The Battle Of Betazed Part 16

With a weariness that made her feel older than her years, Lwaxana placed Barin on his small cot and wiped his limbs with a damp cloth in a futile effort to reduce his fever.

"Water," he choked through a parched throat.

Lwaxana reached for her cup and held the last drops of her water ration to his lips. He drank greedily, emptying the vessel. "More."

Tears filled her eyes. "There is no more, my darling Barin. Not until the men return from the river tomorrow morning."

The boy was too ill to protest further. He had contracted the Rigelian fever the previous day, and the disease had progressed rapidly. Without ryetalyn, he had no chance of recovery, and with the increase of Jem'Hadar patrols in every village within a hundred kilometers, no one had been able to obtain more of the medicine.

Three other children of the resistance cell had died after the night Enaren had been forced to take Okalan's life, but since then, the doctor had discovered an antidote. Processing a serum from a relative with a matching blood type, he had transfused antibodies from the vaccinated adults into the ailing children. The serum did not cure the fever, but it prevented the disease from killing its victims. Since the introduction of the serum, not a single child had perished.

Until now.

When Barin was stricken, Lwaxana had begged the doctor to use her blood to produce a serum of antibodies for her son.

"Your son is only half Betazoid," the physician had replied with deep sadness in his tired eyes. "An infusion of serum created under these conditions from pure Betazoid blood might kill him outright."

"But the fever will surely kill him if we do nothing!"

"We must wait-"

"For what? A miracle?"

"There is always the possibility the next scouting party might return with ryetalyn."

Lwaxana had shaken her head in despair. "We might as well wish the Jem'Hadar off-planet. Both possibilities are equally remote."

The doctor had laid his hand on her shoulder. "You will know when the time comes. Call me. If there is no hope, then the serum will do no harm."

His words echoed in her memory. She felt the fever rising in Barin's rugged little body, draining the life from him, and sensed the time to alert the doctor had come.

Shoving wearily to her feet, she stumbled to the opening of her sleeping niche and drew back the curtain. "Chaxaza?"

Her cousin hurried toward her from the common room, her face drawn with fear. "Barin?"

Lwaxana shook her head. "He is still with us. But the doctor must come quickly. Please, find him."

She dropped the curtain and returned to her son. As a leader of her people, she was required to be strong, to represent hope, to keep up their spirits. But as a mother, she had already lost one child. Her darling Kestra had drowned when she was a beautiful little girl of seven, and her death had devastated Lwaxana so terribly, she had repressed the memory for over thirty years. As a result, Deanna had been a grown woman before she'd learned she'd had an older sister.

Losing Kestra had almost killed Lwaxana. Compounding that blow had been the deaths of Ian Troi and Timicin, the two loves of her life. Now she faced the death of her only son, the beloved child of her older years. She knelt and buried her face in his cot, letting her tears flow.

Footsteps sounded in the tunnel, and the fabric covering the sleeping niche was brushed aside. With tear-stained cheeks, Lwaxana glanced up, expecting to see the doctor.

Instead, she discovered Sorana Xerix, but the woman lacked her usual haughty expression. Worry lined her forehead and bracketed her mouth, and her eyes were moist with unshed tears. "I brought you this."

In stunned surprise, Lwaxana accepted the bowl Sorana handed her. "But this is your entire day's water ration."

"I regret it's all I have to give."

With a cry of grat.i.tude, Lwaxana wet her almost dry cloth and sponged her toddler's searing flesh. Then she tilted Barin's head for a long drink.

"The doctor is gathering his medical kit," Sorana said. "He'll be here soon."

She turned to leave, then hesitated in the opening. "It's not good to be alone at such a time. If you wish, I'll stay with you."

"Please." Lwaxana gestured toward the niche's only chair.

With a nod, Sorana took the seat, her presence surprisingly comforting.

"We've had our differences," Lwaxana admitted. "Why are you here now?"

"Because we also have shared tragedy," Sorana said. "Like you, I lost a child when I was much younger, but one does not forget the pain."

Lwaxana gazed at Barin, lying too quiescent on his tiny cot. "I've lost one child," she said fiercely. "I refuse to give up another."

Chapter Fifteen.

"D ATA?" D EANNA CALLED in a loud whisper.

Her voice echoed eerily off the rocky ledge, but she received no reply. Without combadges, which had been deemed too risky, she had no way of contacting Data and no idea why he had left without informing her of his departure. She wondered if he had picked up movement of more Jem'Hadar troops and gone out with Tevren to meet them, until her foot struck something on the ledge.

Bending down, she retrieved the object: Tevren's psionic inhibitor in the sterile pack where Beverly had placed it after removal. Deanna's blood ran cold at the sight of the inhibitor implant, apparently ground beneath someone's heel into the red stone until only fragments remained.

With terrible foreboding, she scanned the forest nearest the rendezvous point, fearful Tevren had somehow disabled Data and abandoned him. She saw two sets of footprints on the path leading up the mountain, one made by Data's boots, the other the distinctive tread of soft, prison-issue shoes.

Their departure made no sense. Even with his emotion chip, Data was unlikely to be susceptible to Tevren's psychological manipulations, especially in so short a time, so how had such a powerless little man overcome Data? And if Tevren hadn't somehow gained control of the android, why hadn't they returned yet? Could the Jem'Hadar be closer than they'd thought?

She had to find them both quickly. Data possessed their only means of signaling Worf, but more than that, he was her friend, and she ached at the possibility that he might be hurt or even killed while trying to help her homeworld. Besides, she was responsible for Tevren, and the last thing she wanted was his running amok among the unsuspecting citizens of Darona. Bad enough that they had to endure the Jem'Hadar occupation without adding a serial killer to their problems.

When Deanna stepped inside the cave, Beverly glanced up from her patient, her expression hopeful. "Did Data receive a response?"

Deanna shook her head and handed the doctor the remains of the inhibitor. "Data and Tevren have disappeared."

Beverly's eyes widened at the sight of the ruined inhibitor. "Dammit," she whispered. "We have no way to control him now."

"Finding him is my first worry. In the meantime, until I return, step onto the ledge at irregular intervals and fire your phaser into the air. If Worf returns, he'll scan this location and will recognize the Starfleet weapon signature. The sooner you can get Vaughn aboard the Defiant, the better."

"And the Jem'Hadar?" Beverly asked.

"We'll hope the Defiant homes in on your phaser fire before they do." Deanna checked the setting on her phaser rifle and released the safety.

"Be careful," Beverly said with a bittersweet smile.

"You, too."

Deanna hurried up the mountain path above the cave. Tevren was quick to tire, and she hoped to catch up with him before he could travel far. But she doubted she could take him by surprise. When Beverly had removed his inhibitor, Deanna had been astounded by the magnitude of his telepathic powers. Tevren would sense her coming a mile away. Her only hope was a face-to-face confrontation to coax him into keeping his original bargain-if she had a chance to speak before he struck her dead.

Climbing at a steady pace, Deanna had covered almost fifty meters when she sensed Tevren's presence ahead. His predominant emotion, anxiety, took her by surprise. Insecurity was the last impression she had expected.

She followed the path out of the forest and onto a broad escarpment. From the corner of her eye, she saw a slight movement on the far end of the ridge. Instantly she brought her rifle up, and through its sights she saw Data facing her across the darkness, with Tevren directly behind him, holding Data's rifle to the android's head.

"Don't come any closer," Tevren warned. "If you fire, I'll kill him."

Data made no sound or movement.

"Data," Deanna called, "are you all right?"

"He can't answer you," Tevren called, his voice almost s.n.a.t.c.hed away by the wind.

Never once moving her rifle, Deanna inched her way forward, sensing Tevren's uncharacteristic anxiety with every step. "What have you done to him?"

"Another little trick I developed," Tevren boasted. "Only this one I managed to keep secret. Telekinesis. It wasn't easy, but I was able to force him to help me up here, and now I'm suppressing the central processor of his positronic net."

"Why?" Deanna asked. "You stopped the Jem'Hadar. I thought you were on our side."

Maybe if she kept Tevren talking, she could ascertain the source of his anxiety. If she could alleviate whatever was panicking the man, she would try to talk him into surrendering and returning Data's self-control.

"I heard you mention his transponder," Tevren said, breathing heavily. "Without him, your s.h.i.+p can't take me off this planet. I don't want to go to Betazed. They'll just use me, and then lock me up again."

Deanna said nothing. She couldn't bring herself to deny that his reincarceration was exactly what she intended to argue with the resistance. "Maybe if you cooperate, voluntarily, and help the resistance, they'll reconsider your disposition. You could become a hero."

Tevren laughed with a coldness even sharper than the night wind, but it was ragged. Something's definitely wrong with him. "And what use would I have for that, Deanna? Stay back!"

Deanna stopped. She'd come within ten meters of them, her weapon still raised, still searching for a shot. But Tevren was barely visible in the darkness, hiding behind Data. She could see the silhouette of his head, but even at the stun setting a head shot could kill, and she wasn't prepared to go that far with him yet. Not unless she really had no other choice. She would take him to Betazed, tell the resistance what she'd witnessed of his killing spree, and leave the ultimate decision with them. But she was determined first to get every member of her away team off Darona alive.

"What do you hope to accomplish?" she demanded. "Even if you could elude the Jem'Hadar in this wilderness indefinitely-something I strongly doubt-how will you survive up here alone? What kind of life do you expect to have that would be better than returning home?"

"I'm not going back," he shouted. "If you try to force me, I'll kill Data, and you. Or you'll be forced to kill me, and what would that mean for the homeworld?"

Strange. Why would Tevren need to threaten her? Why hadn't he simply killed her as he'd killed the Jem'Hadar? Maybe he can't, she thought. Maybe holding Data is taking all his concentration, and he can't employ more than one psionic technique at a time. And if he releases Data to kill me, Data will knock him out before he can pull the trigger.

Deanna's patience was wearing thin. Vaughn was dying, the Jem'Hadar had certainly already sent out fresh troops to capture them, and she was freezing to death in the frigid wind that blew endlessly across the ridge. So what's the solution? I can't afford to wait him out.

"At least let Data go."

"And allow him to overpower me with his superior strength? Give it up, Deanna. It's not going to happen. Just leave. Now. Or I swear, one of us is going to die."

That's when she saw the answer.

"Maybe not," Deanna said, and fired.

In the fraction of a second it took her finger to pull the trigger, Deanna's aim s.h.i.+fted slightly, until her sights were square over the right side of Data's chest.

The beam cut straight through Data, and into Tevren.

Tevren's grip on Data's phaser rifle slipped, and both of them, android and killer, fell to the ground and lay still.

Captain Picard strode through the Enterprise 's shuttlebay and into semi-organized chaos. The s.h.i.+p's evacuation limit had come close to being reached. His crew, however, had done an admirable job of making the thousands of men, women, and children freed from Sentok Nor as comfortable as possible. The Betazoids had been given pallets and blankets in short order, and the s.h.i.+p's medical teams moved quietly among their ravaged guests, dispensing kind words and encouragement with hot meals and medical treatment.

With so many people confined in a limited area, the huge bay seemed remarkably quiet. Although the children remained subdued, several cried for their missing parents. Many of the Betazoid adults paced and waved their arms in vigorous but silent debate. Some sat in groups, their lips moving only to chew their food. Others hugged themselves and rocked. Most slept.

Their telepathic abilities didn't cause Picard any misgivings. He'd been around Deanna Troi long enough to comprehend that her people considered probing anyone's mind without permission the height of impropriety.

Commander Riker approached and spoke quietly. "We're having a few difficulties, sir. They've selected a leader who wants to speak with you. Many Betazoids are demanding that we return them immediately to Betazed."

"Don't they understand the planet is still occupied by Jem'Hadar troops?" Picard asked.

"We understand," a gray-haired Betazoid woman said sadly, "perhaps better than you do, Captain." The woman made an effort to smile at the little boy she held in one arm, but the circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders revealed her weariness. She injected the child's arm with a hyprospray, then handed the boy to an a.s.sistant, straightened her back, and nodded to Picard. "I'm Dr. Nerissa Povron. I was on the freighter and hadn't been transferred to the station yet, or I would be in as bad a condition as the rest of those in this bay."

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and you are all most welcome on my s.h.i.+p."

"Captain, on behalf of my people, I want to thank you for rescuing us."

"No thanks are necessary. We're all on the same side, Dr. Povron. I wish my crew could do more to help."

The doctor led him and Riker through a cleared path between the rows of injured. "Most of our people have family on Betazed. They are anxious to return, but there is something more important we should discuss first."

Povron drew Picard and Riker toward a section of the injured who lay on pallets on the shuttlebay decking. Even to Picard's medically untrained eye, many appeared too sick or injured to recover, their lack of coloring just one factor indicating the severity of their injuries. Some were so emaciated their skin hung on their bones as if the Carda.s.sians had starved them. A few were missing eyes. Those who appeared whole stared at the ceiling with blank, lifeless expressions and took no notice of their surroundings. Others had mumerous scars on their shaved heads, indicating they'd experienced more than one barbaric surgical procedure.

"The most serious cases are in your sickbay," Povron told him.

Picard's stomach tightened at the suffering these people had endured, aware that many lives had been destroyed and many would never recover. "Is there anything else you require?" Picard asked.

"Caskets for the dead." She pointed to bodies covered with blankets in the far corner. "I'm afraid many others won't last the night."

"I'll see what I can do," Picard told her.

She indicated those with scars on their heads. "These people are some of our most powerful telepaths."

"Why did the Dominion torture them?" Riker asked.

Povron hesitated. "I don't think they were tortured so much as experimented on. I've discovered signs of genetic manipulation. The surgeries they endured were performed on the area of the central cortex where telepathic activity resides."

"A Carda.s.sian exobiologist named Crell Moset was in charge of the experiments," Picard told her. "His earlier work was in virology. Are you certain his current interest is telepathy?"

"It's obvious," Povron said, "because all experimental surgeries were done on the telepathic cortex. And the last of us who came up on the freighter, myself included, were specifically chosen for our telepathic strength."

Picard tried not to stare at the hideous scars on the forehead of the closest Betazoid. "Do you think Moset was searching for a method to destroy telepathic abilities?"

Povron shook her head. "I am told there were thousands of dead Jem'Hadar on Sentok Nor who suffered similar cranial surgeries. I think what we are facing is the probability that Moset was harvesting Betazoid brain matter in an attempt to genetically engineer telepaths."

Telepathic Jem'Hadar. Picard repressed a shudder and exchanged a worried glance with his first officer. Already as formidable a foe as any the Federation had faced, Jem'Hadar with telepathic powers would be practically invincible. No wonder the Dominion had spared no expense and worked so rapidly to build Sentok Nor.