Riker glanced over his shoulder. Data was in place. “Energize.”
His body dissolved into multicolored light. Then, almost instantly, he was rematerializing on Brundage Station. The air felt hot and sticky.
It smelled of sulfur.
A shiver ran down Riker’s spine.
The lights were on, but a thin haze of smoke and mist floated in the air, reminiscent of the smoke in the holodeck nightclubs where Data had once practiced his awful comedy routines.
The anxiety Riker had felt since that morning rose, catching in his throat like a bone. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Yet, except for the smell and the smoke, nothing looked out of place.
He pulled out his phaser. “Data, analyze the air for me. What am I smelling?”
Data sniffed, not even needing his tricorder. “The air has a sulfuric component that is slowly fading. The humidity is at ninety-seven percent, and the temperature is ten degrees above normal. I do not detect any trace of fire. The smoke mixed with the humid mist seems to be from some sort of heat weapon.”
Riker nodded. Data’s matter-of-fact answer enabled Riker to put some of the anxiety aside. Alongside Riker, Geordi also had his phaser out. He then removed his tricorder. It hummed as it ran through its routine.
“If I didn’t know better,” Geordi said, “I would think we were in the steam baths of Risa. But I couldn’t tell you what’s causing the effect. My readings show the environmental controls are working normally.”
“Risa smells better than this,” Riker said. “Draw your weapon, Data.”
“Aye, sir,” Data said, his tone puzzled. He obviously saw no threat.
They stepped off the transporter pad as one unit, but moving in three slightly different directions.
“The life-sign readings are coming from that corridor,” Geordi said, indicating the door with his phaser. “They’re faint.”
“Are you getting anything else?” Riker asked as he made his way to the door.
Geordi shook his head.
Data moved quicker than they did. The door opened automatically. Riker stopped, but Data went on as if nothing were wrong. Riker hadn’t felt this tentative since he was a cadet at the academy.
He glanced at Geordi, who also hadn’t moved. “You feel it too,” Riker said softly.
Geordi nodded. “Something terrible happened here. And I don’t much like it.”
“Over here!” Data said from outside the door.
Riker took a deep breath of the oppressive air, and hurried toward the door. There a young officer—the same officer who had faced the Furies on the transmission—leaned against the wall like a broken toy soldier. His head lolled to the side.
Data was running his tricorder over the boy. “I see no obvious wounds,” Data said, “but his life signs are very weak.”
Riker knelt beside the boy and saw that his eyes were open. “Lieutenant,” Riker said. “Lieutenant Young?”
“I don’t think he can see you,” Geordi said. He crouched beside them, observing Young’s eyes.
“Is he blind?” Data asked.
Geordi shook his head. “Probably catatonic.”
Riker slapped his comm badge. “Riker to Enterprise.”
Lieutenant Young jerked away from Riker’s voice and covered his head. Only a croaking came from his throat as he tried to scream.
Young’s action made Riker shiver.
“Enterprise here. Go ahead, Number One.”
“We found Lieutenant Young. He appears to be in shock. I suggest we beam him directly to sickbay.”
“Acknowledged, Number One.” As Captain Picard’s voice faded, multicolored light enveloped Young. Young cringed even more as he disappeared.
“He was not injured,” Data said again.
“Yes, he was, Data,” Geordi said softly. He stood and went to the computer access panel near the door.
Riker took out his own tricorder, and checked its readings. With Young gone, the three men were alone on the station.
Or so it seemed.
The hair still standing on the back of Riker’s neck told him otherwise.
“Geordi, how long will it take you to download the station’s records?”
“Only a minute,” Geordi said.
“Data, come with me,” Riker said. “Let’s see what else we can find.”
The smoke and the damp, warm mist grew thicker the deeper they went into the corridor. The carpet was burned in several places as if this part of the station had been on fire.
Writing covered one wall, red writing, as if it had been done in blood.
“Can you read that, Data?” Riker asked.
Data frowned at it. “I believe it is ancient Hebrew. However, it is written in reverse, as if the writer either did not know the proper sequence of letters or—”
“It might have been intentional. What does it say?”
“It is not a message or a warning.”
“Then what’s its purpose?” Riker asked.
“I believe,” Data said, “it is a statement of the powerlessness of Yahweh. It would have horrified the ancient Hebrews. But these words have not been considered blasphemous for at least two, almost three, millennia. I find it curious that they think this will frighten our crew.”
“Some ancient imagery terrified some of the old Enterprise crew,” Riker said. “Kirk theorized these images trigger buried memories—”
“I am familiar with the theory, Commander, although I do not understand why imagery would have an effect and words would not.”
“Neither do I,” Riker said. The crawly feeling from the back of his neck had worked its way down his spine. He continued down the hall, stepping over the burned patches.
Around a shallow corner was a sight that made him freeze. A red pitchfork-like instrument stood upside down, stuck on a pile of bones. Riker swallowed. “Data?”
Data scanned the bones with his tricorder. “These bones are real, Commander. They belong to two human males. The red pitchfork has no non-decorative function that I can ascertain.”
Riker closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how these men had died.
“I will run a DNA scan?” Data asked.
Riker nodded. “Be careful. I think we should avoid touching the display. We need to be as careful as we can.”
He wiped a hand on his forehead. The corridor had grown hotter and the mist thicker.
He pulled out his own tricorder and scanned, but no life-forms registered. He stepped around the pile of bones and moved on.
Ahead was another corner in the hall. He was almost afraid to move forward, but somehow managed to push himself around the corner—
—and there he stopped, his gaze locked on the eyes of the station’s only female crew member.
She was standing in a circle of flame. Her hair had burned away long since, but her flesh was intact—at least the flesh that was visible. The flames rose around her like an inverted waterfall. The glimpses it gave of her face revealed chapped lips, a slightly reddish cast to her skin, and empty eyes.
“Data?” Riker said.
Data stepped past Riker instantly and approached the burning woman. He stopped near her, just outside the ring of flame. “She is dead, Commander, but I do not believe the flames killed her. Like Lieutenant Young, she has no life-threatening injuries.”
Riker nodded, his feet rooted to the spot.
Data did not seem to notice his commander’s distress. “The flames seem to be shooting from the floor, but there is no mechanism creating this illusion. I could get closer—”
“No!” Riker said. He cleared his throat, forced the overwhelming anxiety down. “This might be the trap Worf suspected.”
“I rather doubt that, sir,” Data said. “My study this morning leads me to conclude that this is the eternal hellfire and damnation that Earth’s Judeo-Christian ethic speaks of. It would make sense, since this officer was raised within that tradition.”
“And she was literally scare
d to death,” Riker said. He tapped his comm badge. The sooner they left this place, the happier he would be. “Are you finished, Geordi?”
“Almost,” Geordi said. “I’ll have everything in a moment.”
“Excellent.” Riker whirled and moved back down the corridor, heading toward Geordi’s position as quickly as he could.
“Commander—” Data said, hurrying to catch up. “Commander, we have yet to explore the entire station.”
“I don’t think we should stay here any longer, Data,” Riker said. He wasn’t sure he could stay here much longer.
“But, sir, our duty—”
“Are there other life signs?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I don’t think it’s our duty to go any farther into this station. Captain Picard made it clear that we would get the information and then leave.”
“Aye, sir. I had thought that—”
“Save it, Mr. Data,” Riker said, more harshly than he intended. He passed the bones and didn’t look at them. His instincts had been right; this was a hall of death. And the Furies were cunning. They knew that by creating a mystery around the deaths, they would engage the imagination.
His nerves were frayed by the time he reached Geordi. Before Geordi could say anything, Riker hit his comm badge. “Three to beam up.”
And as the beam took them, he didn’t feel relief. He felt as if he had gazed into the Pit, and saw a small corner of the future.
His future.
Chapter Six
THE SHIPS HADN’T MOVED. But they knew the Enterprise was at Brundage Station.
They had to.
The Furies were not insanely violent. Kirk had recorded that. History proved that. He had talked to them, reasoned with them.
Unless they had changed over the decades.
Picard felt as if he were being set up.
But that was his mission. His was the first ship on site. He glanced at Ensign Eckley at the helm this shift. She was a good pilot. Not the best, but one of the best. Good enough to allow his other crew members to fill different roles.
Deanna had left the bridge. Worf glowered at the screen from his position at the security console. Picard was pacing.
He couldn’t seem to stop pacing.
Each second the away team had been on Brundage Station had been an eternity. Even now, for Riker to return to the bridge and report seemed as if it were taking forever.
Finally the turbolift opened and Riker strode onto the bridge. His face was white and sweat streaks marred his skin. Not the streaks from healthy exercise that Picard had seen earlier. No. This had been caused by something else entirely. And his passage left a faint odor behind it. Something familiar and yet odd.
Sulfur?
Sulfur.
And the creature who had spoken to Lieutenant Young had looked like a medieval devil.
So that was what the Furies were about this time. Devils and hell. Picard’s European past. He was prepared. He would be able to handle that.
Geordi La Forge had already returned to engineering. Data followed Riker off the turbolift. Data’s uniform had dark smudges on it, as if he had rubbed against soot.
The mission clearly had not gone as planned. Something about Riker’s behavior warned Picard that this discussion should not be held before an audience.
“In my ready room,” Picard said. He crossed the bridge and entered his room. Riker followed, eyes averted. Data slipped in just as the door closed.
Picard crossed behind his desk. “What so disturbed you, Will?”
Riker brought his head up, startled at the question. He glanced at Data, who was regarding him as if Riker were an unfamiliar life-form. “I—ah—those deaths were gruesome, sir.”
“Tell me about them,” Picard said.
Riker opened his mouth, closed it, and then turned away. Data tilted his head. His gaze met Picard’s.
“Mr. Data?”
“As you suspected, sir, the Furies are using ancient religions and mythologies to base a psychological attack. In this case they mixed medieval Earth ideas of hell with even older damnation imagery. Liberal use of fire, smells, and—”
“She was burned alive, sir,” Riker said, his voice unsteady. “Only her flesh hadn’t charred. I think she died of fright. The others were bones. Just bones.”
“And the survivor?”
“Didn’t have a mark on him, sir. We sent him to sickbay.”
“Geordi has the logs in engineering. Someone might want to view them.” Riker’s voice broke slightly. “But I won’t.”
“No need for you to, Number One.” Picard tented his fingers on his desk and leaned forward. “But we only have a moment and I need you tell me what unnerved you so badly.”
Riker shook his head. “I don’t know, sir.” Picard recognized the underlying anxiety in Riker’s tone. No officer liked losing control, even a small portion of control, and losing that control for no reason at all was even worse. “The station just felt bad, as if it were an evil place.”
He shook his head and wiped a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since I’ve returned. I’ve seen worse, Captain. Much worse. But nothing has ever felt like this before. It was as if, just by breathing the air, I was taking evil inside me.”
“Mr. Data?” Picard needed a clear perspective.
“Commander Riker is correct, sir. We have seen much worse. The loss of life, tragic though it was, seemed stylized and deliberate rather than calculated to horrify and disgust. Yet from the moment we materialized, both the commander and Geordi appeared to be on edge. I am at a loss for an explanation.”
Riker squared his shoulders at that description and clasped his hands behind his back. Data’s analysis of the station seemed to calm Riker. “My best guess, sir,” Riker said, “is that Geordi and I were both raised in the culture that produced those images of hell. I think humans like us were the intended targets, and I think we felt that as an underlying unease.”
“What do you think, Mr. Data?”
“It would fit with what I observed, sir. I must note that both the commander and Geordi were able to perform their duties despite their”—Data glanced at Riker as he chose the next word—“their, ah, discomfort.”
“Thank you,” Picard said. “Data, return to the bridge. I want you to scan the records that Mr. La Forge brought back from Brundage Station. See how the Furies accomplished their attack, and also keep an eye open for anything that we can use.”
“Aye, sir,” Data said. He started toward the door. Riker followed.
“Number One, stay for a moment.”
Riker paused, his eyes down. Picard had never seen his first officer so off-balance before. He needed Riker. Riker had to be on his feet and thinking clearly before they faced the Furies.
“Will,” Picard said softly. “You performed your duties.”
“But that fear—it shouldn’t have happened at all, Captain,” Riker said. “I was prepared. I shouldn’t have felt anything.”
Picard smiled. “If only it were that easy, Will. You cannot stop the feelings. You must keep them from overwhelming you. The information that you gave me is critical, and your emotional reaction even more so. The Furies may use many tools against us, from appearance to smell. I would have been uncomfortable there. The fact that you completed your mission despite your feelings gives me hope for all of us.”
He rounded the desk and clasped Riker on the shoulder. Riker started, then gave Picard a shocked look.
“Good work, Number One. Return to the bridge. I’ll join you momentarily.”
Riker nodded, then left.
Picard took a deep breath. The descriptions of the station were horrible, but not terrifying. He had seen worse—suffered worse—himself. Yet he could not discount his first officer’s reaction. Riker had also gone through a lot in his tenure at Starfleet. Smells, and death, should not have unnerved him this badly. They never had in the past.
Kirk’s description of th
e Furies was right.
But Kirk had kept his emotions in check, and so would Picard.
Admiral Kirschbaum had told him to negotiate. Kirk’s records placed the Furies as a threat even though he had negotiated and even considered the captain of the Fury ship a friend. But this time the Furies had come through the wormhole with five ships. More than one, but clearly not an entire fleet. They still wanted conquest. The attack on the station was only a reminder of what they could do. A warning.
A calling card.
Picard hoped beyond hope that was the way it was, but his heart told him he was wrong.
He strode back onto the bridge.
Data had returned to his post at the science station. Material was flowing rapidly across the screen before him. Commander Riker had taken his seat near the captain’s chair. He looked calmer.
“Ensign Eckley,” Picard said to the helmsman as he made his way to his command post. “Take us within communications range of those ships.”
“Aye, sir,” Eckley said.
Picard noticed Riker’s fist tighten. The tension on the bridge grew. Picard sat and leaned back in his seat, not allowing himself to move with the mood shift.
Perhaps all the study of the Furies at the Academy had been wrong. Perhaps Starfleet crew members would approach the attack with a more open mind if they hadn’t been told that the Furies were so powerful. Despite generations of study, no one completely understood the human mind. Perhaps the warnings had intensified the feelings of danger instead of alleviating them.
“We’re within range, sir.”
“All stop.” Picard stood and tugged on his shirt front. “Hail them.”
He had seen the images from Brundage Station. He had seen his own trusted first officer’s reaction to the mess the Furies left behind them. He knew what he was in for.
“Sir,” Worf said, his deep voice booming across the bridge. “We have a response to our hail.”
“On screen.”
The bridge seemed abnormally silent, as if the bridge crew were holding their breath. Picard felt as if he had contained his emotions in a small bottle buried deep within his stomach.
He was as ready as he could ever be.
The screen flickered to life. Picard had to fight an involuntary urge to step backward. The creature facing him was both familiar and unfamiliar. It had ram’s horns and a long snout. Its scarlet skin and piggy eyes matched portraits of the devil made on Earth, matching illuminated manuscript drawings he had seen as a boy in Paris museums. If he had time to lay a wager, he would bet that the creature before him had the body of a goat yet stood on its hind legs, had cloven hooves instead of feet, and had no tail at all.
The Soldiers Of Fear Page 4
