Part 18 (2/2)

Gregg spoke in the darkness. ”Myra, can you pick up the lantern and lead the way?”

”Sure, Dad!” said the girl excitedly. ”Gee, this is cool!”

Cool it was, literally, and Ro s.h.i.+vered as they walked along. The light bobbed ahead of her in Myra's hands, but Gregg's hulking body cut off most of it. He warned them to keep their voices down, because they would be pa.s.sing under the wall soon, and he had no idea how close the tunnel pa.s.sed to a guard tower. Ro thought it was doubtful anybody could hear them down here. Her main concern was that Selva would pick this moment to have a major earthquake, and they'd be buried alive. She tried to tell herself that the earthquake faults were a thousand kilometers away and posed no danger, except for the resultant tidal waves, but the dank earth all around whispered to her of an early grave.

She walked bent over in the darkness for what seemed like a dozen kilometers but was probably less than one. No question about it, thought Ro, Louise Drayton-or whoever she was-had had guts to come down into the blackness and carve out this tunnel, even if she had a phaser to do the hard work. It was also quite an a.s.signment for one woman to rid an entire planet of a Federation colony, but Louise Drayton had nearly succeeded. In fact, she might yet. The primitive planet would be a perfect place for a hidden Romulan base, especially after a Federation colony had failed there. Its location would allow them to monitor both Federation and Klingon s.p.a.ce.

Finally Myra stopped and pointed the beam upward. ”There's a ladder here,” she called. ”It goes straight up.”

”Let me go first,” said Ro, shouldering her way past the Calverts.

Maybe she was just eager to get out of that pit, but Ro climbed the ladder as quickly as she could and pushed back a flap covered with leaves that hid the opening. Without much regard to what she would find she poked her head out.

She found only darkness and rows of black tree trunks reaching upward to black boughs, where not the slightest speck of light penetrated. The forest reminded her uncomfortably of the tunnel she had just come from. They might as well have been a million kilometers away from New Reykjavik, because there was absolutely no sign of it.

”It's okay,” she called down to Myra and Gregg, hoping that was really true. They were no longer in the realm of frightened and deceitful colonists but in the realm of murderous Klingons raised in the wilderness. She s.h.i.+vered at the cold and climbed out of the hole.

She helped Myra up first, then the two of them reached down and pulled the unconscious form of Doctor Drayton to the surface. Gregg Calvert climbed out, looking more frightened than either of the two females. He flinched at a rustling sound overhead, even though it was obviously just some nocturnal animal on the prowl. He turned off the halogen lantern.

”Well,” said Gregg, ”any idea how to find your friends?”

”No,” answered Ro glumly. Wandering around in the unfamiliar woods at nights would be the height of lunacy.

Once again, there was nothing to do but wait.

Chapter Sixteen.

BY THE TIME the first rays of dawn seeped through the canopy of leaves that spanned the forest, the party of twenty-one Klingons, a Betazoid, and an android was already on the march. It was a surly group, thought Deanna Troi, made more so by the fact that they had been celebrating much of the night and hadn't eaten anything since the day before. Worf had promised them food upon reaching the settlement, and that was enough to get them going. Although they would never admit it, Deanna suspected the Klingons had already been spoiled by the meals furnished by the Enterprise; they had little stomach for their usual fare of grubs, dried chuck meat, mussels, and whatever greens they could dig up.

The young Klingons gripped the knives in their belts nervously as they trudged through the forest, looking like people headed to their own funerals. On another occasion, thought Deanna, they might have been leaping through the trees, but now they were walking like the clumsy flat-heads. At first she had tried to a.s.sure them they would be welcomed by the colonists, but she soon gave up that approach. The Klingons were going in, and perhaps their gloomy air of resignation was based more on the fact that they were giving up their way of life than that they were giving in to the colonists. This was a walk into the unknown, a journey into a new life, and there was no way she could make predictions about their future.

So they walked in silence, listening to the twitterings of birds and the chattering of animals, which sounded more cheerful this morning than ever before. Perhaps they sensed that sole possession of the forest was returning to them. Deanna had some vague feelings of unease, but she attributed them to the fact that the Enterprise and Captain Picard were light-years away and they had to complete this mission on their own. Without Worf's determination they would never have been able to do so. If there was ever a right man for the job, he was it.

In short order they saw the glimmer of metal through the stark tree trunks, and Deanna was surprised that they had reached the village in what seemed like only an hour. Of course, they had never walked directly between the mound and the village before, and the youths' hutches were spread out all over the forest. Such a short distance, she thought, separated these two groups, yet what chasms of experience and expectations separated them. It was indeed time to close those gaps and heal the wounds.

As they drew closer they saw the sun glinting off the high metal walls, makingthe structure appear totally alien next to the earthy black and greens of the forest. The Klingons stopped and began to fade back, murmuring in the guttural tones they had used before remembering their language.

”Be brave,” Worf encouraged them. ”A Klingon holds up his head and does not look afraid.”

They didn't exactly hold up their heads and look unafraid, but they did continue onward, and a man waved to them from the guard tower beside the gate. ”I'm opening the gate!” he called cheerfully. ”Just step forward, single file.”

Worf took the lead to set an example, and Wolm and Turrok fell into step behind him. The others followed in a more or less orderly fas.h.i.+on, and Deanna found herself drifting back to the rear of the column, where Data had stationed himself. A plethora of emotions was a.s.saulting her, ranging from fear and anxiety to unrepentent hatred. She tried to tell herself that such feelings were normal-on both sides-but it was still difficult to confront so many raw emotions at one time.

Noticing her discomfort, Data asked, ”Are you all right, Counselor?”

”I ... I think so,” she mumbled. ”There's so much fear, from both sides. It's a little overwhelming.”

”If all goes well,” answered Data, ”it will subside gradually, will it not?”

”If all goes well,” she repeated numbly. Why was she beginning to think that all was not going to go well? It wasn't so much the youngsters' fear that was disturbing as it was the waves of hatred emanating from within those steel walls. Worf had already pa.s.sed through the fortified door, and the young Klingons were dutifully following. It was too late to turn back. Nevertheless, Deanna told herself she was going to get to the radio as soon as possible and ask Captain Picard to return.

She and Data were the last to pa.s.s through the metal walls, and she heard the door clanging shut behind her. It was an ominous sound. Also ominous was the deserted appearance of the courtyard, as if all the colonists had been told to remain safely in their homes. Finally a small welcoming party led by President Oscaras approached them from the far end of the square and stopped a considerable distance away. Broad smiles graced their faces, and Deanna felt a little bit better.

”Welcome!” said the beaming Oscaras, although he made no movement to come closer. ”Is this all of them?”

”Yes,” answered Worf, standing before a group of scrawny, unkempt youngsters who huddled meekly together. They hardly looked like the fearsome savages who had kept two-hundred colonists terrified for months. ”I promised them food,” said Worf. ”Could that be arranged?”

”Of course!” said Oscaras. ”Thank you for bringing them here, Lieutenant. You saved us a lot of trouble.” He raised his arm over his head and shouted, ”Fire!”

At once a handful of colonists sprang up from each guard tower, and dozens more fanned out from behind each building. As soon as they aimed their phaser rifles they fired, and blinding beams streaked across the courtyard. Some of the haphazard beams crossed each other and scorched the air with blistering explosions.

”You betrayed us!” screamed Maltz, drawing his knife and lunging for Worf. But a blue beam cut him down before he had taken a single step, and he crumpled at Worf's feet. The lieutenant snarled and started to draw his own phaser. But to the colonists, a Klingon was a Klingon, and he was blasted in the crossfire. He staggered a few steps, then slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Standing at the rear, Deanna was frozen in horror. The youngsters ran in circles, shrieking and trying to escape, but the gate was shut and the walls were too high to vault. Now she knew what the Earth saying ”shooting fish in a barrel” meant. One by one the young Klingons were felled, and their bodies littered the courtyard.

Only Data remained calm. He drew his hand phaser and meticulously picked off every settler in the guard tower that overlooked the gate. Then he made a superhuman leap into the tower itself and threw the latch that opened the gate. But it was too late. No Klingons were left standing to escape. Deanna made a dash for the open door but was cut down herself. Her last memory before blackness was the grimy dirt that struck her face when she hit the ground.

Data could do nothing more than he had already done, and he knew it. He didn't fear the stun blasts that were felling the others, but one of the colonists might crank up his phaser rifle to full and vaporize his circuitry. So Data picked up a phaser rifle in each hand and leapt over the wall. Beams blasted the dirt at his heels, but he reached the cover of the forest without harm.

”Data!” called a voice among the trees.

He whirled around, expecting he would have to defend himself. Instead he saw the concerned face of Ensign Ro.

”We must remove ourselves from this place,” said the android.

Ro motioned him to follow her. ”What's going on in there?” she asked as they moved through the trees. ”We heard the explosions and shouting, and I ran over to investigate.”

”Without knowing the colonists' intentions,” answered Data, ”I would say they have taken the Klingons, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant Worf prisoner.”

”So that's what they were up to,” muttered Ro. ”You convinced the Klingons to turn themselves in, and that's what you got in return. Oscaras is as treacherous as a pit mantis.”

”I would agree with that a.s.sessment,” answered Data. ”He told us you were sedated in sickbay when you failed to answer my hail.”

”b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!” snarled Ro. ”At least we're not totally alone.”

They reached a small clearing where Data was moderately surprised to find three humans-a tall blond man, a female child, and a dark-haired woman who was bound and gagged and propped against a tree. Ro made quick introductions, and they exchanged stories of their separate ambushes and escapes.

Data considered the dark-haired woman. ”So you are the G.o.ddess,” he remarked. ”I observed you engaging in s.e.x with Balak. You are the cause of much of the enmity on Selva.”

”No kidding,” grumbled Gregg Calvert. ”We know she's a spy, but is there any way to find out if she's a Romulan who's had plastic surgery?”

Data c.o.c.ked his head and answered, ”Yes. Plastic surgery is seldom performed on the hands, and Romulans have a tiny bone spur at the base of their palms that is missing in humans. May I examine her?”

Drayton struggled when he bent down to inspect her hands, but it took him only a moment to locate the telltale bone spur. ”She is a Romulan,” he declared. ”Do you have her displacer?”

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