The Last Stand Part 20

Troi did so un.o.btrusively.

"Very good. We have you heading for an area that we've marked on our maps as one of the main ma.s.s transit stations aboard the flags.h.i.+p. Tap once if you understand."

Troi did so.

"All right," Picard said. "We see that the inbound portion of the tube system leads directly into the area of the flags.h.i.+p that we have been unable to probe with our sensors. Wiggin may be taking you there, and Mr. La Forge says we will likely lose communication with you when you enter that zone. Commander Riker is trailing you at a distance. He will follow you into the sensorproof zone, and he'll be there to render a.s.sist hould you need it. Good luck to you, Counselor. Picard out."

The tube car stopped in a station marked BAY FOURTEEN, and Troi and Wiggin pushed their way out onto the platform. The station was choked with pa.s.sengers.

"Sorry, Pralla," Wiggin said. "We've hit the end-of-watch commuter hour. It's the worst time to be here. Just push your way through. Go that way." He pointed.

Troi did so. "Today was supposed to be a holiday," Troi complained.

"Oh, it's no holiday here, and especially not now, with all that's going on." Wiggin moved through the crowd toward Troi and took her hand again. "I'll show you what I mean," he said, pulling her along. "Come on."

There were two exits from Bay Fourteen-a large, open arch through which commuters could move freely into yet another concourse, and a small, closed door that appeared to be a security gate. Wiggin was leading Troi there.

The gate was closed and had two armed guards stationed at a booth just to its side. Troi's talents gave her no ability to learn anything useful from their body language. The guards seemed relaxed, but- Troi hoped Will had caught the same tube car that she and Wiggin had, and that he was still following her. Geordi had been right about the communicator blackout. She had not heard from the Enterprise since shortly after the car had entered the gray zone. In fact, the communicator was completely dead within the zone, thanks to whatever kind of sensor-killing field it was that was blanketing everything here. With her communicator nonfunctional, she could not even attempt to contact Will. Troi was tempted to look around the platform for him, but Wiggin might catch her at it and grow suspicious.

This whole idea was mad, she fretted. She chastised herself for stupidly allowing herself to be mouse-trapped so neatly by this besotted boy. She had only Will Riker's conjecture that their presence aboard the flags.h.i.+p had been detected, and that this young Krann was actually an operative who had been a.s.signed to them. If Wiggin was genuine, it meant that Troi was trapped in what appeared to be a high-security area with no possibility of beaming out. Just how was she supposed to get inside a Krann security zone without being caught, anyway? Wiggin had apparently a.s.sumed right off the bat that she had one, since she was the spouse of a supervisor.

Troi knew she had put Will at risk, too, if he had managed to follow her here. Given the circ.u.mstances, she hoped he had not. Thinking about it carefully, the counselor decided that she might have a chance to make a break for it while the guards processed Wiggin at the security entrance. Just a quick lunge through the open archway nearby and on into the concourse just off the station, and she'd be away, lost in the crowds. Then she'd try to head out of the gray area and contact the s.h.i.+p. If Will was still following her, he would figure it all out and do the same thing.

But Troi also knew that if Wiggin was a Krann operative after all, then everything would be fine because he was doing an excellent job of leading her around by the nose. It meant that she was being taken to Bay Fourteen for a reason. She was being taken to see something, and a little thing like a security clearance wouldn't matter. If the Krann already knew of her presence aboard their flags.h.i.+p and wanted to arrest and detain her, they'd have done so by now.

It was odd, but Troi knew that her continued safety depended on Wiggin being a complete phony. If he was genuine, she was dead. Either way, she'd soon find out.

"Here's where I work," Wiggin said. "It's a lot more impressive inside, let me tell you."

The first thing Troi noticed as she and Wiggin drew closer to the security gate was that the guards were waving people through rather casually. That was a good sign.

"Is it always this crowded?" Troi asked as they slowly oozed their way toward the security gate with the rest of the crowd.

"The next watch is arriving for duty," Wiggin told her. "Like I said, it's a bad time." He fished in one of his pockets and extracted a small, round object that looked like a coin. "Get your disk ready, and we'll go right on through."

"Uh, Wiggin, I don't know quite how to tell you this, but I don't have my disk with me."

"Huh?"

"I don't have my disk. I must have, uh, dropped it somewhere. Perhaps I lost it somehow at the party. You know how it is. I'm sorry."

"Hull, wait a minute. We're almost at the gate." Wiggin called over to one of the guards, an older Krann in a green uniform. "Guss! Guss!" He waved, and the guard spotted him. Wiggin took Troi's hand again and sidled over to the guard post.

"h.e.l.lo, Wiggin," the guard said. "What are you doing here? Pulling some extra duty?" He looked Troi up and down, and his eyes seemed to say, Another one, Wiggin?

"No, nothing so selfless," Wiggin replied. "I was bringing this beautiful friend of mine over to see the shop, but she's lost her disk somewhere. Is it okay to get her a visitor's pa.s.s?"

The guard shrugged. "We're not under alert any longer, and I got no orders to the contrary, so I guess it's okay." He grinned. "You a spy, lady?"

Troi smiled at him. "Do I look like a spy?"

"Matter of fact, you do, but never mind." The guard reached under his desk for something and came up with a gla.s.s plate about thirty centimeters long and fifteen wide. "Gimme your name and thumbprint on here. Bureaucrats. Gotta have a record of everything. You know." He pa.s.sed the plate over.

On closer inspection, Troi saw that it was actually a gla.s.s sandwich. There was the lightest tracing of internal circuitry between the two panes. A stylus was clipped along one long side of the gla.s.s.

"Thankful she'd studied Krann writing, Troi carefully signed "Pralla Portside Consumables Monitor" across the face of the gla.s.s. The stylus left a golden glowing trace as she wrote. She then placed her right thumbprint within an engraved square and handed the gla.s.s back to the guard with a smile.

"Boy, you sure do write big," he said. "You vouch for her, Wiggin?"

"Sure do."

"Put your print here, then." Wiggin did, and Guss took the stylus and scribbled something on the gla.s.s. He then handed Troi a b.u.t.ton. "Okay, hon, this is a visitor's badge. Stick it somewhere on your collar so the sensors can see it, and go on ahead inside. Give it back when you leave." He grinned. "Otherwise, we have to chase you."

Troi clipped the b.u.t.ton next to her throat. "Thank you, Guss."

"Any time."

"Let's go," Wiggin said to her, and they went on through.

Chapter Fifteen.

HEK'S FACE FILLED THE VIEWSCREEN on the bridge of the Enterprise. He looked very much like a man who'd just pulled off a rather complicated and very convincing card trick. His bright, aquamarine eyes seemed to be dancing.

For his part, Captain Picard was a bit bewildered. "This is very good news indeed, Presider Hek," he said, rising from his seat. Practiced as Picard was in hiding his personal emotions while conducting the necessary business of diplomacy, he was not quite successful at doing so this time. There was a note of surprise in his voice as he continued, "I am certain that the Council of Ministers will welcome your offer of a tentative peace settlement while formal negotiations between your two peoples get under way."

Hek shrugged. "Didn't expect us to be so reasonable, eh, Captain Picard?" He laughed. "I suppose I should have expected that. Perhaps we have not been very reasonable up to now on our side."

Picard shook his head. "It's not that, Presider Hek. I simply had no idea that your Fleet Congress desired to open negotiations with the Lethanta quite so soon-or to conduct such wide-ranging talks with them, once you did."

Hek nodded. "I can see why," he said. "I'm not a stupid man, Captain. I know we are perceived as the aggressor here. We came to this system with the intent of avenging crimes against us, of settling scores that are millennia old, of finding our oppressors and destroying them. It remains true that many of our people still seek vengeance against the Lethanta. However, the outbreak of open hostilities between our people and theirs has scared enough members of our Congress into seeking another, peaceful solution. I, of course, am the agent of the will of the Fleet Congress."

"Of course," Picard said. "Might I inquire as to your terms, sir?"

Hek paused for a moment to study his fingernails. "There was mention made of an uninhabited cla.s.s-M planet in this system," he finally said. "I think we might profitably explore what happens to that planet, for a start."

"I will broach that subject with the Council of Ministers at the earliest opportunity," Picard said. "Might I ask you when our own next meeting is to take place?"

"In ten hours," Hek said, stifling a yawn. "It's been a long watch, Captain Picard. I need some sleep before we begin this next phase. This next session will be aboard our flags.h.i.+p, if that's agreeable to you. I don't feel free to leave the flags.h.i.+p while the crisis continues."

"I quite understand, Presider Hek," Picard said. "May I tell the council that you will order the Fleet to maintain, say, a million-kilometer distance from standard orbit at Nem Ma'ak Bratuna, as a sign of your good will? The second wave of your Fleet is quickly approaching that limit."

Hek frowned darkly. "I'd like to see how the talks with the Lethanta go first," he said. "Our s.h.i.+ps will do them no harm, so long as the talks between us remain worthwhile. Is that all for now, Captain?"

"I think so," Picard replied. "Thank you again, Presider Hek."

"I will see you in ten hours, then. Out." The screen returned to showing the view forward as Picard reseated himself. "Well," he said to himself. "That was a rather remarkable performance, I must say. Of course, I don't believe a word of it. Mr. Worf?" the captain asked over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"He is stalling for time, Captain. He has made his decision. He intends to fight. He will fight us if need be."

Picard nodded. "I agree. This stuff about him being the agent of his Congress is all so much blown smoke. Hek makes the decisions, not the Fleet Congress. So what's going on here? Why is Hek stalling for time?"

"Sir," Worf said, "if they maintain their present rate of deceleration, the main elements of the Krann attack force will arrive at standard orbit, Nem Ma'ak Bratuna, in ten hours. That is when you are supposed to meet next with Presider Hek-at his suggestion."

Picard rubbed his eyes wearily. "Mr. Worf," he said after a moment, "I want to speak with First Among Equals Kerajem."

"Aye, sir."

Troi and Wiggin entered a large room with scores of cubicles. Men and women of various ages walked briskly here and there. Everyone seemed to have something important to do, or at least they believed that they did. The buzz of activity was unrelenting.

"This is where I work," the young Krann said with no little pride. "The design section."

"My, it's impressive," Troi observed. "How long have you been a.s.signed here?"

"Since I was an apprentice. I was a.s.signed here by chance. Luckiest thing that ever happened to me. I love this work."

"I can tell. And what exactly do you do?"

Wiggin shook his head and smiled. "I can't say, really. Fleet security. You know. 'Weapons designer' will have to do."

"I quite understand," Troi said.

"Come this way," Wiggin said. "I'll show you my work area." Together, Troi and Wiggin threaded their way between cubicles, almost every one of which housed a person sitting at a smallish desk, bent closely to his or her work. Some were drawing freehand on larger versions of the gla.s.s plate Troi had seen at the security entrance to Bay Fourteen, while others were working at computer terminals and other similar devices. Troi thought it was interesting that no one looked up as they pa.s.sed.

"Everyone's quite busy," she said.

"Well, you know," Wiggin said. "That big s.h.i.+p sitting out there. Quite a problem."

Troi was all innocence. " 'Big s.h.i.+p'?"

"The aliens, I mean." Wiggin waved a hand. "They're supposed to be a big secret, but you're a supervisor's spouse, so you've been briefed. Right?"

Troi nodded. "Oh, certainly."

"We don't know a wasted thing about them, and that's the problem. Here's my cubicle." As they entered, Wiggin pressed a b.u.t.ton on the surface of his small desk and a terminal mounted on the shelf above it came to life. There was a chair in front of the terminal, and Wiggin sat down. "Have a seat while I check my messages. Won't take long."

There was a covered stool to the side of Wiggin's desk, and Troi seated herself. She looked around. The cubicle was efficient but hardly sterile. There were pictures of young women taped here and there on the textured metal walls-some of Wiggin's previous conquests, Troi supposed. Wiggin's desk held not much more than a terminal and a thing that would do for a coffee mug until one came along. The place looked normal, lived in, comfortable. Troi wondered whose cubicle it really was.

"There's nothing worth talking about," Wiggin said after a moment, and then he smiled. "Now where were we?" He moved his chair a little closer to Troi.

"You were telling me about the aliens," she reminded him. "You said they were a problem for you."

"They sure are," Wiggin said. "Trying to prepare for an attack from them is impossible when you don't know what to expect," he said. "What kind of weapons do they have? How many? Will they fight to destroy us? To capture us? Or just to incapacitate us? Maybe I shouldn't say this, but rumor has it that the aliens have faster-than-light drive."

Troi kept her expression blank. "That's not supposed to be possible, is it?" she asked.

"No, it's not, and it makes you wonder what else they've got. But I think we might have an answer. It's something we've been working on for a long time for-for other applications. Crash priority, especially recently, and it's ready to go. The final checkout's taken up most of our time lately." He grinned. "I can't show you the specs on it, of course, but you can see the thing itself if you want-from a distance, anyway. We brought a school group through just yesterwatch to see it."

"The 'thing'? What is it?"

"An answer to whatever it is that's out there. We hope. Come on, Pralla. It's in a converted cargo bay that's just the other side of the next bulkhead."

Troi and Wiggin left the cubicle area and went down a small, spare gangway to a heavy metal door. There were large red and green lights mounted overhead. The green one was lit.

"What are the lights for?" Troi asked.

"Vacuum warning," Wiggin replied. "We're just one level away from the hull. The cargo bay can be opened to s.p.a.ce. This door is actually an air lock." Wiggin put his hand against a slick metal panel mounted on the wall to the right of the door, and after several seconds the door began to roll aside slowly.

"Getting in and out of here is not a very quick process, I'm afraid," Wiggin said, "but this is one of the smaller air locks. There's a much bigger one for watch changes and so forth a few levels spinward. We can move hundreds of people in and out in just a few minutes. Ah, here we go."

Wiggin and Troi entered the air lock. It was big enough to hold six people, if they crowded in. Wiggin reached past Troi's shoulder and pressed his hand against another metal plate. The door behind them began to roll shut.

"Now where were we?" Wiggin asked Troi as the door behind them closed fully. He was not quite leering.

"You were about to open this other door here," the counselor said firmly.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Very." Her tone brooked no nonsense. "You were about to open this door."

Wiggin nodded. "As you say," he said resignedly, "that was what I was about to do." He put his hand on the plate for the inner air lock door, and it rumbled aside.

Troi gasped when she saw it. The cargo bay was huge, but the device inside nearly filled it.

"Well?" Wiggin asked, grinning as if he'd built the thing all by himself. "Whaddaya think?"

Troi was wide-eyed. "I'm impressed," she said. "I'm very, very impressed." They entered the cargo bay and began walking slowly toward the device.

The weapon looked something like an ancient anti-aircraft gun combined with the fat, smooth barrel of one of the old planet-based optical telescopes. It was pointed right at the wall of the cargo bay-or, rather, at two large doors that were apparently designed to swing open so that the weapon could be extended into s.p.a.ce and fired. The barrel was mounted on long, gimbaled legs that would allow the device to be pointed up, down, left, and right. Thick cables led from the weapon into the cargo bay floor. Scores of Krann technicians were swarming and clambering over, around and through the device, adjusting, repairing, replacing, fine-tuning. The activity seemed very nearly frantic.

Troi wished desperately that she could have brought a tricorder along with her on this mission. Instead, she tried to memorize every visual detail that she could. "What does this thing do?" she asked Wiggin, still a bit breathless. "I mean, how does it work? Does it fire a death ray or something?"

"It defends the fleet," Wiggin said boastfully. "That's all I can tell you." He pointed. "See the big hinge between the first and second sections of the right rear leg? That's mine."

"Oh, it's quite nice," Troi said distractedly.

"So you're impressed?"

"Hmmm?" Troi asked. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I'll say I'm impressed. The hinge and everything."

"Knew you would be. You still worried about those big bad aliens now, Pralla?"

"More than ever, actually."