“WHAT’S THAT SMELL?”

Will was startled by the thick, husky voice. He turned his head and studied the waking form of El Bison El. The once-drunk man was stirring and studying his predicament.

“More importantly, I guess is: where am I?”

“You’re with me,” Kyle said. “Remember me?”

“Rugan. Ruken. Rucker.”

“Riker.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” the man said, his voice still slowed by drink. “You tied me up.”

“Didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Kyle said without looking back.

Bison looked once more at his bindings, shrugged and tried to get comfortable. He winced once or twice and then focused on Will.

“Who’re you?”

“William Riker, first officer of the Starship Enterprise.”

“That’s a long name. You guys related?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question for years,” Will said, earning him a disapproving look from his father. “Why have you been running?”

“I murdered Unoo.”

His voice implied remorse, which Will appreciated. Sympathetically, he nodded and said, “Yes, you did.” He poured some of the raktajino into a mug and handed it over. Bison had just enough mobility to accept the drink and reach it to his lips. He smelled it, wrinkling his nose and started to lower it. One glare from Will and he picked up the mug and took a sip.

“She was a pain in the ass. And this drink tastes like dirt.”

“And she deserved to die?”

“No, but she was still a pain.” Another sip. “And this mud needs a kick.”

“I can agree she was a pain,” Kyle added, and Will returned the angry look.

“So why did you grab me? To take me back for more experiments? Maybe carve out a bit of my brain this time? Well, this time there’ll be a fight. Count on it.”

Will and Kyle exchanged glances, the younger man concerned with the rage he saw in Bison’s eyes. He had expected remorse for the murder of Unoo, but there wasn’t even a hint of that now.

“We’ve come to take you with us,” Kyle said. “No more experiments. No more tests or drugs.”

“And I can take your word for it, eh? You, my jailer?”

Kyle didn’t let the barbs bother him and he remained steadfast in dealing with Bison.

“Take my word or not, you will come with us.”

Bison pulled on his restraints, careful not to spill his drink. “And where might we three be traipsing off to?”

“Back to the capital. To the chief medic.”

“Can’t come up with a good enough lie, can you? So it is back for more tests. Federation cretin. I have a good mind to bring legal action against you and your president.”

“He’s your president, too.” Kyle’s tone indicated that he wasn’t amused by Bison.

“Didn’t vote for him,” the Dorset commented.

“Doesn’t matter,” Will said, getting frustrated by the lack of control he had over the situation. “If we say you’re to come with us, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“And stand trial for what…for what I did to Unoo? No thank you!”

Will looked over at Kyle, who remained still, taking in the exchange, his face unreadable.

“Plenty of flyers in the capital,” he said.

Before Will could ask him what he meant, the flyer violently shook. There was a loud sound as metal was punctured and they began to fall. The feeling in Will’s stomach did nothing to help his mood.

“We’re going down,” Kyle yelled. He punched at controls as Will gripped the armrests and studied the monitors. Sensors were limited and he suddenly missed being on the Enterprise bridge. Something had fired on them but he couldn’t tell what or from where.

He glanced back at Bison; he was finishing his drink and then dropped the mug, his hands also gripping the chair’s arms.

“Can you stabilize it?” Will asked his father.

“Shut up and let me try,” Kyle snapped. His arms jerked and twisted and Will couldn’t see what he was doing. They wobbled for another few moments and then his father must have found a way to steady them. Still, they were descending so Will was thinking ahead. There were three of them, with no weapons and not a lot of experience on this world. He had no clue what Bison would do.

The former test subject chose that moment to get violently ill in the back of the flyer. If the raktajino smelled bad, this was far worse.

“One hundred meters,” Kyle called out. “Brace yourselves. Fifty. Thirty-five. Twenty.”

The flyer crushed the ground beneath it as it heavily met the earth. Will had seen from the windows that they were in a heavily wooded area, with no town in sight. They were isolated and, of course, unable to communicate. He’d survived worse landings and even before the ship settled into position, he was unstrapping himself. Free, he spared a look at the sick Bison and then his father. Kyle seemed to be staring at the dead controls. Will gritted his teeth.

“We need to get out of this ship,” Kyle said.

“Yeah, it stinks back here,” Bison said.

Will activated the door hatch and it slid open. He listened for a moment, hearing some form of insect life outside and a breeze through the trees.

As he cleared the doorway, Will was stopped short. Five men circled the flyer, several brandishing weapons more sophisticated than mere sticks. Kyle followed him out and stopped right behind his son. He then took a step, was suddenly beside him, ready for a fight, his feet firmly planted in the dirt, hands balled into fists. Bison, now free of his bindings, remained maybe half a step behind the elder Riker and didn’t seem ready to run. In fact, he looked ready to fight.

“Looks like we shot ourselves some Federation folk,” one man said in a slight twang.

“You here to pollute the lake? Or maybe take your new friend for some testing?”

They continued their jibes, and Will admired his father for not answering back and not making the first move. He was taking their measure, just as Will was doing. The men, a mix of Bader and Dorset, looked middle-aged and not top condition. Their weapons, though, gave them an edge, but with his own training, Will suspected he could disarm one or two to even the odds. His father and Bison, though, would be wild cards. There was no opportunity to even whisper instructions, so Will had to control the situation.

“You shot us down,” Will said. “We intended to fly right by and ignore you.”

That answer didn’t please them at all. The men continued to hurl jibes but were now taking slow steps toward the trio. Kyle remained where he was, but Bison had taken a step to the left, either removing himself from the obvious targets or preparing to engage the men himself. Will couldn’t move too quickly for fear of inciting a fight, but he needed to get closer. He too began taking small steps forward, but he kept his hands open, trying to convey that he wasn’t looking for a confrontation.

“I know you won’t believe me,” he said as a way of distracting them from his movement. “But we’re not here to cause trouble, pollute the lake, or any of the other things you’ve accused us of.”

“Liar!” shouted one of the men. Another raised what looked to Will like it was a phase pistol, an ancient model nearly two hundred years old. There was no way to tell if it was an antique that would blow the man’s hand off or if it was a perfectly maintained heirloom that was capable of hurting them all.

Will looked around for an advantage and saw none. The space between them was level, a mix of dirt and straggly brown grass. Nothing to grab for offense or defense, so it was going to be man versus weapon, Will concluded.

A Bader man also raised his weapon, taking aim squarely at Kyle. He was saying nothing, but hatred smoldered in his eyes.

Will judged there were maybe five meters separating them now. The Bader man kept his weapon aimed at Kyle, but Will noted that the other armed man seemed less certain of his target, wavering between Bison, who remained still, and Will. To contain the situation, Will would have to make the first move. He ran several scenarios in his mind. None of them were elegant, none of them would end in clean victories, but most would get the job done.

Sucking in the cooling air, Will let out a shallow breath and then strode forward, drawing attention to himself. Sure enough, the five men started toward him, all weapons now aimed his way. As soon as they had formed a semicircle before him, Will carefully studied their positioning. Kyle and Bison remained in their places, which was perfect.

Suddenly, Will lunged to his left, grabbing the outstretched arm and pistol of the Bader who had the loud voice. He whipped the man around, smashing him into the man next to him while at the same time kicking his right leg backward into the gut of the man in the center. He didn’t expect the other armed man to be foolish enough to fire into the cluster of bodies.

Disengaging himself, Will unleashed a punch to a Dorset still standing, and suddenly his father rushed past his left, Bison to his right. The rest of the fight was brief, since after one more punch, Will scrambled back and grabbed the phase pistol. He backed far enough away to get them in a single sweep if need be.

“Enough!” he bellowed, causing everyone to look his way. As soon as Kyle saw the situation, he let go of the man he held and dropped him to the ground. He bent and picked up the other pistol, which had been lying, forgotten, in the dirt. Bison was entangled with his own opponent, and it took him a moment to free himself and stand.

“I think we’ve all had enough!” The men picked themselves up and moved over, one rubbing an elbow, another trying to stop a bloody nose.

“We’ll be leaving now,” he said. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for Kyle to take Bison toward the flyer.

“Son, you do know that ship isn’t going anywhere,” Kyle said softly.

“We have to get away from them, it was just a direction,” Will said.

“The woods, then,” Bison suggested.

“They know these better than us, don’t you think?” Will asked sarcastically.

“Actually,” Kyle started, “we have nowhere else to go. Our transport is dead and they don’t seem to have any. They must live nearby, which means they probably have friends. Going deeper into the woods makes the most sense.”

“Any particular direction?” Will asked.

“You went to school for navigation. Look up.”

Will did as instructed, momentarily feeling as if he were eight again, and then shrugged it off. He looked at the day sky, estimating the sun’s path and position, remembering their heading before they were blown out of the sky. For a moment he used his senses, ignoring Bison’s muttering. The wind rustled the trees, moving north to south, slowly so it would keep them cool. The sun was heading west and there was a distinct lack of animal noise. The crash and subsequent fight chased everything away, but that wouldn’t last. They had to get started.

“That way,” Will said, pointing in a northwesterly direction.

Without a word the men began hiking. Quickly, Will ticked off what they had and did not have. No communicator, no rations, no water. Given their relative physical condition, they would need frequent rests. He’d have to find them something to drink along the way and also sustenance. Well, most forests had something to offer; they’d just have to be on the lookout.

“I don’t suppose you know which berries or fungi might be edible,” Will asked Bison after several minutes.

“I’m an economist,” Bison said glumly.

“Lot of good that’s going to do us out here,” Kyle grumbled. “Looks like it’s up to you and me to get us through this.”

Will didn’t reply and kept marching, keeping in the lead.

“Nice fighting,” Kyle finally said nearly half an hour later.

“Thanks,” he said and was amazed at the ease of the compliment, something that rarely came from his father in years past. “This changes nothing,” Will added several moments later. “We still need to contact the captain.”

Kyle nodded slowly, eyes ahead.

Will couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about their random flight around Delta Sigma IV. He’d feel much better with the capital in sight. Until then, all he felt was the sense of disaster looming over them.

“You used your head,” Kyle continued. “Guess you did learn a few things along the way.”

And Kyle was right, but Will wasn’t ready to admit it. One of the things Kyle had drilled into him during fishing trips, hikes, and even housecleaning was the need to anticipate, think, and then act. Will had been doing so ever since, and not once had he given his father credit for teaching him. And even now, he couldn’t bring himself to admit his debt. After all, learning to think didn’t erase the resentment he felt for being manipulated or abandoned.

“You’ve been right since you found me,” Kyle suddenly said sometime later. Will had been letting his tired mind drift, short of getting sleep, so he almost missed the comment. What attention he had was directed toward finding them water. If Bison had gotten himself that thoroughly drunk, he’d be needing rehydration more than either Riker. But eventually, all three would need it.

He turned and looked at Kyle, who set his jaw and stared ahead.

“This is mostly my fault, my doing, and I can’t hold a crumbling world together in just my hands.”

Will wasn’t sure he was hearing the man properly. The earlier tone of guilt was missing from the voice, which was clear and matter-of-fact.

“Doing all that flying, and now hiking, it’s given me time to think. Seeing you has also made me think of the years gone by, the opportunities lost. I wish I could explain how I can help wage a war but not stay in touch with my own son.”

“Or sons.”

“Thomas. Right. When Ann died, my hope for a second child died with her. And then to have you come in out of the blue with that preposterous story, well…well, I acted badly.”

“You took the news horribly, and that was the last time we spoke,” Will reminded him.

“Have you seen him?”

“Not since he was taken captive before the war.”

“They must have freed him by now from Lazon II.” Will was startled by Kyle’s knowledge of exactly where Thomas was imprisoned, seemingly for life, for his actions as a member of the Maquis terrorist group. His father was more aware of the situation than Will ever gave him credit for. Had he tried to have Thomas released to the Federation? As far as Will was concerned, his “twin” could remain on Lazon II.

“If so, then he’s kept to himself, and to be honest, I think that’s for the best. Everything he did leading to his arrest goes against everything I ever learned. Everything you taught me.”

“And taught him, right?”

“He shares those memories,” Will said tightly. Thomas’s impersonation of Will and his theft of the U.S.S. Defiant to aid the Maquis still didn’t make sense to him. Was being trapped on Nervala IV for eight years enough to make Thomas turn against all his ideals?

“You and he didn’t agree on things, did you?”

“No. We both wanted Deanna, and he resented my promotion.”

“And you and I didn’t agree on much,” Kyle added softly.

“No.”

“I’ve made some mistakes over the years. Big ones, ones that cost people their lives. But letting our disagreements keep us apart, that has to be my biggest mistake. I didn’t know what to do with you after a while…”

“So you left,” Will finished. “Left me to finish growing up on my own.”

“And I regret that now, although it’s too late to change anything.”

Will felt uncomfortable, not only with the frankness of the conversation, but with the fact that Kyle was willing to engage in it with Bison silently listening behind them. But his father was being open and honest, something that hadn’t happened in a Will’s memory. They talked about walls on Kyle’s one visit to the Enterprise, and no sooner was there a crack than the wall was repaired. Now it seemed to be all tumbling down. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Longed for during the loneliest years?

Before speaking, Will heard something. He put up a hand and they stopped, feet shuffling in the dirt. Turning on a heel, he moved in a circle, making sure he wasn’t imagining it. A tinkle of sound. Water. Kyle had caught the noise, too. Their eyes met and it was Kyle who pinpointed the direction.

Within minutes, they found a small stream. Will bent low and cupped his hands in the cool, flowing water. It was chilled but felt terrific. He sipped some and it was refreshing. No doubt filled with minerals that might cause him trouble later, but for now, they all needed refreshment.

Each man rinsed his hands and then drank his fill. The rest did them well but Will didn’t want them taking their time. The sun was heading for the horizon and he didn’t relish the notion of being alone in the dark forest. He hadn’t read up on natural predators but he knew they existed. Now was not the time to make their acquaintance.

They resumed their walk and Will was gratified to see their pace had picked up.

“A lot of it has been my fault,” Will finally admitted once they were under way. “After you came aboard, we finally started to talk and then I never followed up. Kept letting duty get in the way.”

“Chip off the old block,” Kyle said sardonically. He adjusted their angle and he was silent for a time, concentrating on flying.

Will finally agreed. “True, but one of us had to change the pattern and it should have been the younger dog learning the new trick.”

“So, now I’m an old dog.”

Will wasn’t sure, but thought he saw a smile cross his father’s face.

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for in a father, Willy,” Kyle began, nodding in agreement. “I’m not sure what kind of a father I can be at this stage, but we can try.”

“We’ll never agree on everything. Nor should we,” Will added. “But that hasn’t kept people apart. You should see some of the fights Deanna has had with her mother.”

There, Kyle was actually smiling at the name. He hadn’t seen his father this loose before, actually enjoying a conversation. Will wasn’t certain what had changed between them, but the tension in his gut was also evaporating.

“Ah, the bewitching Lwaxana. A force of nature, that woman.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Have you two met?”

“Once or twice. You don’t do my kind of work without coming across the daughter of the Fifth House…”

“…Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx…” Will added.

“And heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed,” they completed together, and both let out a chuckle.

“You know, Deanna says the chalice is really a moldy old pot, although I’ve never seen it for myself,” Will added between laughs.

“I’m sure she’s exaggerating,” Kyle said.

“Who, Deanna or Lwaxana?”

“Deanna, I think.”

“Sounds like some woman,” Bison offered.

“Shut up,” Kyle said.

They walked along in silence until Kyle asked, “Still mooning over her?” For the first time in a while, Kyle stopped looking ahead and gazed seriously at his son. And it didn’t bother Will.

“I wouldn’t call it mooning. We’ve sort of started over again.”

“For real this time?”

“It’s always been real. But this time I think it’s for good.”

Kyle’s brows knit together as he pondered that. “You let duty get in the way last time, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because it kept me from marrying again. Kept me and Kate Pulaski apart. You’re more like me than you’d ever admit,” Kyle said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice.

“I’ve heard that.”

 

One of the aides walked over and handed a councillor a glass of water. They leaned their heads together and exchanged a few words before the aide departed the room. Watching from a corner of the cramped office, Deanna Troi suspected the aide was off to share information with the opposing office. With a satisfied smirk, she concluded that not every member of the Council agreed with Jus Renks Jus’s decision to split the body along racial lines.

On the other hand, she grew concerned that with every passing hour, the contagion was more likely to find its way to every Bader and Dorset in the building. She shuddered at the notion of a ruling body that was already fundamentally divided along racial lines giving full rein to their aggressive natures.

Still, it was going to be some time before Crusher was ready to deploy her cure. Personally, Troi sided with the captain, but she sympathized with her friend. It was a terrible decision that had to be made under severely adverse conditions. She admired Picard for at least having the debate and airing the issue before rendering a decision. He always welcomed input, regardless of circumstance. It was just one of the many reasons she appreciated her job aboard the Enterprise.

Naturally, her mind was tugged toward the future after Beverly told her she might pursue the soon to be vacant position of surgeon general. When Deanna was alone, she pondered her own career. After Beverly had gotten some command experience, Deanna too had passed the rigorous command tests. A few years back, during the gateways crisis, she even briefly commanded a much smaller ship, the Marco Polo, and had come to enjoy the work. Since then, she had considered where she wanted her career to go. She certainly didn’t want to work on a planet or a space station; she enjoyed being aboard a starship and encountering the unexpected. She wasn’t sure if she got that from her father’s experiences in Starfleet or her mother’s wanderlust. Probably both, she concluded. Still, the day was coming when Starfleet would succeed in breaking up Picard’s command crew. The first chip was the posting of Worf to Deep Space 9. Since then, they tried again in the wake of the Dominion War, arguing that experienced command personnel were in short supply, but Picard called in favors and kept everyone together. But if Crusher left for Starfleet Medical, that was only going to encourage Command. And Will should be getting his own command at last.

Will. Her Imzadi had always wanted a ship of his own, but he had turned down offer after offer because he was learning so much by working alongside Picard. Yet lately he had been posted to temporary commands, first the Enterprise, then the Excalibur, and most recently the Enterprise again. He was ready—she knew it and she knew Command knew it. Deep down, she knew he’d take that next offer, and then where would she go?

Their relationship ended the first time because Will put duty and desire for command ahead of love. Would he do that a second time? They were older, different people today, and she privately hoped they would remain together. But would there be a place for her on Will’s new ship? As counselor or even—dare she ponder the possibility?—first officer? Was that the track she wanted? She felt ready for new challenges, but the next step after first officer was usually captain, and starship captains were more distanced from the crew. Was that something she desired?

Too many possible paths to properly consider at this moment. Instead, she had to tuck her aspirations away and concentrate on the here and now. The councillors continued to do little more than direct relief efforts and try to find ways to assign blame. They all had their own pet concerns, and the strain of the chaos was taking its toll as they made fewer decisions and dithered more.

With a cure coming, there wasn’t any more she could do until Picard broke the news to them. Then she could help with the healing. She had remained in a static situation for too long and needed to do something.

Picard had quietly entered the room, and she hadn’t even noticed until he walked right into her line of sight. She gave him a small smile and he nodded in return. The strain was having its effect on her friend too, she realized.

“Deanna, there’s nothing more for you to do here,” he began quietly. “Instead, I’d like you to contact Lieutenant Vale and begin a more intensive hunt for Will and his father.”

Deanna’s eyes widened and she said, “You must be developing telepathy.”

He gave her a tight smile but didn’t pursue the comment.

“We know that Will has found his father and they are together. The lack of bio-signs suggests as much. You can both start at the location of his last signal and see if you can pick up a trail. It would be too much to hope that he’s still at that location.”

“It’s more likely his combadge was destroyed, which explains that brief signal,” she answered.

“I agree,” Picard said. “You’re both to be armed, and I suggest you carry an emergency medical kit. I hope he won’t need a doctor’s services.”

She checked her own mind and feelings and didn’t sense anything amiss. “Not right now, anyway.” Troi brightened a bit when she saw the look of relief in the captain’s eyes. “Where will you be?”

He sighed heavily and looked around the room. “Here. Once we know the timetable for releasing the new strain, Beverly and I will speak with the councillors. Hopefully together.”

Deanna nodded and then turned to contact Vale. Her relief at finally doing something useful was mixed with a thread of fear: what would they find when they did manage to locate Will?

He was alive, and that comforted her. But what of Kyle? And were they working together, or were they at one another’s throats?

 

A province where the Bader were dominant was being harassed by its Dorset neighbor. As best Vale could understand it, they were arguing over which province controlled the water rights to the river that formed the natural boundary. In the past, both used the river, but maintenance was handled by the Dorset. Suddenly, the Dorset claimed the right to charge shipping tolls, which brought about Bader protests. And right now, just about every dispute on the planet was quickly escalating into a fight, and just about every fight was becoming a riot.

Vale didn’t care. Left to her own devices, she’d anesthetize the planet worse than the liscom gas. Starfleet frowned on that approach, so she continued to direct her people the best she knew how. But she was beginning to worry about them. Even with twelve hours off between planet shifts, they were fatigued. Most were unused to missions of this scope. Hell, she wasn’t used to anything this size either, and while she appreciated the captain’s unwavering support, this was rapidly becoming a no-win scenario. No one liked the no-win scenario, especially in Starfleet, where people often had to face one. She’d never taken the infamous Kobayashi Maru test, and couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d handle it.

Right now, though, as she stood on the riverbank watching columns of dark smoke rise from a burning dock on the opposite side, all that mattered was stopping these people from killing each other until the cure was introduced. The last time she checked with the ship, they were still synthesizing enough to seed. Data and La Forge were working out schedules, but nothing was approved yet, so the holding actions would continue.

She had beamed down a few minutes earlier and was being briefed by Almonte, a short, stocky ten-year veteran. His bloodshot eyes and untended scrapes told her much before the briefing had even begun. He had been trying to mediate the dispute when there was an explosion and then a fire. Almost immediately, the opposite shore had been lined with Bader who accused the Dorset of trying to destroy their way of life. As expected, the Dorset had taken to the shoreline and matched insult for insult. Vale half expected them to start throwing rocks at one another despite the width of the river.

“I don’t want to split my team in two, so I’m trying to herd these fine folk away from the river. If I can get them out of earshot, maybe they can be distracted,” Almonte said, with a trace of a soft accent.

“And we’re outnumbered.” Placing her hands on her hips, she surveyed the scene, looking for inspiration.

Troi had called a few moments after she arrived, and while the notion of hunting the Rikers had an appeal, she needed to settle this first. The counselor had agreed and was going to gather the supplies she thought they would need. That bought Vale some time, which she needed to put to good use.

On her side of the river there were over three dozen Dorset, screaming insults and waving fists. They were near a landing pier, complete with ropes, hydraulic ramps, and ODN connections for the incoming ships. The usual antigrav units were strewn about, waiting for the next time something needed to be loaded. Behind them were warehouses of varying sizes, ship repair facilities, and even a cafeteria. Nothing she could use to calm things down, but also nothing the rabble could really use as weapons. If all they were going to do was yell, she’d leave Almonte and head out.

But someone on this side had managed to launch something that started the fire. If it could be done once, it could most likely be repeated, and it was her job to stop that kind of escalation.

“What’s in the warehouses?” she asked.

“I have Nikros checking now,” Almonte replied. They both looked over in that direction, finally spotting the broad-shouldered, gray-haired woman from Rigel. With a tricorder in one hand and a phaser in the other, she was scanning buildings before entering. Vale estimated she had three more to check before finishing.

Nikros tugged on one wide door and found it locked. She consulted the tricorder and tugged again. Vale narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Nikros’s trouble. Several Dorset also seemed to notice the security guard’s situation, and they started toward her.

Without hesitation, Vale withdrew her phaser and began walking toward her subordinate, trying to match pace with the Dorset. As they hurried, she broke into a jog and yelled for them to stop.

Only one obeyed, but in stopping, he swiveled and aimed a weapon of his own at her. Vale recognized it as a wrist-mounted pulsed energy weapon, and she dove to the ground as the man snapped his wrist, activating a blast. It sizzled overhead and she looked up, took aim, and fired off one phaser burst, which found its target.

The others hadn’t hesitated and continued toward Nikros, readying their own weapons. Vale looked to Almonte, who was already yelling for the rest of his squad. A twist of her head, and she saw Nikros alert and taking aim at the approaching men. Vale jumped to her feet and also took aim, coming at them from a different angle so as not to put her own officer in the way.

Three shots went off simultaneously. Vale and Nikros had both targeted the same man, who jerked like a puppet as he got hit from opposing directions. He slumped heavily to the ground. The third shot was from a man who fired at Nikros, aiming low. Vale watched the shot burn into the woman’s leg. She saw a spark of flame and then Nikros crumpled, her hands beating at her ruined knee to put out the fire.

Behind her Vale heard shouts and then the sound of feet. The Dorset were rallying behind their fallen comrades. Scattered among the approaching throng were Vale’s people. She spotted the tall, gangly Glavine, the heavily muscled Wigginton, and the lean form of the Vulcan Stenik. All were running, phasers at the ready.

It was about to become a full-scale riot, and Vale mentally calculated how many reinforcements she could summon. There were two squads that had beamed up just before she arrived here, and they could be recalled, but one team looked fairly banged up. Well, one more team was better than none. She made the call, and then broke into a run to get to Nikros before the man who had already winged her. The man had gotten closer but didn’t fire again. Vale wasn’t about to let him. She took aim and got off one shot that got him in the back. He fell to the ground, and she exchanged relieved looks with Nikros.

The sound of approaching footsteps had Vale whirling about, phaser gripped in both hands. Her field of vision was filled with approaching men, women, and, surprisingly, children, none of whom seemed anything less than in full fury. Tapping her combadge, she called out, “Vale to security team Delphi! Break them apart. Slow them down, and maybe we can get out of this!”

Without waiting for acknowledgment, she rushed forward, putting herself between Nikros, who remained down, and the mob. Something was worth protecting inside the warehouse, but she didn’t dare speculate until things were under control. Five people converged on her, and Vale set her feet, her left shoulder out, right arm with phaser tucked against her belly. As they hit her, Vale whipped out her right arm and knocked down one of the women. A roundhouse leg sweep knocked down two more, and a left jab landed on another.

As one of the Dorset ran away, Vale grabbed another by the shirt and yanked him forward into her upraised knee. One managed two quick punches into her ribs, forcing her to exhale. With cries of rage, they converged on her once more, and this time she dropped into a squat to prevent them from getting a good grip. Quickly holstering her weapon, she balled her hands into fists and propelled herself upward, fists and elbows making contact. The cluster broke apart and she kicked out, knocking one boy over another man.

Sparing a glance, she spotted Stenik applying a nerve pinch to a woman while neatly ducking another’s punch. Almonte was flailing with his fists, a veritable punching machine, keeping attackers at bay. The recalled squad, Gracin’s as it turned out, were in the rear, doing what they could to pull Dorset back and away.

A man ran at Vale with a tool in his upraised fist, one end sparking. She didn’t have time to grab her phaser, so she reached out as his arm came down, grabbed it, and spun the man around, kicking him in the backside to propel him away. Then a woman jumped on her back, and Vale reached over her head to break the hold. The woman tugged at her thick hair and wrapped her legs around Vale’s waist for greater support. Vale finally forced herself over, letting the woman’s weight carry them crashing to the hard ground. The woman’s hold broken, Vale was able to quickly disengage herself and got back on her feet.

She looked around and saw an older man pummeling Nikros. The Rigelian kicked back with her good leg and fumbled for her phaser, which had been knocked aside. Vale rushed over, but she didn’t get far before being tackled by someone she hadn’t seen. They tumbled to the ground, Vale striking her right shoulder hard, and grappled. She couldn’t get her hands free, and she was too en-twined with her attacker for her feet to do any good. With little choice, she reared back and smashed her forehead into the man’s nose. She heard cartilage break and the wet sound of blood. He screamed in pain and let go, his hands flying to his injured nose. Vale scrambled to her feet and looked for Nikros. What she saw made her jaw drop.

Nikros was a bloody heap, her injured leg at an unnatural angle. Her attacker was standing with his back to the warehouse door.

Vale didn’t hesitate. She withdrew her phaser and fired at the man. Then she dashed to her colleague’s side and saw that her breathing was shallow.

“Vale to Enterprise. Emergency beam-up for Lieutenant Nikros directly to sickbay.”

“Acknowledged,” came Nafir’s voice.

As Nikros’s broken body dematerialized, Vale uttered a short prayer.

Turning, she saw the mob had broken into clusters. In horror, she watched as her people were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Olivarez had fallen and was about to be trampled until Wigginton bodily picked up and body-slammed her attacker.

This was getting out of control and had to be stopped. Now.

“Vale to security teams Beta and Delphi! Commence stun fire. Put these people down!”

Within seconds, bright beams of coherent light scattered the Dorset. Vale took aim and knocked down those on the periphery. It didn’t take long at all for most of the Dorset to become slumbering heaps, bodies in a tangle.

Several of her people looked the worse for wear, and Vale sympathized as she rubbed her own sore right shoulder. She signaled to Almonte that all was fine and then turned back to the warehouse door. She wanted to see what was worth fighting for.

Her phaser made quick work of the lock, and she shoved the wide doors apart. Automatic lights snapped on as her body tripped a sensor. The vast space was filled from floor to ceiling with identical boxes. One of them had been dragged down and cracked open, its cushioning spilling out from beneath the top. Vale lifted the lid and saw that this box and probably all the others in the warehouse contained explosive devices. That made little sense to her, since the planet was known for its peace. There was a data chip affixed to the underside of the box top below the printed words Ree Packan Ree Construction. Suddenly it made sense. These devices were for demolition, probably for tunneling.

But the Dorset knew. They had used them to start the fire on the other side of the river.

The riots were now on the verge of becoming a race war, and Vale realized they were quickly running out of time.