A Time to Die

by John Vornholt

  “The Ontailians were there,” said Vale, puzzled, “but now I can’t find them.”

  “What’s the matter with the wreckage?” asked the Orion. “It’s coming so close to us.”

  “Without the gravity sink in the center,” answered Picard, “the wrecks are losing their orbits and drifting wherever their momentum takes them. Rashanar is going to change now.”

  “Ship to starboard!” called Vale as a monstrous silver apparition glided in front of them, taking up the whole viewport. Picard’s hands were on the weapons console, but he let out a sigh and removed his fingers from the unfamiliar controls.

  “The Enterprise,” he breathed as the sleek lines of the Sovereign-class starship cruised past them, thrusters firing to bring the graceful ship to a halt. “Perhaps that’s why the Ontailians left so abruptly. Lieutenant, send the Enterprise subspace and tell them to keep their shields up, because Ontailians are nearby.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The captain turned to the Orion. “Do you know what the Ontailians did with that antimatter you sold them?”

  “No. Why should we care?”

  “They expelled it here in Rashanar,” answered Picard. “We don’t know if it was to appease the demon ship or to attack it.”

  “Or perhaps to poison it,” said the Orion with a nervous chuckle. “Ontailian assassins are well known in certain circles. They always use poison to weaken their quarry, then they strangle them. Or so I’ve heard.”

  The captain scratched his chin, unable to refute that theory any more than he could a dozen others connected with this lethal anomaly. One thing he now knew: The shapeshifting mass was not of this universe. Now the Androssi had closed its escape hatch.

  “Captain,” said Vale warily, “I’m getting a subspace message.”

  “From the Enterprise?”

  “No, sir. From the Ontailian warship Yoxced.” She worked her board hesitantly. “It’s on an open Starfleet channel, so I assume the Enterprise is receiving it too. I don’t know how the Orions’ universal translator works.”

  “Allow me,” said Taluk helpfully. He took over the console, and a moment later they heard the subspace message translated into a series of languages by an authoritative computer voice.

  “Federation ship, Orion ship, you are in grave danger,” began the message. “A demon is loose now in Rashanar. She is enraged because the rift was destroyed. Before she had but one purpose, but now she is erratic. We fear she will escape from Rashanar.”

  The voice concluded ominously, “So now you will do as we say.”

  In the bowels of the Enterprise, Fristan hummed an off-key ditty as he approached the doors of the brig. The guard glanced at him through the window, saw who it was, and opened it. Fristan had come down here before to see the Ontailian prisoners, although he had always been with other people.

  “You’re by yourself?” asked the guard.

  The hunched Androssi shrugged and shuffled inside. “Oh, they’re all so busy, they are. Protecting the universe. How are my fellow passengers?”

  “Fine,” answered the young security guard. “They’re eating, drinking, even making merry. Or wrestling, I’m not sure which.”

  “Ah.” Fristan pulled two apples from his pocket and chomped into one of them. “I just discovered these remarkable fruits, what do you call them?”

  “Apples.”

  “Mmm-mmm, they’re good, says I. Would you like this extra one?”

  The guard shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “I will not tell anyone,” promised Fristan cheerfully. He moved closer to the guard, holding up a scarlet orb with one hand.

  “I really shouldn’t,” the guard said.

  In a flash, Fristan injected the guard with the hypospray he’d palmed in his other hand.

  The human did dropped to the deck, unconscious. Fristan went immediately to the cell and deactivated the forcefield, allowing the host of Ontailians to scamper out on their long arms, chittering with anticipation.

  “Get moving,” urged Fristan, running to open the door for them. “There are only a few humans on the bridge. I must get to a spare console.”

  Chittering and snorting, the Ontailians scurried over the limp body of the guard and into the corridor, where they swung themselves into the Jefferies tubes and access panels.

  “Hurry!” barked the Androssi. “I’ve waited a long time to be paid!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  STRIDING ACROSS THE BRIDGE of the Enterprise, Riker knew the situation had finally come to a head. “An ultimatum from the Ontailians. What do you think?”

  “I do not see how they can force us to do their will,” answered Data. “The Yoxced cannot destroy us by herself. To fire now would be foolish. After losing their orbits around the gravity sink, the trajectories of the derelicts have become very unpredictable. My suggestion is that we make our way to the outer belt as soon as possible.”

  “They’re worried about the mimic ship escaping from Rashanar,” said Troi.

  Riker tapped his combadge. “Bridge to transporter room one.”

  “Erwin here,” answered the Bolian, who had returned to his regular post.

  “Have you locked on to Picard and Vale yet? They’re on that Orion ship.”

  “I’m trying. Perhaps if we could get a little closer, or they used a signal booster at their end. Even so, I don’t recommend transporting in here.”

  “I know,” answered Riker, “I don’t want to drop shields either. This is our desperation plan. Keep trying and notify me if you lock on to them. Riker out.”

  “If only Wesley were here,” said Beverly Crusher. She immediately bit her lip.

  “We’ll find a way to help him,” promised Deanna.

  “Captain,” said Data with a curious look on his face. “There is no response from the brig, and…someone is accessing the life-support systems.”

  A second later, the gravity completely cut out, and everyone began floating from the deck, flailing their arms. “Computer!” shouted Riker. “Restore gravity!”

  “Life-support is frozen,” reported Data, just as access hatches and Jefferies tubes all over the bridge flew open. The liberated Ontailian prisoners flung themselves from the hatches, and furry streaks flew across the weightless expanse to attack the crew once again, wrapping around necks and legs. In zero gravity, Riker was unable to get any leverage in his fight against them. Com signals were beeping, but none of them would be answered during this life-and-death melee.

  Data floated out of his seat. Even he was having trouble with a dozen or so Ontailians crawling all over him, trying to open his access ports. As soon as the android forcefully peeled one off, two more would take its place, restricting his grip.

  “Don’t kill them,” said a reedy voice. “We need them to pilot this ship.”

  Riker craned his neck around and saw Fristan floating out of a Jefferies tube with a phaser in his hand. He made a strange clicking-cooing sound out of the side of his mouth. The Ontailians reduced their murderous assault.

  “Don’t struggle, I beg you,” said Fristan. “You’ll only die. Surrender your ship, if you want to live. If you don’t give up, we kill you and take your ship anyway.”

  Riker saw Deanna gasping for breath and beating her fists helplessly on the appendages around her neck. “Let everyone live. You can have the ship. Why are you doing this after we saved your life?”

  The Androssi wheezed a laugh. “You didn’t save me, Wesley did. And he’s not here, nowhere I can see. Let them breathe, my friends!” He again made sounds in their own language.

  The wiry creatures loosened their grips minutely. Riker tried not to show his fear as he demanded, “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I’m an agent for the Ontailains,” explained Fristan. “Why do you think everyone in Rashanar wanted to question me? No matter, I run the Enterprise now. You’ll do as we say, or pretties will die.” He pointed to Deanna and Beverly, who floated in the crushing grip of the On
tailians.

  “Order your android to return to his seat and fly to our coordinates,” Fristan continued. “We know he can pilot this vessel alone. We don’t need you. Need only android.”

  Feeling helpless, Riker acknowledged his first officer. “Do as they say.”

  “I am unable to move,” reported Data.

  Drifting in the middle of the bridge, Data had no way to get back down until the Ontailians crawled from his torso to his legs and feet. There they extended their long limbs and formed a chain reaching the console and pulling the android down into his chair. It was an impressive display of teamwork, thought Riker, but it did nothing to lessen the death grip the beasts had on his own neck.

  “Oh, yes,” said Fristan thoughtfully, “what about our friends on the Orion craft?”

  “I am sending them a message telling them to flee,” answered Data, working his board. “There, subspace message sent.”

  “Why the blazes did you do that?” Fristan snarled.

  “Because I wish to protect their lives,” responded Data simply. “If you kill any of my shipmates, I will refuse to help you. I can propel myself faster across this bridge than the Ontailians. A phaser will not stop me.”

  “Oh, no sense to be dramatic,” replied the Androssi with a nervous chuckle. “Of course, we’ve made a deal, we have, and we’ll abide by the terms of it. Yes, yes! Now be so kind to send a subspace to the Yoxced, and tell them Fristan is in charge. They will send you the coordinates of the demon flyer, they will.”

  “You know where it is?” asked Riker with surprise.

  “We’re trailing it as we speak,” answered Fristan. “How else are we going to stop it from escaping Rashanar?”

  “You didn’t need to hijack our ship to do that,” grumbled Riker. “We would have helped you.”

  Fristan smiled slyly. “Would you sacrifice your ship to stop it? The Ontailians will.”

  “I have the coordinates,” reported Data, working his board in a blur of quick movements. “I will take the most direct route, but our progress may be slow as I must estimate the new trajectories of the derelicts we pass.”

  “Best get moving.” Fristan waved his phaser. Riker spied Deanna, who looked like an old tintype of a woman wrapped in fox furs. She gave him the most encouraging smile she could muster, but Riker didn’t feel much like returning it. He could only hope that La Forge could do something to help the situation from engineering.

  As if reading his mind, Fristan made a strange chirping noise out the side of his mouth, and one or two Ontailians broke off from each of the prisoners. They slithered over their fellows, the equipment, and furniture until they reached the Jefferies tube, where Fristan ushered them into the opening. The cagey Androssi gave the captain a wry grin, as if to show he was still thinking ahead of him.

  “The computer won’t let us into life-support,” complained one of La Forge’s subordinates in engineering. He slapped his console with one hand as he hung on to his chair with the other. “We still can’t restore the gravity.”

  “All right,” said La Forge. “None of my hails to the bridge are getting through, so we’ve got to assume that something bad has happened. Garsee, do we still have forcefields and emergency containment in engineering?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Put them on, full red alert,” ordered the chief engineer. When the klaxons sounded and the emergency red lighting came on, he added, “Now nothing is getting in or out of here.”

  “Sir, we’re moving,” reported Garsee from his console, “one-quarter impulse. Data is logged in at the conn.”

  La Forge tapped his combadge again. “Engineering to transporter room one.”

  “Erwin here!” came a breathless voice. “I just got back to my console. Sir, what’s happening?”

  “As you’ve figured out, the bridge crew is not responding, even though we’re under way. Somebody did a very specific job of sabotage on our artificial gravity, and the only ones who would benefit from that are the Ontailians. Do a direct-beam to the brig and see if the Ontailians are still there.”

  “Aye, sir. Stand by.” La Forge gritted his teeth and tried to calm himself as he waited for the results of this little experiment. After what seemed like a long time, Erwin came back. “No Ontailians left in the brig. Do you want me to lock on to the captain or someone else on the bridge?”

  “Hold off on that for now. I don’t want to cause any ruckus while we’re trying to maneuver through this minefield. Stand by. La Forge out.” He flailed helplessly in the air, trying to catch hold of something, anything, but his hands missed every edge and handle within sight. “Garsee, let’s do an override to patch directly from the stator pulse grid into the gravity generators in the engineering subsection. We’ll cut out the shipwide system entirely.”

  The young ensign lifted his hands hesitantly from the console. “Where should I start?”

  “Start by tying yourself into the chair,” La Forge ordered. “You’re going to need both hands since you’re going to be there awhile.”

  “I think I’m getting a handle on flying this ship,” said Vale as she slowly piloted the Orion vessel through the shifting graveyard. Even so, Picard was glad that the Orion craft had strong shields and was in relatively good condition for a Rashanar salvage ship. Their Orion prisoner snored quietly in the corner, apparently glad just to be alive.

  Of more concern to the captain was the cryptic subspace message from Data, urging them to flee. Subsequent communications requesting more information had gone unanswered, and Picard had to fear the worst.

  They had, however, caught sight of the big Ontailian flagship, which had been forced to plow slowly through the changing panoply of burnt hulks and swirling debris. They were following the Yoxced toward the outer ring of the boneyard, which suited Picard’s sense of urgency. The Ontailians believed that the uprooted replicant ship would be trying to escape, and he had no reason to doubt them. If it reached Federation shipping lanes, the loss of life could be staggering.

  Whatever danger the Enterprise was in, he had to put that worry out of his mind for the moment. With Counselor Cabot’s death, his own status was also in limbo, and he could easily be remanded back to Starfleet Medical Mental Health. But he had to ignore all repercussions for the moment. I came back here to get the mimic ship, and until that’s done, no other problem matters.

  They were rocked by a plasma burst with such fury that Taluk woke up. “Are we there?” muttered the Orion.

  “Are we where?” responded Picard.

  “Wherever we’re going.” The big Orion yawned loudly and looked around.

  Picard turned to Vale and said, “Don’t lose the Ontailians.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. They’re leading me through here, and I’m grateful for that. Rashanar is a real mess now.”

  Picard laughed grimly at the irony of her statement. “It was an organized mess before,” he said, “and now it’s a disorganized mess.”

  He gazed out the viewport just as they swerved around an old Jem’Hadar relic, with a jagged hole in its bow that looked like a mouthful of sharp teeth. Picard wished there were some sort of cosmic cremation they could perform on all the old wrecks, un-recovered bodies, and unexorcised ghosts of Rashanar, putting them all to rest at one time. In his current mood, he would like to see the whole battle site turned into a haze of gray ashes.

  “Uh oh!” exclaimed Vale, yanking the captain out of his grisly reverie. “The Yoxced is stopping.”

  The lieutenant barely had time to slow down before they crashed into the massive Ontailian starship. The salvage vessel swerved off, barely missing the giant silver fin. Picard worried that they would be fired upon, that was until he saw another ship closing fast upon their stern, plus two more Ontailian starships off the port bow.

  Phasers and beamed weapons flashed across the blackness. He braced himself for impact. But the Ontailians weren’t firing at the Orion scow. They were firing at the ship that had been closing on their tail. Pic
ard moved to an auxiliary console to get a better look at the frantic action, and he realized the ship that was attracting the fire was a Pakled overcruiser. Which cruiser, he wondered, the real one or the replicant? All three Ontailian ships were shooting mercilessly at the vessel, tearing into it with all they had.

  His question was answered a moment later, when the overcruiser blew up in a blazing eruption of twisted metal and shimmering debris. On a hunch, the captain ordered, “Vale, get us away from the Ontailians. Evasive maneuvers.”

  His advice came not a moment too soon, as they turned their attention and their weapons upon the Orion salvager. But Vale had gotten enough of a head start to duck back into the turmoil of Rashanar before the Ontailians could focus their firepower. Their beams went amiss, raking already dead hulks, which helped to cover the escape of the Orion craft. Vale brought them perilously close to a Vulcan heavy cruiser; then they slipped into its shadow as Picard ordered, “Cut power and drift. Let’s play dead.”

  They’d had so much practice with this in Rashanar that it was almost second nature. With the lights out, the two humans and the Orion stood motionless, barely breathing, as Ontailian vessels scooted by them in the darkness.

  “What are those crazy bastards doing?” muttered Taluk. “We’re their allies!”

  “It looks like they’re after every vessel that tries to escape from Rashanar,” answered Picard. “They’re not sure which one is the mimic ship, so they’ll destroy them all.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Vale.

  The captain’s lips thinned. “What can we do? Sit tight and wait.” He stared into the murky starscape of blasted wrecks and ghostly clouds of rubble, wondering if any of them would get out of this hell alive.

  With relief, Geordi La Forge set his feet back on the deck in engineering and immediately dashed to Ensign Garsee’s position. “Good job,” he said, patting the young man on the back. “I’ll take over here. You get over to the warp core and run diagnostics. Make sure we have warp drive if we need it.”