Imzadi_ Triangle Part 8

A split instant before the small ship collided with the defense grid towers, anyone with exceptionally sharp eyes would have noticed what appeared to be a small figure bailing out of the c.o.c.kpit. The canopy had been jettisoned and the pilot-and, it appeared, sole crewman-was ejected into the air, barely clearing the area before the Peregrine smashed into the defense grid. The explosion was deafening, and a ball of fire immediately enveloped the lower half of the tower and licked its way eagerly up the rest of the structure. It set off a series of smaller explosions which rapidly built in intensity, the ground shaking all the more violently. Within seconds the entire defense grid erupted, sending a column of thick black smoke spiraling skyward.

By this time the compound was in complete disarray, people running in all directions. Mudak was never quite sure how he found himself flat on the ground. All he knew was that a tremendous blast of heat had picked him up and thrown him off his feet, sending him sprawling on his back many yards away. His world seemed to be filled with nothing but running feet. He had no idea which way to look.

To his amazement he was still holding on to his weapon. It was as if his fingers had developed a life of their own, a life that cried out in anger for vengeance over this indignity inflicted upon Lazon II. He spit out a large chunk of dirt, since apparently the force of the impact had driven his face directly into the ground. He felt a distant throbbing in his head, and touched the side of his face in order to realize that there was a large patch of wetness on his skin. With an almost amused att.i.tude, he looked at the discoloration on his fingers and saw the blood on it, wondered whose it was, and then realized it was his own. He did not, however, choose to let it bother him, for he had larger concerns at that moment.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. It stood out for him because, all around him, everyone else was running there and about as if they were madpeople. But this individual was moving with caution and a canny awareness of her surroundings. She was emerging from just behind the wreckage, moving in a sort of half-crouch that made her a fairly small target but did nothing to slow her down. She had short blond hair, and elegantly tapering eyebrows and ears. She was dressed mostly in black, with a tunic of silver that picked up the flickering of flame from the burning tower and almost made her look like a being of pure elemental fire. There was blackness smeared on her face, and for a moment he thought it was camouflage makeup before he realized that, no, it was soot from the fire and possibly from the crash.

It took him a moment to fully grasp who it was that he was seeing. It was the pilot of the Romulan Peregrine which had demolished Lazon IPs defense grid. Suddenly Mudak could think of nothing that was more important to him than tracking down that pilot and killing her where she stood. She had not spotted him, and that was all the incentive he needed to go after her.

From her att.i.tude, it seemed to Mudak as if she were looking for someone. It became a top priority for Mudak, therefore, to make d.a.m.ned sure that she didn't find whoever that someone was. Smoke was hanging thick in the air and she seemed to disappear into it. Mudak staggered to his feet, waited for the world to stop tilting around him, and then moved off in pursuit.

Some distance away, Saket slowed in his running as he caught sight of the amazing precision flying of the Peregrine. It took him no time at all to realize who was at the helm of the ship, and then he smiled and shook his head in amazement. Clearly she had not lost her knack for pinpoint maneuvering.

"I knew you'd come," he said, and then he turned to Riker and said again, "I knew she'd come."

But Riker was nowhere to be seen, and Saket realized that Riker had become separated from him in the confusion.

Suddenly there was a ma.s.sive explosion. Saket's head whipped around just in time to see the Peregrine enveloped in a fireball of such intensity that he could feel the heat even where he was standing. His momentarily elevated spirits sank as he realized he might have just seen the death of one of his best and most beloved pupils. He shook his head in grim denial. "No," he said firmly, "no, she can't be dead. I don't believe it."

He even started to take a step toward the blast. Smoke was starting to waft in their direction, and then Redonyem appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Saket by the upper elbow. "Wrong way, old man," said Redonyem. His color didn't look particularly good; his skin tone was distinctly pink, and that wasn't the best shade for a Tellarite. Nonetheless he said grimly, "We're heading this way."

"But-" began Saket.

"Look," Redonyem growled sharply. He had one of his blood-covered, meaty hands firmly over the large burn mark on his torso. "We don't have time to play. You interceded once for me with the guards, and I pay my debts. Come now or stay behind, either way, it's your decision, but make it now."

Saket hesitated only a moment, and then he followed the Tellarite toward possible freedom, unknowing of what had happened to either Riker or the female who had flown so boldly.

Mudak ran as fast as he could, climbing over rubble and vaulting over cracks in the very ground beneath him. He was certain that the Romulan woman was unaware that she was being pursued by him, and he didn't want to get off a shot and miss, because that would warn her that she was being followed and he would lose the element of surprise. Considering everything that was going on around them, it might have been the only trump card he had.

He was all too aware of the complete vulnerability of Lazon II. The forcefield was demolished. Whatever other ships were up there, ready to inflict damage on the helpless world, would be able to take their stab at the beleaguered prison planet. They were very likely on their way even then, larger Romulan ships descending from on high like scavenging birds of prey.

"I thought they were our d.a.m.ned allies," he growled. After all, hadn't that been why Lazon II was at a low ebb in terms of ready troops? Because many Carda.s.sian troops and their vessels had been enlisted as part of a Carda.s.sian/Romulan mutual endeavor to obliterate the Founders? So what were Romulans doing now, attacking Lazon II? Had it all been part of some sort of ma.s.sive scam on the part of the Romulans? At that point in time, there was nothing that Mudak would put past them.

She had stopped. It seemed as if she was trying to get her bearings. It was the perfect opportunity, and Mudak brought his weapon up and aimed it squarely at her. For a moment he couldn't help but admire her from afar. She had a look about her that seemed almost animalistic, like a lithe stalking creature that was on the scent of prey. It was a cliched sentiment, but he couldn't help but feel regret that he had not encountered her under more pleasant circ.u.mstances, because he was certain that she would be one wild ride.

None of this, however, deterred him from preparing to blow her brains out.

He had a clear shot and could not miss. She was unaware that she was a target and, with any luck, she would be dead before she ever realized it.

He squeezed the trigger on his blaster and the weapon belched out its destructive force.

It ripped through thin air.

For at the exact moment he had fired, the Romulan woman had suddenly been beamed out. It had been pure coincidence; she'd had no idea that she was targeted. She had simply called for one of the unseen Romulan vessels overhead-which could now beam people to and from the surface-to get her out of there. For just a moment she realized, belatedly, the peril she had been in as she reacted to the blaster beam bisecting her. But the transporter beams had already taken hold of her, reducing her to little more than rapidly disappearing molecules.

Mudak spat out a curse.

It did not take a genius to figure out the purpose of this entire invasion. They were trying to stage some sort of breakout, most likely of Saket. If that was the case, and they hadn't already managed to locate him, then Mudak was running out of time. Even if Lazon II was in flames around him, he would be d.a.m.ned if he allowed them to succeed in the goal of their mission.

Mudak knew every inch of the facility, and even in these less-than-ideal circ.u.mstances, he knew the way to the landing port. He dashed there as quickly as he reasonably could, circ.u.mventing pockets of fighting as he focused on the larger concern. He drew within range of the field and looked for some signs of life in the guard bunker. Not spotting any, he immediately determined that one of two things had happened: Either they had abandoned their post (not impossible, but not likely) or they had been overcome by a group of prisoners, particularly Saket (not impossible and far more likely).

Mudak slowed ever so slightly in order to give himself a fraction more reaction time. Even at that reduced speed he still covered distance with remarkable speed. His hair was hanging raggedly around his face, and thick beads of sweat were collecting in the bone ridges of his face. His breath was ragged in his chest because of the heat caused by the explosions, but not only did none of that stop him... it was in fact all forgotten when he spotted three forms in the haze making their way toward one of the vessels in the landing port.

He did not hesitate, nor did he give them the slightest chance for surrender. Instead he opened fire. He had it set on full power, because he was simply not in the mood to fool around.

The first blast caught the Tellarite, Redonyem, squarely in the upper back. It was a killing blast, but Redonyem did not die immediately. It was the second major hit he'd taken in the course of the day, and still he refused to die. Mudak, however, had promptly dismissed Redonyem from his immediate concerns because he was already firing on Saket. Saket was in a half-turn, spinning about to see what it was that now threatened them, and if Mudak's second blast had hit him squarely, Saket would have been dead before he hit the ground.

It was Redonyem who inadvertently saved him. Redonyem was staggering about, clutching at his chest, touching awful things that he didn't want to think about and trying to shove them back into his chest cavity. When Mudak fired on Saket, Redonyem unknowingly stepped between the two. The blast ripped a gaping hole through Redonyem, blood and innards exploding from within him, and the blast continued through the Tellarite and struck Saket squarely in the side. However, Redonyem had absorbed the brunt of the blast, albeit unintentionally, and he collapsed upon Saket, his body weight now a dead ma.s.s that drove Saket to the ground.

Z'yk, the Orion, turned and saw Mudak advancing. For a moment he considered trying to get off a shot with the weapon he had in his hand, but Mudak already had him targeted and was coming straight toward him, weapon unwavering. And Z'yk knew that by the time he had a bead on Mudak, Mudak would already have killed him. So Z'yk did the only thing he could: He dropped his weapon, put his hands over his head, and called out "I surrender!" loudly enough to be heard over the cries of panic that drifted in from not too far away.

Mudak nodded in acceptance of the offer and then blew Z'yk's head off. Z'yk's headless body stood there a moment, arms still raised, and then the body collapsed.

He surveyed the scene of the carnage for a moment, nodding in approval, and then he saw Saket stirring beneath the fallen body of Redonyem. It was only at that moment that Mudak realized that Saket was still alive. He kept the weapon aimed squarely at the Romulan as he called out, "Stand up."

"C-can't," Saket said. His voice was barely audible.

Mudak craned his neck slightly and then nodded approvingly. "Ah. I did kill you. I see it's just going to take a little longer. I wonder ... should I end it now? Or should I let your suffering continue? Which would be more appropriate? Which would you prefer, Saket? Die slowly, or die quickly? Which do you think I should provide you?"

Even though Saket was in immense pain, he was not about to give Mudak the satisfaction of seeing that reflected on his face. Instead he kept his expression carefully neutral as he said, "How nice that you are finally, if belatedly, asking prisoners what sort of treatment they'd like to receive." It was everything that he could do to keep the agony out of his voice.

"When I think," growled Mudak, "of all the times I held my tongue because of your 'connections,' of all the special treatment you received..." He smiled thinly. "Perhaps it's appropriate that, in the final a.n.a.lysis, all you are is just another prisoner shot while trying to escape." He brought his weapon up and aimed it squarely at Saket's face. "Good-bye, Saket."

He saw the sudden movement to his right at the last moment. Instantly Mudak swung his weapon around, firing as he went, cutting a swath through the air.

Tom Riker, antic.i.p.ating it, was already below it. He hit the ground in a shoulder roll and came up with his boots firmly planted in Mudak's stomach. Mudak staggered backward but managed to keep his footing. Riker, not even so much as slowing down, as if powered by nothing but pure anger, came to his feet and slammed into Mudak's midsection like a runaway shuttlecraft. He drove forward with such force that he lifted Mudak completely off his feet and the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Riker managed to pull himself clear and he swung a fist around, catching Mudak squarely on the point of his jaw. It was not the best of ways to strike a Carda.s.sian; Riker felt one of his knuckles break on the hard bone.

Nonetheless, Mudak was momentarily stunned, and it was all the time that Riker needed to pry the weapon from Mudak's hand. He aimed it squarely into the Carda.s.sian jailer's face, and when Mudak's eyes managed to refocus, he looked up at the weapon and then gave a look that bored straight into the back of Riker's head.

"You had best kill me," Mudak warned him. "Because if you do not, I swear I will find you."

Riker's gaze flickered for a moment, as if he was strongly considering it. Then he abruptly brought the b.u.t.t of the weapon around and knocked Mudak cold. The Carda.s.sian's head slumped to one side and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Riker didn't even afford him a second glance, but instead quickly crossed over to Saket and hauled him to his feet. It was obvious that the others were done for, and when he took a close look at Saket's wound, he had a fairly strong suspicion that Saket didn't have much of a prayer either.

Nor did Saket have any illusions as to his own longevity. "Good ... timing there, Riker..." he said, and his voice sounded raspy.

"I was pinned down by some falling rubble," Riker said. "Sorry I didn't get here sooner...."

"Soon enough ... to help me die ... where I wish ... die free ..."

"You're not going to die," Riker told him flatly, and he started hauling him toward the nearby shuttle.

"Die... free," Saket said as if Riker hadn't spoken. "That's the... important thing... didn't want to die here ... no place to die ..."

Riker was about to tell him once more that he wasn't going to die, but he knew that Saket was too intelligent to be lied to. Besides, Riker needed to save his breath to haul the two of them to the shuttle. The ground rumbled once more, and Riker caught flashes of phaser fire from overhead. Something big was in orbit around them. Indicating "up" with a quick tilt of his head, Riker said, "Friends of yours?"

But Saket wasn't listening. It was as if he was slipping off into his own world. He just kept saying, "Free... free ..." over and over again. Riker saw the blood spreading faster across Saket's chest. He thought about stopping and applying some sort of first aid, but he quickly realized that it would be like trying to bail out a sinking ocean liner using a straw. No matter what he did, it wasn't going to even begin to be enough.

They made it to the shuttle and Riker practically stumbled in with Saket. It was not an especially large vehicle, but they didn't need all that much to get off the unpleasant rock called Lazon II. Riker quickly scanned the instrumentation; it was all Carda.s.sian, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. His fingers I M 2 A D I II.

flew over the controls and the shuttle rambled to life around them. Ideally the propping for a shuttlecraft was a two-man operation, but Saket didn't appear to be in shape to help with anything at that moment. Instead he was murmuring something, and Riker couldn't quite make out what he was saying. He dropped into the pilot's seat next to Saket as he made the final preparations for liftoff.

"I knew... her mother," he was saying softly, almost as if in a dream. "She was remarkable. No one quite like her. She had pride that they could never break in her... G.o.ds know they tried. We actually became... friends ... I never would have expected that... on her deathbed ... promised I'd watch for her daughter..."

The shuttle jostled under them as Riker fired up the engines. It was far from his smoothest liftoff, but then again the circ.u.mstances were hardly ideal. The shuttle lurched to the right and then Riker managed to even it off. The tossing about seemed to get Saket's attention. He began talking directly to Riker, but in that same distracted manner. "You know what she said to me, Riker... ?"

"What?" Riker wasn't paying all that much attention. Instead he was focused on the guards who, even at that moment, were charging into the landing field. They were pointing in his general direction and Riker knew that they'd run out of time. He opened up the thrusters to full faster than he should have, which ran the risk of shutting down the entire engine. He did not see himself as having much choice in the matter, though. The shuttle angled upward, blasts from ground fire below exploding around it.

"She said ... she had no regrets. That once upon a time ... she had died ... but this time, she had gotten a second chance. That she was grateful for it all. That at least her death ... meant something ... instead of dying uselessly as she had before. I never quite understood what she was talking about."

Riker didn't know what Saket was going on about, nor did he care. The shuttle jumped upward, gaining speed with every p^ I.

moment. They hurtled upward, faster and faster, the ground fire ceasing as they drew out of range of the hand weapons.

"Although she did say ... she missed the Enterprise..."

This comment was enough to immediately catch Riker's attention. He looked around at Saket and said, "The Enterprise? The Starship Enterprise?"

But Saket had stopped speaking. The only indication that he was still alive was the faint glitter in his eyes. He seemed amused, as if something tremendously funny had occurred to him in what was likely to be his last moments.

With a final thrust of its engines, the shuttle broke free of the planet's gravity. As unwelcoming, as cruel as the cold vacuum of s.p.a.ce could be, for one moment Riker couldn't help but feel as if he had returned home.

The rear scanners gave him a picture of the world on which he'd been imprisoned. From s.p.a.ce, it looked so una.s.suming, so similar to hundreds of other worlds. There was nothing to distinguish it for Riker except the knowledge of what had gone on there and the resolution that he would never allow himself to return to a h.e.l.lhole like that again.

"Riker..." Saket said quietly, as if he were speaking from very far away. "... you have been ... a good friend. I have ... appreciated your company ..."

"Stop talking in the d.a.m.ned past tense" was Riker's sharp reply. "Stop acting as if you're going anywhere. Not on my watch, you're..."

Suddenly the ship was jolted. "Are we... hit... ?" Saket asked. Although he asked the question, he only seemed mildly interested in the response.

"That would have been more localized. This shook the entire vessel. I think that we've just been grabbed by a tractor beam."

His ability to scan the area was greatly hampered by the different look of the Carda.s.sian technology. He'd been able to discern such systems as the thrusters and impulse drive, but more than that was a matter of trial and error. He was about to try and figure out how to initiate a full sensor sweep when the I M 2 A D I II.

question was answered for him as s.p.a.ce began to shimmer in front of him. It was a phenomenon he knew all too well.

"A Romulan warbird decloaking directly ahead," Riker told him.

"Oh no ... Romulans ..." Saket replied with dry sarcasm. "Whatever will we do ..."

"It's easy for you to be sarcastic. You're not the human in the shuttle, Saket..."

There was no response.

"Saket," he said again and twisted around in his seat. For a moment he was absolutely positive that Saket was dead, and then he saw the Romulan's chest rise ever so slightly. When it fell without the accompaniment of a death rattle, Riker said urgently, "Just hold on ... hold on ..."

"Free ..." whispered Saket.

And then they dematerialized.

The Romulan transporter room faded into existence around Riker and he looked around with an almost detached curiosity. The lighting was far more harsh than in a Federation starship transporter room. The walls were gunmetal gray, and the floor was made of an unyielding grating that gave off a loud clacking as the booted feet of the Romulans entered the room in short order. There were about half a dozen of them, all with weapons drawn, as if they expected Riker to try and make some sort of break for it.

But Riker was too busy to think about any of that, because at that moment Saket-who was so weakened that he was incapable of standing up-sagged toward Riker. Instinctively Tom Riker caught him, supporting his full weight. Saket looked up at him with what seemed, to Riker, to be apology in his eyes.

Then another Romulan entered, a blond female with a gaze of piercing intensity. She was dressed in a flight suit, which would have indicated that she was of lower rank, a mere pilot. But the other Romulans parted to make way for her.

She took one look at Riker and made no effort to keep the astonishment from her face. "Riker?" she said.

He didn't nod or reply, but simply stared at her. He had absolutely no idea who she was, but clearly she knew him.

She looked from Riker to Saket and then back to Riker. "Help Saket. Get him to medical," she snapped out. Immediately several of the Romulans stepped forward and took the injured Romulan in their care. One of them, clearly a higher-ranking one, turned to face the woman and, indicating Riker, said, "What about this one?"

She smiled in a manner that could only be described as wolfen.

"Kill him," she said.

CHAPTER.

Iflrorf was somewhat amazed at just how much muscle power his mother packed.

When Helena Rozhenko opened the door of her modest farmhouse in Minsk, she let out a girlish squeal of delight that did not remotely seem to match her exterior as she saw Worf standing in the doorway. She threw her arms around him before he was able to get a word out, and as courageous as the Klingon was, he had to admit he felt safer in the elderly woman's embrace. "Sergey!" she cried out, summoning her husband. "Worf, why didn't you tell us you were coming ... ?"

"I preferred to maintain the element of surprise."

She laughed. "Trust you, Worf, to turn even a simple visit into a military strategy. Sergey! Where is that man? Oh, and you brought company!" She glanced at Deanna and extended a hand. "h.e.l.lo. Helena Rozhenko. I'm Worf s mother... adopted," she added with a laugh, "in case you didn't remember we met once before, but so fleetingly ..."

"Even if we hadn't met, I'd know you. He's spoken of you many a time." Deanna shook Helena's firm hand. "In case you don't recall... Deanna Troi. Ship's counselor... well... when I have a ship."

"A Betazoid, correct? I could tell. Every Betazoid I've ever met has that same air of serenity about them as you do. And who's this?" Helena turned and looked at the young Klingon standing just behind Deanna and Worf. "Is this a friend of Alex ... and ... er's ... ?" Her voice trailed as she spoke the rest of the name, her eyes widening in amazement. "Alexander?" she whispered.

"h.e.l.lo, Grandmother."

"My G.o.d," she murmured. "Let me look at you." As opposed to the embrace she had given Worf, she held Alexander by either shoulder and stared at him in open astonishment. "You look a foot, a foot and a half taller. I'd forgotten. Good lord, I'd forgotten how it is with young Klingons. Your father did the same thing. We almost went bankrupt keeping him in shoes and clothing."

"It was not that bad," Worf rumbled humorlessly.

"Worf!" came a roar from a big bear of a man, with thick gray beard and boisterous att.i.tude. Sergey Rozhenko strode toward them and much of the same round of introductions reoccurred. Helena, in the meantime, had already hustled into the kitchen and prepared tea and a.s.sorted small sandwiches for everyone. She did it so quickly that Worf would have sworn that she had everything prepared just on the off chance that guests should happen to stop by.

They went into the comfortable living room, furnished in rich brown textures and solid old-style furniture. Sergey walked with one great arm around Worf s shoulder and the other around Deanna's.

"So how long are you planning to be with us? You're staying. Tell us you're going to be staying." He raised his voice as if Worf had been contradicting him rather than simply walking and listening. "After all, whatever else you may have to do, what's more important than seeing your parents?" demanded Sergey with mock outrage, although he tossed a wink in Deanna's direction to underscore the tongue-in-cheek nature of his comment.