With Lwaxana beside her, Deanna marched along the wilderness path toward the Jem’Hadar encampment, comfortable with her decision to join the unconventional battle. Captain Picard and the Enterprise would target Cardassian centers of communication from orbit, and keep watch for Dominion reinforcements. Will and Vaughn would have their hands full subduing the Cardassian troops, against whom the invasive empathy wasn’t expected to work.
Nerissa Povron and Enaren brought up the rear of Lwaxana’s group. Povron seemed lost in her own thoughts, Enaren cloaked in grief for his son.
We’re almost there, Lwaxana announced.
I remember all too well. Enaren’s mind was heavy with sorrow for the loss of Sark and Okalan, the friend he’d had to kill at this very encampment. He had lost much in this war, and he’d been the first to volunteer for this mission.
Lwaxana, a stronger telepath than Deanna, must have been weighed down by Enaren’s anguish. She directed strong encouragement to her fellow council member and old friend. Gather up your emotions. Soon you can put your feelings to good use.
In the burgeoning dawn, Lwaxana stopped the group behind a copse of trees. Line of sight to the Jem’Hadar troops wasn’t necessary. The telepaths needed simply to approach close enough, a distance of over a hundred meters for the strongest among them.
Using her phaser rifle, Deanna checked their location. Its targeting scope, capable of detecting and tracking life-forms, indicated short-range biological scans of a concentrated group of Jem’Hadar, too many for a patrol, dead ahead. Her group had reached the encampment. We are in position.
Take cover, Lwaxana ordered.
Concealed by a row of evergreens, Deanna settled on the floor of the forest between Lwaxana and Povron. Enaren crouched behind a nearby thicket. Aiming her rifle in the direction of the encampment, ready for rapid fire if needed, Deanna closed her eyes and felt the presence of other groups in the surrounding woods, just as across her homeworld, other cells encircled other Jem’Hadar encampments and duplicated their efforts.
We have two minutes, Lwaxana announced. Relax. Meditate. Focus every emotion and prepare to release it as Deanna taught us.
I’m ready. Grief, hostility, and sadness emanated from Enaren.
I, too. Povron’s hatred for the enemy, clear and polished, had a razor-sharp edge.
One minute to go. Lwaxana warned. She thought of Ian, of Kestra, of Deanna and Barin. Breathe deeply. Relax. Focus on the Jem’Hadar.
Deanna watched as the three telepaths breathed in through their noses, out through their mouths, and drew energy from deep inside themselves.
Ten seconds, Lwaxana counted.
Five.
Now!
Deanna could feel the emotions being hurled into the nearest Jem’Hadar. In her mind, she pictured them grasping their heads in shock, confusion, and fear. She felt wave after wave of anger and despair. It almost sent her reeling, and she was just getting the backwash. She peered through the phaser rifle sight and saw that some of the Jem’Hadar stumbled. Others stopped in their tracks. Seconds lengthened into minutes, and minutes seemed to last forever. All around her, the air grew thick with bitterness and hope, hatred of the enemy and love of hearth and home, and the sensation of a growing weariness among the telepaths.
Keep at them, Lwaxana urged her companions. Our friends to the left of us . . . are gone.
All around Deanna, Betazoids were falling, some dying. Like a weakened swimmer tugged under by a riptide, she fought to keep from succumbing to the wave of lethargy that threatened to engulf her. She grieved for the lost group. Resisting the weakness that threatened to drown her, she remembered her people, the many who had already died and those who would perish this day. Fighting to keep from tumbling down into blackness, she stubbornly fired off her anger at the possibility of losing this war—
Imzadi . . .
—until the blackness won and sucked her under.
Chapter Nineteen
WHEN GUL LEMEC ESCAPED the doomed Sentok Nor, he had sent a subspace message, requesting reinforcements for Betazed. The reply was not to his liking. Cardassian and Dominion reinforcements had been intercepted by a Federation fleet. No help was coming. Within hours of his arrival on Betazed, Luaran had appeared at Lemec’s headquarters. She’d tracked him down immediately to inform him of her escape from Sentok Nor. She could not, however, confirm or deny Moset’s survival. If the doctor hadn’t perished in the destruction of the station, he had possibly fallen captive.
Confronting the Vorta in his office, the gul didn’t bother to conceal his delight at the doctor’s plight. If not for Moset, the space station would never have been compromised.
“We face bigger problems than the loss of Sentok Nor,” Lemec told her.
Luaran’s face remained serene, in spite of the displeasure in her voice. “The Founders will not be pleased if Federation forces have captured Moset. The loss of his research is bad enough, without losing the man as well.”
“Moset’s research was worthless.” Lemec’s blood boiled at the memory of the doctor’s lowering the shields and making the station vulnerable to attack. “Instead of enhancing Jem’Hadar, he succeeded only in killing them.”
“True,” Luaran agreed, “but in time, he might have made a breakthrough.”
“Time is something we don’t have. Sensors have picked up Starfleet transporter signals all over the planet. We must assume the Enterprise has contacted the resistance cells.”
The Vorta shrugged. “Our latest reports indicate the remaining resistance members are hungry, without medical resources or weapons, and—”
“They could be mounting a united campaign in an effort to drive us off their planet.”
Luaran smiled. “Good.”
“Good?” Lemec couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly. “Our enemies could be ready to attack, and you think that’s good?”
“To fight, they must come out of hiding,” the Vorta said. “These unmilitaristic people are no match for Jem’Hadar, and once they attack, we’ll defeat them and maintain our complete control of this world.”
“The Betazoids are desperate and have nothing left to lose but their lives.” Lemec, recalling the Bajoran resistance, feared the fanaticism such circumstances evoked. And the Bajorans weren’t telepathic. “Now Starfleet is helping them, probably supplying weapons and tactical and communications support. It would be a mistake to underestimate them. An assault could be far more intense—”
“If we lose Jem’Hadar,” Luaran said in the same placid tone, “we’ll breed more. I don’t see a problem.”
Lemec shook his head. “I hope you’re right. This is one time I’ll be happy to be proved wrong.”
A glinn barged into Lemec’s office, so obviously rattled he forgot to salute. “Sir, you asked me to notify you if . . .”
The glinn hesitated, and Lemec snapped, “Yes? What’s happened?”
“It’s the Jem’Hadar, sir. They have gathered for their supply of white and . . . they’re acting . . . odd.”
Lemec frowned. “Odd?”
“Jem’Hadar can’t act odd,” Luaran stated matter-of-factly.
“You’d better see for yourselves.”
Lemec and Luaran followed the glinn from Lemec’s office into the headquarter’s operations center. Cardassians manned their stations, but their attention was clearly concentrated on a viewscreen showing the adjacent Jem’Hadar barracks and grounds.
Despite the glinn’s claim, Lemec expected to see Jem’Hadar queuing in their usual lines, accepting their ration of white from a Vorta and repeating their ritual words of thanks. Instead, most of the Jem’Hadar stood as if frozen, barely breathing, eyes unblinking. A few wrestled each other in the dirt in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Several others had drawn their weapons and were firing on one another. Oblivous to the total chaos around them, the immobile ones didn’t flex a muscle. Some fell without flinching when the erratic weapons fire struck them.
“Is this some kind of drill?�
� Lemec asked Luaran.
“Jem’Hadar don’t kill one another in drills. The Founders don’t appreciate the unnecessary waste of soldiers.”
“Maybe the white’s contaminated,” Lemec suggested. “The resistance could have poisoned it.”
The glinn shook his head. “Most of them haven’t received their allotment yet.”
“Send in the Cardassian troops,” Luaran demanded. “This unacceptable behavior must cease at once.”
An officer at communications spoke up. “I’m receiving reports of similarly bizarre Jem’Hadar activity from every outpost. Do you have orders, sir?”
“Seal our perimeter with Cardassian troops,” Lemec ordered. “Order the others to do the same.”
The communications officer shook his head. “I can’t get through now. Someone’s jamming our signals.”
“It must be the Enterprise. Keep trying.”
Luaran frowned at the soldiers fighting on the viewscreen. “What about the Jem’Hadar?”
“You said yourself they’re replaceable.”
The Vorta had no chance to reply. A huge explosion rocked their headquarters, showering dust and debris and knocking several of the operations staff to the floor. Computer stations sparked and ignited. Lights flickered and went out.
Lemec shoved himself to his feet. The officer at communications would never rise again. A fallen ceiling beam had caved in his chest.
The loss of several of his staff was the least of Lemec’s concern. Where were the rest of his soldiers? Had they received his order to guard the perimeter? With the viewscreen blank, Lemec grabbed a phase-disruptor rifle and staggered outside to assess the situation, leaving Luaran to find her own way.
Shouted orders and the screams of wounded and dying greeted him. His headquarters was under attack and sustaining phaser fire from all sides. From the number of Cardassian bodies on the ground, he concluded that his troops had suffered heavy losses in the initial assault. Smoke from burning barracks and supply warehouses clouded the air, filled his nose, and obscured his vision. Stunned, he caught sight of Betazoid and Starfleet troops advancing on his position through the haze.
Beside him, Luaran doubled over and gasped for air. “You must do something.”
Before Lemec could issue an order, Starfleet forces overran the compound and surrounded him and Luaran. A tall human with dark hair and a dark beard pointed his phaser at Lemec. The pips on his collar identified him as a Starfleet commander. Upon seeing the gul, his eyes narrowed. “I remember you. Stand down, Lemec.”
Lemec remembered the commander as well: Riker of the Enterprise, who had been on hand for the gul’s last great humiliation when he’d faced Starfleet’s Captain Jellico. Out of options, Lemec dropped his rifle.
“What are your terms?” Luaran asked.
The commander smiled. “Unconditional surrender.”
Resigned to defeat, Lemec raised his hands above his head. Luaran did not. She simply stood there, which puzzled him.
The gul whispered, “Isn’t this when I get the pleasure of watching you activate your voluntary termination implant?”
Luaran’s calm was unshattered. “Not when I can still escape. Good luck, Lemec.” And with that, the Vorta pressed a contact on her gauntlet, became enveloped in a Dominion transporter effect, and was gone.
Riker fired his phaser, but it was too late. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Problem?” someone asked, and Lemec saw another Starfleet commander stride toward them, only this one had white hair and a white beard.
“The Vorta beamed out,” Riker said.
The second commander regarded Lemec with what looked like sympathy. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She obviously knows a lost cause when she sees one.” Looking at Riker, the white-haired commander continued, “The force field enclosures around the Jem’Hadar barracks are almost all up. They’ll contain both the Jem’Hadar and the Cardassians we’ve captured.”
Riker gestured with his phaser toward the stockade where Lemec had housed and tortured Betazoid prisoners. “Your cell is waiting.”
Lemec lowered his hands. All his hopes for advancement had evaporated. By blaming the destruction of Sentok Nor on Moset, he might have salvaged his career from the ashes of that disaster. Losing Betazed, however, was a blow from which he’d never recover.
He met the unwavering gaze of his Starfleet captor. “I don’t suppose you could just shoot me instead?”
Riker hit the panel beside the Cardassian cell with his fist, raising the force field on Gul Lemec, who sat with his head in his hands. After posting security guards at the door of the stockade, Riker strode across the dusty grounds of the enemy encampment toward Lemec’s former office and surveyed the ongoing activities with satisfaction.
Teams composed of Betazoids and members of the Starfleet task force’s crews moved efficiently throughout the area, aiding the wounded and tagging the dead for the burial detail that would follow. Both Jem’Hadar and Cardassian troops were securely contained behind force fields or incarcerated in the stockade. If their plan had worked as smoothly across the rest of the planet as it had here, Betazed was effectively free of Dominion rule.
Riker shook his head, recalling the morning’s battle. It had been one of the strangest he’d ever taken part in. The assault had begun not to the roar of weapons, but with the silent empathic attack of the Betazoid telepaths. Once observers had signaled that the Jem’Hadar had been disabled, the armed Starfleet and Betazoid teams had opened fire. Caught by surprise and unable to count on the Jem’Hadar for backup, the Cardassian troops had quickly conceded.
Imzadi.
At that point in the battle, Riker had heard Deanna’s thought, had felt her mind reaching out to his. Although he wasn’t telepathic, his relationship with Deanna had deepened over the years to the point that she could sometimes touch his mind, and he could sense her presence. With that one word, he’d felt her love—and her withdrawal. He quickened his steps, eager to complete his mission so he could locate her and assure himself that she was all right.
Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly rose. The conquest had been too easy, and he couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that a second shoe was going to drop. Anxious for a full report, he hurried into Gul Lemec’s old office, which Vaughn had commandeered as a temporary command post.
The older commander stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, but with a hint of fatigue in the set of his shoulders. Vaughn turned when Riker entered, and Will was taken aback by the pain mirrored in the commander’s eyes.
“Have you received a situation report yet?” Riker asked.
“Captain Picard just informed me the Enterprise has received accounts from the other Betazoid resistance cells. Every group was successful in subduing the Jem’Hadar and Cardassians. Betazed is free.”
Vaughn’s voice held no jubilation in imparting his news, however, and his expression remained grim. Riker felt a chill down his spine.
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” he asked warily.
With a heavy sigh, Vaughn settled into the chair at Lemec’s desk. “It should be.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Vaughn scrubbed his face with his hands as if trying to wash away his exhaustion. “Because contained in those situation reports are the casualty stats for the telepaths who fought the Jem’Hadar empathically.”
“Casualties,” Riker said. “You mean wounded?”
The commander shook his head. “The people have their planet back, but at a terrible price. On average, four out of every ten telepaths lost their lives.”
Riker reeled at the news. “Forty percent dead,” he whispered.
Vaughn lifted his head, and in his eyes Riker could read the history of too many battles, too many deaths. “We have reports on the telepaths from every cell but this one. We haven’t managed to locate all of ours yet.”
“Deanna?” Riker asked through a mouth gone dry.
“No word,” Vaughn
answered with a fearful heaviness in his voice.
Riker tapped his combadge. “Riker to Troi. Report.”
Vaughn pushed himself to his feet, approached Will, and placed his hand on the younger officer’s shoulder.
“It’s no use. I’ve been trying to raise her for the last five minutes. She doesn’t answer.”
Chapter Twenty
SOUNDS RETURNED TO DEANNA FIRST. Into the all-encompassing blackness trickled the soft murmur of voices, muted footsteps, and the mechanical tones of biofunction monitors. “She’s coming around, Dr. Crusher,” an unfamiliar voice announced quietly.
Swimming upward through the gloom that enveloped her, Deanna opened her eyes to meet Beverly’s bright blue ones.
“Welcome back,” the doctor said.
A quick peripheral glance informed Deanna she was in the Enterprise sickbay, where every bed seemed filled. “Is it over?” she asked.
With a reassuring smile, Beverly squeezed her hand. “It’s over. We won.”
Relief washed through Deanna. “Tell me what happened.”
“There’s someone you should see first. If I don’t let him talk to you soon, he’s going to force his way in. He’s been hovering outside ever since we transported you here. He can fill you in on the details.”
“Wait, please. Do you know if my mother is all right?”
Beverly nodded to the next bed, and Deanna turned to find Lwaxana, lying pale and strangely quiet.
“She’s still unconscious,” the doctor said, “but her vital signs are strong. With rest, she’ll recover quickly.”
Beverly left and returned seconds later with Will. When he saw Deanna, his grin lit his face like the sun. “Hey,” he said softly. “You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Deanna replied, “and a little embarrassed. I didn’t realize the effect being around all those emotions would have on me. I never should have volunteered.”
The Battle of Betazed Page 20
