Strike Zone Part 4

"That will be quite enough, Data." Picard closed his eyes momentarily. That was the risk one ran with getting information from Data rather than a computer. It was an old habit that Picard retained, preferring to garner facts from a speaking individual rather than a disembodied computer voice. Still, sometimes it seemed more trouble than it was worth. The captain turned to the main screen. "Picard to Kreel s.h.i.+p."

The irritated voice barked back, "You certainly took your feldling time getting back to us."

"Yes, well ... I was discussing your 'ultimatum' with my bridge crew. I'm afraid that surrendering to you at this time is utterly out of the question."

"How inconvenient. I'd heard you were all cowards ... it explains why the gutless Klingons have allied with you."

Picard felt Worf's eyes drilling into the back of his neck. He ignored it. "That is hardly the case," said Picard.

"If you do not surrender, we shall be forced to destroy you!"

Upon hearing this, Geordi brushed his fingertips across the activity panel of his engineering station. The indicators lit up in front of him, showing him, among other things, a silhouette of the Enterprise with the s.h.i.+eld indicators serenely in place around them. From behind him, he became aware that Worf was checking the exact same thing. "Take your best shot, suckers," muttered Geordi La Forge.

"s.h.i.+elds in place," said Worf.

"Picard to Zon.o.bor," Picard said in his best no-nonsense voice. "We will not surrender the s.h.i.+p. That is our final word. However, if there is some emergency that you require a.s.sistance with-"

Picard was not permitted to finish the sentence as the Zon.o.bor cut loose.

Worf's report was a mixture of businesslike response and astonishment at their arrogance. "They're firing on us, s-" And then, if Worf's voice were capable of going up an octave, it would have. "Captain! Energy readings off the scales! It-"

The blast from the Kreel s.h.i.+p cut through the forward s.h.i.+elds as if they simply were not there.

The impact was felt throughout the entire s.h.i.+p, as if a ma.s.sive fissure in s.p.a.ce had just opened up and the Enterprise had fallen in. Wesley, gripping the side of the conn chair, imagined he heard the screams of civilians throughout the s.h.i.+p.

"Evasive maneuvers!" shouted Picard through the din.

Wesley froze. He didn't know what to do. He was at conn, it was his responsibility. But they were being fired upon, by a vessel packing fire power unknown to present engineering. Immediately his mind started visualizing energy fields, trying to figure out just how the devil it was possible to hit the Enterprise with that much pure power ...

And Picard, who was hardly accustomed to repeating himself, said, "Go to red alert! Conn, evasive maneuvers! Marks, take o-"

That got Wesley's attention. "Evasive maneuvers, sir!" he quickly called out, executing the order.

Gracefully the Enterprise angled hard astern.

The Kreel s.h.i.+p, like an angry, stubborn mongrel, kept on her and fired again. This time the astounding weaponry ripped through the starboard s.h.i.+elding, knocking it out of existence.

At engineering, Geordi didn't know where to look first. He had a fleeting wish his visor had an "off" switch. "Forward and starboard deflectors out! Circuit overloads!"

"Compensate!" snapped Picard.

"Working on it, sir."

Deanna Troi felt compelled to say, "Panic from all over the s.h.i.+p, Captain. I can feel it."

"So can I," Picard said.

"Separation?" asked Riker.

"No time, Number One. Besides, the Kreel would hardly be sporting enough to let them go."

As if on cue, the voice of the Kreel commander sneered over the s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p, "We could have destroyed you just then, Enterprise. If you attempt to fire on us, we will destroy you. If you attempt to run away again, we will destroy you. You have no option but to surrender."

"Death First!"

The shout came not from Picard, but from Worf.

With utter astonishment, Picard looked at Worf. The burly Klingon was clearly seething, furious beyond anything Picard had ever seen.

His voice laden with danger, Picard said, "Worf ... be ... quiet."

But the damage was done. "Is that Klingon I smell, even through s.p.a.ce?" came the snide voice.

Picard needed to say nothing further. Worf had regained control of himself, making a visible effort to keep his mouth clamped shut.

"How marvelous. In addition to your s.h.i.+p, Captain, we want the Klingon. For a toy."

Worf clenched his fists, the knuckles flexing under the skin, as if envisioning a Kreel neck between his fingers.

Picard now understood Deanna Troi's brief hesitation earlier, when he'd asked what impressions she was picking up. She'd been about to report about overwhelming hostility, not just from the Kreel, but from Worf. Twenty-twenty hindsight, however, was going to serve no purpose.

"All right," said Picard. "You win. The s.h.i.+p is yours."

The bridge crew, as one, turned and stared at Picard. Picard had the distinct feeling that, had he been in command of a Klingon vessel back in the more savage days of the Empire, he would have been incinerated right about now by his own people.

"Excellent," came the voice. "You send the Klingon and yourself over here for insurance. Then bring our boarding party over there ... and no transporter tricks, or you're dead."

"We'll be there in a moment. Picard out."

He stepped away from his command chair, heading in the direction of the doorway in the bridge aft section which led to the conference room.

"Conference, sir?" asked Riker.

"Devil take that," snapped off Picard. "What would you suggest we discuss, Number One? The scenery?"

And now Picard walked to where he'd been heading in the first place, namely the science station just to the right of the door. "Mister La Forge, I need you for this."

Obediently, Geordi stepped over to his captain's side. Riker, still not fully understanding what was happening, tried to establish some sort of handle on the situation. "Captain, I cannot allow you to deliver yourself in to their hands."

"No one is delivering anyone, Number One. Mister La Forge, call up a schematic of the normal design of a Kreel s.h.i.+p."

Geordi did so, and a s.h.i.+mmering outline of the specs of the Zon.o.bor appeared on the computer screen.

"Now," said Picard, "full sensor scan of our opponent. Compare and contrast."

A detailed image of the actual Zon.o.bor appeared alongside its specs. And there was something else. On the underside of the actual s.h.i.+p was highlighted, in yellow, a very small image. From its shape and design, it could only be some sort of weapon.

"Well well well," said Riker. "Accessories."

"That must be why they're uns.h.i.+elded," Geordi exclaimed. "All power's going into their weapon. If we remove it from them, that should shut the weapon down."

"Feed the coordinates down to the cargo transporter room," Picard ordered. He tilted his head slightly. "Bridge to transporter room D."

"Transporter room here," came the slightly surprised reply. D was the largest transporter platform on the s.h.i.+p, used only when ma.s.sive s.h.i.+pments were being brought aboard. Now, in a red-alert situation, hardly seemed the time for such cargo movements to be made.

"Mr. La Forge is feeding coordinates down to you. Prepare to activate transporter on my order."

"Yes, sir. What are we bringing aboard?"

"We'll all be surprised, transporter room. Bridge out." Then he paused, savoring the moment. "Picard to Kreel vessel."

"For someone in as much danger as yourselves, you're hardly in a position to take as much time as you are," came the irritated response.

"Just getting our s.h.i.+p together," said Picard. "We are preparing to activate the transporter. Transporter room, get ready. And ... energize."

For about five seconds there was nothing but silence.

"They've raised s.h.i.+elds," said Worf. "Too late, though."

Then a satisfying howl of indignation echoed throughout the bridge.

"What have you done?!"

"The same thing we would do with any belligerent child," said Picard with a great measure of selfsatisfaction. "We've taken your toy away."

"Give it back! It's ours!"

"And the Enterprise is ours, but you did not seem to be interested in recognizing possessions. Now, either tell us what this is all about, or we'll be forced to fire on you. I'd prefer not to, but then again it might be interesting to see how your s.h.i.+elds hold up against our phasers."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh yes we would," replied Picard. "And once we've disabled you, we'll bring you all aboard this s.h.i.+p until we get this all sorted out."

And the voice, suddenly deadly, said, "You can't. There's a Klingon aboard that s.h.i.+p. At least one, maybe more."

Without looking back at Worf, Picard said, "That's quite correct."

"Death First!"

Picard's head automatically snapped about, reflexively thinking that it was Worf who had once again spoken. Then he realized that, in fact, it was the angry voice of the unnamed Kreel commander.

"Wait!" shouted Picard. "Transporter room! Lock on to-"

Too late.

The s.h.i.+p's detonation was eerily silent as it blew in all directions simultaneously. Picard's order died in his throat as the Kreel died in s.p.a.ce, and he felt a burst of rage sweep through him.

"Useless," he snapped. "So utterly, utterly useless." He turned away, not wanting to see the last bits of the Kreel s.h.i.+p fizzle into nothingness. There had been a brief fireball as the explosion ripped through the vessel's atmosphere, but the vacuum of s.p.a.ce had snuffed it out most efficiently. "Mr. Riker, I want you to take Mr. La Forge and Mr. Data with you down to the cargo transporter room and see exactly what we've reeled in. Mr. Worf, come with me."

He turned to the ready room, situated just off the forward section of the bridge. Deanna Troi stood, standing just enough in his path so as not to be blocking but, at the same time, making it impossible to ignore her. "Yes, Counselor?" he said with just the slightest trace of annoyance.

"Captain, if I may ... "

"Counselor, I am in command of the situation. Kindly allow me to do my job."

Troi bit off her response and said simply, "I would not dream of interfering, Captain."

"Thank you." He walked into his ready room, Worf following silently. Riker, for his part, went to the aft turbolift with Geordi and Data a step behind.

The door hissed shut after them. Wesley watched them go, and then he sank back in the conn chair, closed his eyes and moaned softly.

Deanna's exotic voice came from behind him. "Do not be concerned, Wesley. Your hesitation was only momentary ... and understandable."

He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. "But you could tell I did hesitate, couldn't you. It was that obvious."

"Yes."

"Everyone ... " Wesley took a breath, forcing himself to stare straight ahead at the field of stars that floated before them. "Everyone expects so ... so d.a.m.ned much of me. Like I was telling Jaan. They put me up high on this level above everything else."

Deanna squatted down, so that she was at eye level with him. "And when you are up so high, you have so much farther to fall, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Mm-hmmm. You cannot change who and what you are, Wesley. All you can do is live with it. And I shall do whatever I can to make it livable for you." She paused. "Your mother's leaving was very difficult for you, wasn't it?"

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Great, a guy's feeling down on himself, and the first thing that you can think of to say is that he misses his mommy."

"That's not what I was saying, Wesley."

"Forget it, okay? I really appreciate your help, Deanna, but I'll work everything out just fine." He began diligently checking the headings. "Just fine," he repeated, and Deanna knew that there would be no further communicating with him at this point.

Deanna sighed. Here she had this gift to let other's emotions touch her, caress her, and embrace her mind and spirit. But when it came to reaching back toward the sources of those emotions, frequently it was like wearing a blindfold and having her hands tied behind her. She could see more clearly than anyone, but she was, by her standards, mute.

When she told the captain, in a difficult situation, that she sensed pain, Picard would nod and act as if that told him something. But how could she put across to him, to anyone, what she was really feeling? Thoughts, emotions, and feelings raged through her, but she had only clumsy, inefficient words to express them.

Who was she, she thought bitterly, to counsel Wes against feeling inadequate. She was the greatest failure on the s.h.i.+p, her one-way abilities laughable, her job a sham.

And then she looked at the despondent Wesley, and she gathered all her self-pity and self-doubt together into a ball and rolled it away into a dark, rarely visited part of her mind where she hoped never to see it again, and hoped that it would most definitely not come out to see her.

Who, she wondered, counsels the counselor?

"Would you like to tell me just what the devil that was all about?" snapped Picard.

He had barely waited for the door to the ready room to shut before turning on his head-of-security. Worf stood there, stoically, arms folded behind his back.

"I apologize if my conduct was inappropriate, Captain."

"If? If? That's putting it mildly, Worf." Picard was shaking his head in disbelief. "This is incomprehensible. I know the Klingons and the Kreel have never gotten along, but this surpa.s.ses anything I would have imagined."