may be totally false?

Visibly shaken and surprised, Urosk looked from. Worf to Picard. I do not care what you do, and if the
Klingons wish to engage us, why shouldyou care?

Because, Picard said as he angrily marched toward the Hidran, youre better than all of this. Youre
better than wavering uncertain on a precipice of illogical un-thought. Youre better than some animal
who acts on instinct. Youre better than you drive yourselves to be, and I, for one, detest seeing
people wallow in the muck of their own subjective whim. He held up his phaser to Urosk. Ifthis is what
you wantif death is what you covetthen tell me! Tell me you dont care about the sustenance of your
peoples lives, and I will leave this planet . . . Tell me! And I will leave you with the tool of your
own destructionyour irrational hate.

I care for the sustenance of my people Urosk said.

No, you dont, Picard said, almost chuckling in irony. You dont care whether you were right or
wrongwhether anything you believe is right or wrong. You act on what youfeel is right, and dont care
to compare that with reality. And if your feeling is opposed to reality, its reality that gives way.

That is a lie! Urosk thundered.

Here, Picard said, closing the final steps between himself and the Hidran captain. Take my phaser.
He set the level and stretched out his hand to Urosk. Take it. Murder mean innocent manbecause
youfeel I might have ordered Worf to kill your ambassador.

Awestruck, Urosk just stood there.

Take it!

I . . . I dont think that, Urosk said.

Take it! Kill me! Picard pressed his phaser into Urosks chest, handle first. What youthink is
irrelevantthere was no reasoning involved when you accused Worfwhy do you need a reason to accuse me?

You are not Klingon

There are no Klingons! Picard shouted. There are only individuals, with biases, yeswith values,
yesbut there is no such thing as collective volition! A beingany sentient beingis not some mass of
genetic characteristics, all interchangeable and acting under one racial mind. People form their own
opinions, right or wrong, and act on those opinionsright or wrong. Youve been forming yours
improperly, Urosk, so why stop now? He pressed the phaser harder into the Hidran captains breast-bone.
Kill me, or kill Worf before he proves you wrong. Act on your emotion if its all that matters.

Picard lifted Urosks palm and pressed the phaser into it until the Hidrans fingers closed around it.

Kill him, Captain, Picard said. Fulfill your adopted Klingon heritage and embrace the irrational hate
that the Klingon Empire itself is coming to reject! He turned to the Klingon commander. And then,
Kadar, you can kill Urosk for Zhads actions, and for Batoks.

Kadar remained silent.

Picard shook his head. No? Why not?

His hand now free, he gripped Beverlys arm and pushed her toward the Hidran captain.

Killher , Urosk! Surely someone with red hair once murdered a Hidran. Or is it only Klingons that are
all alike in their thoughts and motivations. Perhaps I can find a Hidran that once murdered a Terran,
and that will give me cause to murderyou .

No, Worf said, his voice stronger.

Picard twisted aroundWorf was standing.

Weakly, the KlingonWorftook a step forward and dropped the knife into the dirt. No one here is going
to die.

His hand fell from his wound. Blood trickled where moments ago it had gushed.

Kill me now if you must, Worf said, but do not delude yourself into thinking it is justice.

Phaser in hand, Urosk extended his long arm. He aimed at Worfglanced to Picard a moment . . . then
dropped the weapon from his grasp.

The phaser bounced once on the ground, and came to rest at his feet.

Chapter Seventeen

COMPUTER, OVERWRITE-CODE THIRTY, access level seven.

Geordi slid to the deck and quietly set down his phaser. The weapon was the first thing hed searched
for after the gas was blown clear. It was absurd, reallywhat was he going to do? Ask Data to announce
his position so a blind man could take aim? Somehow, though, the weapon was a comfort. And, if worse
came to worse, Geordi would just use the weapon to destroy a few key systems. That was his goalkeep the
ship not totally defenseless, but weak enough that Data wouldnt try anything drastic.

Unfortunately, without his vision, he really couldnt go yanking wires and switching chips. One wrong
pull and life support might goor warp core containment, for that matter. It was amazing enough that he
was able to find the Jefferies tube cubbyhole that allowed him an escape from the gas. He wasnt about
to test his luck again.

The computer would be his eyes, through his hand communicator. He knew as much as Data did about
theEnterprise the capabilities, the possibilities . . . the computer programing.

Data had reprogrammed the computer by taking control of certain functions and lock-outs. He was telling
the computer what to do. Geordi was taking a different tack.

Overwrite-code thirty enabled, replied the computer. Level seven, available.

Good! Geordi nodded approvingly. Data hadnt thought of any of this. Computer, command functions are
no longer accessible through any station or terminal on the Battle Drive.

Command functions switched to saucer access only.

Despite the super-speed of nanoprocessors and the complexity of modern computers, they were all still,
like their electronic-abacus ancestors, basically stupid. Computers could only do what they were
programed to. Data, either damaged or . . . Geordi couldnt guess what, had told the computer to do
certain thingshad activated certain aspects of the computers emergency programming. Geordi decided to
trump Data by going a step furtherrewriting the computers actual program. If Data was going to take
over phaser controls, Geordi was going to make sure that Data could only control them if he were . . .
say, doing so from Starfleet Command on Earth. If he wanted to use the tractor beams, perhaps hed have
to be in New Chicago on Mars.

Computer, transfer to level eight, overwrite-code thirty-A.

Transfer complete.

The only flaw in this plan was that Data knew the computer just as well as Geordi. He would find out
what was happening, as soon as the command functions disappeared, and a battle of reprogramming would
ensue. Unless, of course, Geordi took certain steps to protect his changes. He couldnt lock Data out
completely, but he could screen his path in a manner that would take Data time to find.

Geordi wagered that Data was, despite his recent fit of illogical conclusions, still a creature of
systematic habit. If told to look for a needle in a haystack hed start at one end and sort through the
straw until he found what he was looking for or reached the other end.

So where would Geordi hide his needle? Dead center of a computer haystackno matter which end Data began
looking from, it would take him the longest amount of time to reach the middle. The android wouldnt
dive into the task randomlyhed pick one end and work toward the other. Of that much Geordi was sure.

Computer, access tenth nested command table.

Tenth nested command table available.

Disallow further changes to command pathways from any level but this one.

Working . . . acknowledged.

Restrict access to nested command tables, levels one through twenty, with vocal password protection.

Working . . . acknowledged. State password.

Geordi smiled. Five-seven-three-six-one dash two-nine-two-three-eight-three dash nine-six dash five-
three-six-four. He took in a deep breath, then continued. Dash seven-three-two dash seven-three-one-
two-five dash nine-nine-six-five-two-three-eight dash alpha-six-two dash gamma-eight-three.

There was a series of beeps, then, Password entered. Restate for verification.

He wrinkled his brows. Oh, right, he mumbled. Guess I got carried away. He blew out a breath.
Computer, override verification function and accept password as entered.

Acknowledged.

A chuckle pressed its way outGeordi couldnt help himself. This was pretty good even if he did say so
himself. Computer, he began, grinning from ear to ear, now restrict ability to request access to the
passwordwith another password.

Working . . . acknowledged. State password.

Mares eat oats and does eat oats . . . and little lambs drink coffee. He laughed. Figurethat one out,
Data.

Password entered. Restate for verification.

Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs drink coffee.

Incomplete.

What? Oh. Geordi smiled. Figure that one out, Data.

Another series of bleeps from the computer. Acknowledged.

This was going too well. As any engineer could attest, as anyone who worked onanything could attest,
when things went off without a hitch for too long, it meant something bad was coming. Either what was
being fixed wasnt really broken, or a part was wrong, or something . . . No job hadnt at leastone
problem lurking somewhere.

Geordi thought for a moment. What was next? What needed to be done? Assume Data found a way to the
command pathways . . . real possible. What would he do?

Computer, switch to Warp Propulsion Sub-system. WPS factor initiator control.

Switching . . . ready.

Restrict access to warp factor one acceleration. Use password in encrypted file: La Forge twenty-
three.

Complete.

Restrict access to warp factors two through nine respectively, using passwords in the following
encrypted files: La Forge twenty-four through La Forge thirty-one.

Working . . . complete.

Computer, youre beautiful.

The computer chirped in confusion.

Delete files La Forge twenty-three through La Forge thirty-one. Overwrite current file allocations with
life support commands located in nested area fifty-five and mark entire block as unmovable. Even if
Data wanted to recreate the erased files, he wouldnt be able to: they were being overwritten with files
that couldnt be transferred. Geordi didnt need a password for thatsome things you could just never
recover from a computer.

Function complete.

Okay Geordi turned his headthought he heard something . . . a change in the ship . . . a creak
somewhere, a thrumming that shouldnt have been there.

He was getting paranoid.Keep calm, go about your business. Computer, are we still broadcasting a white-
noise transmission from the deflector array?

Affirmative.

Disengage. Attempt to contact planet.

Channel open.

La Forge to Picard, come in.

Static snapped back, then: Picard here.

Captain . . .

From behind: Geordi, please put the communicator down.

Data

Geordi reached down and spun around.

I have the phaser, Geordi.

There was no anger in that voiceno animosity. It was . . . spooky.

Why, Data? Geordi asked, carefully setting the communicator down, making sure the antenna grid was
open and sending. He pushed himself away, taking Datas attention with him.

I would ask you the same question, Data said. Are you doing this of your own volition?

The voice was from another part of the room nowData was moving aboutkeeping Geordi disoriented.

Data, whats happened to you?

Nothing has happened tome . It would seem I am the only one who hasnot been affected by whatever is
coercing you.

Well . . . Geordi shifted left along the wall, hoping that Datas constant movement had led him away
from the door. I dont think Im being coerced . . . instead, I think somethings wrong with you.

I have run several diagnostics on myself. There is no evidence of any abnormality. That casual
voicenow from the leftso unmalevolent, so reasonable.

You dont see mutiny as abnormal? Geordi said, moving right now.

Please stop moving, Geordi. I have the phaser set on stun and aimed at you. Matter-of-factlyas if
describing a chess move.

Geordi stopped his shuffle and stood facing where hed last heard Datas voice. Are you going to stun
me, Data?

I would rather not, Data said, but that does depend on your actions. Please detail what you have done
to the computer.

Why? Stall stall stall. Data was a talkerkeep him talking.

It is necessary for my mission.

What mission?

Data paused, obviously considering whether it was in his interests to tell Geordi. I intend, he began,
perhaps thinking he could convince Geordi, to take this vessel toQonoS. A course is set and we are
already underway.

What? Geordi gasped. You cant!

I can, the android said coldly. The Klingons must be stopped. It is my hypothesis that your mind, and
the minds of mostEnterprise personnel have been corrupted, perhaps coerced, into actions against your
respective wills. This is farther reaching than I thought earlier. Captain Picard is also under their
control.

Talk to Starfleet, Datahow couldeveryone be under a Klingon influence? How is it that only you are
immune?

That you suggest I talk to Starfleet is evidence enough the Klingon influence is indeed pervasive. And
I am evidently immune because I am an android.

Hes not paranoid. Everyone is against him.

So youre going to dowhat at the Klingon homeworld, Data? Destroy an entire planet?

I sincerely hope not, Data said evenly. One can use the threat of violence as easily as violence
itself.

And if they dont comply with any demand you make?

Then, Data said, from the area of the door now, force must be used. A threat without intent and
ability is no threat.

Then youll have to stun me, Data. Because youre not getting my help. A threat not only has to be
realbut the person youre threatening has to care. I care more about stopping you than whether or not
Im stunned . . . or even killed.

Geordi, Data said slowly, still near the door, I am very sorry. I do hope you can be rehabilitated.

Datas voice fell quiet . . . his phaser whined . . . then silence dominated.

Chapter Eighteen

GEORDI. . . IAM VERY SORRY . I do hope you can be rehabilitated.

They heard the phaser whine, then silence.

Picard jabbed at the communicator hed grabbed from Beverlys jacket. Picard to Data! Return to orbit
and beam me aboard. We have found Commander Riker. Hes injured and needs medical care.

He could still hear the open frequencyheard Geordi fall to the deckthen a footfall, and then the
static crunch of a closing frequency.

He punched at the comm badge again. Data!

A closed frequency argued back. He should have spoken up soonerwhile Geordi was talking. Perhaps hed
have had a chance to argue with the android himself . . . convince him somehow.

Kadar stepped forward. I have confirmed the attack on my vessel. We have sustained damage and
casualties. The Klingon Captain was somber, his tone almost sympathetic. There was no accusation in his
voice. Part of this was his faultKadar too had let the situation escalate, and perhaps he felt the
regret Picard saw in Urosks eyes as well.

They stood together, Urosk and Kadar, Picard noticed. An almost surreal sightfor two people whod been
trying to kill each other fifteen minutes before, they were practically cuddling.

Quietly, Urosk pulled Picards attention with low voice. My ship . . . We participated in the battle
and have both caused and sustained damage.

His wound still very sore, Worf shakily stepped forward. Picard realized now just how close to death his
officer had come. Had the wound been a little worse, Worf might not be standing.

Data must be stopped, Worf said gravely.

Picard nodded and looked down at Beverly who worked on his arm. He wasnt sure when she had begun or
what she had done, but from his shoulder to his fingers, his arm was numb and he was glad of it. Worf
probably could have used the same, but no mention was made of it. To do so would be an insult, and both
Picard and Beverly knew that.

Doctorcould Data have taken this grain? Mighthe be affected by it? Picard asked.

Barbara, following Riker to the core of the little group Picard and his fellow captains had formed,
spoke up. Yes! I gave him some. I didnt think it

When? Picard snapped.

She paused, taken aback, then said, When I was with him on the ship. I was running tests and he was . .
.

Picard glanced to Urosk who remained silent. He was reading the Hidran history of the war with the
Klingons.

Will Riker, appearing very much like a shipwreck survivor with his tattered uniform and rather rancid
smell, pressed his way through to Picard. Deanna followed, her uniform looking no better. In contrast,
physically they both looked rested and refreshed.

I overheard, Riker said. Ive made contact with the saucer section. We have a very confused ensign in
command. He wasnt been able to use communications until just a few minutes ago.

Our subspace communications are down, Kadar said. If you have access, we must alert our homeworld to
protect itself. TheEnterprise will go unchallengedWorfs ship would not be questioned. His brother sits
on the High CouncilWorf himself is respected.

Worf straightened proudly. He looked stronger. No grain therejust ego.

I know, Picard grumbled. But theyll destroy theEnterprise,Captain. I cant let that happen.

You cant letQonoS be destroyed either, Kadar said.

I know that as well, Picard said. But if we can catch up to Data . . . reason with him . . . or trick
him. I need your ship, Kadar.

Kadar looked from Worf to Urosk, then back to Picard. There was no way to know what the Klingon
commander thought, but Picard wagered there was some regret in there. My ship is yours. But the damage
is extensivewe are lacking materials and manpower. Five deaths, twenty-three injuries . . .

Deaths . . . injuries . . . No sooner had Picard convinced these two warring parties to lay down their
arms than they found theEnterprise itself had led an unwarranted attack.

Well help effect repairs, Picard said. If we can overtake him before he reaches Klingon space . . .

We must, at any cost, Kadar said tightly. If not, the Klingon fleet will have to disable or destroy
your ship.

The ship . . . the lives . . . Picard pulled away from Beverly, whod been fussing with his numb arm,
and faced Kadar, grabbing the Klingon commanders shoulder with his left hand. I understand that,
Captain, Picard said, making sure the Klingon knew Picard wouldnt assign blame to those who were
guiltless. But if there is a way to avoid that, he added, Imust try.

Kadar said nothing, just nodded, but there was that flicker in his eyes. The flicker of a captain who
knew what a ship was, what it meant to its masters soul.

Picard nodded his gratitude then swung toward Riker. Coordinate the Saucer with the Klingon vessel. I
want their ship up and running within the hour. Data said Geordi had used the computer to lame the ship.
Knowing Data, thats temporary. Weve been given knights odds, Number Onelets not waste the
advantage.

Aye, sir, Riker acknowledged, moving away, already shelling out orders into his comm badge.

Beverly snatched Picards arm again and tried to wriggle it into a make-shift sling. The pain gone, he
pulled away, but she struggled and he finally gave in and turned to Deanna.

What can you tell me about Datas condition? he asked. I assume you heard the broadcast.

She nodded. Data is difficult to read. Most people when they act irrationally have an emotional
reasonData cant, yet from the sound of it, Id say he regrets his action with Geordi.

Regret is an emotion, Barbara said.

Deanna turned to her. Confusion can manifest itself as regret in Data. He doesnt really have emotions.
He does have likes and dislikes, opinions, but . . . theres conviction, not passion.

We dont have time for a seminar, Counselor, Picard said. Give me something I can use.

She hesitated, looked down a moment, then sighed. I dont know, Captain. Data is different. If the
grain is somehow affecting him it has more to do with biology than psychology.

I realize that. Pulling his arm from Beverly for the last time as she closed her medical case, Picard
tugged at the sling and cast her an appreciative glance.

Your arm needs more than I can do for it here, Beverly said. The bone is set and mending but
sensitive. No more rabble-rousing.

Picard nodded, caring less about the condition of his arm and more about the condition of his ship. He
returned his attention to Deanna. What I need to know, Counselor, is if theres anything I can use when
dealing with him.

Deep brown eyes looking distant, then intently at Picard, Deanna finally said, Workwith his insanity,
rather than against.

Twisting toward the opening lift doors, Picard bumped his still tender elbow on the Klingons high
command chair. He winced in pain and sucked in a breath of the stale bridge air that still reeked of
smoke and burnt circuits.

Riker stepped off the lift, followed by Kadar.

Nearly ready to get underway. Warp speed should be available in a few minutes, Riker said. Well only
be able to manage about warp fourtheres too much structural damage.

Picard knitted his brows. Lets hope its enough. Sensors indicateEnterprise Battle Section is nearing
warp three. We can catch upif she maintains speed.

Its only a matter of time before Data fixes whatever Geordi did in the computer, Riker pointed out.
And once we get there, what can we do? Kadars engineer is injured, and even if he wasnt, the
disrupter core is fused.

Torpedoes? Picard asked.

They are operational but damaged, Kadar said, lowering himself into the command chair. The entire
system could short out any moment. I have contactedQonoS. They will be ready for theEnterprise with ten
cruisers. If we fail to stop the android . . .

Kadar let the sentence trail off, but it hammered into Picard nonetheless. The Klingon captain obviously
understood the sensitivity and perhaps had also gained some respect for the Federation and its
Starfleet.

Vessels in this sector? Picard asked Riker.

Nothing within range. TheExcalibur is Ambassador class, but its twelve days away at maximum warp.
Theyre the closest.

We have nothing, Picard, Kadar said. Not even the element of surprise. Our cloak is destroyed, your
android will see us coming, and in a ship he believes is the enemys.

Us and we. It was the closest Kadar could come to an apology . . . and it meant a great deal. Picard
nodded his acceptance.

We haveone thing in our favor, Picard said. Where is Urosk?

Surprised, Riker looked from Kadar to Picard. He and his men beamed up. Theyre also making repairs.

Get him on the comm.

Riker nodded, mumbled permission from the Klingon communications officer as he walked over to the
console, and pecked at the controls.

On screen, he said.

Turning toward the main viewer, Picard cleared his throat. Captain Urosk.

Urosk, on the bridge of his own vessel, appeared as the screen flickered to life. Captain.

Picard stepped forward. Im in need of your help

Cutting Picard off, Urosk stood and stepped closer to his viewer. His now unmasked face filled the
screen. We are prepared to leave orbit at a course of your choosing. Give us your coordinates and we
will beam you aboard.

A slight smile curling his lips, Picard nodded his thanks.

You have a plan, sir? Riker asked.

Indeed I do, Number One, Picard said. Though. I cant say youll enjoy it. And I know I wont.

The Hidran bridge was cool and dreadfully humid. Uncomfortable, but breathable. Urosks face, perhaps
because the breathing mask was gone, was less harsh than it appeared on the planet, his expression was
calmer.

Few words had been spoken between the two captains since Picard had beamed aboard. Perhaps Urosk felt
somewhat responsibleData had been reading their version of shared Hidran/Klingon history when hed
eaten the grain. They all assumed the same thingthe android was in some sort of a logic-loop. The
conclusions hed been reading had become his own, all because of the grains impact on his organic
components.

At least that was the hope. If not, then Datawas insane, or damaged, or had malfunctioned. In any case,
he had to be stopped. Picard wanted to do that himself, with the help of these two vessels. Otherwise
Data, Geordi, and everyone else on Battle Drive might die when the ship met the Klingon fleet.

Through the haze that was the Hidrans normal breathing environment, Picard squinted at the main viewer.
The Klingon vessel was a dot at the center of a bland starscape as it struggled to match the Hidrans
pace.

Riker had stayed with the Klingons to repair as many systems as possible, as Picard and the Hidran took
the lead, in hopes of masking the Klingon ship fromEnterprises sensors.

I need a current sensor scan, Picard said to Urosk.

The Hidran captain rose and gestured to a console near what appeared to be the helm. The control panel
was higher off the deck than Picard was used to, but amazingly like a Klingon access board.

Pecking at the console, Picard brought up a display of the sector, then tapped the coded-frequency comm
badge hed requested sent from the Saucer. Picard to Riker.

Riker here.

Enterpriseis approaching warp four, Picard said, following the flash that represented the Battle
Section with his finger.

We cant push this ship, Captain, Riker said. Shell tear apart.

Damn, Picard huffed, pounding his fist on the console. What good was any of this? He twisted toward
Urosk. Whats your maximum?

Coolant leaks are causing overheating, Urosk said, his voice more fluid and smooth without the
muffling mask. We can manage warp six. Slightly more if we are lucky.

Got that, Riker? Picard asked.

Aye, sir. But if we speed ahead to slow them down, that ruins any chance of surprise. Right now
surprise is all weve got going.

Tension filling every muscle, Picard stared at the blip that wasEnterprise.

Commander, stand by for further orders.

Picard closed the frequency and turned fully toward the Hidran Captain. I need to risk your ship.

His head tilted a moment and Urosk glanced from Picards arm to his eyes. Maybe he regretted his earlier
action, or maybe he understood something about commanding a mission.

When the Hidran captain finally spoke, it was for the bridge crew to hear as well as Picard. I will
belay any action I believe an indiscretion. Other than that . . . I give you my ship.

Light was a turtle,Enterprise the hare.

Picard shifted his weight from one foot to the other on the lower deck of the Hidran bridge. The deck
plates were humming, rattling in a way he knew they should not.

TheEnterprise battle drive was a dot on the forward viewera foreboding dot. A goal Picard needed to
reach. Didnt want to, but that made it no less an imperative.

They could fire on her from here, but without much effect. Torpedoes could be maneuvered around,
disrupters or phasers would lose their bite. He needed to be close to her. Close enough to . . . fire on
his own ship. To tear apart what he was sworn to protect. To rip at his own soul in the hopes no one
else would have to.

Slowly theEnterprise grew on the screen. Too slowly. All this speed underneath himphysics warping,
bolts pulling, energy gripping the ship to hold it all togetherand yet all too sluggish. And all for
naught if she couldnt be reached.

Data refused to answer any hail.

Klingon ship firing, sir!

White-hot globes of power slapped into the Hidran ship.

Aft disrupters, fire, Urosk ordered.

Clean miss, sir.

Again, fire!

The ship buffeted as another volley crunched against her shields.

Shields down sixty percent, sir.

Vent coolant from decks twelve and thirteen.

Send out a frantic SOS, Picard added, pivoting back to the main viewer. Aft view.

Angry orange bolts came screaming from the darkness of space. They almost enveloped the screen before
exploding into flame, glaring Picards view.

Picard gripped the helmsmans chair. Drop aft shields now!

Shock from the salvos razed the unshielded hull.

Power down all weapons, Urosk ordered. Resend distress call on all Starfleet frequencies.

Come on, Data . . . a friend in need is a friend indeed. I know your morality is still there, even if
misplaced.

The Hidran Picard remembered as Meliosh twisted from the helm. Captain, he said to Urosk,
Enterpriseis slowing. She reverses her course!

On screen, Urosk ordered. Stand by.

Standing by, sir.

Picard tensed. His ship out there, ready to be scuttled at his own order. He stepped back down to the
lower command deck. Captain, he said, pointing at a tactical display of the quickly
approachingEnterprise , Here, here, and theremain shield generators.

Urosk shook his head. Computer locks are not functioning.

Pulling in a deep breath, Picard turned back toward the main viewer.

GracefullyEnterprise strutted toward them, growing larger as they likewise sped toward her.

Speed?

Half impulse. He is requesting communications.

Range?

Three hundred thousand kilometersclosing.

Urosk glanced up to Picard. You have command, Captain.

Chest tight, his right arm tensing itself into pain again, Picard stared at his ship, perhaps for the
last time

His ship.His .

Stand by, everyone, Picard said, and felt the tension of the Hidran whod been told to obey his
commands. How far could he push them? He could not ask them to give their lives for his ship. Data could
be stopped, with some loss to the Klingon fleet, but was that risk the Hidrans to take? Did they have a
duty to sacrifice themselves because Data believed their rhetoric?

How could he ask for their lives merely because they had written their history with a jaundiced eye?

Captain Picard? Urosk prodded. Enterpriseis within range.

The Starfleet vessel is locking phasers on the Klingon ship.

Again the Hidran craft shook as torpedoes sped passed her, glancing the shields.

Enterpriseascended as it took an evasive course toward the Klingons.

One hundred thousand kilometers.

Picard nodded and narrowed his eyes. Full shieldspower to weapons. Fire!

The Hidran ship gathered itself and fired. Orange bulbs of energy punched point blank intoEnterprise ,
spreading out over the shields and wrenching the marrow from Picards own bones.

Fire!

Red snarls of disrupter fire spiraled aroundEnterprise as she twisted away and volleyed a few torpedoes
in defense.

The Hidran vessel shook, pummeled by the shots.

Bolster the shields! Urosk called out. Come about to aft course.

Target engineering, Picard ordered, gripping the edge of the helm console with tense fingers. Fire!

Another salvo of torpedoes engulfed her. Picard couldnt breathe.

The Klingon ship swooped down out of warp and its phasers sliced intoEnterprises hull.

Itburned, by god it burnedas surely if it were his own skin.

Status! he barked, hoping hed done enough.

His shields are holding.

Not his shieldsmine. Myship!

Hawk-like, the Klingon vessel plunged past her again, brightening space with orange spheres that smashed
intoEnterprise and sent her bouncing off her course.

Her shields are weakening!

Picard mopped his brow with a wet sleeve asEnterprise spat back furious bars of bloody raw power,
rocking the ship around him.

Eyes fixed on her sweeping lines as she curled around to fire another blast at her master, Picard yanked
up his hand phaser and ordered, Target aft shields and fire!

He tapped his comm badge and looked away as the shots rang out. Riker, stand by!

TheEnterprise captain swung back to the Hidran helm. Well?

One more, Meliosh assured him.

Fire then!

Picard heard the energy scream from the shipfelt the wave of the blast.

His aft shields are down! Meliosh yelled.

Picard sucked in a breath of moist air and lifted his phaser to chest level. Now, Riker! Now!

Crewman Lopez was the first hed found. Riker holstered the tricorder but kept his phaser in hand as he
tried to position the unconscious man in what would be a comfortable position when he finally awoke.

The tricorder reopened, he checked again for any residual gas, then scanned for Data.

As soon as he beamed aboard the android had left the battle bridge. Probably changed course too. The
Klingon and Hidran vessels would be left behind.

Enterprisewas alone again, and Riker with it. If Picards plan failed, Riker too would die at the hands
of ten Klingon battle cruisers.

Data was difficult to scan with a tricorder. Riker couldnt link in to the ships computer to get a tack
from the androids comm badge, and he wasnt about to actuallyask where Data was. Once again Picard had
ordered no easy task.

Riker scratched at his legit only itched nowand continued up the corridor. He glanced down at the
tricorder. Faint energy readings, he mumbled.Could mean anything .

He ambled up the corridor, waiting for a sound, an indication, something that might give him an edge.

Suddenly the tricorder graph shot off the scale.

A smile tugged at his lips. An edge.

He adjusted the right buttons, and headed where it told him.

Twenty meters straight, ten left, another five left. At least thats what he figuredthe tricorder
didnt account for walls, it only told him linear direction.

He marched slowly, cautiously. Data could set a trap as easily as the next Starfleet officer. And the
android had an advantagethe ships computer at his disposal. He could move force fields and drop
emergency bulkheads, effectively trapping Riker where he stood.

He looked down at the tricorder again. What if that was a force field reading?

Noit fluctuated, a wild lash across the graph.

He pressed on. There was no place else to go.

Up one corridor, vigilantly down the next.

Mumblings . . . Noyellingup the hallway.

Riker stopped, listened a moment, then discreetly edged himself up the next corridor, careful not to
trip over any crewmen that happened to have fallen in the path.

You cant win, Data, Picard yelled, and Riker heard a phaser whine.

The only return argument was another phaser blast.

He poked his head around the corner, making sure to keep himself hidden from view. Picard was using a
door alcove as cover at one end of the hall, Data was doing the same toward Rikers position.

Picard fired again, a bright orange lance sparking off the wall above Data and chipping the plasticine
onto the androids head.

The captains phaser was set to kill.

Youre alone, Data, Picard said. The Klingon Empire will live a thousand years longer than you could
hope to survive. Give up now while you still have the chance.

Data returned the fire and nearly connected with his target as Picard fell back into the darkness of the
alcove.

Boldly, Picard rolled across the hall to another door way, squeezing off two shots as he went. The deck
in front of Data flared into smoke and spark, obscuring his view.

Captain, Data said, his voice normal if somewhat muted, I cannot give you this ship. I have sworn an
oath and will not break it.

There are no oaths, Picard said. Starfleet is ours. The captain poked out of his cover and fired
again. The dart of energy flew past Data and Riker had to yank his own head back as it glanced by.

Only a few meters apart, Data and Picard traded volleys again. Riker sank back against the wall, setting
down the tricorder and resetting his phaser.

Stun.Heavy stun.

Picard fired once more, and the whine of his powerful setting whipped past again.

Let us help you, Data, Picard yelled. Put down the phaser and surrender control of the ship and
youll be kept aliveperhaps to fight another day. But stand in our way now, and well destroy you!

One . . .

Riker tensed and pushed himself up to a squat.

Two . . .

He checked the phaser setting again, and also prepared to reset it to kill if he had to.

Three!

No! He leapt outskid up the corridorand fired.

An orange spear knocked Picard back into his alcove and through the door.

Riker dove, rolled onto a knee, and aimed at Picards limp formready to fire again.

Breathing heavily he looked up at Data. You okay?

Eyebrows slightly arched, the android nodded. Yes, sir.

Our good captain here had me confined when I found out what was going on, Riker explained bitterly as
he rose. I escaped the Klingon brigmade it to their transporter room. Im almost glad they knocked out
your shields. Im not sure where I would have gone.

Data pushed himself up from his crouched position. I am pleased to see you are well, sir

No time for that, Data. Riker gestured toward the nearest turbolift. Report ships status.

His phaser now at his side, Data began for the lift. We are back on a course toward the Klingon Neutral
Zone. Shields are down and I suggest

The android stiffened, his entire body gripped in energy.

He should have fallen . . . but didnt.

Riker fired again

Data stumbled forward.

And again

Energy cloaked Data as he tried to raise his weapon. He gurgled out a sound and turned his head. Riker
tensed, ready to set the phaser higher.

The android turned against the beam, trembling with determination.

Another jolt, then another.

Data lifted his phaser arm, then collapsed to the deck. The weapon tumbled from his grip.

Riker sucked in a breath. What if Data couldnt be repaired this time?

He turned away, scowling at his phaser. What if hed just killed his friend of so many

A scraping sound.

Riker spun.

Data inched forward, toward his weapon.

One more blastRiker fired.

Electrical filaments gripped Datas form for a moment . . . then he stiffened and finally lay peaceful.

Riker let out the breath hed held, allowed his weapon to drop to his side.

He sighed again and looked from the captain, still crumpled into a heap up the corridor, back to Data,
board straight at his feet.

Epilogue

MY PEOPLE ARE STILL RETICENT, Captain, but I assure you the agreement will be signed. Ill see to it
myself.

A line of static flickered across the screen, bisecting Urosks face.

Kadar had expressed the same sentiment when hed left orbitas furiously as they had both been against
the accord, they now were vigorously for it.

Testing the strength of his stiff right arm, Picard leaned back into his desk chair.

Youre an individual of strong will, Captain. I have no doubt youll be listened to.

Urosk nodded his appreciation, and the screen when black.

Picard tapped the desk console. Im waiting for that report, Mr. Riker.

Riker rose from his bed and tapped his comm badge. On my way. He jabbed it off again, then grabbed
Barbaras shoulders softly and pulled her closer. I have to go.

She looked up at him, those green-hazel eyes still seeming to flash, even now. I should be getting back
too, she said.

Im sorry, he said softly, wishing he could make it sound like he actually felt, and not like
something he always said. Which he did.

Barbara smiled. For what? I only told you how I felt while you were missing because I wanted to be
honest with you.

Riker frowned. But, Ill be gone in a few hours and the honest chances of my return are

Not important, she said, shaking her head. Istarted this, Will. Not you. And I knew and expected it
would only last a few days. She caressed his face. I didnt tell you I was worried about you to make
you feel guilty. I told you so that youd know you had an effect on me, and that youre a special
person. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, then pulled toward the cabins door. Youre
a great guy, Will, and Im glad youre safe. Thats all.

The corners of his mouth turned up and Riker returned her smile. Somehow hed heard this before. Usually
from his own lips. He and Barbaradid have a lot in common. Well, maybe Iwill get out this way again.
Maybe we can . . .

Maybe, she said, winking. She stepped through the door. But call first, okay?

Data? Geordi stepped into Datas cabin.

Im here, Geordi.

He turned toward the androids desk, Datas voice being the only clue as to his location. He was
probably sitting. How are you, Geordi asked.

I am . . . very sorry, my friend. Not only did I injure you, but I nearly began a war.

Geordi shook his head and tried to smile. Dr. Crusher explained about the grain. Chances are you would
have never gotten into Klingon space. The grain is only effective for a few days, and it takes longer
than that to reachQonoS . You have nothing to be ashamed of. He heard Data rise and the proximity vest
told him the android was stepping closer.

That is not entirely correct, Data said. The grain could not metabolize from my system. Its effects
would not have worn off as they did with you. Had I not been stopped and treated

The point is, you werent in control, Data. You were under the same influence I was. You werent
responsible for your actions.

Are we not always responsible for our actions?

Datas question, in that almost childlike tone, seemed self-chiding.

Geordi sighed. Its not that easy, Data. Not when there are outside influences forcing us to act
against who we are. You were, as far as we can tell, caught in a logic loop caused by what is
essentially a drug. You didnt know that would happen, and you couldnt think clearly when it did.

There was a pause, then Geordi felt Datas hand on his shoulder. I am still sorry.

Geordi smiled. I know. But look at it this way. Of all those beings who arent rational, you had the
best excuse of allyouwere only sick, and you recovered.

That is small consolation, considering that it cannot change what I have done.

Data, Geordi said, reaching out and patting his friends shoulder, thatis consolationbecause it
means youll be more careful next time, dont you think?

Indeed, Data said. I will. By the way . . .

What?

I just nodded. I thought you should know.

Data, Geordi laughed, its good to have you back.

Picards office door swished open.

Sporting a fresh uniform, Riker looked one hundred percent better. He stopped before the captains desk
and handed him a computer padd.

Most of the crew is duty ready, sir. A few have reacted badly to the anesthetic and are being treated.
Repairs will take another day, and Mr. La Forge assures me hewill remember the longer password.

Nodding, Picard glanced over the padd. How is Mr. La Forge doing?

Dr. Crusher said hell be fine. Shes already contacted the hospital that can re-implant the VISOR
interface. We can drop him at Starbase Eighty-seven for transport, and hell be back on duty within the
month.

Excellent. The captain looked up. And Data?

Riker hesitated. Better. He wont stop apologizing. To me, to Geordi . . .

Picard almost smiled.

Bioengineering is clearing his system, Riker continued. We think his systemwas trying to fight the
grain as well. Dr. Hollitt has had access to the computers below the surface and informs me that the
grain breaks down after a few days.

No miracle cure, Picard said as he set the padd down on his desk.

No. Dr. Crusher is in no danger of being replaced. Riker smiled and loosened his stance. Barbara is a
little disappointedseems the grain cant be taken for any great length of time without taxing the
bodys normal immune system. Shes think ing of suggesting it to her company as an occasional diet
supplement or medicinal herb. She said you were very lucky you didnt eat any at the dinner.

Picard knitted his brows.

Your artificial heart, sir.

The captain huffed. Why? I can see why the grain wouldnt restore Geordis eyes or allow Zhad to breath
since those werent natural conditions for thembut Idid once have a heart.

Riker chuckled. Ibelieve you, sir. But even if the grain were that sophisticated, and theres no
evidence it is, it would reject your artifical heart first and youd die.

Ah, I see. Most fortunate then. What about the planets history? Picard asked, gesturing Riker toward
a seat.

The first officer only stepped toward the chair and leaned his arm against it.

Nothing specific about the ancient civilization that she could find, he answered. The grain is well
describedpowered by passive energy, usually the sun, but from our white-noise transmission for a while.
In fact, that planet-wide tremor was the reaction of hundreds of thousands of machines suddenly having
to shut down production once the white-noise jammer was gone. These machines learn well, thoughthere
was no quake the second time we disengaged.

Any specifics as to the grains main function?

Seems to be toxin removal and minor cellular repair. Barbara wont be worrying too muchone way or
another her company cleans up. Either theyll develop the grain as a cost effective medical tool, or
theyll rent out plots to archeologists interested in the ancient Velexians.

Picard nodded. He wouldnt mind a look himself.

How soon can Commander Data report for duty?

Riker swiveled the chair under his palm. Dr. Crusher says a few days, Bioengineering wants to wait a
few extra until the grain-machines are definitely deactivated. As well, the nanites theyre using to do
that will have to be purged.

With a glance down at the padd and its casualty report, Picard sighed. If only Id noticed his
condition sooner. The captain looked up, saw Riker was going to respond, and waved any comment off.
Have you shown this to him?

Riker shook his head. I havent told him about any deaths. The Klingons arent making an issue of it,
and I thought it best to wait until he had his full . . . sense of reason.

How would Data react when he did find out? None of his shipmates perished, but that wouldnt matter to
Data. Others died, and Data would have to deal with it. How? Logically, no doubt. The entire incident
was an accident. But he still isnt quite back to his logical self.

Agreed. If we havent more pressing business planetside, lets get under way. The captain flashed his
eyes. Have we more business, Mr. Riker?

The first officer shook his head. No, sir. Dr. Hollitt has beamed down.

Picard allowed the slightest smile to pull at his lips. Set course for Starbase Eighty-seven. Warp two
as soon as shes ready.

Aye, sir, he said, hesitating.

Something, Number One?

Lieutenant Worf would like to see you, sir.

Picard shrugged. Send him in.

The door opened and Worf entered after Riker walked past.

Lieutenant, Picard greeted.

Worf was stoic. Sir.

The captain stared and waited a moment for the Klingon to make some statement or ask a question.

Can I help you, Lieutenant? Picard said finally.

I am ready to return to duty, sir, Worf answered as he looked straight over Picards head.

Splendid, Picard said.

Worf glared down.

Oh, of course. Picard smiled. My apologies, Mr. Worf. You are returned to duty. The Hidran have
dropped all charges, and I regret the misunderstanding.

Do not, Worf said, still laser-straight. Even I thought it possible at one point that I had caused
the ambassadors death.

The captain nodded. At ease, Mr. Worf.

Relaxing slightly, Worf came to parade rest.

Im recommending you for a commendation regarding your brave, albeit unorthodox action on Velex.

Thank you, sir.

Picard almost dismissed him, but decided to press one question before the Klingon returned to the
bridge.

Mr. Worf, did you hear what I said to Urosk and Kadar once youd stabbed yourself?

The Klingons thick brow did not flinch, his eyes did not flicker. I did, sir.

Picard rose, and tugged his uniform tunic into place as he walked around the desk, closing the distance
between the two of them.

I said there were no Klingons.

Yes, sir.

No anger in that tone. In fact, nothing was in Worfs voice just now.

Picard glanced down at his boots a moment, then back up at that stern, ridged expression. As a Klingon
. . . did that offend you?

The security chiefthe Starfleet officertilted his head and met Picards eyes.

As Worf, sir, it could not.

Authors Note

There are a few people I have to mention for their help and support on this book. I know this stuff is
boring if youre not listed, but I may just pick names at random at some point, so you might want to
read anyway, just in case.

First and foremost I have to thank Gregory Brodeur. It would be too simple to say that I write the words
and Greg plots the plotthe line is fuzzier than that. Lets just say that together, we are a writer.

I also owe my thanks to Gregs wife and regular collaborator, Diane Carey. Shes a mentor, a big sister,
and she does what no one else can dokick me in the butt when I need it most. Thanks for letting me on
your ship, Di. Ill always owe ya.

No softer shout of thanks goes to my parents. Theyve supported me (in more ways than one) through the
tough times, and Ill always hold them dear. Theyre better than parentstheyre friends.

A round of applause for Trek associate editor

John Ordover, please. He makes tough jobs easier (sometimes) and good books better (always).

Thanks also to Chuck Leibrand, who was stupid enough to listen to my early work, brave enough to tell me
what he really thought, and smart enough to do it over the phoneout of throwing distance.

The same goes for Deborah Halford. Deb, I havent known you long, but in ten years I trust I wont be
saying that. Thanks for your kind words, and thanks for your not-so-kind ones as well.

Thank you also to Pat Julius and Peggy Eaton for their friendship and support.

These are the folks who, in their separate ways, have added to this book, my life, or both. I am forever
in their debt, or at least until I become rich and famous and can drop them for people who have power
and influence, whichever comes first.

(Wonder if Ill getany Christmas cards now.) To end on a more serious note, I began work on this novel
the same week a friend lost his battle with cancer. Thoughts of him and his fiancée will always be with
me as I reflect that I embarked on a new and enjoyable struggle, as he and his family lost to an older
and uglier one.

This book is written in memory of Vincent Lloyd Whitenight, and in honor of his fiancée, Stacie Eaton,
who will forever remind me that humanitys strength is in its courage, in the profundity of its spirit,
and in the resilience of its will.

Dave Galanter