Part 25 (1/2)

And their thoughts touched, and Jaan recoiled with a shriek, so overwhelmingly fierce was the Kreel.

”No, I'll tell you,” said Aneel, ignoring Jaan's mental pain. ”I am the one chance you have-the one chance of not being tried and convicted by the Federation and spending what little time you have remaining left rotting in prison. The one chance of living more than the paltry few months your disease has given you. You need me, and if you don't realize that, I might as well put you out of your misery right now!”

There it was. One final test of Jaan's character. One chance to make up for what he had done by fearlessly facing down his captors.

”All right!” howled Jaan. ”Just-just don't shoot!”

”Why shouldn't I shoot?” asked Tuttle.

”Because,” Geordi said patiently, ”I don't want you to damage this metal. Besides, there's no point. If it's anything as tough as the gun we have back up in the Enterprise, there's no way that your phaser's going to be able to cut through.”

”So what do we do?”

”Well, I could always try the combination lock.”

”The what?”

”This thing,” said Geordi, indicating the keypad. ”Probably touching it in a certain order will open the door.”

”How do you know what the order is?”

”I don't,” said Geordi cheerfully. ”It'll take some experimentation, but I've got time.” He turned, his hand hovering over the keypad. ”After all, what's the worst that could happen?”

Chapter Eighteen.

FIVE MINUTES BEFORE Geordi's hand hovered over death, Wesley Crusher floated in and out of consciousness. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn't. He had to keep going, had to accomplish what he set out to do.

And he was so close. So close. It was there, just beyond him, just out of reach. Formulas he didn't quite understand, theories that danced just past his ability to a.s.similate. If he could just gather in the threads, he would be fine.

Just rest. But there was no time.

Something roused him. He didn't know what it was. Sounded like rain? Thunder? A storm, inside the s.h.i.+p? Didn't seem likely. He half giggled to himself in his delirium. They'd been predicting sunny weather.

Then he remembered. He'd heard something. Captain's voice. Something about people staying in? Was it really raining? Stay in so you won't get wet?

Wesley picked up some notes that he had written to himself. When he'd scribbled them, at the time, they had made perfect sense. Now, though, someone had replaced them with garbage. He stared at the notes in confusion. Gibberish. Gibberish in his handwriting.

Who had done this? Who was trying to sabotage his work? And why was it so d.a.m.ned hard to think clearly?

He scratched his face and was astounded to find beard stubble. But that was ridiculous. He was only sixteen, and his facial hair came in very slowly. It took him the better part of a week to acquire five-o'clock shadow. He couldn't have gone without shaving that long. He'd only been working on the cure, what, two days? Three at the outside? How long?

”How long?” Wesley heard his own voice croak.

There was more running, more shouting.

An emergency. There was an emergency on the s.h.i.+p.

He stood, swaying in his cabin. What was he doing in there, hiding, if there was an emergency? He was needed, dammit. He was an acting ensign. And it was high time he started acting like one.

He staggered into the bathroom, leaned over the sink, and allowed the jet spray of water to hit him in the face. He turned away, water dripping from him, his hair and the front of his s.h.i.+rt now soaking wet.

”Got to help them,” he said. ”Got to get to the bridge. They need me.”

He lurched out into his room and fell, slamming into a computer console. He yelled and made a grab for it as it fell to the floor with a crash, and he heard something inside it shatter. Oh, man, Pulaski was going to kill him. But that didn't matter.

He turned away. None of it mattered-just saving the s.h.i.+p. That was his job. That's why they paid him ”the big money.” He laughed merrily at an expression that had lasted even though it no longer had any meaning.

He stepped out of the door of his cabin, still chuckling to himself, and got run over.

The portable force-s.h.i.+eld generator had been created by none other than Wesley Crusher. At one time, it had been rather effectively used to keep the embattled Enterprise crew out of the engineering section during the occasion that the whole crew had run amok. Since then, it had been slightly modified and was now a favored tool of the security team in situations just like this one.

The security team of Meyers and Boyajian, a team with ancestors going all the way back to the Enterprise Model NCC 1701-A, had been chosen to man the access ladder that was the only available means of getting up to the bridge. The turbolifts had been shut down, as Picard had ordered. The access ladder was to be used only in emergencies, but was always open. No one had ever considered the possibility that anyone would want to cut off the bridge.

So Meyers and Boyajian had positioned themselves at the bottom of the ladder, crouched on the floor, the s.h.i.+eld created by the generator providing them with more than adequate cover. From where they were, they had a clear field of vision in either direction down the hallway. Any shots at them would bounce harmlessly off the force s.h.i.+eld. They, by the same token, could return fire with impunity; their field of vision was completely un.o.bstructed behind the translucent s.h.i.+eld.

At first, the halls had been filled with running, frantic people. Now, however, the action had died down and it seemed long minutes since they had last seen anyone.

And then a figure came around a corner.

Boyajian saw it first, swinging his phaser up and shouting, ”Halt! Stay back!”

”Hold it,” said Meyers. ”It's the elf.”

Sure enough, hands draped behind his back as if he were taking a leisurely Sunday stroll, Jaan walked down the corridor, whistling lightly.

”Didn't you hear the captain?!” shouted out Meyers. ”Stay in your quarters!”

”We're at red alert, ” seconded Boyajian.

Jaan stopped a few feet away and stared directly into their eyes. ”Haven't you heard?”

”Heard what?” said Meyers slowly.

”Oh for the love of-I can't believe they didn't tell you! It's over! They rounded up everybody.”

”They did?” said Boyajian. ”I ... ” (and why was it getting hard to concentrate) ”I was hoping they would, but-”

”Well, of course,” said Jaan, coming closer, smiling in his friendliest manner. ”I'm surprised you hadn't been informed. Everything's back to normal.”

Meyers sat back on his heels. ”Wheeww”- he let out a whooosh of air-”That's certainly a relief.”

”Glad we got that settled,” said Jaan.

”You bet! Thanks. We'd have looked like idiots crouched behind here.”

Meyers stood, stretching his legs as Boyajian reached down and snapped off the force-s.h.i.+eld generator.