CHAPTER 15

Alone in his quarters, Picard stared out the observation port at a vista of Romulan stars. Somewhere out there, across the imaginary border of the Neutral Zone, three of his people were risking their lives to rescue one of the most inspirational figures in the history of the Federation.

Captain Scott was more than just a brilliant engineer, of course. He was a member of a legendary crew that symbolized all that was good about the Federation, a standard for others to aspire to.

But men like Riker, Geordi, and Data had value as well. He would hate to think he had simply thrown them away in the pursuit of a hopeless cause.

The captain felt his jaw clench. If their mission had been fraught with danger before, it was now doubly so. He had an awful feeling they would all come to regret Admiral McCoy’s actions.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all, except monitor communications through his personal terminal and hope for the best.

He cursed beneath his breath. If there was some way he could contribute—some way he could help steer them all to safety, despite the admiral’s ill-advised machinations

But how?

Abruptly, a series of chimes insinuated themselves into his consciousness. There was someone at the door, Picard realized.

Turning toward it, he said, “Come.”

A moment later, the door slid aside and revealed the muscular physique of his Klingon tactical officer. Worf peered at the captain from under the bony protrusion of his brow ridge.

“Sir? I have accumulated additional data on Romulan ship deployments.”

The gleam in the Klingon’s eyes told Picard there was something particularly interesting about the information Worf had gathered. It was gratifying to him that Worf had come to him with the news, rather than to McCoy.

However, he was no longer in command. “Have you apprised the admiral of this information?” the captain asked.

Worf grunted. “I told him that I had it. However, he did not seem very interested. I was advised to …” He frowned. “

File it.”

Picard nodded. “In that case, Lieutenant, have a seat.

The Klingon moved to a chair on the other side of the room. Momentarily putting aside his concern for Riker and the others, the captain gave Worf his undivided attention.

“Apparently,” the tactical officer began, “the sector of space to which the Romulan ships have been sent is bounded by the border opposite the Neutral Zone. They share this border with a race called the Stugg.”

Picard grunted. “The same Stugg who cut off relations with the Federation recently, for no apparent reason?”

“It would appear so,” Worf replied. “A formidable people, according to all records of our dealings with them. However, they have never succeeded in unifying themselves sufficiently to pose a threat.”

“Either to the Federation or anyone else,” the captain added. “So why would the Romulans have committed so many of their vessels to Stugg space?”

The Klingon scowled. It was obvious that he hated the idea of admitting his ignorance—but he had no choice.

“I do not know,” he said finally. “But I would like to.”

Picard nodded. “Continue to keep an eye on the situation, Mister Worf. Perhaps the Romulans—or even the Stugg—will do something that will illuminate their motives for us.”

The tactical officer inclined his massive head. “Aye, sir.” And without further ado he rose and made his exit.

The captain watched the door slide closed behind Worf, then turned again toward the view through his observation port. Like Worf, he wished he knew more about what was going on out there.

But as always, the stars weren’t about to make his job any easier for him. Again, he cursed—this time, out loud.

As long as the Enterprise was someone else’s to command, he could only watch—and wait.

Riker looked around at his new surroundings. A moment ago, he’d been standing on the shuttle, waiting for Geordi to complete the transporter protocols. Now he was in the middle of a narrow, eerily lit corridor, somewhere in an outer arm of the sprawling Romulan installation.

Data was right beside him. Like the first officer, he held his phaser in his right hand and his tricorder in his left Each of them wore a remote transporter control band as well. Together, they scanned for approaching Romulans.

There weren’t any. At least not within a hundred meters or so.

Under normal circumstances, even an antiquated sensor array would have picked up their transport to the surface. However, Geordi had managed to locate a blind spot in the system.

As luck would have it, it allowed them to beam down just outside the magnetic shield. But then, if they were really lucky, there wouldn’t have been any shield to begin with—or any warbird, for that matter.

A moment later, Geordi materialized as well, equipped as they were. He looked at them meaningfully.

“Anything?” he whispered.

“Nothing so far,” Riker told him, sotto voce.

He gazed at the stretch of corridor that led toward the center of the installation—where they would undoubtedly find Captain Scott. After all, it wouldn’t have made any sense to erect a shield around part of the outpost and then hold him somewhere else.

It would have been easier if they could have pinpointed Scott’s location here. However, the magnetic shield con founded the short-range sensors as thoroughly as it did the transporter function.

“Come on,” the first officer breathed.

He led. The others followed, exhibiting a wariness he found comforting. With Data and Geordi to watch his back, Riker knew he could concentrate on what was up ahead.

They passed through the shield without incident. In the back of his mind, the first officer had wondered if it might not serve as some kind of internal security net, in addition to its other functions. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

For several long, tense minutes, they continued their progress along one corridor after the next, deftly approaching the center of the place by the most obscure route possible. Then their tricorders picked up a couple of Romulans cutting across their path.

Retreating to the closest intersection, they concealed themselves until the Romulans had come and gone, their steps echoing resoundingly. Noting on his tricorder that the pair was no longer a threat to them, Riker gave the signal to resume their journey.

A short time later, they entered what looked like a detention area—though the cells they could see were quite empty. However, Scotty couldn’t be far now.

The first officer checked his tricorder for human life signs. Strangely, he couldn’t find any. He shook his head. How could that be?

Looking up, he saw that Geordi and Data were just as puzzled as he was. Could they have missed something? Where in blazes was Captain Scott?

Suddenly, the android’s head snapped about. Taking his cue from Data, Riker made a sign for quiet.

The android gestured to indicate something up ahead of them. Most likely, the first officer thought, another couple of guards passing by. He listened intently, but didn’t hear anything.

He was just about to ask Data what he’d detected when the android’s head snapped around again—this time in the opposite direction. Then it happened a third time. And a fourth, in quick succession.

By then, Riker could feel the blood pumping in his neck. There was something going on, and he didn’t like it Taking the initiative, he brushed past his companions and stuck his head out into the corridor.

The next thing he knew, there was a blinding flash of bluish energy—a flash that might have caught him square between the eyes if Data hadn’t hauled him back out of harm’s way. As it was, the beam glanced off the wall behind him and filled their hiding place with azure light.

The first officer swallowed. “Thanks,” he whispered

“You are welcome,” the android whispered back.

“We’re surrounded,” Geordi observed. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Data told him. “All avenues of egress are blocked.”

The engineer turned to Riker. “Your call, Commander.”

The first officer sighed. If the Romulans were onto them, there wasn’t a large chance of their getting away.

On the other hand, the idea of being taken prisoner wasn’t much to his liking—especially after what he’d heard about the way these people treated unwanted guests. Riker tightened his grip on his phaser.

“Follow me,” he rasped,

Diving out into the corridor, he rolled as he hit the floor and came up firing. He stayed in one place just long enough to see one of the Romulans fall, then rolled back in the other direction and tried it again.

Of course, he had some help at that point. He didn’t have to look back to know that Data and Geordi were right behind him, giving the Romulans all they could handle. Energy beams lanced past him in both directions.

Somehow, none of it managed to hit him. And in a matter of seconds, their adversaries were lying stunned at the end of the corridor.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the way they wanted to go, seeing as how it led deeper into the installation. But as his father had told him more than once, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“This way,” he said, beckoning to the others—and headed in the direction of the fallen Romulans. Maybe they’d get out of this yet.

Then he heard the sound of footfalls behind them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that another pack of pursuers had caught up with them. Cursing, he turned to fire back at them.

This time, he wasn’t so lucky. A dark blue beam caught him in the shoulder and spun him around. A second one swept his leg out from under him. The last thing he remembered was twisting awkwardly in the air and wondering how much it would hurt when he finally landed.

Beverly Crusher had seen people storm into her office in sickbay before, usually out of anxiety over one of her patients. But Reg Barclay had never been one of them.

The tall, thin engineer was normally the timid type. Crusher had seen him mope around for days rather than pose a question about some trivial matter that was nagging at him. But not this time.

Either his personality had done a one-eighty, or what he had on his mind wasn’t trivial.

“Doctor?” blurted Barclay. “Is it true?”

Crusher studied him from behind her desk, but couldn’t find a clue as to what he was talking about. “Is what true, Reg?”

“Is it true that we’re leaving for Romulus?” he asked.

The doctor couldn’t help smile. “I doubt it,” she told him. “I’m sure someone would have let me know about something like that.”

The lieutenant looked as if he desperately wanted to believe her. “Are you sure?” he pressed.

Crusher nodded. “Pretty sure.”

Barclay heaved a sigh. “That’s a relief,” he told her. “I guess Nevins didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Nevins?” the doctor echoed. “In security?”

The engineer nodded. “There’s a lot of talk in security these days. Come to think of it, in engineering, too. Lots of

er, rumors flying around.”

Crusher sighed. “About Admiral McCoy, you mean.”

Barclay looked apologetic. “Uh-huh. People say he’s … well, reckless. That he’s treating the mission as if it were a game. And it’s scaring people—a lot, in some cases.”

The doctor leaned back in her chair. Reg was right She’d heard the whispers every time she negotiated a corridor.

People were afraid, all right. Afraid and confused.

“I guess they don’t know what to expect of him,’ Barclay continued. “They don’t know what he’ll do next.”

Crusher grunted. “And he’s probably older than anyone they’ve ever known. That scares them, too, I’m sure.”

The engineer regarded her honestly. “I’ll tell you what Doctor—it scares me.” He paused. “If you ask me, I’d rather have the captain back.”

Crusher looked up at him. “I understand, Reg. Believe me, I do.”

After all, she’d been to Picard’s quarters twice already to see if she couldn’t lighten the load of his exile Unfortunately, it hadn’t helped much.

“Well,” Barclay said, “I’ll see you. And thanks.”

The doctor shrugged. “Any time,” she replied.

As she watched him go, she shook her head. She felt much the same way the engineer did, but she couldn’t show it. As an officer on the Enterprise, she couldn’t go around undermining its commander—no matter who it was.

On the other hand, she could judge him incompetent to run the ship. That was her prerogative as chief medical officer.

But she couldn’t do it—wouldn’t do it—unless he really was incompetent. And as far as Crusher was concerned, that wasn’t a matter of age or appearances.

Probably, she thought, McCoy wasn’t as sharp as he used to be. On occasion, he allowed his emotions to get the better of him. And he didn’t think twice about diverging from procedure—or even specific orders.

However, that was true of a great many officers. Whether she liked it or not, it wasn’t grounds for declaring the admiral unfit.

For all his aberrations, all his idiosyncracies, she couldn’t say for certain he didn’t know what he was doing. Of course, when all the results were in, she knew her opinion might change.

But by then, she told herself, it might well be too late.

Eragian regarded the three Starfleet officers crumpled on the floor of the corridor, surrounded by a dozen or more guards. One of the intruders was clearly human. The other two, he wasn’t so sure about.

After all, one had a mechanism that halfway encircled his head—some kind of prosthetic device which the proconsul had never seen before. And the third one seemed too pallid to be a human.

“And they were trying to free the other prisoner?” Lennex asked. “The one who took his own life just a little while ago?”

Commander Barnak nodded. “That is what we have come to believe. We can think of no other reason for their being here.”

“Indeed,” muttered Eragian. “And this one,” he said, pointing to the being with the yellowish skin. “Have you been able to identify his origin?”

Barnak shook his head. “We have not, Your Eminence. However, he exhibited incredible resistance to our disruptor beams.” He knelt beside the being, then turned the being’s head to one side, exposing the back of his neck. “And we saw this when we examined him.”

Eragian’s mouth went dry. The guard was pointing to what looked like circuitry, exposed by a beam impact.

He grunted, covering up his surprise. People in his station weren’t supposed to be surprised—not by anything.

“How interesting,” Lennex replied, seemingly unflustered. “And the one in the facial appliance?”

“We have not yet determined the reason for the device,” Barnak told him. “Of course, given its placement, it would seem to enhance one’s visual acuity.”

“Perhaps,” the proconsul conceded. “In any case, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we? Bring them all to the nearest cell. I’ll want to interrogate them at my leisure.”

The base commander inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Eminence.”

“And, Barnak…” said Eragian.

The Romulan looked at him. “Yes, Proconsul?”

Eragian eyed him. “Don’t let this one slip away as the last one did—if you value your life even a little bit.”

The base commander swallowed. “I will double the watch,” he promised, then gestured to his waiting subordinates.

Immediately, Barnak’s men bent to the task of lifting and transporting the prisoners. As he looked on, Eragian crossed his arms over his chest and considered what their presence here meant.

First, it confirmed that his original prisoner was not the mentally unstable buffoon he’d appeared to be. Second, it indicated that the first prisoner hadn’t blundered his way here after all—but rather that his mission had been a premeditated and purposeful one.

And third, it told the proconsul that both the prisoner and his mission were important to Starfleet—or they wouldn’t have sent a team here in an attempt to retrieve him.

Lennex stood beside him, saying nothing. But he was obviously thinking the same things.

Eragian was more eager than ever to identify the mysterious individual who had destroyed himself trying to escape from the outpost—and to determine why the man had crossed the Neutral Zone in the first place.

Of course, with this new group of prisoners in hand, he was that much closer to finding out.