Part 19 (1/2)

As Picard had expected, there was absolutely no argument from Volker. He, Kirsch, and the final few guards turned on their heels and ran for their lives as if the demons from h.e.l.l were on their tails. Picard couldn't blame them.

”Excellent work, Mr. Worf,” he said when the locals were gone.

”I feel very foolish,” Worf growled.

”Nonsense. You look very ...” Picard coughed, and hit his communicator. ”Mr. O'Brien, beam Mr. Worf and the device into the Preservers' control room. Then beam the three of us back aboard the s.h.i.+p.”

There was a slight pause. ”That's kind of tricky, sir,” the transporter chief responded. ”I may have to cut this rather close.”

”Do your best,” Picard instructed.

There was the familiar tingle in the air as Worf and the bomb s.h.i.+mmered into nothingness. Picard stood where he was, waiting. It seemed like an eternity before the beam focused in again, and he felt the slight wrenching in his stomach. Then he and Data were on the pad in Transporter Room 3. O'Brien gave them a relieved smile and reset the controls.

As Picard stepped down, Worf materialized on the platform. Then the deck beneath their feet shuddered, flinging them off-balance across the room.

”That's the problem I was referring to,” O'Brien explained. ”The gravity mines are closing in and the s.h.i.+p's feeling the strain.

”Well done, Chief,” Picard said. ”Gentlemen?” He set off down the corridor to the closest turbolift, with Data and Worf close on his heels. He didn't look too closely at all of the damage on the way. Bulkheads had ruptured, panels collapsed. There were pools of fluids gathering. In the lift he barked: ”Bridge!” The doors whined loudly as they closed.

The ride was b.u.mpy and noisy, but they made it. The second the doors opened, Picard led the dash for their posts. Riker, Deanna, and Ro-still in their costumes-were already at their posts. The counselor looked shaken, and everyone else on the bridge looked very grim.

As Picard took the command chair, he saw the computer simulations on the main screen. They had cut their arrival far too fine. The mines had arrived.

As the Enterprise shook again, Worf called out: ”Ten seconds to device detonation! s.h.i.+elds at twenty-four percent power. Forward s.h.i.+eld number four still off-line.”

Picard gripped the chair arms. Without that screen the s.h.i.+elds were bound to fail.

It hadn't been easy for Barclay to clamber into the access port for the failed s.h.i.+eld projector. He'd almost blacked out from the pain in his ankle. Every ounce of willpower he possessed he focused into remaining conscious. Then he'd slowly begun replacing the burnt-out circuits.

The port shuddered about him. He barely heard the red-alert klaxon screaming in the corridor outside. Slamming home the final component, he powered up the unit. ”Come on, baby, work,” he crooned as he tapped the final controls.

Engineering was a disaster area. Panels had been opened for repairs and left hanging. Jury-rigged units were plugged in all over. Geordi jumped one such unit, hoping that the hissing sound it was giving off wasn't a sign of impending doom. He gained the main engineering panel and took in the status.

The field stabilizers were dying. As the latest mines approached, another of the control boards shorted. The emergency backup came on line, then started signaling its impending failure. The main lighting was pulsing in time with the rapid bursts from the core.

”She's gonna blow!” one of the juniors yelled.

Geordi hit his communicator. ”Field containment failure imminent,” he reported as evenly as he could. His fingers whirled across the panel as he tried desperately to bring one more backup-any backup-into play before the fields shattered.

The bridge buckled and the lights dimmed. The bloodred emergency lighting came on, then faltered.

”Forward s.h.i.+eld four back on line,” Worf reported. ”s.h.i.+eld strength up to forty-one percent. Field containment failure now eight seconds.” Then, with considerable satisfaction: ”Device detonation-now!”

There was one final shaking of the gravity compensators, then a sudden silence.

Picard let his breath out again. The emergency lighting died, and the main lights returned. The viewscreen-still engulfed in the snowstorm-showed no computer-enhanced targets.

”The gravity mines have ceased transmitting,” Data reported from Ops. ”Gravitational stresses now normal.”

”Geordi here,” came a very relieved report. ”Field containment is reverting to normal. We'll be back up and running again in a few moments.”

”When can I have impulse power?” Picard demanded.

”Impulse power? Captain, I don't think that this is a good time to plan a trip.”

”We don't have any option, Geordi.” Picard was still grim, despite the elation all about him. ”With the Preservers' power now gone, that platform holding open the tunnel through the nebula will shut down.”

”Uh-oh ...” Geordi had obviously forgotten about that problem. ”I'll have half-impulse in about thirty seconds, Captain.”

”Good enough.” Picard glanced at Data. ”Any readings on the tunnel?”

”Not precisely,” the android answered. ”The generator platform does appear to have closed down.”

”Ensign,” Picard ordered Ro, ”lay in a course for that tunnel. Maximum speed. I don't want to be trapped in here, but I've less desire to be caught inside that tunnel as it collapses.”

”Laid in,” Ro reported.

”Engage as soon as impulse power comes on line.” Picard gave Riker a glance. ”We're cutting this terribly fine, Number One.”

”Don't we always?” asked Riker.

Managing a slight smile at this, Picard nodded. ”It does seem to be a bad habit, doesn't it?”

”Impulse power up,” Ro reported. There was a whine of power as she engaged the drive. The view of the planet on the screen s.h.i.+fted as the Enterprise came about.

”Two minutes to the tunnel at this velocity, Captain,” Data reported.

”Will we be in time?” asked Picard, his voice tense.

”It is impossible to be certain,” replied Data. ”We have never encountered a science akin to this before. The tunnel may have already closed. The generator may have residual effects, and it may still be open. Sensors provide no information at all.”

Riker s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. ”We may have dropped down a rabbit hole and pulled it shut above us,” he muttered.

”We're not trapped yet,” Picard said with more confidence than he felt.

”Let's hope not,” agreed Riker.

They watched the screen tensely. The main cloud grew larger and larger. The beautiful swirls of color grew and danced across the interference on the screen. Picard desperately hoped that they would not have to watch it for the rest of their lives.

”I am picking up sensor readings on the tunnel,” Data finally reported. ”It is still there, but it is showing definite signs of weakening.”

”Take us in, Ensign,” Picard ordered.

”Aye, sir.”

Data half-turned. ”Captain, if the tunnel should collapse while we are inside it-”