Star Trek - Relics. Part 19

As he pondered these things, they were engulfed by the tower. But it didn't take more than a second before Kane knew this one was like all the others. Lots of machines and nothing else.

Sousa seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

Kane could tell from the look in his eyes that he was ready to go. Suddenly, Kane found that he wanted to stay-at least for another few moments, if for no other reason than to be contrary.

And to be even more contrary, he took out his phaser. That got Sousa's attention, all right. It made his eyes open wide in the cool darkness of the tower.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Kane shrugged. Using the business end of the phaser, he pointed to a bank of the builder race's machines. "Nothing much," he replied. "Just taking a closer look at these things-to see what's inside." And with that, he turned the weapon's setting selector up to the next-to-last position.

"No," said Sousa. "You're crazy."

"Maybe," Kane conceded. "Or maybe I'll find something in there that'll be the saving grace of this mission. And even if I don't-who's going to care? The people who built these things are deader than dust."

Without further ado, he trained his phaser on the nearest wall and activated it. A red beam lanced out into the midst of the alien machinery, creating a fist-sized pit of hissing vapor. The air in the tower was suddenly thick with the acrid scent of burning metal.

"Kane!" cried Sousa. "Stop, d.a.m.n it! You don't know what you're messing around with!"

The ensign chuckled. "That's the whole point, helm-jockey. And what better way to find out what we're messing with ... than to slit its belly and check out its entrails?"

As he raised the phaser's emitter, the line of seething vapor grew longer. And longer still. Of course, there wasn't a whole lot to see, other than black, twisted wires and pockets of what looked like broken gla.s.s, but that didn't keep Kane from continuing.

Whatever actual scientific curiosity he'd had about the machines was fading. They were now his chosen scapegoats-the objects on which he was focusing all the hatred and frustration that had been building up inside him.

"I said ... cut it out!" bellowed Sousa over the hissing.

Kane ignored him. After all, what was he going to do about it? What- Suddenly, the ensign felt something hard make contact with his jawbone. As the world went hot and red, he sprawled. And by the time he got control of his reeling senses, he found he was skidding backwards over the smooth alien floor.

Sousa was standing in the center of the tower, feet spread-as if he expected Kane to come back at him. And the phaser was sc.r.a.ping over the ground right next to its owner, having shut itself off when it left his hand.

As the ensign slid to a stop against the far wall, Kane noticed that something was wrong. Maybe it was the interplay of light and shadow, maybe something else. And by the time he realized what was wrong, it was too late to stop it.

With a horrible sound-like the cry of some great wounded beast-a wedge of alien machinery came tearing down off the wall. Kane saw Sousa wheel and look up at it, even try to escape it.

But he couldn't-not completely. The wedge hit him as it hit the floor, pinnning him beneath its awful weight.

Kane tried to say something, but the word wouldn't come out. And then, finally, he rasped "Sousa!" And again, louder, so that it echoed in the lofty, alien edifice "Sousaaa!"

Getting back on his feet, he scooped up his weapon and scrabbled over to his fallen comrade. Please be alive, he thought. Please be alive. And when he got there, his prayers were answered, because the man was still breathing.

But Sousa's left leg was caught underneath the section of machinery. Crushed, more than likely. And maybe he was hurt in other ways as well, because he wasn't opening his eyes.

d.a.m.n it, Kane told himself. What have I done? What have I done?

"Kane!" The cry came from behind him. Whirling, he saw Will Riker standing in the tower's arched entranceway.

"Commander!" the ensign called out, genuinely glad to see him. h.e.l.l, he needed help, didn't he? "It's Sousa! He's hurt!"

Scowling, the first officer crossed the intervening s.p.a.ce in three strides and knelt at Sousa's side. Using his tricorder, he scanned the man's status.

"He's in shock," Riker concluded. "And losing blood." For the first time, he a.s.sessed the section of machinery. "We've got to get this off him."

"Sure," said Kane, eagerly grabbing one jagged side of the wedge. "Let's do it."

By that time, some help had arrived in the form of Troi, Krause and Bartel. The Betazoid's features were twisted in agony, as if she herself had been the victim of the fallen weight. And the others were only slightly less anguished.

"My G.o.d," whispered Krause. "What happened here?"

But fortunately for Kane, there was no time to answer that question. They had to focus all their efforts on lifting the alien machinery.

"Ready," said Riker. "Heave!"

With an effort, they lifted the wedge-and as gently as she could, Troi pulled Sousa out from under it. Then they lowered the section to the ground again.

But Sousa looked terrible. His face was waxy, his hairline matted with sweat. Kane knelt at his friend's side as Troi scanned his leg with her tricorder. After all, she was the closest thing they had to a doctor on this away team.

"Is he ... going to be all right?" asked Kane.

The counselor looked up at him ... and her brows knit over her dark, soul-piercing eyes. She knows I'm responsible, thought the ensign. She can see the guilt twisting in my gut.

But she answered him anyway. "The bones in his leg have been crushed and there is some neurological damage. But nothing Dr. Crusher cannot fix."

Thank G.o.d, thought Kane. He's going to make it.

"That is," Riker added, "if we can get him back to the ship. Unfortunately, we can't just beam him back. We've got to bring him back by shuttle."

"But we cannot communicate with the shuttle through the shield," the Betazoid reminded him.

The first officer scowled. "And it's a long way back to where we started-especially since we don't have a stretcher."

Troi shook her head. "Stretcher or no stretcher ... I would prefer not to move him if there is another way. We must get the shuttle and pilot it here ourselves." Kane cursed inwardly. That would take a long time and Sousa was looking paler by the moment.

The first officer nodded. "Let's get started." He turned to Bartel. "Lieutenant, you're with-"

"Commander?" Kane had spoken before he knew it Riker looked at him. "Yes, Ensign?"

Kane swallowed. "Sir, I want to go with you. I want to..." What he meant to say was to make up for what I did. But his voice just trailed off.

The first officer. misinterpreted the situation. "I understand. He's your friend." Turning to Bartel, he said, "Never mind."

Then, without even waiting to see if Kane was following him, Riker headed for the ramp. The ensign fell in right behind him.

This was going to be tricky, Geordi told himself. Very tricky.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as if they had a whole lot of choice in the matter. It was either try Scott's plan or let the Enterprise languish in its Dyson Sphere prison.

Moving on half-impulse power, the Jenolen crept nearer and nearer to the place where the hatch was supposed to be. If it was a hatch.

No, Geordi thought. No doubts. Not now.

He consulted his monitor. "We're at five hundred thousand kilometers," he told Scott.

At the next console over, his companion nodded. "Aye, lad." Playing the controls like a virtuoso, he brought the ship to a dead stop.

Geordi took a deep breath. Then, with the utmost concentration, he made the necessary preparations for their gamble. "How are the engines?" he asked.

"Engines are ready," Scott announced.

The younger man looked at him. Cool as a walk in the ether. Either Scott believed in his strategy, a lot more strongly than Geordi did ... or he was out of his mind. Or maybe a little bit of both.

"Okay," said La Forge. "Keep your fingers crossed. Here we go." Gritting his teeth, he sent them plunging toward the hatch.

Geordi's monitor showed the surface of the sphere. For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, miraculously, a crack opened. And kept opening.

He pumped his fist in the air. "All right!"

Scott harrumphed. "Ye dinnae have to sound so surprised," he remarked.

From around the circ.u.mference of the widening doorway, six spidery tractor beams reached up into s.p.a.ce and searched for a ship. But they found nothing to latch onto, nothing to draw into their web.

"Come on," said Geordi. "There's nothing out there. Give it up." He held his fingers ready over his control panel. "I still can't open a channel to the Enterprise, "he told Scott. "There's too much interference. We'll have to wait until we're right in the doorway."

"That's all right, lad. We'll have time," his partner a.s.sured him.

The beams were persistent-but not persistent enough. After what seemed like a very long time, they finally shut off. A moment later, as if frustrated in its failure to swallow something, the hatch slowly began to slide closed.

"That's it," said Geordi, feeling his heart start to pump harder against his ribs. "Let's go! Full impulse power!"

Both of them worked their controls like madmen. Somewhere below their feet, the engines rumbled back into high gear. Would they hold up? Would the jury-rigged relay circuits? The power conduits?

As Geordi made a minute course correction, he found himself thinking about that auxiliary tank. It'd be a h.e.l.l of a time for it to blow ...

But seconds later, they were home free. They were speeding toward the hatch faster than it could shut them out-though the margin for error was still pretty thin. And thanks to his piloting, they were right on target.

As the opening diminished, they maneuvered the Jenolen into the middle of it... and then stopped. Geordi had time to glance at his partner in this mad venture. Scott was smiling. Actually smiling.

But then, Geordi told himself, his companion had already cheated death. To Montgomery Scott, every breath he had taken since leaving the Jenolen's transporter was a bonus. And that made risking one's life a whole lot easier.

On the other hand, La Forge wasn't quite so willing to give up the ghost. He'd "died" once before, and he knew it was no picnic.

"Any second now," said Scott, looking around-as if he could see the sphere's mechanical maw closing on them. "Any sec-"

Suddenly, the ship shuddered. The hatch had encountered the Jenolen's deflector shields. And just as Scott had predicted, their shields were stronger. They had indeed gotten their foot in the door.

But how long could they keep it there? Not wasting a second, Geordi opened a voice-communications channel to the Enterprise.

Chapter Fourteen.

WORF HAD BEEN paying close attention to the communications monitor on his Tactical board, expecting to hear from Commander Riker and his away team. So when the screen lit up to indicate an incoming message, it was hardly cause for surprise.

Nonetheless, Worf was surprised. In fact, he could barely believe what his monitor was telling him; he had to look twice to confirm it.

"Captain," he said.

Picard, who'd been standing beside Data at Ops, turned around to acknowledge him. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"There is an incoming audio message, sir."

The captain's forehead wrinkled. "Why didn't Commander Riker just contact me directly?"

Worf frowned. "It is not Commander Riker," he explained. "It is Commander La Forge, sir."

"La Forge ...!" Picard's brows shot up. "By all means, Lieutenant, put him through!"

A moment later, Geordi's voice sang out on the tension-filled bridge. "This is Commander La Forge. Do you read me, Enterprise!"

"We read you, Commander," the captain a.s.sured him. "Go ahead, Geordi."

Geordi hung on to one of the engineering consoles in the Jenolen. The ship was shaking like crazy, its shields threatening to buckle on them, its overworked engines roaring to beat the band-despite Scotty's best efforts.

As he spoke to Captain Picard, Geordi tried to ignore the chaos around him. He had to accomplish what he and his companion had set out to accomplish the rescue of the Enterprise.

"Captain, we're using the Jenolen to hold open the hatch at the entrance to the sphere ..."

"What?" exclaimed Picard. "Did I hear you correctly, Commander?"

"You did, sir. But our shields won't stand the pressure much longer."

There was the briefest of pauses. "Understood," came the captain's reply. "Unfortunately, we cannot return to the entrance just yet. Commander Riker and an away team are down on the surface."

Scott cried out. "They're bleedin' where?"

Great, thought Geordi. Just great.

"I cannot leave without them," Picard said grimly.

"And I can't make any promises," he told the captain. "But we'll hold out as long as we can. La Forge out."

"d.a.m.n," said Riker, raising his voice to be heard. "Where did this wind come from?"