by Dayton Ward
“Understood, Commander,” the security chief replied. “Vale out.” After she signed off, Riker could still hear her giving orders to her own away team, as he had given orders to keep communications open throughout the assault.
Continuing his advance, he studied the sterile, utilitarian corridor fabricated from the same general-purpose metal plating that had come to typify Dokaalan construction techniques. The air here was cool and tasted vaguely metallic, just as it had been during his first visit to the central habitat.
All the more reason to want to move to a planet, he mused. Any planet.
They came upon a door set into the left-side bulkhead, and Riker swung the muzzle of his phaser rifle to cover it. He glanced over his shoulder to Lieutenant Danilov, the security officer walking just behind him. “Anybody home?”
Holding his phaser rifle in his right hand while carrying a tricorder in his left, Danilov aimed the scanning device toward the door and shook his head after a few seconds. “No life signs, sir.”
Riker sighed. “Where the hell is everybody?”
This part of the colony housed more machinery and storage facilities than anything else, with the majority of the Dokaalan colonists located elsewhere in the complex. Sensor readings from the Enterprise revealed that living quarters and other areas where the people might congregate had been sealed off from the sections immediately surrounding the command center. The readings also showed thirty-four Dokaalan scattered in small groups throughout this portion of the colony, leading Vale to surmise that they were being held as hostages by Satarrans as a last-ditch defensive effort.
It would make sense, Riker realized. With their primary threat to the Dokaalan colony neutralized and the central habitat in no danger of being destroyed, the Satarrans’ options had been drastically narrowed. Certainly aware that there was no way for them to escape, they could very well resort to using the Dokaalan as shields, or they might offer themselves up as part of radical suicide attacks. If Riker had learned anything about the Satarrans, during either the Enterprise’s initial encounter or just what had transpired over the past few days, it was that these people were capable of anything.
Splitting his focus between his tricorder and the passageway ahead of them, Danilov paused to wipe away some of the perspiration that had matted his blond hair and was now running down the side of his face. “I’m picking up seven Dokaalan life-forms approximately forty meters ahead of us, in a room off this corridor. No sign of any Satarrans, though.” He shrugged. “Not that that’s news.”
“No kidding,” Riker agreed, cursing once more the Satarrans’ ability to blend in with the colonists. Their mimicking shrouds allowed them to register as Dokaalan, which meant that any or all of the seven life signs Danilov had detected could be enemies in disguise.
Naturally, the use of the hypersonic signal that Data had devised to expose the enemy agents aboard the Enterprise had been considered as a tactic against those Satarrans still scattered throughout the Dokaalan central habitat. Unfortunately, that strategy had been almost as quickly discarded when Data explained that the signal could only be sent on a frequency that was far outside the range of the Dokaalans’ own communications network, or even the capabilities of the portable devices employed by the Satarrans themselves.
With that in mind, Captain Picard had decided to send boarding parties to seize control of the central habitat. Riker and every other member of the assault force realized they had lost the element of surprise, but that could not be helped now. The first officer knew that the only thing to do if they were to end the Satarrans’ oppression of the Dokaalan was to keep pressing forward.
He waited as one of the ensigns on Danilov’s team fused the lock on the door, a precaution in the event the Satarrans had devised another method of fooling tricorder scans. Now reasonably sure that no one would come out of the room beyond the hatch in an attempt so sneak up on them, Riker ordered the group forward with a hand signal.
No one said anything else as they proceeded down the passageway, Riker’s eyes wary for the signs of any potential danger despite the reassurance of Danilov’s tricorder that nothing was lying in wait for them. They passed three more doors during their advance, the sections leading from which offered no signs of life, and Riker ordered the procedure to secure them repeated for each one.
“Almost there,” Danilov said a few moments later as they turned a corner, and the first officer saw the lone door fifteen meters in front of them. It looked no different from any of the other doors they had passed on the way here.
“Any signs of weapons?” Riker asked.
Danilov shook his head. “Not that I can see.”
Feeling his pulse beginning to race in anticipation of their first run-in with anyone since their arrival, Riker drew a calming breath before taking up position to the left of the door. Danilov put himself on the opposite side and the two officers exchanged nods before Riker reached for the door’s control panel.
Seven surprised faces turned to see the six Starfleet officers storm the room. Riker lunged through the door, phaser rifle up and aiming ahead of him as he moved to his left, searching the storage containers and worktables lining the room for potential threats. Danilov mirrored his actions as he stepped to his right, both officers searching for threats as the rest of the away team entered the chamber.
“We’re from the Enterprise,” Riker called out to the group of anxious-looking Dokaalan, all of whom had raised their hands to show they were unarmed the moment he had come into the room. “We’ve come to take you out of here.”
“Dokaa has not forsaken us,” one of the colonists said, relief evident on his pale blue features, “even if our leaders have. Why are they turning against us?”
Stepping forward, Riker allowed the muzzle of his weapon to drop so that it no longer aimed directly at the colonists. “I’m afraid it’s a long story, and there’ll be plenty of time to tell it later. Right now we have to get you out of here.” Indicating Danilov, he added, “If you’ll follow this man, he’ll lead you to a safer location.”
He sensed the movement first, a flickering motion coming from one of the Dokaalan at the rear of the group. The colonist’s right hand had moved to touch his chest, and Riker saw the hand disappear through the fabric of the coveralls he wore, as if passing through…
“Look out!” he shouted, raising his phaser rifle.
The Dokaalan was faster, his hand reappearing and now holding a Klingon disruptor. He snapped off a shot and the rest of the group scattered, with Riker dodging the energy bolt that screamed over his left shoulder and tore into the metal bulkhead behind him.
Phaser energy whined to Riker’s right as Danilov fired. The orange beam struck the Dokaalan in the chest and the first officer saw the colonist’s form shimmer and distort from the onslaught, the black and silver exoskeleton of a Satarran mimicking shroud visible for an instant before the assailant crumpled under the force of the phaser beam.
“There’s another one!” Danilov yelled as a second Dokaalan, having sought cover behind a large metal storage container, poked his head up along with the stout, short-barreled weapon in his left hand.
He never had the chance to fire before two members of the away team caught him in a crossfire, the pair of phaser strikes more than sufficient to send the Dokaalan careering backward to slam into the room’s far bulkhead before falling to the deck.
Disruptor fire howled in the room once more and Riker saw green energy wash over one of the security team, a female ensign whose name he could not remember. Without thinking, he swung his phaser rifle in the direction from which the attack had come and fired, his own shot striking yet another of the colonists in the leg. The Dokaalan fell to one knee, still holding his weapon, and Riker fired again. This time the beam washed over the attacker and he collapsed in an unconscious heap.
“Nobody move!” Riker shouted, aiming his rifle at the remaining four Dokaalan, all of whom froze in place with empty hands held over their heads. Gl
ancing over his shoulder, he saw Danilov already moving to tend to the fallen ensign. “Is she all right?”
Kneeling beside the prone officer, Danilov reached to her neck to check her pulse. “She’s alive, but she’s got a nasty disruptor burn to her chest.” Even as he spoke he was motioning to one of his men to help him prepare to move the ensign.
“Get her back to the ship,” Riker said. Keeping his attention focused on the rest of the colonists, he tapped his combadge. “This is Riker. We’ve encountered moderate resistance and taken one casualty.”
“Three Satarrans are in custody. They’re blending in with the Dokaalan, and their shrouds can conceal weapons from tricorder scans.”
Picard heard only part of Riker’s report over his own combadge, the rest drowned out by weapons fire as he fired his phaser rifle at a retreating Dokaalan. He missed, and his adversary fired a badly aimed shot in the captain’s direction before disappearing around a corner in the passageway.
“Devious, aren’t they?” he said to no one in particular, feeling his jaw tighten in mounting irritation.
Vale heard him nonetheless, and nodded in agreement. “But you already knew that from past experience, sir. I went over all of the reports of your first run-in with the Satarrans. Interesting reading, to say the least.”
Picard said nothing, though silently he commended the lieutenant on her diligence. Simply finding the time during the events of the past days to review the sheer number of log entries and follow-up reports filed in the wake of the Enterprise’s initial encounter with the Satarrans was an amazing feat.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Picard and Vale, along with her four-person security detail, moved through the large chamber that served as a general-purpose gathering place for the colonists. Wherever he looked the muzzle of his weapon followed, searching for threats that did not reveal themselves.
Riker had expressed his customary disapproval at his captain’s decision to lead one of the away teams, but Picard had noted that there seemed to be a hollowness in the objection. Starfleet regulations required first officers to voice such concerns whenever their commanders opted to put themselves in such potentially dangerous situations, and throughout his tenure on the Enterprise Riker had unfailingly carried out that duty.
While Picard had routinely allowed his second-in-command to handle away team duties during their years together, he had overridden him on those occasions where he honestly felt his involvement was absolutely essential to the success of a mission.
Is this one of those times?
The question had repeatedly asked itself since boarding the shuttlecraft to make the transfer to the colony, but he had ignored it. In truth, the answer was no, and he knew that, so why had he exercised command prerogative? Was it simply because he wanted Hjatyn, or rather the Satarran currently impersonating him, captured and made to answer for what he had done to the Dokaalan people?
While that sounded good to him, at least on the surface, Picard knew it was little more than a rationalization.
The events of the past days, and yes, the past weeks, had made him question his ability to lead. He believed he had redeemed himself, at least somewhat, in circumstances that required him to demonstrate his control from the bridge of the Enterprise, but what about elsewhere, where the situations could become much more chaotic?
Part of him needed to know that he could still command out here, where the people putting their lives at risk looked to him for leadership. Starfleet regulations might not like it, but after more than forty years as a starship captain, Picard felt the regulations owed him this one.
His momentary reverie was broken by Vale, walking to his left and studying her tricorder. “Our guy’s heading toward the council chambers.”
A wise tactical move, Picard conceded. According to the security chief’s previous scans, there was little of value or what might provide concealment between the away team’s present location and the section of the central habitat housing the command center as well as the council’s offices and meeting area.
They encountered no further resistance as they made their way through the complex, finally arriving at the large hatch leading to the command center. As Picard expected, the door itself was closed, without even a single sentry posted outside for security.
“I’m picking up twenty-three life signs inside,” Vale said as she studied her tricorder. “At least seven are armed, not counting anyone pulling that trick Commander Riker pointed out.”
“And there’s only one other way out of that section?” Picard asked.
Vale nodded. “Yes, sir. Commander Riker and Lieutenant Danilov should have that route covered any time now.”
Frowning, the captain sighed. “They’re cornered, which makes them even more dangerous.” With nearly twenty hostages, there was no telling what the Satarrans would do if they felt their time was running out. If Picard ordered an assault on the command center, there was a good chance that the Satarrans would kill their captives before he and his people could secure the area.
He tapped his combadge. “Picard to Enterprise. Patch me through to Hjatyn.” Grimacing at the words, he added, “Or whatever the hell his name is.” There was a momentary delay as the communication link was established.
“This is Lorakin, Captain,” said Hjatyn’s voice through Picard’s combadge, though the captain now noted a hint of agitation that had not been there previously. The Satarran leader had even given his real name, apparently, perhaps a sign that he was beginning to feel the stresses of his deteriorating situation. “We seem to have reached an impasse.”
“This can still end well for everyone involved, Lorakin,” Picard said, remembering only at the last instant to call the Satarran by his actual name. “There is nowhere for you to go now. Surrender and you have my word you will be treated fairly.”
“Captain, you know this is not about my personal situation,” the Satarran replied. “It is about the future for all of my people. I am pledged to see this reformation project to completion.”
“You know I can’t allow that to happen,” Picard countered, “not at the expense of the Dokaalan.”
“Then you are forcing me toward extreme measures, Captain,” Lorakin said. “Believe me when I tell you that I will kill everyone in this room if you attempt to enter.”
Shaking his head, the captain cursed the futility and desperation that seemed to be all that remained to drive the Satarran leader. After everything the Enterprise crew had done to this point to defeat this group of interlopers and what they had done to sabotage the Dokaalan’s lifelong efforts, there still remained the very real possibility that this final confrontation could end in tragedy.
Not while I have anything to say about it.
Tapping his combadge with a free hand, Picard motioned for Vale to move closer. “Pinpoint the location of everyone in that room.”
The security chief studied her tricorder for several seconds before handing the device to him. “It looks like everyone is in the main council chamber. The seven with weapons have placed the remaining sixteen Dokaalan between them and the doors leading from he council chamber to the surrounding sections.”
Simple, yet effective, Picard noted. If his team, or Riker’s, attempted to enter the room, their adversaries would have several seconds to fire indiscriminately into the crowd of Dokaalan hostages providing unwilling cover for the Satarrans in disguise.
There had to be another way.
Tapping his combadge again, the captain said, “Picard to Enterprise. What’s the status of the transporters?”
Counselor Troi replied, “Still questionable, Captain. Engineering has had some success transporting test cylinders, but they’re still not satisfied with computer simulations on living beings.”
The memory of the last time he had ordered the use of transporters, during the Enterprise’s first rescue mission after arriving in the Dokaalan system, was still fresh and painful in Picard’s mind. Twenty-seven lives had been lost to
that order, and though logic argued that those people had been doomed even before his actions, their deaths still weighed on him.
Was this time any different? The safety of the people in the next room was hardly guaranteed, after all. They could very well die whether he attempted to save them or allowed Lorakin to dictate the terms of the situation to him. Picard was therefore faced with taking action or standing by and waiting for events to be determined for him.
That’s no choice, he chided himself, falling back on the maxim that had guided him throughout his career.
“Enterprise, notify transporter room one to lock on to my signal.” Entering commands to the tricorder’s diminutive keypad until he found the information he wanted, he transmitted the unit’s data to the ship. “I want you to put me inside the first minister’s office.”
“Captain,” the voice of Geordi La Forge replied, “the transporters haven’t been certified for humanoids.” The worry was evident in his words. “I can’t guarantee the thing will work, sir.”
Checking the setting on his phaser rifle, Picard replied, “I understand the risks, Mr. La Forge. Proceed on my responsibility.”
Too arrogant, too old, and too careless?
The words he had spoken to Beverly Crusher one night over dinner echoed in his mind. Even before Starfleet had thrown him onto the professional and psychological examination table in the wake of the Juno’s loss, he had questioned not only his own fitness for command, but also his desire to continue in the role he had made his own for two-thirds of his life. The answer then was the same as it was now.
I think I’ll stay on the job, anyway.
His attention was drawn to the voice of Commander Riker coming from his combadge. “Request permission to accompany you, sir.”
“Negative, Number One,” Picard replied. “Once I get inside, I’ll draw their attention so you and Lieutenant Vale will bring your teams in through the doors. Besides, if I’m wrong, I’ll need you here.”