Strike Zone Part 27

He tore at Worf's sash, and a dagger fell out of concealment. Hardly believing his good fortune, Aneel grabbed up the dagger and tried to bring it slamming down into Worf's neck. Worf barely saw it in time as he blocked it with his forearm. Aneel kept bearing down, bringing all his strength into play as the knife point hovered closer and closer to Worf's throat.

Through gritted teeth, the Kreel said, "You should have killed me when you had the chance, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Worf, on his back, moved his leg slightly and then brought his knee slamming up in between the Kreel's legs. There was a hideous crunching sound and the Kreel screamed as Worf, with all his strength, shoved the Kreel forward and over his head in a last ditch effort to survive.

To his surprise, Aneel suddenly stopped struggling. Just like that. The scream of pain had also stopped just as quickly.

He rolled the Kreel's unmoving body off himself and stood. And then he saw, and he could scarcely believe it.

The Kreel's head was gone.

His head and his upper shoulders had vanished, just ... poof. And then he realized what had happened. The Kreel had been thrust forward into the activated transporter beams. The rest of him had been held firm in Worf's grip, but the head and upper shoulders had been within the transporter field. And the transporter beams, being efficient, sent anything that got within their field to the point below.

Usually, of course, there was no problem, since people who were about to travel made sure that they were standing entirely on the platform. Aneel, however, was not.

Worf stood and dusted himself off. Then, so as not to be untidy, he picked up the rest of the body and hurled it into the beams. They followed the rest of the head to the surface.

Then he went to the transporter console to attend to other business.

The Kreel on the bridge were starting to feel a bit nervous. "How much longer do you think Aneel will be?" asked Deni.

At that moment everyone on the bridge vanished.

Virtually at the same time, they rematerialized in the transporter room. In the instants that it took the Kreel to realize what had happened, it was too late. Picard and Marks together hurled the Kreel from the transporter platform and Worf, having retrieved the phaser that the late Aneel had dropped, blasted them into unconsciousness.

Picard saw Wesley lying there unconscious and immediately went to him. He knelt down, looked up at Worf and said, "Is he all right?"

"He took a bad spill, but I think he'll be all right."

"What about the other Kreel? He was coming down here."

"Oh him." Worf paused. "He got ahead of himself."

The rest of it took no more than fifteen minutes.

Worf, displaying laudable accuracy, sent the rest of the bridge crew back to where they'd been. Dykstra quickly located the rest of the Klingons and the Kreel who were stalking the Enterprise corridors, and fed the information down to Worf. To their shock, they found themselves one moment engaged in life-and-death struggles throughout the Galaxycla.s.s ship, and the next they were suddenly in a transporter room, being held at phaser-point by an extremely irritated looking security group.

Things were just starting to calm down.

"Now," said Picard from his command chair, "reestablish contact with the away team. Tell them that-"

And Deanna Troi gasped.

"Counselor?" said Picard.

Deanna actually seemed to shrink back in her chair and she pointed toward the viewscreen, stammering, unable to form so much as a syllable.

"Counselor Troi!" said Picard in alarm. "What's wrong? What's-"

And then he saw it, as did the rest of the bridge crew. He could have sworn he heard a collective scream from the entire ship.

The stars were moving.

"What the h.e.l.l ... ?" said Dykstra.

Impossibly, insanely, all the stars on the screen began to come together. Meteors, asteroids, all other astronomical phenomenon coalesced, spinning and swirling in an incomprehensible ballet beyond the grasp of physics. Beyond the grasp of sanity.

There, in the far distance, s.p.a.ce fluctuated and rippled as the stars began to cl.u.s.ter in new configurations. They began to mold themselves as if being sculpted. But it was absurd! The stars they were seeing consisted of light from stars not as they were, but as they had been, since light needed time to travel. There could be no sort of phenomenon that could affect all stars at the same time!

"Away team!" shouted Picard. "Come in!"

And he heard Riker shout, "Captain!"

"Prepare to beam up! I'm bringing you straight to the bridge! Transporter room, activate!"

And Worf, down in the transporter room, acted upon the instructions.

And there, on the bridge, materialized Riker, Data and Tuttle ... but not Geordi.

"Number One! Where's Mr. La Forge?"

"He's gone, Captain! He-" Then he saw what was happening.

The stars were taking shape. Forming the ridges of a face. A human face that spanned light-years in distance, that took up their whole screen. That was millions upon millions of miles away and was so close you could practically reach out and touch it.

The face hovered there in s.p.a.ce, glowing with the light of a thousand-thousand stars. Meteors made up its eyes, comets formed its hair.

It stared at them.

And then it smiled.

"Oh my G.o.d," said Riker.

"Oh," said Data, now understanding. "Is that who it is."

Chapter Nineteen.

"WHAT'S THE WORST that could happen?" Geordi had asked earlier, which certainly fell under the category of famous last words.

As he reached for the keypad, he heard Riker and Data, nearby, calling to them.

"Why don't you go check what they want," said Geordi. "Bring them over here. I'll be working on this in the meantime."

Tuttle walked off and Geordi proceeded to punch b.u.t.tons experimentally, just to see if there was anything he could detect on any infrared or ultraviolet scale.

He heard a faint hum, which quickly became a high-pitched whine. Like something being activated.

What the heck? he thought.

Then he looked down.

Crisscrossed over his feet were horizontal beams of light outside the visible spectrum. They hadn't been there before. They had just started being projected out of the wall, about six inches off the ground. They were pencil-thin and overlapping in just such a way that, miraculously, Geordi was standing in between them. A half-step left, right, forward or back and he would have stepped right into them. And then-Then what?

Suddenly, he got the distinct feeling that it would be better if he didn't know. He lifted one of his feet to try and step over them.

The beams began to widen.

Immediately, Geordi did the only thing he could.

He leaped straight upward, and as the beams expanded, jammed himself into position above them, bracing himself with his legs on one side of the narrow corridor and his arms on the other. He was now suspending himself several feet off the ground, kept there by sheer muscle power and panic.

"Data!" he shouted. "Riker! Tuttle even!"

A distance away, the other three members of the away team reacted in surprise, particularly because they were heading in a different direction.

"Tuttle, I thought you said Geordi was this way," snapped Riker.

"I-I thought he was," said Tuttle in confusion.

"Data, where is he?"

Data had already consulted his tricorder. Each person's communicator contained individual biological information that made them easy to find. Easy, at least, when one wasn't being led astray by confused security men.

"Follow me," said Data.

Meanwhile, Geordi's hands were starting to sweat as he saw the entire floor was now one solid ma.s.s of beams about twelve-foot-square. There was nowhere for him to go.

He risked falling into them to slap his communicator and, indeed, almost did fall before slamming his hand back against the wall. "La Forge to transporter! Beam me up! Quick!"

The pause was brief and then he heard, of all people, Worf. "La Forge, the transporter is down. We're working on repairing it. What's wrong?'

Down? Now it was down?!

Realizing that the Enterprise was going to be of no help, he tried to tap his communicator again to open a new line to Riker. This time, however, he moved too quickly, jostling the communicator and sending it falling into the beams.

It dissolved.

Geordi felt his hands slipping, his boots unable to keep traction on the wall. He tried to readjust and it wasn't doing any good. And he shouted at the top of his lungs the one thing the Kreel had never said: "HEELLLPPP!"

And a polite female voice said, "Help requested?"

It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Geordi looked around frantically as he said, "Yeah! Help requested!"

"Specify," she said calmly.

"Turn off the beams!"

"As you wish."

The beams promptly went off.

Geordi could scarcely believe it. It couldn't have been that simple. Tentatively he stepped down and, sure enough, he was still in one piece.

"Do you need further help?"

"Yeah," said Geordi slowly. "I wanted to get through this door. Please."

"As you wish."

He was through.

Geordi spun and looked behind him. The door had vanished. He was just simply on the other side.

"This is ... this is crazy," said Geordi slowly. "All I had to do to get out of that death trap ... and get through that door ... is ask nicely?"

The disembodied voice said primly, "Good manners never hurt."

"Yeah, but ... "

"It's indicative of intelligence. And maturity."

"Okay. Fine."

Geordi looked around to see the room that had been so securely guarded. The room that had almost cost him his life.

It was empty.

There was minimal light from a source that Geordi couldn't locate. Of course, he didn't need light. He looked around, trying to figure out the parameters of the room.

He couldn't find anything. He started to walk toward what he a.s.sumed to be a wall and, after several minutes that seemed like hours, it started to dawn on him that he wasn't going to get to there.

"You ... still here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?" it replied.

"Lieutenant Geordi La Forge. Chief Engineer. Starship Enterprise."

"Greetings, Lieutenant. I am."