The Soldiers of Fear (14 page)

Small, slimy things.

Living things.

She tried to spit them out, but couldn't. Part of her craved them, needed them, like she needed the air.

Concentrate, Deanna, her mother said.

Go away, Mother, I'm sleeping.

One should never cling to sleep, dear, when one is having a nightmare.

Deanna peered at the screen in front of her. The Enterprise was a small disk in the distance, its main section a thin line beneath the saucer. It seemed insignificant.

Easy to conquer.

She hoped.

Deanna.

Leave me alone, Mother.

I will not, darling. You know I hate to see you upset.

Mother, you never even notice when I'm upset.

I feel your pain as if it were my own, my child. Wake up, now.

A bead of sweat ran down her cheek, and onto her lips. She licked it away, and something small with legs climbed down her throat.

She choked.

Coughed.

Opened her eyes.

Into Beverly Crusher's.

She felt the thread of worry pass through her even as Beverly covered the feeling with a smile.

"Glad to see you awake."

"Mm," Deanna said, not quite willing to say anything yet. The dream still felt close, too close, as if it weren't a dream at all. If she concentrated on it for a moment, she would know what she had missed. Something, something important ...

"Nightmare?"

Deanna nodded. Beneath Beverly's worry, Deanna felt other emotions swirling, both nearby and far. Fear. Terror. Deep, deep horror. Red hot, burning, able to dissolve her if she let it.

The dream dissipated. "What happened?" she asked, breathless with the emotions swirling inside.

"The Furies sent an interspace beam at the ship"

" 'Carrying terror on its wings,' " Deanna said.

"What?"

Deanna shook her head. "Just something I dreamed."

"No dream," Beverly said. "An attack through interspace. It overwhelmed you. I found you just in time."

Deanna remembered removing her comm badge, making instructions to the computer, heading toward the bridge and nothing else.

Except her mother's voice.

"My mother's not here, is she?"

"No," Beverly said. "Why?"

Deanna shook her head. An old terror, that of her mother knowing everything. "These fears people are feeling, they're deep, aren't they?"

"Too deep," Beverly said. "I've managed to block the worst of it, and Geordi has developed a screen to block the beam, but we don't know how long that will last." She looked up, checking the medical panel over Deanna's head.

Deanna wanted to ask her what she saw, but her mouth was dry. The emotions swirling underneath were growing. She could feel them below a haze, as if someone had laid a gauze blanket over them.

"Your levels are rising again. I'm going to have to sedate you, Deanna."

"But you woke me, didn't you?"

Beverly nodded. "As things eased. I needed to ask you a question. Then I'll put you back under, deep enough to block the empathic response until you can gain a little more strength. You just need the time."

Deanna could isolate the fears now. Lieutenant Kobe was nearly paralyzed with fear. Ensign Mael was barely containing his deep horror. And someone nearby was losing his mind to terror. She glanced over her shoulder at a man she didn't recognize, unconscious on the next bed.

"He's dying," she said.

"I know," Beverly said. "Sedating him doesn't seem to help. The dreams keep coming to him. Waking him is worse."

Deanna clenched her fists. Even with this blocked level of emotion, she could feel the tide rising, feel it slowly sweep over her. "What's your question?" She had to know before she was unable to think clearly.

"I don't know how to help him, Deanna. He's dying, and there's no physical cause."

"Who is he?" she whispered.

"Lieutenant Young."

"The man who saw the Furies firsthand?"

Beverly nodded.

He was drowning in terror. She could feel it. He had nothing to hold, nothing to keep him from sliding deeper. "Wake him," she said, her voice shaking with the power of his emotion.

"But waking him makes it worse."

Deanna shook her head. "He has to know he's safe. You have to make him feel safe. If you don't, you'll lose him for sure. Do anything you can, but make him feel safe."

Beverly's concern was clearly growing. She obviously knew that Deanna was losing control. "What about you, Deanna? Is that how I help you?"

Deanna shook her head. "My world is different from his. Dreams can be deadly for him; he's subject to the images within his mind. I can't block his emotions anyone's emotions in this conscious state. That's why I passed out."

Beverly reached to the small table beside her. She removed a hypospray. "I'll sedate you again, if that's what you want."

Deanna nodded. "Wake me if you need more help. I think I will get stronger quickly."

"I'll do what I can," Beverly said.

She placed the hypo near Deanna's neck, and paused as Riker's voice echoed throughout sickbay: "Battle stations. All hands to battle stations."

After a moment the ship rocked from an impact. Beverly lost her balance, clutched the table, and stayed upright. Deanna clung to the side of the diagnostic table. Waves of fear flooded through her, but she fought to stay conscious.

She had to. Just for a moment.

She remembered what she had learned in her dream.

"Beverly, tell the captain" The fear levels were growing within her. She could no longer separate out who felt what emotion. She frowned, losing her train of thought.

"Tell him what, Deanna?"

Tell him. Ah, yes. She made herself concentrate on her own words. "Tell him that the Furies are as afraid of us as we are of them. They fear us because they think we're the ones who condemned them to hell."

Beverly looked surprised, but Deanna didn't have time to say any more. The black wave was coming over the top of her. She brought a hand up, reaching for the hypospray.

Beverly understood and gave her the shot as terror flooded through Deanna.

Then the silent, peaceful blackness took her. And this time she welcomed it.

The Fury ships streamed toward the Enterprise. Dr. Crusher's potion and Geordi's screens must have worked, because Riker felt the usual adrenaline rush that he always felt before a battle, and nothing else.

No terror.

He knew the Enterprise was a match for at least one of those ships, and if they were expecting the crew to be frightened, it would be a match for both ships.

The photon torpedoes soared toward the Fury ships. The ships split, one going above and one going below the Enterprise, firing as they went. Riker grabbed the edge of his chair, bracing for impact.

The ship rocked, and the lights flickered for just a moment. Picard stood as if the shot had made him angry.

The photon torpedoes hit one of the ships and missed the other. The bright red flash left a black scar on the ship's front.

"Status, Mr. Data," Picard snapped.

"The shields are holding," he said.

"But they are fluctuating, sir," Ensign Eckley said.

"The ensign is correct," Data said. "Their weapons are apparently designed to disrupt the frequency of our shields. This is something new."

The ships were circling around, as if they were animals stalking their quarry. Riker watched them closely, looking for any detail that would help them win this battle.

"Can you modify the shields, Mr. Data?" Picard asked.

"No, sir," Data said. "I believe this type of work must happen in engineering."

Picard hit his comm badge. "Mr. La Forge"

"I'm on it, sir," La Forge said.

The ships had turned. "Captain, they're coming around for another attack run," Riker said, his voice firm.

"Mr. Worf"

"Photon torpedoes locked on target, sir," Worf said.

"Fire!" Picard said.

This time, the torpedoes streaked toward the ships, maintaining their locks. They hit with such impact that both Fury ships rocked and went off course. None of the energy of the strikes was absorbed. In fact, it seemed just the opposite, as if the Fury ships were somehow increasing the impact of the weapons against their sides.

"Bull's-eye," Riker said. He felt almost an extra sense of joy.

"Excellent, Mr. Worf," Picard said. "This time, lock on to the tail section. That appears to be their engines."

"It is, sir," Data said.

"Locked," Worf said.

"Fire!"

The torpedoes shot across space toward the still-recovering ships.

"Sir," Data said, "our shields are at fifty percent. They're failing on decks six and seven."

"Mr. La Forge?"

"I know, sir. Give me ten seconds."

"You have five," Picard said.

"Aye, sir."

The torpedoes hit their marks again, but for a moment nothing happened. Riker held his breath, hoping. Then a bright red glow mushroomed off the first ship's engines.

It was like watching an electrical storm over the surface of the ship. The flashes and red glow kept feeding back and forth, from the front of the ship, then to the back.

Faster and faster, the flashes across the face of the Fury ship increased until finally the ship spun for a moment like a top, completely out of control; then it exploded.

The explosion caught the other ship, and it spun away, firing as it went. The shots flew wild, scattering into space.

Worf grunted. The sound was full of Klingon satisfaction. Riker felt like grunting as well. But he kept his gaze on the other ship. Picard was watching too, an unreadable expression on his face. It was as if he was warring with himself; partly pleased, partly dismayed at the turn of events.

Riker felt only pleasure at the victory.

"Mr. Worf," Picard said, his voice displaying none of the conflict that reigned in his face. "Lock photon torpedoes on the remaining ship."

"Locked, sir."

Riker smiled. Worf had responded so quickly he must have had the lock on before Picard told him to.

"The ship is moving away from us," Data said.

Riker clenched his fists. Shoot them anyway, he wanted to say, but the words went against all his training. They were coming from deep within, from a part of himself he had never met before. From the part the Furies had tapped with their fear weapon.

"Captain," Data said, as if the captain hadn't heard. "The ship is heading back to the other ships near the Furies Point."

Picard said nothing. He watched the screen.

"Shall I fire, sir?"

Again, Picard did not respond. His face, which earlier had been a mix of emotions, held none now.

"Do you think this a ploy, sir?" Riker asked.

Picard let out his breath. He had obviously been holding it.

"We've lost shields on decks four, five, and six," Data said.

That seemed to snap Picard to attention. The ship continued to head toward the Furies Point.

"Shall I fire, sir?" Worf 's voice held a barely contained disdain. If he were alone, Worf clearly would have finished off the second Fury ship.

"No, Mr. Worf." Picard returned to his seat. "Unlock torpedoes and resume our previous position."

He did not take his gaze from the screen. Riker glanced at it again. The Fury ship took its place in front of the third ship. Somehow it seemed out of place there, as if the formation were incomplete.

Which, Riker supposed, it was.

"We surprised them, Number One," Picard said. "We won't be able to do that again."

Riker swallowed. The fear returned, if only for a moment. "I know," he said. But the surprise had gotten them this far.

"Mr. Data," Picard said, "how long until the Madison and Idaho arrive?"

"Fifty-two minutes, sir," Data said.

The attack had taken less than ten minutes. Riker returned to his chair. Somehow it felt as if it had taken longer than that.

"The Klingon ships will arrive at the same time," Worf said.

"Thank you," Picard said. "Mr. Data, have you an estimate on how long it will take until that wormhole is large enough to let more Fury ships into the sector?"

"According to my calculations, sir, the wormhole will allow a Fury ship to pass through within eighty-one minutes. I do not know, however, what the status of the wormhole is on the other end."

Eighty-one minutes. Riker glanced at the screen. The four ships hung in space, the wormhole invisible near them. It was growing rapidly, and once it reached the right size, an invasion force of unparalleled proportions just might come through to enslave the sector.

And at the moment, the Enterprise was the only thing that stood in its way.

He finally understood how the Klingons felt all those centuries ago, facing the invading Herq. Insignificant.

Doomed to failure without a lucky break.

"I hope your estimates are right, Mr. Data."

Data swiveled in his chair. "Why would I report incorrect estimates, sir?"

Riker shook his head. The others on the bridge knew what Picard had meant. If the timing was somehow off, if the wormhole was growing geometrically instead of arithmetically, then the Furies would arrive before the reinforcements. The rout would be ugly.

It would make the attack on Brundage Station look like an evening on Risa.

"THAT WAS CLOSE," La Forge said. He closed the panel he had been working on, and collapsed in a chair beside it.

Redbay used the laser driver to lock the panel closed. His shirt was plastered to his back. La Forge was right. That had been close. Too close.

When Picard gave them only five seconds to modify the shields, Redbay had thought it impossible. La Forge hadn't even blinked. Two seconds later, five levels of shields had failed, and La Forge was still working. Four seconds after that, La Forge had effected most of the changes.

"I thought you said you needed ten seconds," Redbay had said.

"Captains always shave time off estimates," La Forge said. "Build a bit of shave into your estimates and you look like a miracle worker."

"I never would have thought of that," Redbay had said.