Part 19 (2/2)
Barclay could feel his heart beating faster. Oh, no, he told himself. Not yet, please not yet. We still have work to do.
But even as he thought it, he placed his light on the top of the open console, where it could play on the guts of the machine, and got to work stabilizing the loose circuit. Being afraid was something he couldn't help. But there was no way he was going to let his fear get in his way again.
The commander came around to the side, where he could see what was going on, but he didn't say anything. He didn't offer to help, either, fully aware of the fact that this was a one-man job. He just watched, to make sure it went right.
Abruptly, the lights went off-only to give way to a spitfire sizzle of energy that ran all around them, from floor to wall to ceiling and back down again. The hum grew louder, grating on their ears.
Barclay could feel beads of ice water collecting in the small of his back. This was just the way it had happened that other time, when the captain disappeared. And if he didn't work quickly, something bad was going to happen again.
”Careful, Reg,” said La Forge. ”Don't worry about anything else. Just get it right.”
Barclay nodded, recognizing the wisdom in his superior's advice. But the hum was getting increasingly difficult to ignore. And the flash of power that surrounded them seemed to be cycling faster and faster.
At last, he did what he had set out to do-the circuit was secure. Without waiting to double-check his work, he replaced the metal console sheath and began tapping the pads that would bring the thing on-line. For the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then there was a subtle, soft whirring sound, and Barclay knew that he had been on the money. The controls came to life. Up above them, the image on the monitor transformed into a schematic that he had seen before.
”We've got liftoff,” he said, using an old Starfleet witticism. His voice sounded painfully flat and humorless, even to him.
”So we do,” La Forge confirmed. ”Move over and I'll give you a hand.”
It was necessary for the two of them to work side by side now, Barclay knew. Last time, it had been Data who'd activated the alien confinement beam and released the station's energy buildup into s.p.a.ce. But they were without the android's quickness, so they had to make do with what they had.
What's more, there was no O'Connor present to tell them how far the surges had gone or how much time they had left-though if it looked as if they were approaching the point of no return, she'd make them aware of that. Until then, she knew better than to distract them.
The commander swore softly as he worked to maximize the output of the confinement beam. ”It's not enough,” he insisted. And then, turning to Barclay: ”Data boosted the gain by recycling power through the emitter array. Ours isn't working, so we can't do that.”
The hum was as bad as ever, and the lights in the bulkheads were racing around them just as quickly. The thin man bit his lip as he forced himself to think.
”What about ... what about engaging the backup module? We can run them both at once.”
La Forge shook his head. ”Too risky. We might trip the shutoff. Then we'd have to bypa.s.s it, and there's not enough time for that.”
Barclay sighed. The commander was right. He scolded himself inwardly for even suggesting it.
Barely taking his hand off the controls, La Forge punched his comm badge. ”O'Connor-how are we doing?”
The answer came so quickly, she must have been expecting the question. ”It could be worse, sir. You seem to have achieved a kind of equilibrium. The surges aren't accelerating anymore, but they're still at a pretty high level. If something goes the wrong way, even just a little bit ...”
She didn't finish. But then, she didn't have to.
”What about Commander Data?” asked La Forge, still keeping a close eye on the controls. ”Has he made any progress finding the captain?”
”I'm afraid not, sir. We're having trouble establis.h.i.+ng a-” For a moment, the chief engineer's communicator went silent. Then, with an unconcealed excitement: ”We've got him, Commander. We've got a lock on Captain Picard.”
It was the best thing Barclay could have hoped to hear. Apparently, La Forge thought so as well, because one of his hands closed into a fist-a symbol of triumph.
”Bring him back,” the chief engineer told O'Connor. ”We'll meet you at the airlock.”
”Aye, sir,” she replied. And then the comm link went dead.
La Forge's hand closed on Barclay's shoulder. ”Let's get out of here, Reg.”
The thin man looked at him. ”But, sir ... shouldn't we keep trying to maximize the siphon effect?”
”We've done all we can,” the chief engineer explained. ”With any luck, the current output will keep things stable a couple of minutes longer. And after that, we'll be gone.”
Barclay hesitated. He couldn't help it. He felt as if the job was incomplete.
La Forge must have noticed that something was bothering him. ”Listen, Reg, once Commander Data brings back the captain, he can discharge some energy, too. Now, we've got to get going, before-”
Without warning, the control panel in front of them erupted in a geyser of blinding white energy. The commander, who had been touching it with one of his hands, seemed to leap backward with a cry of pain and shock. Then he hit the bulkhead, slipped to the deck, and was still.
Barclay just stood there, aghast, as the console sputtered and sparked. He forced himself to accept that something had happened-and that he needed to do something about it. Kneeling, he took a look at his superior.
La Forge was breathing, but not deeply. And he still had a pulse. Maybe he hadn't been hurt so badly after all. If Barclay could get him out of here, get him back to the airlock, he would probably be all right.
But why had the panel flared up that way? Could it be he hadn't secured the circuit properly after all? Could it have been ... was it his fault that the commander was lying here, in danger of his life?
Barclay set his jaw, placed his hands under La Forge's armpits, and swiveled him around toward the entranceway to the tunnel. Unfortunately, the commander was heavier than he looked. And at this rate, it would take a long time to return to the airlock-maybe too long.
But he would do whatever was necessary. Commander La Forge had trusted him against his better judgment, hadn't he? One way or another, Barclay would show him that he was worthy of that trust.
Leaving their light sources behind, since there didn't seem to be any shortage of illumination, the thin man dragged the commander across the room. Stopping at the entrance to the tunnel, Barclay sat down and inserted himself backward. Then he tugged on La Forge. Again, he shoved himself backward. And again, he pulled his burden after him.
It was slow going, and Barclay's back and shoulder muscles hadn't worked so hard in a long time-or maybe ever. But he didn't let that stop him. Inch by inch, meter by meter, he negotiated the length of the tunnel. Eventually, he could see the end of it with a glance over his shoulder. And not long after that, he reached it.
He was just about to dig his heels in and push himself out into the corridor when he thought he heard the omnipresent humming start to grow louder. And not just louder-more ominous, somehow. A sixth sense told Barclay that he was in danger. Terrible danger.
Just in time, he bent himself forward as far as he could go-and felt the hatch close behind him, so close it sc.r.a.ped the skin beneath the bottom of his uniform top. With nothing else to impede it, the metal piece slammed into the deck below it with a resounding clang.
A chill climbed Barclay's spine and didn't let go. It seemed to spread throughout his whole body, turning his blood to ice, making him s.h.i.+ver uncontrollably.
Another second, and the hatch would have closed on him. In his mind's eye, he replayed the horror of what had happened to Varley. He saw the guillotinelike descent of cold, dark metal, heard the crunch of bone and cartilage, saw the pool of blood that spread along the smooth, s.h.i.+ny deck.
It started a gibbering in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, but he couldn't. He had to let it out, to set it free or choke on it. Despite his shame and humiliation, he screamed-just like that other time. He screamed long and loud, and barely noticed when the hatch slid open again-as if enticing him to try to make it through.
But then, just when Barclay thought he'd lie in that tunnel and scream forever, his eyes focused on the helpless form of Commander La Forge. He'd made a promise to himself to return the commander to the airlock. And d.a.m.n it, he would do it-hatch or no hatch, Varley or no Varley.
Taking a deep breath, then another, he hooked his hands under La Forge's arms with renewed purpose and thrust himself backward. The hatch gave no indication of coming down again. But outside in the corridor, the racing lights created a strobe effect, and the hum was definitely grinding deeper.
Swallowing hard, Barclay forced himself to pull the commander after him. Then he slid backward again, all the while keeping his eyes on the slot that the hatch had retreated into. It was almost directly above him now.
If the thing came down, he might have enough time to avoid it-or he might not. Closing his eyes against the thought, he yanked La Forge along.
Another slide backward, and part of him had to be past the hatch, in the curving hallway outside it. Just to make sure, Barclay opened his eyes-and saw the hard, dark edge of the hatch looming right in front of him. As his heart slammed hard against his ribs, he had a sudden desire to run-to leave the commander behind and save himself from its deadly, crus.h.i.+ng weight.
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