Star Trek - Requiem. Part 19

Gritting her teeth, Julia got off a shot. Through sheer luck, she hit the foremost of the lizard-beings, hurling him backward-and slowing down the ones in back of him. It was only then that her mystery man seemed to have a real chance.

Following up with another quick blast, Jean-Luc put his head down and turned on the afterburners. The ground sizzled and erupted in front of him and behind him, but he somehow managed to remain unscathed. And then, with a last-ditch effort, he dove for the doctor.

Not expecting to have to support his full weight, Julia fell backward-and thereby eluded the explosion of green destruction that slammed into the wall just behind her. As she regained her bearings, she realized that Jean-Luc had saved her life.

Hustling her back into the building, he thrust the door closed behind him and barked, "Everyone get down!"

It was a voice used to being obeyed. Not surprisingly, everyone got down. Nor were they sorry they did, as a barrage of green energy stabbed through the facility, dissolving gla.s.s and metal alike-a barrage that would have killed several of the colonists if they had remained on their feet.

Taking hold of her face urgently but gently, Jean-Luc looked at her. "Are you all right?" he rasped, still out of breath from his sprint across the plaza.

The doctor nodded. "I'm fine," she said, managing a grim smile. "Now."

He smiled back for a moment, then turned to Travers. The commodore's craggy features had softened a bit.

"I thought I had you figured out, Hill. The way I saw it, you sabotaged our long-range sensors to keep us from finding out about these lizard people. Then you took off into the desert to await their arrival."

"Then I show up here," said Dixon, "and play hob with your theory. My apologies."

Travers frowned. "So? Are you going to tell me the truth about yourself or not?"

The visitor from the future looked wistful. "Not," he answered. "But I will say this: I'm no traitor. I never had anything but good intentions toward you or your colony."

The commodore sighed. "I had a feeling you were going to avoid the issue." He turned to Julia. "How about you? Care to shed some light on our mystery guest?"

The doctor considered it for a moment. After all, it was possible that they would all die in this place. But what if they didn't? What if someone here survived to screw up the timestream?

She shook her head. "No. You won't get anything out of me, either. In fact-"

Before she could finish her comment, another barrage cut through the air above them, sending a rain of debris down on their heads. Coughing, Julia dusted herself off and leaned close to her friend, as Travers inched nearer to the place where the window used to be. It gave the two of them a moment of relative privacy.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered. "Will you tell me something?"

His eyes found hers. "If I can," he responded.

The doctor licked her lips. "You went to the trouble of saving the colony from a devastating accident-even risked your life in the process. And now, you've come back to make a stand here with us-again, at great risk."

Her friend seemed to see where she was headed with this. "Why would I have done any of that if the colony was destined to be wiped out? If at least some of your people were not meant to survive?"

He gazed at her with infinite kindness, with infinite sorrow and regret. And his hazel eyes told her all she needed to know.

Julia swallowed. So they really were doomed. They were all going to die; history had already decided that. But then ...

"Why did you come back?" she asked. "If it wasn't going to accomplish anything ... what was the point?"

Jean-Luc shrugged. "Perhaps it was because of something someone once told me-that there's no such thing as a meaningless sacrifice. That any positive act, no matter how hopeless or insignificant, is ultimately worthwhile."

The doctor looked at him. "Me? I said that?"

He nodded. "It appears I have memorized it. I suppose it struck a chord." There was a pause, as he turned away from her. "Julia, I have done things in the last few days that I am not proud of. I have lied to people who trusted me. I have spent all my time planning ways to abandon you and your fellow colonists to your fate.

"And for what? So I could live. Oh, there are good reasons for me to do so-reasons that I cannot go into now. But what I planned to do can be done by others almost as well. I see now that I am not as essential to the future as I wished to believe. And without that justification, what was left?"

Julia did her best to understand. "Is it so bad to want to survive?" she wondered.

Jean-Luc shook his head. "No, of course not. However, there are worse things than dying." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "There is shame, for instance. And there is the loss of someone dear to you, when you haven't even put up a fight to try to keep her-as futile as that fight may be."

The doctor could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she willed them back. She wasn't going to cry, she resolved. She had been strong all her life. She wasn't going to falter right at the end.

"They're coming," said Travers. He looked back at Julia and her friend. "This might be a good time to lend a hand, Mr. Hill."

"That's not my name," Jean-Luc confessed to the commodore.

Travers shrugged. "It's the name I'll always remember you by," he said, keeping a straight face under his iron-gray brows.

Under different circ.u.mstances, Julia might have laughed at the gallows humor. As it was, she merely grasped her phaser more tightly and crawled forward next to her strange companion.

It seemed like a long time before they reached the neighboring node, guided through the darkness by their handheld light sources. In the meantime, the power surges hadn't gotten any worse. The lights went on dimly for two or three seconds at a time, or flickered brightly for an eyeblink and then died, but there was no sign of those flashes that ran the length of the walls like a herd of wild horses.

All in all, it seemed to Barclay, they had been lucky. He wondered how much longer their luck would hold out.

"There," said Commander La Forge, pointing. "That looks like the way to a control center."

Following his superior's gesture, Barclay saw the mouth of an access tunnel, just like the one that led to the control room they'd left behind. He nodded. "Let's give it a try, sir."

The chief engineer hunched over first and led the way. As Barclay followed, he couldn't help but hurry through the little entranceway, reminded again of what had happened to Varley. He felt a lot better once he was actually inside the tunnel-despite the shadows that danced insanely all about them, projected on the walls by their light sources.

Even before Barclay reached the far end, where Commander La Forge was waiting for him, he could see that the equipment up ahead was pretty identical to that which they had been working on. It was a good sign-a good sign indeed.

"Come on," said the commander, helping Barclay to his feet as he emerged. He kept his light trained on the opposite wall. "Unless I miss my guess, that console over there is the one we're after."

Barclay turned to look in the same direction. "Aye, sir," he decided, approaching the control bank in question with a critical eye. "That should be it, all right."

He touched one of the pads, expecting the thing to remain dormant-as lifeless as its counterpart back in the other control room, the first time he had checked it out. To his surprise, it came to life right away, its monitor displaying a quick scroll of alien characters.

Then it died.

Then it started up again.

"Something's loose," judged La Forge. "But the connection is there."

"Seems that way," agreed the thin man, starting to s.h.i.+mmy the cover off the console. If there was one thing he had learned in this place, it was that such casings came off rather easily. Nor was this one an exception.

The insides of the console looked familiar, too. And Barclay could see where the loose connection was. It would be a little tricky to secure it without exposing himself to an open circuit, but far from impossible.

"What a stroke of luck," observed the chief engineer, obviously a.s.sessing the situation the same way Barclay had. He looked up. "I've got to admit, I was a little pessimistic about this, but-"

Suddenly, the lights in the room went on, so brilliantly that the thin man was almost blinded by them. And then, just as he started to get used to the idea, they began to flicker erratically-complemented by a new deep-throated quality in the accompanying hum.

"d.a.m.n," said La Forge. "I should have known it was too good to be true."

Barclay could feel his heart beating faster. Oh, no, he told himself. Not yet, please not yet. We still have work to do.

But even as he thought it, he placed his light on the top of the open console, where it could play on the guts of the machine, and got to work stabilizing the loose circuit. Being afraid was something he couldn't help. But there was no way he was going to let his fear get in his way again.

The commander came around to the side, where he could see what was going on, but he didn't say anything. He didn't offer to help, either, fully aware of the fact that this was a one-man job. He just watched, to make sure it went right.

Abruptly, the lights went off-only to give way to a spitfire sizzle of energy that ran all around them, from floor to wall to ceiling and back down again. The hum grew louder, grating on their ears.

Barclay could feel beads of ice water collecting in the small of his back. This was just the way it had happened that other time, when the captain disappeared. And if he didn't work quickly, something bad was going to happen again.

"Careful, Reg," said La Forge. "Don't worry about anything else. Just get it right."

Barclay nodded, recognizing the wisdom in his superior's advice. But the hum was getting increasingly difficult to ignore. And the flash of power that surrounded them seemed to be cycling faster and faster.

At last, he did what he had set out to do-the circuit was secure. Without waiting to double-check his work, he replaced the metal console sheath and began tapping the pads that would bring the thing on-line. For the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then there was a subtle, soft whirring sound, and Barclay knew that he had been on the money. The controls came to life. Up above them, the image on the monitor transformed into a schematic that he had seen before.

"We've got liftoff," he said, using an old Starfleet witticism. His voice sounded painfully flat and humorless, even to him.

"So we do," La Forge confirmed. "Move over and I'll give you a hand."

It was necessary for the two of them to work side by side now, Barclay knew. Last time, it had been Data who'd activated the alien confinement beam and released the station's energy buildup into s.p.a.ce. But they were without the android's quickness, so they had to make do with what they had.

What's more, there was no O'Connor present to tell them how far the surges had gone or how much time they had left-though if it looked as if they were approaching the point of no return, she'd make them aware of that. Until then, she knew better than to distract them.

The commander swore softly as he worked to maximize the output of the confinement beam. "It's not enough," he insisted. And then, turning to Barclay: "Data boosted the gain by recycling power through the emitter array. Ours isn't working, so we can't do that."

The hum was as bad as ever, and the lights in the bulkheads were racing around them just as quickly. The thin man bit his lip as he forced himself to think.

"What about ... what about engaging the backup module? We can run them both at once."

La Forge shook his head. "Too risky. We might trip the shutoff. Then we'd have to bypa.s.s it, and there's not enough time for that."

Barclay sighed. The commander was right. He scolded himself inwardly for even suggesting it.

Barely taking his hand off the controls, La Forge punched his comm badge. "O'Connor-how are we doing?"

The answer came so quickly, she must have been expecting the question. "It could be worse, sir. You seem to have achieved a kind of equilibrium. The surges aren't accelerating anymore, but they're still at a pretty high level. If something goes the wrong way, even just a little bit ..."

She didn't finish. But then, she didn't have to.

"What about Commander Data?" asked La Forge, still keeping a close eye on the controls. "Has he made any progress finding the captain?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. We're having trouble establis.h.i.+ng a-" For a moment, the chief engineer's communicator went silent. Then, with an unconcealed excitement: "We've got him, Commander. We've got a lock on Captain Picard."

It was the best thing Barclay could have hoped to hear. Apparently, La Forge thought so as well, because one of his hands closed into a fist-a symbol of triumph.

"Bring him back," the chief engineer told O'Connor. "We'll meet you at the airlock."

"Aye, sir," she replied. And then the comm link went dead.

La Forge's hand closed on Barclay's shoulder. "Let's get out of here, Reg."

The thin man looked at him. "But, sir ... shouldn't we keep trying to maximize the siphon effect?"

"We've done all we can," the chief engineer explained. "With any luck, the current output will keep things stable a couple of minutes longer. And after that, we'll be gone."

Barclay hesitated. He couldn't help it. He felt as if the job was incomplete.

La Forge must have noticed that something was bothering him. "Listen, Reg, once Commander Data brings back the captain, he can discharge some energy, too. Now, we've got to get going, before-"

Without warning, the control panel in front of them erupted in a geyser of blinding white energy. The commander, who had been touching it with one of his hands, seemed to leap backward with a cry of pain and shock. Then he hit the bulkhead, slipped to the deck, and was still.

Barclay just stood there, aghast, as the console sputtered and sparked. He forced himself to accept that something had happened-and that he needed to do something about it. Kneeling, he took a look at his superior.

La Forge was breathing, but not deeply. And he still had a pulse. Maybe he hadn't been hurt so badly after all. If Barclay could get him out of here, get him back to the airlock, he would probably be all right.

But why had the panel flared up that way? Could it be he hadn't secured the circuit properly after all? Could it have been ... was it his fault that the commander was lying here, in danger of his life?

Barclay set his jaw, placed his hands under La Forge's armpits, and swiveled him around toward the entranceway to the tunnel. Unfortunately, the commander was heavier than he looked. And at this rate, it would take a long time to return to the airlock-maybe too long.

But he would do whatever was necessary. Commander La Forge had trusted him against his better judgment, hadn't he? One way or another, Barclay would show him that he was worthy of that trust.

Leaving their light sources behind, since there didn't seem to be any shortage of illumination, the thin man dragged the commander across the room. Stopping at the entrance to the tunnel, Barclay sat down and inserted himself backward. Then he tugged on La Forge. Again, he shoved himself backward. And again, he pulled his burden after him.

It was slow going, and Barclay's back and shoulder muscles hadn't worked so hard in a long time-or maybe ever. But he didn't let that stop him. Inch by inch, meter by meter, he negotiated the length of the tunnel. Eventually, he could see the end of it with a glance over his shoulder. And not long after that, he reached it.

He was just about to dig his heels in and push himself out into the corridor when he thought he heard the omnipresent humming start to grow louder. And not just louder-more ominous, somehow. A sixth sense told Barclay that he was in danger. Terrible danger.

Just in time, he bent himself forward as far as he could go-and felt the hatch close behind him, so close it sc.r.a.ped the skin beneath the bottom of his uniform top. With nothing else to impede it, the metal piece slammed into the deck below it with a resounding clang.

A chill climbed Barclay's spine and didn't let go. It seemed to spread throughout his whole body, turning his blood to ice, making him s.h.i.+ver uncontrollably.

Another second, and the hatch would have closed on him. In his mind's eye, he replayed the horror of what had happened to Varley. He saw the guillotinelike descent of cold, dark metal, heard the crunch of bone and cartilage, saw the pool of blood that spread along the smooth, s.h.i.+ny deck.

It started a gibbering in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, but he couldn't. He had to let it out, to set it free or choke on it. Despite his shame and humiliation, he screamed-just like that other time. He screamed long and loud, and barely noticed when the hatch slid open again-as if enticing him to try to make it through.

But then, just when Barclay thought he'd lie in that tunnel and scream forever, his eyes focused on the helpless form of Commander La Forge. He'd made a promise to himself to return the commander to the airlock. And d.a.m.n it, he would do it-hatch or no hatch, Varley or no Varley.

Taking a deep breath, then another, he hooked his hands under La Forge's arms with renewed purpose and thrust himself backward. The hatch gave no indication of coming down again. But outside in the corridor, the racing lights created a strobe effect, and the hum was definitely grinding deeper.

Swallowing hard, Barclay forced himself to pull the commander after him. Then he slid backward again, all the while keeping his eyes on the slot that the hatch had retreated into. It was almost directly above him now.

If the thing came down, he might have enough time to avoid it-or he might not. Closing his eyes against the thought, he yanked La Forge along.

Another slide backward, and part of him had to be past the hatch, in the curving hallway outside it. Just to make sure, Barclay opened his eyes-and saw the hard, dark edge of the hatch looming right in front of him. As his heart slammed hard against his ribs, he had a sudden desire to run-to leave the commander behind and save himself from its deadly, crus.h.i.+ng weight.