“Such an original question.” The creature grinned at him, revealing those awful pointed teeth and that green-tinged saliva. Bobby tried to suppress his recoil.
“Isn’t it?”
“We were told we should always expect it of humans,” another voice answered. A face appeared behind the creature’s. An almost human face, but not quite. She had stunning features: oval eyes, a narrow nose, and high cheekbones. But Bobby barely noticed them.
His gaze was on her hair. Or what should have been her hair. Instead the strands moved on their own. It took only a moment for him to realize that he wasn’t seeing hair, but small, writhing snakes that hissed and snapped at him.
Poisonous snakes.
Rattlers, cobras, copperheads.
She smiled. She knew what he was looking at. She touched the snakes almost as if trying to make sure they were in place and perfect.
“What do we want from you?” she asked as she leaned closer to him. The creature leaned with her. “Simple. We want to know your fear. You see, we like your fear. We enjoy it. And we want to use it.” She laughed and the snakes surrounding her head moved even faster.
A maggot fell from the creature’s eyes onto Bobby’s face.
Bobby screamed, trying to shake it off. The creature laughed as it bent over and pulled the intense bright light back over Bobby’s face.
“Now,” the voice said. “Tell us what we want to know. Give us all your fear.”
And into the bright, intense white light, Bobby screamed again.
And again.
Chapter Four
AT 1000, PICARD ’S SENIOR STAFF had reassembled in the conference room. In the last hour, Data had ingested all the historical information he could find on the Furies. Riker had prepared the crew for the possibility of war. Troi had advised families on how to protect the children from the difficulties the starship would face.
The list went on. Picard knew that each task had just begun when he needed the staff in the conference room again. La Forge had managed to get the engineering crew to double-check the engines and weaponry; Dr. Crusher had revamped sickbay into an emergency center; and Worf had prepared his security team. But none of those jobs could be finished in an hour. To prepare for battle of this scale took days, sometimes weeks.
During the last hour Picard had studied Captain Kirk’s personal logs from the first Starship Enterprise, and the information he found unnerved him. Kirk had been called in by a panicked Klingon admiral who felt he needed one devil to fight another. As it turned out, the Klingon had been right. Kirk and the original Enterprise had defeated the huge Fury ship. But just one Fury ship destroyed much of a Klingon fleet before Kirk managed to win.
Picard glanced around. His officers all sat at the conference table. His seat at the head was empty, because he couldn’t sit. He had to pace.
The transmission from Brundage Station had just played on the screen. Protocol had obviously been lax on Brundage—not unusual on a distant outpost—but the four station members had worked with professionalism once the crisis became apparent.
Except for the fear they had all displayed when that horrible visage appeared on their screen. Picard had understood their fear. That face, vaguely similar to the demons portrayed in European artwork and sculpture, had sent a shiver through him. But he had held that feeling back. He had seen worse things in his time.
How the crew of the Brundage station reacted bothered him at a deep level. Those reactions were not normal for trained Starfleet officers.
The view of the Furies’ descent on the station, and of the subsequent attack, had left him with a restless energy—one he wouldn’t have time to vent, since he knew the admiral would appear on screen at any moment.
The conference room was silent. That in itself was unusual. His staff would normally have taken the time afforded by the delay in transmission to discuss what they had just seen.
Then the screen filled with the admiral’s face. His skin was ashen, his eyes hollow points. That tape had unnerved Picard after one viewing. He didn’t know how he would have felt after several.
His gaze met the admiral’s, and an understanding carried across the light-years.
“Even though the ships you saw are radically different in design and shape from the first Fury ship, we have no doubt that we are facing the Furies,” Admiral Kirschbaum said without preamble. “I don’t need to tell you what this means.”
Picard nodded. He was turned away from his staff, but he heard nothing from them.
The admiral’s lips tightened. His skin seemed to have lines where it hadn’t had any earlier in the day. “The Enterprise will be the first ship on the scene, Captain. We need information about the Furies. We need to know how many ships they have sent through the Furies Point. And if the point is a wormhole, as James T. Kirk and the first crew of the Enterprise suspected, then we need to know all we can about that anomaly. It seems to interact only with the Furies, which isn’t like any wormhole we know.”
“Either that, or they know when it will open,” Picard said. “And they were waiting for it.”
The admiral nodded. “The Starships Madison and Idaho are six hours away. They will arrive as quickly as they can. There are two smaller Federation ships that will join you, but they will be hours behind the starships. Don’t count on them.”
Three starships against five Fury ships. From what Picard had read in Kirk’s logs, that would not be anywhere near enough if it came down to a fight.
“For the moment,” the admiral said, “that’s all we can spare. We will be setting up fallback lines of defense in case you have no success.”
“I understand,” Picard said. And he did understand. The Enterprise’s proximity to the Furies Point was the luck of the draw. It meant, though, that Picard’s ship and his crew would be the first line of defense in a war that would be difficult to win.
Cannon fodder was what his ancestors called that position.
The admiral knew it too. “Captain, do your best to negotiate, discover what they want. Kirk had some success with that the first time around. His personal logs report he felt that Vergo Zennor of the Fury ship Rath was his friend.”
“I have read Kirk’s reports and logs.”
The admiral nodded. “Good, but I must be clear on one point. If there’s a way to close that wormhole, take it. No matter what the cost.”
The chill Picard had felt on viewing that tape grew. He always knew commanding the Enterprise might come to this. He was willing to take those risks, but like any commander he always hoped he would never have to.
No matter what the cost.
And only three starships against all the power of the Furies.
“We will do everything we can, sir,” Picard said. “The Klingons are nearby. Have they been contacted?”
The admiral grimaced. “They have, but after their first run-in with these monsters, I doubt—”
“The Klingons will fight.” Worf growled the words. “I guarantee it.”
“Mr. Worf,” Picard said. His officers knew better than to speak out of turn.
“It’s all right, Captain,” Admiral Kirshbaum said. “I understand that Klingon honor is at stake here. We are counting on that. We are hoping that they will be able to overcome their memories of that first battle, and their fears. Indeed, we are hoping for help from a number of quarters. But I am afraid, Jean-Luc, that this will not change the fact that you will be on the scene first. Whatever you do will affect the future of this sector.”
“I understand, Admiral,” Picard said. “But there is one more matter.”
The admiral nodded, as if he knew what Picard was going to say.
“Where is the Furies’ lifepod containing the poppets?”
Around the room Picard could hear his staff moving, stirring, wondering just what he was talking about. But the admiral knew about the poppets from the first Fury ship. The Furies, it seemed, carried poppets, images of themselves stuffed full of pieces of their lives. Verg
o Zennor had filled a lifepod with all the poppets of the crew of the first Fury ship and, right before the ship exploded, sent the lifepod into space. Kirk picked the poppets up and had them stored, waiting for just this time.
“They are being picked up from storage by the Starship Idaho. Use them as you see fit.”
“Understood,” Picard said.
“Good luck, Jean-Luc,” the admiral said.
“Thank you, sir.”
The admiral’s image winked out.
Picard tugged on his shirt and turned to face his staff. Worf was glowering. “Captain, I apologize—”
“You were out of line, Mr. Worf,” Picard said. “But the admiral understood, as did I. We may be heading into one of the most difficult battles we have ever faced.”
Picard paced back and forth, talking. “One Fury ship nearly defeated the entire Klingon fleet the first time. It was only through the ingenuity of the original Enterprise crew that that ship was defeated. Captain Kirk’s logs warn that the Furies are extremely intelligent and very powerful. He said, quite explicitly, that he believed the tactics he used eighty years ago cannot be used in any future attack. He believed that if the Furies returned, they would return stronger, smarter, and even more prepared than they had been before.”
Picard took a deep breath and went on. “It is thought that complete information about our cultures and capabilities was sent back to the Furies’ homeworld before their first ship, Rath, was destroyed. They know as much about us as we do about them.”
He went on. “Federation tacticians have speculated that when or if the Furies returned, their technology would be equal to or greater than our own. We must be prepared for this. We are going against an enemy that is both cunning and advanced. We must be careful never to underestimate them.”
Deanna Troi’s hands were folded tightly. Geordi La Forge was toying nervously with his VISOR. Riker was tapping his fingers on the conference table. They all stared at him.
Only Data seemed calm.
“We only have another hour,” Picard said. “In that time, I want you to remind your staff about the Furies’ effect. The way they look can stir buried fears. Unlike the first Enterprise, we are prepared. The Furies may try to use our fear of them against us, but they will not succeed.”
His officers stared at him, their gazes intense and focused.
“I want you all to use the files. Mr. La Forge, I want you to analyze the Kirk-Furies battle from an engineering perspective. Their first ship had the ability to use energy from weapons fired at it. I want to know how to counteract that if these new ships can do the same.”
La Forge nodded.
Picard turned to Data. “Mr. Data, review the myths from every culture represented on this ship. Deanna, work with Data.”
“Yes, sir,” Data said. Deanna only nodded.
“Mr. Worf, you and Commander Riker will study the original battle from a tactical standpoint. No use repeating the same mistakes. And watch how the Rath responded. They may have a tactic we can use against them.”
“Yes, sir,” both Worf and Riker said at the same time.
“Very well, people,” Picard said, moving over behind his chair. “Let’s get to our stations. We have a great deal of work to do in a very short time.”
The officers stood as a unit and filed out the door. No conversation, no joviality, no conviviality. Only a determination to survive the next few hours.
They would need all the determination they had. If the research done since the first ship appeared was correct, the Furies had once ruled all of this sector of space. They had somehow been pushed out and only luck and Captain Kirk had kept them from returning the first time.
Now they were trying again.
As he watched his senior officers leave, he silently wished he could talk to Captain Kirk. Somehow Kirk had defeated hell itself and closed the door. Now that door had opened again. And unless it was slammed shut, the old term “hell on earth” would take on an entirely new meaning.
Or a very old one.
Chapter Five
RIKER’S BACK ITCHED. Even though he grabbed a moment to change into his uniform, he hadn’t been able to shower off the sweat from his mock dogfight with Redbay since the crisis began. He felt as if he had been on the bridge for days instead of hours.
Deanna would say it was easier to concentrate on the minor discomfort than the problems ahead.
She would probably be right.
He had been on edge ever since he saw that tape from Brundage Station.
The others had too. Captain Picard was unusually silent. Worf was even more taciturn than usual. But it was Deanna that Riker worried about. As she had left the conference room, she had had a preoccupied look, as if she were concentrating on voices within instead of events without.
She and Data were working in the science officer’s station, and occasionally Riker glanced over from his chair beside the captain.
“Brundage Station is within scanner range,” Worf said, his deep voice booming from the security station behind Riker. “The station appears to be undamaged.”
The captain sat up straighter. The news had obviously surprised him. It had surprised Riker too. From what he had seen on the transmission from the Brundage Station, the Furies attacked first. Riker assumed that when the transmission to Starfleet had been cut off, the station had been destroyed. Obviously the captain had thought the same thing.
“Put it on screen, Mr. Worf.”
The captain stood and took two steps toward the screen as if he were going to have a conversation with whatever appeared. He had been filled with an odd energy that Riker had never seen before. It almost seemed as if he were nervous, his movements as out of character as Deanna’s.
“Magnify,” the captain said.
Riker turned his attention to the screen. Brundage Station looked normal. He had expected to see signs of the Furies’ presence, but the station looked as it always had: a cylinder hanging in space. The surface of the station was covered with antennas and sensor dishes. Riker saw nothing unusual. No laser blasts. No holes.
And yet . . .
Something was wrong. He could feel it. It was a cursed place, a place where people had died, a place where evil had happened.
He forced those thoughts to the back, then glanced over his shoulder at Deanna. Her wide eyes were filled with apprehension. She felt it too—
Or was she picking up his mood? His fears. He had to control his mind and focus.
He got up abruptly and walked to Captain Picard’s side.
“Captain,” Data said, his voice seeming almost unreasonably calm, “the station is still functioning normally. The environmental controls are operational, the weapons systems are on-line, and the computer array seems to be intact.”
“Could this be an illusion?” Riker asked.
“No, sir,” Data said. He paused. “The scans also show one life-form is still aboard the station.”
“A Fury?” The captain asked.
“No, sir. According to the readings, this life-form is human.”
“It is a trick,” Worf said. “The Havoc are doing what they can to get us aboard that station.”
“Are you getting different readings, Mr. Worf?” the captain asked.
“No, sir.” Worf crossed his arms over his massive chest. “It would be logical, after the attack we saw, to assume that the Havoc—what humans call the Furies—have left the station intact to lure us aboard. It is a very old trick of combat.”
It seemed likely to Riker too. “Perhaps we should beam the life-form aboard the Enterprise,” he said.
“But if we follow Mr. Worf’s logic, we don’t know what we’re beaming aboard, do we, Number One?” The captain asked the question in a tone that required no answer. He walked up the steps to the security station. “The admiral reported five Fury ships. Where are they now?”
“The five ships of unknown design are surrounding the Furies Point, sir,” Data said. “While this design o
f the ship matches the one seen by the Brundage Station crew, it matches nothing we have in our records, including the original Fury ship, the Rath. We are only assuming these are Fury ships.”
“Thank you, Data.” Picard nodded, and glanced at Worf’s relay himself. Then he looked at the helmsman. “Mr. Filer, take us to a position between the station and those ships.”
Riker felt his mouth go dry. He knew the drill. The captain was following a very clear protocol. Riker knew what the next order would be.
“Number One, take an away team onto Brundage Station. Gather as much information as you can, and find that life-form. Be prepared for anything, as Mr. Worf so clearly reminded us. We will keep a lock on you at all times. Use the emergency beam-out at the first sign of trouble.”
Riker strode up the stairs toward the turbolift. “Aye, sir,” he said. He could only take a handful of people. This would be a risky away mission. But he had to take people who could absorb a lot of information in a short period of time. “Data, you’re with me.”
Data stood from his seat at the science station, and hurried toward the turbolift. Riker tapped his comm badge. “Mr. La Forge, meet me in transporter room three.”
The turbolift’s doors closed around them. Riker wiped his damp palms on his pants legs. “Transporter room three,” he said.
The faint reassuring whir of the lift filled the room.
“I do not understand the level of anxiety the crew seems to be feeling,” Data said. “Captain Picard assured us that we would have no trouble facing the Furies as just another life-form, yet his actions seem to say otherwise. Is it a fear of how they look?”
“No,” Riker said, more harshly than he intended. “We don’t fear looks.”
“Yet the crew seems on edge. Or am I perceiving this incorrectly?”
“Data, we’ve all been trained for the return of the Furies from the beginnings of our careers.”
INVASION!, BOOK TWO: THE SOLDIERS OF FEAR Page 3
