Redbay noted as he glanced around that one woman was putting emergency medical kits on each shuttle. One-man medical kits, the kind that a person could use with one hand on the console. Not very effective. The kits were often used on missions in which the pilot’s health was not an issue.
Staying alive was.
Redbay’s mouth was dry. Picard had ordered him to report to Commander Riker in shuttlebay, nothing more. Redbay assumed he would get more orders when he arrived.
The conversation, though, usually so high in a situation like this, was muted. People seemed to be speaking only when necessary.
Another sign of a serious mission.
Of course, how could the mission be anything else? The Furies were out there, waiting, literally growing stronger by the minute. Any mission at this point would be serious.
Will Riker and Lieutenant Worf were standing near the computer tactical display terminal on the interior wall. An ensign beside them sighted Redbay and tapped Riker on the shoulder, pointing his way.
Riker turned. He had a look in his eyes that Redbay had seen before, a steely determination that made Riker seem twice as powerful as usual. No longer the roommate from the Academy, no longer the jet-dogfight partner, no longer the good friend. This was Riker the warrior, ready to do battle.
And when Riker was like this, he was usually very serious and very, very determined.
So Redbay forced himself to grin. If nothing else he could keep the tension of this down to a reasonable level.
Riker motioned for him to join them. Redbay made his way around the technicians, ignoring the argument near the diagnostic computer, an argument he could have settled with few words, and hurried toward Riker. When he reached Riker’s side, Riker clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Will had only done that once before.
A dogfight run the cadets had to fly because the Federation base near Chala IV was under attack.
They had thought they were going to die that day. So will thinks we are going to die. No wonder he had the look.
“I only have a few minutes to brief you,” Riker said. “The longer we wait, the more Fury ships come through that wormhole.”
“There are six ships now,” Worf said.
Redbay tensed. He glanced at the monitor. Sure enough, six ships hovered near the wormhole opening. “They’re coming through, quicker than expected?”
Riker nodded. “About one a minute. We don’t know how long they’ll wait before they attack.”
“That’s where we come in, I take it,” Redbay said.
“Lieutenant Data has found a way to destroy the wormhole,” Worf said. “However, it cannot be done with the Enterprise. It must be done by a sure shot from a shuttlecraft.”
Redbay swallowed. He’d seen Worf’s records. He knew Will’s. All three of them were crack shots and top pilots.
“Here’s the schematic.” Riker tapped the console. A computer simulation of the wormhole appeared. It looked like the horn of plenty Redbay’s mother had put on their dining-room table every fall, even in Nyo when fall didn’t really exist.
The six ships hovered around the small side of the horn. A small red dot on the other side of the horn flashed.
The target.
“That’s the power source,” Riker said, pointing at it. “Hit it just right and there will be a feedback loop that will destroy the wormhole, and the Furies will no longer have a path to us. The problem is the shot. I figure we only have one chance at it.”
He tapped the console again, and a blue dot appeared. It was near the mouth of the horn.
On the other side.
The shooter would have to go through the wormhole, past all the Furies’ ships, into enemy territory. Suddenly he understood the reason for Will’s determination.
This made every other mission Redbay had flown look like a cakewalk.
“All right,” Riker said. “Data believes that the shuttles can make it through the wormhole without being detected. The Fury ships in there are in a form of stasis field, crowded one right after another. The shuttle won’t be. It should make it through in one-hundredth of the time they are taking coming the other way.”
Redbay nodded. “Do we have enough firepower?”
“One photon torpedo is all it will take,” Riker said. “Each shuttle is equipped with more than that.”
“Only one shuttle will go through the wormhole,” Worf said. “The other two will provide cover.” He brought his head up and met Redbay’s gaze. Klingons were naturally fierce; Worf even more so. “You had better be as good a pilot as Commander Piker says you are.”
Redbay glanced at Riker, who didn’t even grin. “He is, Worf. Trust me.”
“So I am taking one of the shuttlecrafts,” Redbay said, “and doing what?”
“Providing cover for me,” Riker said.
“You’re going through?”
Riker nodded. “You and Worf will make sure I get inside. If the wormhole doesn’t collapse in four minutes after that, then you’ll have to try. But I doubt that will be necessary. The tricky part is getting into the wormhole and through it. The shot is easy.”
“After you destroy the power source,” Redbay asked, “how long will it take the wormhole to collapse?”
Riker bent over the console and tapped it once more, and the screen went dark. He didn’t say any more.
He didn’t need to.
A suicide mission.
Picard was sending his second-in-command because he didn’t trust anyone else to get the job done.
With ships coming through the wormhole one every minute, the odds of Redbay and Worf surviving were small too.
But not as small as Riker’s.
“You are taking the shuttlecraft Lewis,” Worf said. “I will be in the Polo. I shall head for the wormhole at top speed. When the Furies try to intercept me, I shall veer off.”
“Then you will do the same, Sam,” Riker said. “When they move to intercept, veer off. You’ll take at least one of their ships with you. I will be right behind you. Only I’ll go in.”
It sounded so easy.
It sounded like it might work.
“What about the starships?” Redbay asked.
“They all will be doing variations of the same maneuvers, trying to pull Fury ships away from the wormhole,” Riker said. “The Furies won’t fall for this very long, which is why we have to move quickly. You’ll be on Worf’s tail. Questions?”
Redbay shook his head. What was there to question? He and his best friend were going to die in the next few minutes. It was that simple.
“Good,” Riker said. “The shuttles are equipped with the diagram of the target. They also have modified shields. I have no idea how well those shields will hold up with the Furies in close range. In case it gets too much, Dr. Crusher has provided us with her calming gas. I suggest that we not use it unless absolutely necessary. She claims it has no effect on motor skills, but I’m not so certain.”
“Sometimes fear has an effect on motor skills,” Redbay said, remembering La Forge as he fell out of the Jeffries tube.
“Which is why we’re equipped with the gas.” Riker turned and faced them both. “You both ready?”
“Yes, sir,” both Worf and Redbay said at the same time.
Riker nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Without another word he turned and walked quickly toward the center shuttle. Worf strode toward the left shuttle.
Redbay stood for a moment watching his best friend move toward his certain death. He knew without a doubt he would never see Riker again. But he couldn’t leave it like that.
“Will!”
Riker glanced around, but kept walking.
“I want a rematch when you get back. I saved that last dogfight.”
Riker grinned. “You got it.”
Redbay ran toward the remaining shuttle. He was the best pilot in Starfleet, and one of the best shots. He was going to prove just how good he was by giving Riker the best cover possible.
And helping him close that wormhole forever.
Picard moved his sho ulders trying to ease some of the tension. The bridge seemed empty without Will and Worf. Data still manned the science console, and Counselor Troi remained on the bridge. But Data’s news about the wormhole was not good—more ships lined up inside, waiting to come through—and Troi was looking more and more strained with each passing moment.
The five-way conversation with the other two starship captains and the captains of the Klingon ships hadn’t helped. They all agreed that Mr. La Forge’s schematics helped them, and they also agreed on the coded attack plan Picard had sent them, but the agreement had ended there. Both captains Higginbotham and Kiser commended Picard on his negotiation skills. The Klingon captains believed that negotiating had been a waste of time. They seemed amazed that they could agree upon anything.
Privately Picard agreed with the Klingons. If he hadn’t tried to negotiate, Will might have had a better chance of getting through that wormhole.
But if Picard hadn’t tried to negotiate, then he never would have been able to live with himself. He would have forever wondered if going to war first had been the best choice.
Now he had no doubts.
Seven Fury ships hung in space around the wormhole. Another one was due at any second. He knew that Will knew the importance of speed. He hoped that speed would be possible.
“Sir,” Data said. “The lead Fury ship is hailing us.”
Picard’s stomach clamped up like a vise. Now what were they trying? “On screen. And make sure the other ships are getting this transmission.”
“Done, sir.”
The face of the leader of the Fury ships filled the screen. The image seemed clearer this time, as if the haze and fog on the other side had lifted. And the horned captain of the Furies didn’t seem as self-assured.
“You claimed to have the souls of those from the Rath?”
So that what this was all about. Maybe there was a slight hope yet of stopping this without losing good people to the fight. Maybe those poppets Kirk had saved would save the day here.
“We do. They have been kept safe and brought here. We had hoped to have a peaceful exchange.”
The horned captain on the other side glanced at someone offscreen, then back at Picard. “Which ship are they on?”
Picard shook his head, then laughed. “No information. You stop your fleet from coming into our sector and we’ll talk. Not before.”
“Picard.” The Furies’ captain stood, its face almost red with anger. For the first time Picard saw the poppet doll hanging at its side. It was a replica of the being wearing it. “If those souls are destroyed or harmed, I personally will kill you slowly and very painfully.”
“If those souls are destroyed,” Picard said, his voice very level and firm, “you will be the one destroying them. Not I.”
Picard signaled for the communication to be cut off. All hope of stopping this fight was now gone.
But if it was a fight they wanted, then a fight they would get. He turned and moved back to his command chair and sat down.
“Shuttles are ready and launching,” Ensign Eckley said.
“Mr. Data, signal the other ships to move into position,” Picard said. “It’s imperative that we move those Furies away from the wormhole. Now.”
“Aye, sir,” Data said.
Troi’s hands clutched the arms of her chair.
“Sir,” Eckley said, “another ship is coming through the wormhole.”
On screen, the eighth Fury ship took a position near the opening to the wormhole. Eight ships against five. The original Enterprise had had trouble defeating just one Fury ship. There was no time left.
“Battle stations,” Picard said. “Ahead full impulse. Target photon torpedoes and fire on my mark.”
On screen the other two starships moved into position. As planned, the Klingon ships turned and flew away from the battle site. Once they had gone a respectable distance, they would cloak. With luck, the Furies would think that the Klingons had retreated, not realizing that the Klingons had cloaking ability. The Klingons would then attack the Fury ships from behind and above, decloaking at the last minute as they fired.
But the main target of the Furies’ attack would be the Enterprise, and the moment the ship moved forward, the Furies turned toward it, as planned.
Rays of light extended from the Fury ships, green this time, as if the different color marked different weapons.
The Enterprise rocked as the first impact of Fury fire hit the shields.
“Damage, Mr. Data.”
“None, sir. The shields are holding,” Data said.
Picard took a deep breath. The fight had truly begun. He just hoped it would end here and not on Earth.
“Fire,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-one
RIKER’S HANDS MOVED on the shuttlecraft controls as if he were piloting any normal shuttle mission. But he wasn’t. This was the most important mission of his career.
Of his life.
If he succeeded, he—William T. Riker—would have stopped the Furies from invading his sector. He would have kept thousands, maybe millions from dying. After his own personal glimpse of hell, he thought it almost worth the cost.
He grinned at himself. He had to qualify the thought, because he wasn’t Klingon. He believed in dying with honor, but he would rather not die at all. And if he could help it he wouldn’t. He didn’t know how he’d get back from the other side of that wormhole, but he’d find a way.
The shuttlebay doors opened. He settled into the familiar shuttle pilot’s chair, his hands still dancing across the controls. Oddly enough, he wasn’t frightened. Geordi had modified the shields, and that had helped, but that wasn’t all of it.
This last mission was the right mission. Not even dying scared him. Not even the possibility of dying scared him.
Not anymore.
Some things were worse than death. And living in a galaxy run by the Furies was one of them.
As he cleared the shuttlebay doors, he pulled up a schematic of the entire area around the Furies Point. Eight Fury ships now encircled the wormhole. Worf was moving as planned at an angle slightly away from the Furies. Redbay flew his shuttle on the same line. Riker dropped into line. Their trajectories should convince the Furies that they were trying to escape. Yet all three shuttles would remain close. They would be prepared to fly into that wormhole at a moment’s notice.
Now it all depended on how well Picard’s plan worked.
It had to work.
For all their sakes.
Riker kept on the line, monitoring the others. Adrenaline started pouring through him. He was ready for a fight. These few seconds before battle were always the hardest.
The Enterprise moved directly at the Furies Point. The Madison followed. When they got in close the Enterprise would turn to port and the Madison would go to starboard on attack runs.
The Idaho circled high, a lone graceful starship, apparently on her own path. Gradually, the Idaho also closed in on the Furies Point.
The Furies had a lot to watch.
The two Klingon ships had also taken a direction that would allow the Furies to think they had been running away. They were now cloaked, and Riker knew that within moments they would reappear firing.
Then the closest Fury ship shot at the Enterprise. The burst of light was sudden and startling. Riker felt a welcome tension in his arms and shoulders.
The battle had started.
He kept on his line, a small ship, unnoticed. He tried to be as invisible as possible, as if willing it would help.
The Enterprise returned fire on the closest Fury ship. The Idaho swooped down and fired also.
The battle had been joined.
Four of the Fury ships took positions against the Enterprise and Idaho. The Madison took on two others, and space was filled with explosions and flashes of light. Phaser fire connected the ships like deadly lifelines.
�
�Klingons?” Riker whispered. “Where are you?”
A Fury ship in front of the Enterprise exploded in a burst of colored light. Debris flew in all directions.
One down, but thousands more in that wormhole to deal with.
Riker glanced at the shuttles in front of him. Worf and Redbay seemed all right.
For the moment.
The Enterprise turned its weapons on the nearest ship, with the Madison lending her firepower. From this distance, the starships appeared to have complete control, but Riker knew the Enterprise was taking a pounding.
He hoped the shields would hold.
And that Beverly’s drug would work if they didn’t.
“Come on, Klingons,” he whispered. He hoped the shields worked for them too. If they didn’t, there might be a disastrous repeat of the first fight at the Furies Point.
He wished he could see Worf. He wondered if Worf was as worried about the Birds-of-Prey as he was.
He hoped not.
Suddenly the two Klingon ships decloaked close to the wormhole. They looked like giant screaming vultures, with their weapons flaring red against the darkness of space. The two Fury ships closest to the wormhole did not return fire right away.
They were surprised.
“Another point for our side,” Riker muttered.
He tapped the communications console. This was it. The big moment. Now or never, and all those other clichés.
“Go!” he shouted to Worf and Redbay, feeling absurdly like a soccer coach.
“Aye, sir,” Worf said.
“Yes, sir!” Redbay said, and Riker could almost see his old friend snap his arm in mock salute. Riker grinned. He might be alone in the shuttle, but he wasn’t alone in space. And for some reason having his friend here made him feel more in control.
Worf’s shuttle peeled off and headed toward the wormhole.
Redbay followed.
After a moment both opened fire on the two Fury ships, pretending to be making an attack run.
Riker took his ship right in behind him. He forced himself to block out the surrounding fight. His only focus was that wormhole and getting through it.
Nothing else mattered.
Nothing.
INVASION!, BOOK TWO: THE SOLDIERS OF FEAR Page 15
