Star Trek - War Drums Part 21

"That is well," answered the android. "Lieutenant, I have decided to release Doctor Drayton into the hands of the colonists. Her presence serves no useful purpose. I have informed the colonists that she is a spy, and I have given them the location of the tunnel. We need to appoint a detail to conduct her to the compound."

"Maltz and I can do that," answered Worf. "I was concerned about how long we could hold her. Put a blindfold on her, and I'll meet you at the top of the hutch."

Worf gripped Louise Drayton's slim shoulder in a ma.s.sive palm and steered her through the forest while Maltz strolled ahead of them, ever watchful. Both Klingons were armed with captured phaser rifles, but Worf sincerely intended not to use his. There had been entirely too much shooting lately, even for a Klingon. Darkness was oozing down the stark tree trunks like the sap, and the forest would soon be bathed in it. The night brought a peace and security that Worf was beginning to appreciate. The only predators on the planet were human, he decided, and humans were notoriously scared of darkness.

"Lieutenant," whispered Drayton suddenly, "I must speak with you."

Worf snarled under his breath, "You were told to be quiet."

"I want to be with you," said the small brunette coquettishly. "Don't turn me over to the settlers-I'll be the best ally you've ever had. I'll help you defeat them."

The Klingon scowled. "You sound more like a Romulan all the time. Be quiet, or I'll drop you down that pit you dug in the forest."

Drayton gulped, put her head down, and concentrated on walking blindfolded.

Ahead of them Maltz sank into a crouch and crept cautiously toward the last row of trees. Beyond the clearing the sun was deserting the shiny metal wall, turning it a dull gray. Maltz motioned to Worf to come forward, and the big Klingon wrapped his hand around Drayton's mouth and hauled her roughly through the underbrush. They were close to the main gate, and he could see half a dozen nervous colonists congregated in front of it. The hole blasted through the door by Oscaras had yet to be repaired, and the guards didn't appear to want to get far away from the jagged entrance.

Roughly, Worf pushed Louise Drayton to her knees and warned her, "If you call out, you'll get what a Romulan deserves. When I release your bindings I expect you to walk directly toward those guards. Speak only to identify yourself."

She batted her dark eyes helplessly at him. "You're making a mistake, Lieutenant. I've been trying to help the Klingons."

"Get going," hissed Worf, lifting Drayton to her feet and shoving her into the clearing.

For ten meters or so Louise Drayton did exactly as she had been ordered to do. The guards didn't notice her until she dropped to her knees, pointed frantically behind her, and shouted, "Klingons! A hundred of them! They're going to attack!"

The colonists whirled around and pranced nervously, phasers leveled for business. Led by one hothead, they began to fire indiscriminately into the forest, forcing Worf and Maltz to drop to their bellies.

Worf scrambled forward to see what the spy was up to, but all he caught was a glimpse of the dark woman running past the gate toward another section of the forest. One of the guards had the presence of mind to shoot at her, but he didn't have the skill to hit a moving target. Doctor Drayton sprang into the woods and was gone.

Cutting loose with several colorful Klingon phrases, Worf grabbed Maltz by the shoulder and motioned him to retreat. On their bellies the two Klingons crawled out of the range of fire. Worf decided he would not go after Louise Drayton-in the pitch blackness of the Selvan woods, pursuit was pointless. Drayton had escaped, but at least she wouldn't be a burden to them anymore.

Deanna Troi looked out the barred window in the science lab at the profound darkness that had swallowed that part of the planet. Even the salmon-colored lights of the compound could barely make a dent in it. Ro lay asleep on her cot in front of her instrument panels. The Bajoran had spent several hours calibrating a sonar device and training it on the midzone she kept talking about. Deanna had tried to listen to Ro's explanation of tectonic plates and tsunamis, but her attention kept drifting to the searing memory of the ambush early that morning. After that, everything had seemed an incredible blur, a surrealistic trip to the holodeck. But it was all real-from the ma.s.s hangings threatened by Raul Oscaras to the blood oozing from Ro's shoulder.

She was trying to decide who was to blame, but she finally decided it was everyone. Despite decades of rhetoric about peace between humans and Klingons, the fact remained that the two races were still mostly segregated. The crew of the Enterprise took Worf for granted, forgetting that few other humans ever came into direct contact with Klingons.

Captain Picard had turned into one of the foremost experts on Klingon affairs, but that was due entirely to his involvement with Worf. How many humans ever had face-to-face contact with Klingons, let alone spent extended time with them? A handful of amba.s.sadors perhaps. Given the right circ.u.mstances, thought Deanna, Selva could have been a marvelous proving ground for interspecies relationships. Now it was just a battleground.

She sighed and looked back at the sleeping figure of Ensign Ro. Half her body was wrapped in bandages, it seemed, but she appeared to be sleeping comfortably. Except for her insistence on staying close to her instruments, the Bajoran had been content to follow doctor's orders and exert herself very little. Deanna had brought her dinner, and they had done nothing more strenuous than talk.

The Betazoid wondered if it was worth the effort to try to get into the radio room that night. Oscaras had stationed himself there, surrounded by a number of loyal if misguided a.s.sociates who vowed to protect him as long as he was president. There seemed to be no way to remove him except by force. An emergency election was being called for by several of the colonists, and there was considerable doubt about how much longer Raul Oscaras would be president of New Reykjavik.

Politics mattered little at the moment, thought Deanna. They were still out of contact with the Enterprise, and there was nothing to do but wait. The counselor rubbed her eyes and wondered how much longer she could stay awake. In a dark corner of the deserted laboratory she had set up her own cot, and it was beckoning her. What was the point of staying awake, she wondered, except to feed her fears and dread? She tried to tell herself the worst was over. Raul Oscaras was on his way out, and now they were all safe, weren't they? This unnamed dread was the worst kind of all, and she resolved to put it out of her mind with sleep. Or at least to try.

The morning was inordinately peaceful, even sunny, and a solid shaft of light stretched through the narrow windows on the east side of the lab building. Ensign Ro pushed herself away from her array of instruments, stood, and stretched her sinewy limbs. Her shoulder responded with a dull throb that brought barely a grimace. That was good, she thought -it was healing.

Ro looked around the vast laboratory and saw that it was still mostly deserted. Either the workers were at home, cowering in fear and expecting more trouble, or they were ashamed to face her. She hoped it was the latter. A few showed up to check briefly on their experiments, cultures, simulations, or whatever was worrying them; they ignored her and left quickly. That was fine with Ro. All she wanted for the present was to be left alone to do her work.

She could see Counselor Troi in a far corner, still asleep, and the ensign had made sure no one bothered her. If anyone deserved some rest, it was Deanna Troi. Ro's admiration for the Betazoid was boundless, although they were of much different temperments and had never become close friends.

Ro knew she wasn't great on interpersonal skills and was very impressed to see someone who had mastered them much as Deanna Troi. For one thing, her team had been totally successful with the supposed savages, inducing them give themselves up and to seek peace. In contrast, Ro had been a miserable failure in her relationship with the colonists, excepting Myra and Gregg Calvert. She took no comfort from the fact that Louise Drayton and Raul Oscaras had hidden agendas that made them impossible to deal with. She should have foreseen what would happen and found a way to warn the rest of the away team. Ro slumped back in her chair, gloomy despite the unaccustomed sunshine streaming through the windows.

What brought Ro out of her chair was a very slight vibration, like somebody running past her desk. The ground under her feet seemed to rise slightly, then the alarm on the seismograph blasted in her ears, as if she needed such a warning. In New Reykjavik the temblor was barely enough to rattle the windows, but crazy zigzags were streaking across her instrument panels, warning her that the eggsh.e.l.l was breaking apart a thousand kilometers out in the ocean.

If she stayed perfectly still, Ro could feel the slight temblor under the b.a.l.l.s of her feet, but she couldn't hold still. She had a dozen instruments to check at once. Despite the zigzag patterns on the seismographs and a Richter scale reading approaching ten, Ro's eyes were drawn to the newest instrument, the sonar detector she had installed the night before. Its readings were not zigzagging but were growing steadily. She watched in horror as a mere blip on the screen widened into a ball, then blossomed outward in a concentric circle from the gigantic displacement in the ocean.

She looked up to see Deanna Troi, obviously horrified by Ro's own expression. "What's the matter?" breathed Deanna.

"It's happened," Ro rasped. "The tsunami."

Chapter Eighteen.

CAPTAIN PICARD stood patiently in the wings of the Polar Auditorium, awaiting his turn at the podium. The slim Vulcan mediator stood beside him, as if making sure he wouldn't escape. She hadn't been enthusiastic about his plan to take the Enterprise out of the Aretian system, leaving shuttlecraft to continue the survey, but the disputed moons and asteroids had already been charted. A preliminary plan was on her desk. Now it was a matter of being thorough by including established settlements in the survey. Riker and La Forge were over qualified to complete the task.

Calmly, the Vulcan asked, "Captain Picard, if there is considerable opposition to your plan to leave, will you insist?"

Picard whispered, "I was told by Admiral Bryant that I have complete autonomy in this mission, and I intend to exercise it. I don't foresee any problems. We are certainly proceeding more efficiently than this conference-I was due to speak two hours ago."

A voice sounded on his comm badge: "Enterprise to Captain Picard."

"Picard here," said the captain. He had left word not to be interrupted unless it was urgent, so there was concern in his voice.

"Captain," said Lieutenant Wallins, "I have a subs.p.a.ce transmission from Ensign Ro. She insists upon speaking directly to you."

"By all means," replied Picard, "patch her through."

"Captain Picard?" asked a voice that was normally businesslike but sounded stressed on this occasion.

"Picard here," he confirmed. "What is it, Ensign?"

"I have very bad news," she began. "They're only letting me use the transmitter for a moment, so I haven't got time to go into detail. There's been a major earthquake in the ocean, and a tsunami is headed our way. This is a tidal wave that is forty meters high and is traveling at four hundred kilometers per hour. At that rate we have approximately two and a half hours to ... well, probably, to live."

"A tsunami," muttered Picard. He shook off the shock. "You must take cover-you must get out of there!"

Ro sighed. "We have no transporter, and it's unlikely we could walk far enough in the short time we have. There's no high ground, but we'll try something, I'm sure. I am extremely sorry to bring you this news so abruptly, but I must end this transmission now."

Picard wiped his dry lips and tried to think of something to say. "We are on our way," he promised. "I'll see if any other ships are closer. Out."

He tapped his comm badge again. "Picard to Enterprise. There's an emergency on Selva. Notify Starfleet and see what ships are in the area. Prepare to leave orbit immediately."

"Yes, sir," came the reply. "Shall I recall the shuttlecraft?"

"There's no time," said Picard. "I'll notify them. Out."

He looked around and tried to compose himself. The female Vulcan looked dispa.s.sionately at him. "If you could give them a few words," she said, "I shall handle the rest."

Picard nodded and strode toward the podium. Gently he shoved an elderly politician out of the way and commandeered the microphone. "Pardon me," he told the gentleman, "I must speak now."

As the man sputtered something the captain turned to a crowd that had suddenly grown interested. He spoke loudly to quiet their murmuring: "I am Captain Picard, and I'm sorry to say that the Enterprise must leave immediately. Rest a.s.sured, the division of your solar system will continue. I only ask that you stop making speeches, appointing committees, and writing doctrines-and start taking responsibility."

He tapped his comm badge. "Transporter room, beam me up."

"Locking on, sir," answered O'Brien.

As a stunned crowd looked on Captain Picard vanished in a swirling column of molecules.

Striding off the transporter platform toward the corridor, he slapped his comm badge again. "Picard to Riker."

"Riker here," answered a cheerful voice. "We were just about ready to head back."

Picard stopped in his tracks, trying to phrase the impossible. "Will," he said finally, "the away team called from Selva, and they're threatened by a tidal wave that's going to hit them in two and a half hours. I gather there's a good chance no one will survive."

All he heard was a sharp intake of breath. "No survivors?" croaked the first officer.

"The Enterprise is going back immediately," Picard declared. "You must notify Geordi and the other shuttlecraft and continue the mission."

Riker protested, "I have to come with you, sir!"

"There's no time for discussion," said the captain. "We'll do what we can, and let's hope for the best. Picard out."

Will Riker sat back in his chair and took his hand off the shuttlecraft controls. "Take over," he told his copilot. He stood and wandered to the back of the shuttlecraft, ducking as he pa.s.sed through a bulkhead. What was he looking for back there? A drink of water? A time machine? It wasn't possible that Deanna, Worf, Data, and Ro were going to be killed. He would just tell himself they would be rescued. The captain would find a way. To die like that, in a tidal wave on a G.o.dforsaken planet-it was preposterous! They would find a way to escape.

Will Riker sank onto a storage cabinet and rubbed his eyes, thinking about what it would be like if they didn't.

Raul Oscaras just glared at Ensign Ro. "You're sure about this?" he muttered.

"Go check my instruments yourself," she snapped. "We're all done playing games. You and the Klingons couldn't live together, but you're going to die together."

That stunned the colonists in the radio room into a nervous silence. Two of them were already on their way to check Ro's instruments, but it didn't matter, she thought. They were probably going to die no matter what action they took. Running from a tsunami was useless. If it could devastate a forest, it would devastate them.

"These buildings won't stand up," said Ro. "If we only had some high ground-"

"I don't know if it's high enough," interjected Deanna Troi, "but I know the highest ground in the forest. It's a mound built by the Klingons. When the water recedes it will be the highest spot for a wide area, and it's only about an hour's walk from here."

"I know it!" barked Oscaras. "I saw it quite a long time ago but never had a chance to go back. Can you guide us there?"

The Betazoid glanced out the window. "Yes"-she nodded-"I think so. Data certainly could."

"First," said Ro, "give me back my comm badge." The Bajoran put her hand under Oscaras's nose, and he sheepily handed over the tiny communication device. Ro stuck it on her settler's shirt and was about to use it when one of the scientists rushed into the radio room and blurted: "She's telling the truth! That earthquake set loose a tidal wave you wouldn't believe. It's coming right for us!"

When Oscaras did an openmouthed fish imitation, Ro tapped her badge and said, "Ro to Data."

"Data here."

The Bajoran tried not to rush in her anxiety. "Commander," she began, "the Enterprise is on its way back, but we have a serious problem. In about two and a half hours we're going to be hit by a tsunami that's forty meters high and doing four hundred kilometers an hour. Counselor Troi says you know of a mound that's the highest point in the vicinity, and she says she can guide us there. We expect to reach there in slightly over one hour. Sir, if you have a better suggestion, I would certainly be willing to listen to it."

"I felt the temblor," said the android matter-of-factly. "Richter scale nine point eight was my estimate. I believe your course of action is prudent until a better course presents itself. Although there is room for everyone to stand atop the mound, I believe it unlikely that many will survive a wave such as you describe."

"We can try to lash ourselves down, use tent stakes," Ro said determinedly. "We'll just try to survive it any way we can."

"Affirmative," answered the android. "We will meet you there. We will also beat drums to guide you."

"Thank you. Ro out."

Raul Oscaras mustered some of his old bravado and clapped his hands together. "Listen, everyone!" he bellowed. "We have to vacate the village and go to this Klingon high ground. We have no choice. Gather everyone at the main gate in ten minutes. Bring only the clothes on your back and ropes, stakes, welding equipment-anything we can use to secure ourselves to the ground and one another."

"No phasers!" warned Ensign Ro. "I don't want any misunderstandings."

"All right," muttered Oscaras, "no phasers. Now get going. I'll make a broadcast on the audio system." When his underlings didn't move fast enough the president clapped his hands together again and roared, "Get going!"

Several of the Klingons looked suspiciously at Data, and Worf couldn't blame them. The android's dispa.s.sionate account of the tidal wave that was about to sweep over them sounded like the hallucination from a mantis bite. The fact that Worf had lived on Earth and was familiar with tsunamis didn't help him believe it either. Denial was a much easier response under the circ.u.mstances.

"Is this another trick," asked Maltz, "to deliver us to the flat-heads?"

"If we were going to deceive you," answered Data, "we would not have taken the risks necessary to free you. This time the settlers are coming to you for help. We must leave immediately for the mound-there is no time for discussion."

Myra Calvert took a deep breath and pulled away from her father. She stepped into the center of the unruly band of Klingons and said, "Data speaks the truth. And so does Ensign Ro. This giant wave has happened before, as I tried to tell them. We're living in a lowland water plain. Please, even if you don't understand what I'm saying, do what Data says. Go with Data."

No one moved. Worf knew he had to break the impa.s.se, and he bent down and picked up a phaser rifle and several musical instruments. "If you stay here," he declared, "you will die. Forget the past- come with me, and let's do what we can to save lives."

Wolm ran to Worf's side, and Turrok limped there. The youngest Klingon turned to his fellows and pointed to Myra and Gregg Calvert. "They helped us escape," he said. "The flat-heads are like us-they do not agree with their leaders. If the flat-heads come to us, let us greet them. Let us show them we are Klingons!"

Maltz took out his knife, and several of the others shrank away from him. He leveled the blade at Worf and snarled, "This is for you if you betray us again."

"If I betray you," pledged the big Klingon, "I will use it on myself. But n.o.body will be alive if we wait. Bring the lanterns and anything else you can carry." He took a step between dark tree trunks that were shot with flecks of sunlight, and Wolm and Turrok scampered after him.

About half an hour into their trek through the forest Deanna Troi could hear the murmurings of discontent behind her. They were the only sounds in a forest that had grown strangely quiet. She didn't blame the colonists-they were running from something unseen, a threat that sounded nebulous and unreal. A wall of water ten stories high? It wasn't something a rational mind could conceive. Yet here they were, rushing into the jaws of the enemy for refuge. The forest was fearsome enough, but to know they were headed toward a Klingon stronghold-it was more than some colonists could handle, and eight of them had refused to come.

Except for that handful, even the loudest complainers remained part of the straggling exodus from New Reykjavik. If their lives hadn't already been turned upside down, thought Deanna, they might never have accepted such a drastic turnabout. But endemic depression had given way to fatalism, and most of the colonists were numbly accepting of whatever came next. Considering all that they had been through, they weren't surprised that natural forces had turned against them, too. Several colonists were certain of destruction and talked like they deserved it.

After the underhanded capture of the Klingons and the failed attempt to hold them, most of the colonists had lost faith in Raul Oscaras. They obeyed him more out of habit than out of conviction, but it helped that Oscaras and Ro were circulating among the colonists, painstakingly explaining what was happening.

Apparently one scientist in the village had found evidence of a past tsunami, but no one had listened to her. They were willing to listen now, thought Deanna, because most of them had felt the earthquake. Some colonists complained, some talked of a new beginning, some stoically carried their children, and others wept as they trudged through the forest toward their destiny.

Suddenly the drums began beating. The counselor recognized the steady homing rhythm she had heard her first day in the forest. That day it had been to welcome Turrok home; now it was to welcome all of them. Before she could ascertain the exact direction, the counselor heard frightened voices, and she whirled around to see several colonists preparing to bolt.

"Don't fear the drums!" she called. "They are welcoming us. I've heard this rhythm before, and they are trying to lead us!"

"To what?" growled a colonist. "An ambush?"

"You ambushed them!" shouted Ensign Ro above the voices. "All that hatred doesn't matter now! The question is, will you be alive in two hours? That's the only thing that matters."

"Move on!" ordered Oscaras. He pointed in the direction Deanna had been leading the snakelike column. "The drumming is due west. Let's move out!"