Star Trek - Masks Part 20

"Yes," said Medicine Maker suspiciously. "What does the Wisdom Mask look like?"

"Like nothing I've ever seen," admitted the messenger. "It's a swirl of mosaic in a beautiful whirlpool pattern. Surrounding the mosaic tiles is a ring of red crystals-"

"That's it," crowed Cold Angel, leaping into the air and doing a joyful little dance. "The fates are with us, my lady. We can have the mask tonight."

"Just a minute," said Medicine Maker, holding up his hands to quiet the murmurs. "He could have heard a description of the mask from any traveler in any village." The healer turned to Fenton Lewis, his eyes narrowing behind the twining serpents on his mask. "What kind of man is Almighty Slayer?"

"How do you mean?" Lewis shrugged. "He is not a young man anymore. He plays at being dumb, but he's a very smart man."

Cold Angel roared, "What difference does it make if it's Slayer or not? All we need to crown our queen is the Wisdom Mask. I say we take it."

This declaration was met with several shouts of approval. Captain Picard looked at Counselor Troi; he didn't need to see the Betazoid's face to know how alarmed she was at the growing shouts for violence.

Piercing Blade sheathed her sword. "How large is this force behind us?"

"About the same size as yours," replied Fenton Lewis. "But I believe your force will be superior in battle. The others lack training and discipline."

Medicine Maker still didn't sound convinced. "One more question, Messenger. What other masks did you see in this camp?"

"Mostly masks I didn't know, but there was one called the Forest Mask."

That turned Piercing Blade completely around, and she stood staring at the owlish Messenger's Mask. "Now I know you speak the truth," she breathed, her eyes glazing over as if she was remembering something from long ago. "It can be none other than Almighty Slayer, for his first lieutenant always wears the Forest Mask." She pointed to Lewis and declared, "When I am queen, you will be rewarded for this."

Piercing Blade whirled on her heel, waving her followers to action. "Come. Saddle the ponies. We march!"

Captain Picard dashed in front of her, grabbing the hand that had stroked his chest just moments before. "Are you going to attack them?" he demanded.

"No." She shook her head vehemently, pulling her hand away. "We are not raiders. I'm surprised that you would think like that, Picard. I will challenge Almighty Slayer's right to wear the Wisdom Mask. He will either hand it over or defeat me in battle."

"Why can't you wait until daylight?"

"Tomorrow he may be stronger," said Piercing Blade, leveling her intense green eyes at Picard. "Or he may go into hiding again. We have to seize the moment. Only one thing worries me, and that is you."

"Me?" the captain gulped.

"Yes,you! You are the only one to have defeated me in a duel, so now I know it can happen. That knowledge weakens me, I think, but I will have to overcome it. When you defeated me, there was not as much at stake-I must remember that. I don't believe Almighty Slayer can withstand my challenge. He will give me the Wisdom Mask."

"And if he doesn't?" the captain persisted.

"Then I'll take it."

"By force, with your warriors fighting his warriors?"

"Those who are brave enough to come with me," she snarled, pushing past him. Picard could do nothing but watch the remarkable woman stride toward her pony, which Cold Angel was saddling as they spoke.

Deanna Troi reached his side a moment later, followed by Lieutenant Worf. "Can we stop them?" asked Deanna.

"No, we cannot," declared the captain.

"Can we help them?" pleaded Worf.

"No, we can only stay neutral."

"And watch them die?" Worf murmured.

"Don't you thinkI want to help them? I do, but we don't know any of these other factions, and we can't influence the outcome. We have to sit back and let it occur naturally."

"In a way," said Deanna, "this society, with their use of masks, is a natural experiment in human interaction. We have to avoid disturbing it."

"Can we follow them?" asked Worf. "To see what happens?"

"Absolutely," answered the captain. "I want to make sure there are no Ferengi involved."

Worf c.o.c.ked his mask slyly. "You know, Captain, now that Fenton Lewis has returned, we have the price of our fare back to theEnterprise."

"Yes, I know." Picard nodded. "But dealing with the Ferengi must be our last resort."

"Fenton Lewis isn't upholding the Prime Directive," Deanna pointed out.

"You're right," the captain agreed, craning his neck in a futile attempt to spot the Messenger's Mask. But Fenton Lewis had apparently returned to the forest road with the first of Piercing Blade's band. The pages had gone ahead on foot, noisily clearing away branches for the benefit of the ponies and lighting the way with their lamps. Jean-Luc felt certain that this group would not sneak up on anybody. They were going to arrive as a proper entourage to a n.o.blewoman. Fenton Lewis was probably making better time alone, skulking through the woods.

"Fenton Lewis will be arrested as soon as we get back to theEnterprise," vowed Captain Picard. "The charge will be violating the Prime Directive."

Moments later, riders and mounts pranced nervously into the darkness, following the vague glow of the pages' lamps. The Starfleet officers were left alone in camp, standing beside a dying fire, silently collecting their thoughts.

Lieutenant Worf took his hand phaser from his pocket and checked it thoroughly. He glanced around and, seeing no one, fired a brief blast into the sickly embers of the fire. At once, the fire blazed, and a puff of sparks shot into the air and danced away on the breeze.

"Set to stun," said the Klingon. "But all settings are functional."

Kate Pulaski tried to go back to sleep, but she ended up just watching the campfire sputter and collapse, shooting errant sparks into the darkness. She stood and tossed the last of the stripped branches on it. Not that she was cold-she was uncomfortably warm-but she had nothing better to do with herself. Keeping the fire burning was at leastsomething to occupy these last lonely hours before dawn.

The doctor remembered the old saying that it was always darkest before the dawn. This night certainly was.

"Are you troubled, Doctor?" asked a voice, startling her.

Kate whirled around to see Data sitting up in the darkest corner of the tree shelter. His yellowish eyes glowed disconcertingly in the darkness.

"You're the one who should be troubled," she remarked with bravado. "An attempt was made onyour life tonight, not mine."

"Not my life," he corrected her. "On Almighty Slayer's life."

"That Wisdom Mask is like a red flag," Pulaski muttered, careful to keep her voice down. "I wouldn't give you a plug nickel for Slayer's chances of staying alive."

"That is too bad," said Data. Then he c.o.c.ked his head quizzically. "Is a plug nickel very valuable?"

"No," she grumbled. "That means I don't think much of his chances."

"He would appear to need more followers," Data admitted. "We are limited in the help we can offer him."

Twigs snapped overhead, and both the doctor and the android looked up. Reba, the lanky werjun, uncurled from her branch and swung lazily to the ground. She arched her back like a cat, undulated her prehensile tail, and stretched her gangly limbs one by one.

Kate Pulaski would have petted the friendly werjun, if her coat hadn't been so filthy. Of course, she thought, looking down at her own grimy clothing, none of them were ready for the queen's ball.

"Do you really suppose Day Timer can converse with that creature?" she wondered aloud.

"I do not know," replied the android. "Shall we try an experiment?"

"What experiment?"

Data turned to the slothlike animal and, in a perfectly serious tone of voice, asked, "What is your favorite food?"

"Fish," answered Reba.

"You see," said Data matter-of-factly. Then he blinked and looked back at the werjun.

"He ... he talked," sputtered Pulaski.

"She,"Data corrected her.

Kate forced her excitement into a whisper. "That thing ... that werjun talked. Ask her something else." The doctor leaned forward excitedly.

"Very well." Data turned to the sloth. "What kind of animal are you?"

"Fish."

Data shrugged, and Dr. Pulaski slumped back onto her haunches, disappointed. "I thought we had something there," she sighed.

The werjun brushed away some pine needles and picked up a sc.r.a.p of fish from the ground. She plopped the treat into her mouth, gibbering contentedly. But before she could scrounge for more, something made her raise her furry face and rotate it like a tiny satellite disk.

"Now what is she doing?" Kate asked.

Data listened intently. "She is listening to something ... Noises. And voices."

"Where?" Kate gasped, no longer drowsy.

"Out there." Data pointed, rising into a crouch and running out from under the tree. The doctor scurried after him and stood by the android's side, staring down the gloomy road. Incredibly, like a mirage, a faint glow appeared deep within the black woods. The light bobbed along, illuminating row upon row of ghostly trees as it crept closer. The night wind carried a very faint lilt of voices.

"Shall we wake everyone?" breathed Kate.

Data c.o.c.ked his head, still listening. "That may be unnecessary, Doctor. I do not know why these people are traveling by night, but they are obviously not trying to approach furtively. They probably have no idea we are here. Let us go forward to meet them and allow the others to rest."

Kate Pulaski pulled her Herbalist's Mask over her face and fixed the strap. "Lead on," she said.

Lieutenant Commander Data and Dr. Pulaski picked their way carefully along the road, avoiding the fallen branches and bottomless shadows. Thanks to his superior vision, Data made better time than the doctor and paused occasionally to let her catch up. The voices were very clear now, and they could see several shapes that weren't human in the wavering halos of light about thirty meters ahead of them.

"Ponies," Data whispered.

Kate gripped his arm. "It isn't the raiders again, is it?"

"Unknown," said Data. "Perhaps you should turn back."

She shook her head. "No, Data, I'm with you. I think we should find out who they are and what they want before we let them see the Wisdom Mask."

Data straightened his own Teacher's Mask. "There is nothing in the Prime Directive against making inquiries."

"d.a.m.n right," said Pulaski. She studied Data's mask; like hers, it was little more than a heavy sheet of metal with a fresh coat of paint. But there was something about its quaint ivory color, elegant markings, and faint smile that made the Teacher's Mask particularly amiable. "You know, Data, you look almost human in that thing."

The teacher and the herbalist boldly strode into the circle of light. Katherine Pulaski didn't know what to expect, but she was ill prepared for the magnificent display of masks among the equestrians. A regal woman at the head of the pack was wearing an astounding mask, but Kate tore her eyes away from it to study something much more startling-a mask identical to her own, though much finer, with jeweled serpents instead of painted ones. She found it hard to stop staring at the mask even as Data was speaking.

"h.e.l.lo," he greeted the Lorcans pleasantly. "This is a dark night for a walk."

"We aren't on a walk," answered Cold Angel. He appeared to be scowling, because Picard had given him back his gruesome Trainer's Mask.

The woman in the astounding star mask leaned forward. "Are you from Almighty's Slayer's band? And don't lie to me."

Data glanced at Dr. Pulaski, but unfortunately the android had not been programmed to lie. "Yes, we are. May I ask how you knew that?"

"That's not important. Tell your master to prepare to receive me."

"Who shall we say is calling?" asked Data.

She stiffened in her saddle, and her voice took on an imperious tone. "Tell him it's his daughter."

Chapter Fourteen.

FROM THEIR HIDING PLACEabout thirty meters away, Picard, Worf, and Deanna watched the confrontation between Piercing Blade and the two Lorcans. One of the strangers was tall and well built and wore an unfamiliar white mask; the female wore a less elaborate version of the Herbalist's Mask. On first impression, the two looked like formidable and intelligent foes, and Picard's opinion of Almighty Slayer went up a notch. They weren't close enough to hear all the conversation, but they clearly made out Piercing Blade's loud announcement that she was Almighty Slayer's daughter.

Picard blinked at Deanna from beneath the graceful curves of the Amba.s.sador's Mask. "Well, what do you make of that?"

"We have to remember," said Deanna, "that masks are not inherited-they are fought for. Birthright doesn't grant any special consideration. Only the possessor of the mask has claim to the t.i.tle."

"It might explain why she wants the Wisdom Mask so badly," remarked Worf.

Picard heaved a sigh. "I think she would want it anyway."

The two Lorcan strangers now turned and headed back up the road. The sky was minutely brighter than it had been an hour before, but the mammoth trees and dense clouds of ash made the sun's job impossible. Jean-Luc was thankful for the tall trees, however, because they were catching most of the ash as it drifted to the ground.

He brought his attention back to the two unfamiliar Lorcans, as they vanished into the woods. "Counselor, did you get any impressions from them?"

The Betazoid nodded. "They seem familiar to me somehow."

"It's very interesting," noted Picard, "how every party we've seen has a healer."