Ro steeled herself for an odious job. In essence, she was poised to surrender her ship—her first command—to whomever was in charge of the bridge. Considering the ruthlessness of the attack, she would probably join her shipmates in death, but she had to meet the new masters of the Orb of Peace first. She had lost the ship in the blink of an eye, while she had been relaxing, negligent in her duties. That was the most galling part.
Captain Picard jumped up from a crouch and dashed across the expanse of the dormitory room, where several score of hammocks hung from the ceiling like old moss. It was dark, and he dared not turn on any lights for fear of being spotted. As he neared the last row of hammocks, he stumbled over the dead body of a young ensign. By her loose clothing, he concluded that she had been ruthlessly cut down while she slept.
The war and a life fraught with danger had inured him somewhat to death, but it was still difficult to accept when the victim was a young person with so many years ahead of her. To see her cut down unexpectedly, for no reason, was a sinful waste. Even so, thought Picard, he had been willing to kill this same young woman instead of letting her be taken prisoner by the Dominion. He had killed and was prepared to do it again.
He tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Why had someone wanted this ordinary little ship so badly they had to kill for it? Their assailants seemed to know their way around the ship fairly well; they knew exactly where to strike. So Picard wasn’t optimistic about finding their cache of hand phasers intact as he reached the rear bulkhead in the dormitory.
Sure enough, the cabinet had been stripped of its weapons. He heard a groan, and he whirled around to see a lump in the corner, twitching, groping for him. “Help me!” rasped the figure.
Picard ran to the wounded man and tried not to gape at his wretched condition. “I’m right here,” he told the dying man. “Please stop trying to talk. Save your strength.”
The man gripped Picard’s shoulder, and the captain could feel him shivering, growing weaker. Both of them were obscured by shadows. “No warning,” croaked the officer.
“Who was it?” asked Picard as he tried to straighten the man’s limbs and make him comfortable.
“Romulans!” wheezed the officer with a violent shudder. Suddenly his shivering and twitching stopped, and he went limp in the captain’s arms.
“Rest in peace,” whispered the captain, setting the man gently onto the deck. His jaw set determinedly, Picard rose to his feet and looked around the dormitory for any object he could use as a weapon. He spotted a toolbox and quickly opened it. Among the tools was a heavy spanner, which he hefted in his hand with grim satisfaction.
What his plan was, Picard didn’t yet know. He was in reaction mode, thinking of other ships, other times when intruders had taken over and forced him into guerrilla warfare on his own decks. Every time, his foe had been so ruthless as to leave him no choice.
Picard pounded the spanner into the palm of his hand, jumped up, and dashed back through the dormitory. It was deserted except for the ghosts.
Ro paused outside the door of the bridge. Still in her stocking feet, she had approached the hijackers unseen and unheard, and she could see them hovering over the consoles, oblivious of the butchered bodies that littered the deck. The streaked image on the viewscreen led her to believe that they were still in warp drive, probably still on course for the Eye of Talek.
She saw two of the victors and heard the voice of a third, all men and dressed in civilian clothing—not the Bajoran uniforms of her crew. At least it hadn’t been a mutiny. To know so much about the ship, these intruders had to be connected to the pirates. Maybe they had boarded during the search of the ship, while she had been drugged. Chuckling and congratulating each other, they sounded elated over the success of their murderous assault.
At that moment, when she had intended to surrender to them, Ro knew she couldn’t do it. Her fury at losing her ship and her instincts for survival forced her to back slowly away from the door. Suddenly she heard angry voices, and one of the intruders turned around and strode toward her. Although his uniform was unfamiliar, she identified his straight black hair and imperious bearing.
A Romulan!
He stared at her, scowled, and reached for a Klingon disruptor in his belt. Ro darted down the hall and vaulted over a body and into the spiral staircase. She plunged several steps as a disruptor beam vaporized the hand railing, scattering droplets of molten metal down on her.
Chapter Twelve
RO CHARGED DOWN THE STAIRS, listening to the shouts and footsteps of her pursuer. She had no intent but to run like hell, which she did as soon as she hit the lower deck. Glancing behind her, Ro didn’t see the first body sprawled across the corridor, and she stumbled over it. She crashed to the deck just as heavy footsteps bounded onto the deck behind her.
“Need help?” shouted a distant voice from above.
“No, no!” answered the grinning Romulan as he leveled his disruptor at Ro. “I’ve got matters in control.”
Expecting to be vaporized, Ro flinched, and she nearly missed seeing Captain Picard spring from behind the staircase and hit the Romulan across the back of his skull. His features contorted for a second before he collapsed onto the deck, sending the disruptor skittering across the floor toward Ro. She instantly pounced upon the weapon and aimed it at the top of the staircase, waiting for more of them to descend.
Picard searched the fallen Romulan but found nothing worth keeping. He motioned to Ro, and she picked herself up and scurried over. Picard pointed to the body and back down the corridor; then he gripped the prisoner’s closest armpit. Keeping her weapon aimed at the Romulan, Ro gripped the other armpit, and together they dragged their prisoner back down the corridor toward the mess hall.
Seeing the bodies of their comrades was no easier this time, but she struggled on, helping Picard drag the unconscious Romulan to the door of the dining hall. When the door didn’t open, Picard pushed the panel beside it. When that failed, he rapped on the door.
“Geordi! It’s us!”
The door slid open, and they dragged the Romulan inside, as Ro stole a glance down the corridor. The other two were still above deck, thinking their friend was in control.
La Forge gaped at them. “You caught a Romulan?”
“Yes,” answered Picard breathlessly. “I see you have the door rigged?”
“For now,” answered La Forge, gingerly sticking a fork back into the open wall compartment and making an adjustment. “These aren’t heavy-duty doors—they could bust through fairly easily. How many are there?”
“Three,” answered Ro. “Him and two others, all Romulans.”
“And there were Romulans in that bunch of pirates who boarded us,” recalled Geordi. “I guess they had a look around and liked what they saw.”
Picard’s jaw tightened. “We’ve got a weapon, and we’ve lowered the odds. But I really don’t want to try a direct assault on the bridge.”
Their prisoner groaned and began to move his limbs. Ro looked at the disruptor and scowled. “This is the cheap model, the one with no stun setting.”
“Don’t hesitate to kill him if necessary,” ordered Picard. “Mr. La Forge, have we got anything to tie him up?”
The engineer reached into the open panel and yanked out several long strands of electrical wiring, which he tossed to Picard. “Use this, because I’ve disabled the door’s circuitry.”
When the Romulan groaned some more and tried to open his eyes, Ro’s finger encircled the trigger of the disruptor and aimed the weapon at his chest. La Forge jumped down and helped Picard tie the captive’s wrists together. They were working on his feet when he came to and gaped at them with startling clarity.
“What?” he gasped. “What is—”
“Quiet,” ordered Picard. “Kill him if he breathes another word.”
“With pleasure,” answered Ro.
The Romulan’s darting eyes took in Picard’s stern visage, then the disruptor in Ro’s hands, and finall
y the intense look on Ro’s face. She didn’t need to do anything to put the fear into him, because her determination to kill him was etched into her gaunt features. He stopped his movements and stared at them, wide-eyed.
“Why did you kill so many of us?” demanded Picard.
“We wanted your ship,” said the Romulan evenly. “Would you have given it to us?”
“Why did you want this ship?” he pressed the captive.
“It was the only one which presented itself to us.” The Romulan winced as he shifted position. “You don’t know what it was like, serving under Rolf and Shek! We were virtual prisoners—allowed none of the luxuries they got. And all the things we were forced to do—well, we learned how to take over a ship from them.”
“Did they have anything to do with this?” asked Picard.
“No, Rolf would torture and kill us, if he knew. We had been talking about deserting, if we could get a ship. After we returned from searching your vessel, we put our plan into action. We’re Romulans. We were born to rule, not serve.”
“We’re recapturing this ship,” vowed Picard.
“There’s no need for bloodshed,” offered the Romulan, struggling against his bonds. “Turn me loose. Let me talk to them.”
Ro glanced at Picard and La Forge, and it was obvious from their grim expressions that the Romulan was not getting his freedom any time soon.
“On your feet,” ordered Picard.
“You’re going to let me go?” asked the Romulan in amazement.
“Yes, and you’re going to march straight to the bridge. Only I’ll be right behind you, with the disruptor in your back.”
When the Romulan struggled to stand up, La Forge tried to help him. With a sullen expression, he bumped Geordi with his shoulder and knocked him away. “I can do it!” snarled the Romulan. He strode resolutely toward the door, staring straight ahead.
Something is wrong, thought Ro. None of this seemed right to her—not the hijacking, not the senseless killings, not the piratical Romulans.
“Wait a minute,” she said, moving toward to the prisoner with the disruptor leveled at his stomach. “What are you doing here—in Cardassian space—with a war going on?”
It was the same question she had been asked a day earlier, and like her, the Romulan did not have a satisfactory answer. He looked evasive as he replied, “We were young and foolish, out for adventure.”
“They’re Romulan spies,” concluded Ro. “Perhaps they’re even here for the same reason we’re here.”
Picard and La Forge glanced at each other, while the puzzled Romulan turned abruptly to Ro. “I thought you were Bajoran merchants.”
“No,” answered Ro with a clenched jaw. “You murdered a dozen Starfleet officers who were disguised to look like Bajorans. Now I’ll ask again: Why are you here?”
The Romulan licked his lips, as if tasting the truth for the first time in his life. “We may be neutral in this war, but it’s only natural to gather intelligence.”
La Forge frowned. “And what better way to see what’s happening than to enlist on a Ferengi ship that prowls back and forth across the lines. So what have you found out?”
The Romulan smirked. “I know you’re losing the war, but I don’t suppose that’s news.”
“Hakron!” shouted a voice that was distant, but not distant enough.
When the Romulan looked as if he wanted to respond, Ro jabbed him sharply in the ribs with the disruptor and glared at him. “What else?”
“Let’s make a deal,” he whispered. “Let me talk to my comrades. The chances are, we both want the same thing.”
“You wanted our ship,” said Ro testily. “Why? What do you know about the Dominion’s artificial wormhole?”
“Hakron!” shouted the voice, sounding closer.
“You haven’t got a chance,” said Hakron smugly.
Picard promptly grabbed the ir captive and shoved him toward the door. “Be quiet and don’t say a word.” He nodded to La Forge, who went to the doctored door panel and awaited his orders. Then he held out his hand to Ro, who gave him the disruptor.
Picard grabbed the Romulan by his collar and pressed the barrel of the weapon against his neck. “We’re going out. Tell them to hold their fire. Don’t try to get away, or you’re dead. Understand?”
The Romulan nodded languorously.
The captain looked at Ro. “Can you be the eyes in the back of my head?”
“Yes, sir.”
Picard nodded to La Forge, and the engineer applied his fork to the circuitry. With a jolt, the door slid open, and the captain pushed his captive out ahead of him. Ro immediately peered around the edge of the door, looking in the direction where Picard’s back was turned. To her relief, she didn’t see anything but a corridor littered with bodies.
Her relief was short-lived, because Hakron suddenly whirled around with his foot and caught Picard in the knee. The captain started to fall, but he kept his grip on the Romulan’s collar and dragged his prisoner to the deck with him.
“T’ar’Fe:” cursed the Romulan.
At the end of the corridor, his confederate leaped out of the dormitory, saw them, and aimed his weapon. Picard hoisted the Romulan to his knees and ducked behind his torso just as a red disruptor beam streaked down the length of the hallway.
“No!” screamed Hakron as the beam struck him in the chest, setting it aglow. Using the slumping Romulan as cover, Picard fired his own disruptor. The deadly beam pulsed down the corridor and sliced his foe’s left arm off at the shoulder. His screams echoed throughout the ship as he staggered for cover inside the dormitory.
Ro suddenly realized that she was neglecting her duty by watching the melee, so she turned to look at the spiral staircase. When she saw the body on the top step move slightly, she shouted, “Watch out!”
Picard whirled around to shoot blindly at the top of the stairs. The disruptor beam blew the corpse off the steps and forced their adversary to retreat; they heard his scurrying footsteps. Now they were in the difficult position of having to defend both ends of the corridor, although it wasn’t certain that the Romulan on their level could still mount an attack. Picard motioned to Ro and La Forge to follow him as he led the way toward the dormitory.
“Captain,” whispered La Forge, “if I could get up one level to the transporter room, I could fix the guy on the bridge—without risking more disruptor fire.”
Picard stopped to consider the problem. “But the only way up is that staircase.”
“He might be changing course, taking us into Romulan space,” added Ro. “We’ve got to get the bridge under control.”
The captain nodded. “Let me see if we have another weapon.” He moved cautiously down the hallway and inspected the deck in front of the dormitory door, which was closed. Ro could see the severed arm, but apparently their foe hadn’t dropped his weapon.
Looking sickened by the violence, the captain returned to his comrades. “All right, I’ll cover the stairs and the door to the bridge. Mr. La Forge, you go to the transporter room.”
“What are you going to do, beam him into space?” asked Ro.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not under these circumstances,” she replied without hesitation. She knew that Picard cringed at the thought of fighting to the death, but the enemy hadn’t left them much choice. With Ro keeping an eye on their rear, they began moving toward the spiral staircase.
Startling them, a voice crackled over the ship’s intercom. “To those who are resisting—you must stop! We have control of the ship. You must surrender! We won’t harm you.”
Picard never stopped moving, and he was already halfway up the stairs, with La Forge behind him and Ro bringing up the rear. She assumed that if he was speaking to them on the ship’s comm, he had to be on the bridge, probably with the door shut. When they reached the top of the stairs, she found her assumption to be true, and Picard covered them while La Forge and Ro dashed down the corridor to the safety of the transporter
room.
Ro watched the door while La Forge rushed to the transporter controls. A moment later, Picard joined them, as a voice continued to plead over the intercom:
“Lay your weapons down, and we will talk. We are reasonable people, and we have all your weapons. I have control of the bridge. You must deal with me!”
“Not necessarily,” said La Forge as he skillfully plied the transporter console. “I’ve locked on to the only life sign on the bridge. That’s an outer bulkhead behind the transporter. Ro, will you pace it off for me?”
“Sure.” She leaped upon the raised platform and quickly paced off the rough distance to the wall behind it. “Five meters,” she reported.
“All right,” said La Forge with a sigh. “Do we give him a chance to surrender?”
“No!” snapped Ro. “They didn’t give our crew a chance.”
Keeping watch at the door with his disruptor, Picard shook his head concurring with Ro’s assessment. “Energize.”
La Forge slid an old-fashioned lever forward, and a almost melodic noise sounded in the air. But nothing appeared on the transporter platform.
“It’s done,” said La Forge heavily. “What about the one in the dormitory?”
“No,” answered Picard, “he’s probably in shock. We should be able to deal with him. All of our weapons must be on the bridge—let’s go get them.”
Cautiously, they made their way down the corridor, following Picard and his disruptor. The small bridge of the Orb of Peace, which usually looked so serene, now looked like a chamber of horrors. There were dead bodies everywhere, and an impressive pile of weapons in front of the viewscreen. Ro and La Forge each grabbed a Bajoran hand phaser, and Ro checked the readings on the conn.
“We’re still on course to the black hole,” she reported. “Still at warp three.”
“I want to question the last Romulan,” said Picard, “if he’s still alive.”
Once again, they wound their way down the spiral staircase, past the familiar dead bodies. When they reached the dormitory, Picard motioned them away from the door as he pressed the wall panel. When the door slid open, they flung themselves out of the way, expecting fire to erupt from the room—but none came. Cautiously Picard reached around the edge of the door and felt for the panel that would turn on the lights. When he found it, the shadowy chambers were suddenly illuminated by cheerful lighting.
Behind Enemy Lines Page 18
