Star Trek - Masks Part 24

"I'll miss this place," said Deanna, peering up at the cloud-enshrouded treetops. "It has such majesty."

"Yes." Kate Pulaski grimaced, twisting her torso to demonstrate the soreness of her muscles. "But it'll be nice to sleep in a bed again."

Picard nodded to Data, who spoke into his communicator. Jean-Luc gazed at the stunning woman in the Thunder Mask until every molecule of his being had been dissolved and rea.s.sembled in the transporter room.

"Captain!" Geordi La Forge beamed as the three crew members stepped down from the platform. "It's good to have you back. You, too, Counselor Troi and Dr. Pulaski."

All three of them managed weary smiles. "Thank you, Lieutenant," said the captain. "How's the ship?"

"None the worse for wear," Geordi said, grinning. "Let me show you the data we've collected on the planet."

Jean-Luc held up his hand. "I'd love to see it, but first-and I think I speak for all of us-I need a shower. You help Data and Commander Riker a.s.semble what they need, and we'll rendezvous on the bridge in half an hour."

"Yes, sir," Geordi replied, still grinning.

Data placed the communicator badge inside Almighty Slayer's tunic, b.u.t.toned it shut, and pulled the chain mail down over the old king's chest. The red mask angled quizzically downward. "What am I supposed to do with that thing?"

"Nothing," answered the android. "It merely tells us where you are, so when the time comes, we can beam you aboard theEnterprise."

"Will it hurt?" asked the warrior worriedly.

The android shrugged. "I do not know for certain. I have heard some people say that it tickles.

"You really aren't human, are you?" asked Almighty Slayer. "I find that hard to believe."

"Thank you," answered Data. "You do not see many faces, or you would know how different mine is."

"I'm not king anymore," sighed the old warrior, "and I can't promise much. But I will always keep a mask for you, Data, if you ever tire of living in the sky."

"Thank you," Data replied, his pale eyes glowing brightly. "I shall always treasure the memory of Lorca, where I am no less human than anyone else."

"Ouch!" exclaimed Cold Angel as Worf clumsily placed a communicator inside his shirt.

"May this a.s.sist you in your victory," said the Klingon.

The animal trainer shook his red mask, as if in puzzlement. "With a face like yours, Worf, wouldn't you rather stay here, where you can wear a mask?"

"No," answered Worf. "I prefer to return to theEnterprise, where I only have unmasked humans to compete against in beauty."

Commander Riker slipped on his Raider's Mask and adjusted the straps. "How do I look?"

"Like a scoundrel," replied Almighty Slayer. "I've been meaning to ask you, Riker, what are you going to do with the Forest Mask?"

"Well, I ... I hadn't thought about it."

"Take it back with you," the old peddler insisted. "It's an emblem of your courage and n.o.bility. It belongs to you."

Lieutenant Worf picked up Riker's finely polished wooden mask from the ground and looked into its jeweled eye sockets. Piercing Blade had gone ahead to a meeting place farther down the road, taking the ponies and all the valuable masks, except this one. "I'll take it back for you, Commander," Worf offered. "A souvenir of battle."

Will nodded. "Thank you." His voice was barely audible within the metallic Raider's Mask. "It's hard to imagine I'll be leaving Lorca soon."

"Commander?" asked Data. "Is there anything you want us to tell the captain? Remember, your communicator will not relay voice. As soon as you press it, the three of you will be beamed aboard theEnterprise."

Data touched his own insignia badge, which responded with a soft beep. "Data to transporter room. Two to beam up-myself and Lieutenant Worf."

"Aye, sir," came the reply.

"Good-bye," said Data, as he and Worf stepped away from the others. Moments later they dematerialized in twin clouds of phosph.o.r.escence.

Almighty Slayer tentatively reached out to the place where they had been. "Are you sure that doesn't hurt?"

"Positive," Riker a.s.sured the old man, patting his shoulder. The three of them were alone now in the immense forest, all the others having beamed up to the ship or gone ahead to the meeting place. The commander looked up at the darkening clouds. "We'd better get going if we are to reach the Ferengi camp by nightfall."

Now it was the old Lorcan's turn to put his hand on Riker's shoulder. "Thank you for helping us, my friend."

"Come," said Cold Angel, stepping off the road into the dark forest and motioning to Almighty Slayer and Will Riker to follow him. Gripping the hilts of their swords to keep them from becoming entangled in the underbrush, Riker and Slayer plunged after him.

With the shadows lengthening and Almighty Slayer's limp getting more p.r.o.nounced, the small band of ersatz raiders slowed to an amble. Cold Angel was occupied with following a trail he hadn't seen in many years, and Will Riker kept an eye on the old warrior hobbling along behind them, his red mask concealing his pain.

"How are you doing?" he asked with concern.

"Don't you worry about me," snapped Slayer. "I'm just saving my strength."

"Don't expect us to carry you," joked Cold Angel.

"You couldn't even carry my sword," scoffed the old warrior.

Riker shook his head. "We could have had theEnterprise beam us closer to the Ferengi camp. There was no need for all this walking."

"Beaming," repeated Almighty Slayer. "That's what you call all that disappearing and reappearing?"

"Yes," answered Will, "it's really a very safe procedure."

"Not for me." The deposed king reached inside his shirt and plucked out the communicator badge. With a shrug, he tossed it into the black woods.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Riker, diving after the badge. But he could barely see three meters in front of him, let alone find a small insignia in thick underbrush.

"I know you meant well," Slayer explained, "but I would rather die fighting my way out than have my body turned into a cloud of burning ashes."

"Me, too," said Cold Angel, tossing his badge into the woods. "You go right ahead and beam out. We Lorcans must do things in our own way."

"Right," said Almighty Slayer.

But Will Riker was still shaking his head. "The Lorcan way is never the easy way, is it?"

They walked on in silence through the darkening forest. Riker hoped they would find the Ferengi camp soon, because they would need all their strength and wiles. What would be their best course of action? he wondered. Would they attack the Ferengi in their huts? Wait until they were on the trail? Create a diversion? He smiled at the recollection of the last diversion he had created and thought better of that idea. Probably the safest course would be not to do or plan anything until they had observed the situation for a while. The most important thing was to be accepted as raiders and invited to join the band.

They finally spotted a faint glow in the forest ahead of them. By now, total darkness had engulfed the woods, and they were all relieved to see their destination. Even though it was cold, Will found his palms sweating and his breath quickening as they picked up their pace and approached the eerie halo amid the trees.

"Let Cold Angel do most of the talking," Almighty Slayer cautioned him. "I'll just grumble about my wound and make up some wild story about how I got it. You can even play mute, if you like."

"I'll play it by ear," answered Will, swallowing nervously. Phasers would be ineffective, and the sword at his side was too foreign to give him much comfort.

As they drew closer, Riker squinted at the light in the woods, thinking that it wasn't the same light he had seen early that morning. The protective globe had hovered several meters off the ground, whereas this light throbbed feebly from the ground, like a campfire.

"Wait," he whispered, stopping Cold Angel and Almighty Slayer in their tracks. "I don't think this is it."

"Yes, it is," insisted Cold Angel, waving his hand impatiently. "Come on."

Then the wind shifted, and the putrid stench of death wafted into their noseholes. They looked warily at each other, and Slayer and Cold Angel drew their swords. Cold Angel was still in the lead, and he reluctantly waved them forward. Riker's hand drew near to his communicator badge.

The stench became sickening, but it was hardly worse than the sight that greeted their eyes when they reached the Ferengi camp. The two Ferengi were hanging naked by their heels from the tallest pine.

He averted his eyes, but the sight on the ground wasn't much better. Half a dozen raiders lay slain in bizarre poses. The scene was eerily lit by the Ferengi globe, now throbbing pathetically on the ground, a Lorcan pike stuck in the middle of its broken shards.

Most startling of all, in the center of the carnage, lying spreadeagle, was a dead raider wearing the Wisdom Mask.

Cold Angel was in a wary crouch, stabbing at the corpses with his sword. "I think they're all dead. Looks as if they jumped the Ferengi and then fought among themselves."

Almighty Slayer nodded his head numbly, as he kicked over one of the raiders and picked up his sword. "I've seen this happen before over an especially valuable mask. They kept challenging each other until there were none left. The winner had just enough strength left to put on the mask before he died."

"He was king for a day," remarked Cold Angel, bending down and carefully removing the Wisdom Mask from the victor's blood-encrusted body. Riker looked quickly away; worms were crawling all over the man's face.

Cold Angel wiped the worms out of the inside of the mask. "Y'know, Slayer, maybe I was wrong. Maybe the Wisdom Maskdoes choose its wearer. I'll never speak against it again."

Almighty Slayer nodded sagely and turned to Riker. "Tell Data about this. He didn't believe in the power of the mask, either."

Riker looked around at the carnage and was thankful he was wearing a mask. He didn't want anyone to see his face at that moment.

Cold Angel had wrapped the Wisdom Mask in oilskin and was trying to strap it to his back. "Slayer, could you help me?"

"Sure," said the old Lorcan, rushing to his aid.

Riker forced himself to think about something other than the scene around him. "What will you do now?" he asked the former king. "How will you promote Piercing Blade as the queen?"

Almighty Slayer held out his hands. "She'll be wearing the mask, and they'll know thatwe believe she should wear it. Perhaps they'll listen to her, perhaps they won't, but I believe they will. She might have to bash one or two heads, but that will be the easy part. If she can rule wisely, then all of Lorca will benefit. And I ... I shall wear the Amba.s.sador's Mask and try to deal with you off-worlders."

Cold Angel snorted into the cold wind, as if trying to clear his nostrils of the stench. "Let's get out of here." He hefted his precious cargo upon his brawny shoulders and trundled off into the woods.

"Good luck to you," Will said, clasping Almighty Slayer's arm. "We'll try to return soon."

"Come to the fair," crowed the old warrior proudly. "See my daughter crowned queen."

"I'll try," Will promised.

He watched as the men disappeared into the black woods, the crunching sound of their footsteps gradually dying away. With a peculiar sense of melancholy, Commander Riker reached inside his pocket and clicked his communicator badge.

He beamed aboard theEnterprise still in full raider regalia, startling several transporter technicians. The commander quickly removed his Raider's Mask and grabbed the hilt of his sword to keep it from swinging. He realized with a start that he had finished the mission with several noteworthy souvenirs, including the Forest Mask, brought aboard earlier by Worf.

"Sorry," he said to the transporter operators, stepping down from the platform. "Good work." He raised his voice. "Riker to the bridge."

"Back so soon, Number One?" Captain Picard answered cheerily. "The Ferengi must not have put up much of a fight."

"They couldn't," Will answered. "They were all dead when we got there. The Ferengi were killed by the raiders, who, in turn, killed one another. We took the mask off a dead man."

"I see," the captain replied thoughtfully. "No wonder the purser of the Ferengi ship has been so testy. They've done everything but come out and accuse us of hiding their away team. Take some time to clean up, Number One, then report to the bridge. I'll try to figure out a way to break this to them."

"Yes, sir," Glancing self-consciously at the transporter operators, who were now smiling at one another, the filthy raider strode out of the room, his sword clanging in its scabbard.

When Commander Riker reached the bridge, he was greeted with brief smiles from Deanna Troi, Wesley Crusher, and Data, but Worf and Captain Picard remained stone-faced as they faced the angry Ferengi who was haranguing them from the view screen.

"And I want you to know," the feral humanoid ranted, "we hold the Federation fully responsible for what happened to our trading mission. We demand reparations, especially for a very valuable mask that should have been in the possession of our a.s.sociates."

Picard held up his hand. "One moment, please. Commander Riker is now on the bridge. He has just returned from Lorca."

Riker stepped forward and nodded. "I didn't actually see what happened, but the evidence indicates that your people were killed by the Lorcan raiders with whom they were traveling. Perhaps you should choose more trustworthy allies next time."

The short humanoid sat up in his chair, his huge ears bristling. "And the mask?"

The commander glanced innocently at the Ferengi purser. "What mask?" he asked. "Lorca is full of masks."

The Ferengi made a growl that sounded more like a squeak. "We're returning to our base now, but you haven't heard the end of this."

"One last thing," said Picard, "if Lorca joins the Federation as a protectorate, as we fully expect it will, you will be allowed to trade here only if you observe Federation guidelines. If you can't do that, don't come back."

Angrily, the Ferengi punched off his viewscreen, and Will Riker grinned broadly at his commanding officer. "He didn't like that last part. But who's going to negotiate with the Lorcans? We're fresh out of amba.s.sadors."

"That's up to you, Number One. Starfleet has given us permission to stay in orbit for a few more days. I thought, if you didn't mind, you and Data could attend the fair and talk to Piercing Blade about joining the Federation."

Will lowered his voice. "Sir? Wouldn't you rather do that yourself?"

Jean-Luc shook his head and smiled wistfully. "No. I would prefer not to have to say good-bye to her again."

Will nodded. "Understood, Captain."

"Besides," Picard added with mock seriousness, "I seem to remember someone saying that leading the away team should be the privilege of the first officer."

Now it was Riker's turn to smile. "Lorca would be a perfect place for sh.o.r.e leave, if it were a little less dangerous."

"But it's not," the captain reminded him. He cast his eyes downward. "That reminds me, Number One, now that you're back, I've scheduled Ensign Greenblatt's funeral for twenty-hundred tonight. Afterward, I'd like to drink a toast to her in the Ten-Forward lounge."

As Riker and Data stepped onto the transporter platform, they checked their equipment. Will had two communicator badges, one on his chest and another inside his parka. The second badge was the one altered by Data to signal the transporter room to beam them directly aboard theEnterprise and out of danger. After all, they still didn't know what to expect on Lorca. Data carried only a briefcase containing the articles and bylaws of the Federation, to be left with the Lorcans if they expressed an interest in joining.

They carried no phasers and no masks on this trip. They were coming in peace, and they were coming as themselves.

"Are you sure of our coordinates?" Riker asked.

"A small city is gradually forming on the planet," the android replied. "The cloud cover has been exceedingly mild, allowing us to monitor its development. I believe something extraordinary is happening on Lorca."