The Soldiers of Fear (19 page)

But if Picard hadn't tried to negotiate, then he never would have been able to live with himself. He would have forever wondered if going to war first had been the best choice.

Now he had no doubts.

Seven Fury ships hung in space around the wormhole. Another one was due at any second. He knew that Will knew the importance of speed. He hoped that speed would be possible.

"Sir," Data said. "The lead Fury ship is hailing us."

Picard's stomach clamped up like a vise. Now what were they trying? "On screen. And make sure the other ships are getting this transmission."

"Done, sir."

The face of the leader of the Fury ships filled the screen. The image seemed clearer this time, as if the haze and fog on the other side had lifted. And the horned captain of the Furies didn't seem as self-assured.

"You claimed to have the souls of those from the Rath?"

So that what this was all about. Maybe there was a slight hope yet of stopping this without losing good people to the fight. Maybe those poppets Kirk had saved would save the day here.

"We do. They have been kept safe and brought here. We had hoped to have a peaceful exchange."

The horned captain on the other side glanced at someone offscreen, then back at Picard. "Which ship are they on?"

Picard shook his head, then laughed. "No information. You stop your fleet from coming into our sector and we'll talk. Not before."

"Picard." The Furies' captain stood, its face almost red with anger. For the first time Picard saw the poppet doll hanging at its side. It was a replica of the being wearing it. "If those souls are destroyed or harmed, I personally will kill you slowly and very painfully."

"If those souls are destroyed," Picard said, his voice very level and firm, "you will be the one destroying them. Not I."

Picard signaled for the communication to be cut off. All hope of stopping this fight was now gone.

But if it was a fight they wanted, then a fight they would get. He turned and moved back to his command chair and sat down.

"Shuttles are ready and launching," Ensign Eckley said.

"Mr. Data, signal the other ships to move into position," Picard said. "It's imperative that we move those Furies away from the wormhole. Now."

"Aye, sir," Data said.

Troi's hands clutched the arms of her chair.

"Sir," Eckley said, "another ship is coming through the wormhole."

On screen, the eighth Fury ship took a position near the opening to the wormhole. Eight ships against five. The original Enterprise had had trouble defeating just one Fury ship. There was no time left.

"Battle stations," Picard said. "Ahead full impulse. Target photon torpedoes and fire on my mark."

On screen the other two starships moved into position. As planned, the Klingon ships turned and flew away from the battle site. Once they had gone a respectable distance, they would cloak. With luck, the Furies would think that the Klingons had retreated, not realizing that the Klingons had cloaking ability. The Klingons would then attack the Fury ships from behind and above, decloaking at the last minute as they fired.

But the main target of the Furies' attack would be the Enterprise, and the moment the ship moved forward, the Furies turned toward it, as planned.

Rays of light extended from the Fury ships, green this time, as if the different color marked different weapons.

The Enterprise rocked as the first impact of Fury fire hit the shields.

"Damage, Mr. Data."

"None, sir. The shields are holding," Data said.

Picard took a deep breath. The fight had truly begun. He just hoped it would end here and not on Earth.

"Fire," he said.

RIKER'S HANDS MOVED on the shuttlecraft controls as if he were piloting any normal shuttle mission. But he wasn't. This was the most important mission of his career.

Of his life.

If he succeeded, he William T. Riker would have stopped the Furies from invading his sector. He would have kept thousands, maybe millions from dying. After his own personal glimpse of hell, he thought it almost worth the cost.

He grinned at himself. He had to qualify the thought, because he wasn't Klingon. He believed in dying with honor, but he would rather not die at all. And if he could help it he wouldn't. He didn't know how he'd get back from the other side of that wormhole, but he'd find a way.

The shuttlebay doors opened. He settled into the familiar shuttle pilot's chair, his hands still dancing across the controls. Oddly enough, he wasn't frightened. Geordi had modified the shields, and that had helped, but that wasn't all of it.

This last mission was the right mission. Not even dying scared him. Not even the possibility of dying scared him.

Not anymore.

Some things were worse than death. And living in a galaxy run by the Furies was one of them.

As he cleared the shuttlebay doors, he pulled up a schematic of the entire area around the Furies Point. Eight Fury ships now encircled the wormhole. Worf was moving as planned at an angle slightly away from the Furies. Redbay flew his shuttle on the same line. Riker dropped into line. Their trajectories should convince the Furies that they were trying to escape. Yet all three shuttles would remain close. They would be prepared to fly into that wormhole at a moment's notice.

Now it all depended on how well Picard's plan worked.

It had to work.

For all their sakes.

Riker kept on the line, monitoring the others. Adrenaline started pouring through him. He was ready for a fight. These few seconds before battle were always the hardest.

The Enterprise moved directly at the Furies Point. The Madison followed. When they got in close the Enterprise would turn to port and the Madison would go to starboard on attack runs.

The Idaho circled high, a lone graceful starship, apparently on her own path. Gradually, the Idaho also closed in on the Furies Point.

The Furies had a lot to watch.

The two Klingon ships had also taken a direction that would allow the Furies to think they had been running away. They were now cloaked, and Riker knew that within moments they would reappear firing.

Then the closest Fury ship shot at the Enterprise. The burst of light was sudden and startling. Riker felt a welcome tension in his arms and shoulders.

The battle had started.

He kept on his line, a small ship, unnoticed. He tried to be as invisible as possible, as if willing it would help.

The Enterprise returned fire on the closest Fury ship. The Idaho swooped down and fired also.

The battle had been joined.

Four of the Fury ships took positions against the Enterprise and Idaho. The Madison took on two others, and space was filled with explosions and flashes of light. Phaser fire connected the ships like deadly lifelines.

"Klingons?" Riker whispered. "Where are you?"

A Fury ship in front of the Enterprise exploded in a burst of colored light. Debris flew in all directions.

One down, but thousands more in that wormhole to deal with.

Riker glanced at the shuttles in front of him. Worf and Redbay seemed all right.

For the moment.

The Enterprise turned its weapons on the nearest ship, with the Madison lending her firepower. From this distance, the starships appeared to have complete control, but Riker knew the Enterprise was taking a pounding.

He hoped the shields would hold.

And that Beverly's drug would work if they didn't.

"Come on, Klingons," he whispered. He hoped the shields worked for them too. If they didn't, there might be a disastrous repeat of the first fight at the Furies Point.

He wished he could see Worf. He wondered if Worf was as worried about the Birds-of-Prey as he was.

He hoped not.

Suddenly the two Klingon ships decloaked close to the wormhole. They looked like giant screaming vultures, with their weapons flaring red against the darkness of space. The two Fury ships closest to the wormhole did not return fire right away.

They were surprised.

"Another point for our side," Riker muttered.

He tapped the communications console. This was it. The big moment. Now or never, and all those other clichés.

"Go!" he shouted to Worf and Redbay, feeling absurdly like a soccer coach.

"Aye, sir," Worf said.

"Yes, sir! " Redbay said, and Riker could almost see his old friend snap his arm in mock salute. Riker grinned. He might be alone in the shuttle, but he wasn't alone in space. And for some reason having his friend here made him feel more in control.

Worf 's shuttle peeled off and headed toward the wormhole.

Redbay followed.

After a moment both opened fire on the two Fury ships, pretending to be making an attack run.

Riker took his ship right in behind him. He forced himself to block out the surrounding fight. His only focus was that wormhole and getting through it.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

"Captain, shields are failing on decks three and ten," Data said.

Picard nodded, then clutched the arm of his chair as the ship rocked from another hit. In front of him a Fury ship exploded, sending an expanding cloud of debris in a circle outward.

"Ensign Eckley, move us closer to the wormhole," he ordered. No matter how much damage, they needed to be close enough to draw the fire away from the shuttles. Worf and Redbay were both making their runs at the Fury ships, adding their firepower to that of the Klingons. Riker's shuttle lagged behind, but was coming in on the same path.

In just seconds, he would be inside the wormhole.

The ship rocked again. The Furies' weapons concentrated on the shields, as they had before. Picard had a feeling that they had encountered this type of protection from some other group. But he bet they were getting a surprise now that the shields were holding.

"The lead ship has sustained serious damage from our torpedoes," Lieutenant Dreod said. She stood in Worf 's place at security.

It felt odd not to have his usual bridge complement. Counselor Troi sat beside him, her face a mask, yet he could feel the tension radiate from her.

No support from that quarter.

Picard stood.

"The damage on decks three and ten has stabilized," Data said. "The shields on the rest of the ship are holding."

The lead Fury ship still stood between them and the wormhole, far too close for Riker's safety.

"Take that lead ship out of there," Picard said.

A barrage of photon torpedoes streaked from the Enterprise. They exploded against the shields of the Fury ship. If nothing else, it would get their attention.

Maybe just long enough for Riker to get through.

Worf leaned into his console. His ship weaved through the fire from the Fury ships. He returned the shots with a vigor he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Worf, son of Mogh, would die with honors. He would die defending his people from the Furies, and serving his ship with pride.

He would give the Furies a fight they would never forget.

The modified shuttlecraft had a great deal of firepower for its size. He used all of it, dodging and weaving, and shooting, all the time making the Furies think he was the most important enemy, diverting their attention from Commander Riker.

The DoHQay made a pass at the Fury ship closest to the wormhole. It was circling above, and about to come in for another shot. Worf saw an opening underneath. He swung the shuttle upward, firing continuously as he went.

The Fury ship's shields were failing. Worf focused his fire on where his computer told him their screens were the weakest. The bright red phasers deflected off the shield, leaving a slightly pink glow. Worf was about to use one of his precious photon torpedoes when the Fury ship spun away out of control and exploded.

The explosion was so close that it rocked the shuttle.

Worf clutched the console as he fought for control. He still had fight in him. But the shuttle was swerving dangerously close to the other Fury ship. If Worf didn't get his shuttle turned, he would hit the Fury ship. It would destroy both vessels, but it wouldn't help Commander Riker. He might get caught in the explosion himself.

Worf swerved and barely missed the ship's hull. Sweat dripped off his ridged forehead. But they didn't let him get away that easily.

A phaser blast at close range destroyed his shields.

The shuttle spun away, and Worf had to grip the console to keep from losing his seat.

The screens went dead. The cabin filled with dark smoke, foul-smelling smoke, smoke that came not from an electrical fire, because he knew that smell. No, from something less familiar.

The warp core.

He struggled to regain his shields.

He struggled to regain any vision he could of the fight.

He struggled to bring his weapons on-line.

The air was disappearing from the cabin. Sweat soaked his uniform.

Then he brought the computer on-line.

"Engine failure in ten seconds." The familiar voice started her countdown.

Worf pounded on the console, but nothing else responded.

"Seven ..."

He couldn't breathe. His chest felt heavy.

"Six ..."

He ignored it, pushing emergency relays, trying to regain any control at all.

"Five ..."

The voice sounded so calm. Not even a Klingon would sound that calm in this situation.

"Four ..."

The smoke was now so thick that he couldn't even see his hands.

"Three ..."

One glimpse of the battle. Just one. To know if Riker made it.

"Two ..."

But he would never know. All that he would know was that he had done his best. Mentally he saluted the commander and wished him well.

"One ..."

Riker had been right. It was a good day to die.

THE SHUTTLE WAS ON COURSE. The shuttle was on course.

Riker stared at the screen and the console, keeping the wormhole firmly in his vision, ignoring the chaos as best he could.

Eight seconds.

In eight seconds he would be there.