"Again?" said Riker in surprise. "He's becoming somewhat accident-prone, isn't he?" "I'll explain later, Commander," said Deanna. "Computer, transfer incoming message to Wesley Crusher immediately." "Complying."
Beverly Crusher finished sealing up the gash in her son's forehead, and she made a good-natured scolding noise. "With the amount of business I'm getting from you," she told him, "I should be giving you quantity discounts." "At least it won't be happening anymore," said Wes with relief. "My own personal disaster area is back with her own people." "How did you manage that?" "She went back on her own because of this war that's broken out," said Wes. He gripped the edge of the table he was sitting on. "I can't say I'm pleased that it took something as terrible as a war to get rid of her. I'd've preferred something less drastic. But at least she's gone. And I should be getting back up to the bridge. If there's trouble, that's where I should be." "Where trouble goes, Wesley Crusher follows," said Beverly with amusement.
And from nearby another voice said, "I know exactly how he feels." Wesley turned and saw Lwaxana Troi coming out of another room in sickbay. "Mrs.
Troi! What're you doing here?" "She suffered some damage in that rather unfortunate brawl earlier," Beverly informed him. "I had a medic fix her right up." "I would have preferred," Lwaxana told her, "that the chief medical officer attend to me, rather than an assistant. Especially since the damage was done to my face. When you have to operate in an ambassadorial capacity as I do, looks are extremely important. I'm sure you understand that." "Oh, fully," said Beverly through thinned lips. "I can assure you, however, that my staff is the best." "There's no mark?" asked Lwaxana, pointing at her mouth.
"None." "That's fortunate," she said, "because I can assure you that if--" Wesley's communicator beeped and he touched it. "Crusher here," he said.
"Wesley? Wesley, is that you?" came a familiar, dreaded voice.
His eyes widened. "Karla? Karla? How did you get on my comm frequency?!" "That man on the bridge connected me to you--" "You called the bridge, looking for me?" His face was in his hands.
"Wesley, it's Sehra! She's going to be killed!" He looked up. "What?" Lwaxana stepped forward as well. "What is she saying about Sehra?" "She made me promise not to tell any of my people. I can't go against her wishes. But I can tell you. I trust you, Wesley. You have to do something! She has no combat training! She won't last five minutes!" "I'll do what I can." "Thank you, Wesley! I knew you could help! Good-bye!" "Wait!" he shouted. "We could communicate with them over your-- Hello? Blast! Crusher to bridge." "Bridge here," came the crisp reply of the captain. "Are you done chatting with your girlfriend, Mr. Crusher?" He did not sound happy, and at that moment, Wesley realized that there were bigger things in the galaxy than making sure that the captain was happy.
"Sir, Sehra of the Graziunas is in a fighter ship, without the knowledge of her parents. She'll be killed!" "A lot of the Tizarin are going to be killed, Mr. Crusher. But we'll inform them. For all we know, it might make a difference. Bridge out."
Kerin's fighter knifed through the vacuum.
Hovering before him, in the distance, was the home ship of the Graziunas. Rising up to meet his wing squad was a brace of Graziunas fighter ships.
No games, this time. No weapons at partial strength. Man to man, one on one. That was the way of the blood feud. The opening salvos had been fired, and now it was time for the fighter ships to settle matters once and for all.
The prospect of facing death was not as horrifying as the thought that Sehra would not be waiting for him back home, waiting to embrace him and congratulate him on his victory. Instead he was going out to battle his loved one's kin. How had it all become so horribly, horribly wrong.
He loved her and hated himself for refusing to stand up for what he believed. He and all his people were being punished for his cravenness. And even now, he was going to face the void, and all he could see was the face of Sehra in the stars before him.
Kerin felt his throat closing up and shoved the fear down and away into a remote portion of his mind. Through his comm unit, there was brisk chatter from his squad as they checked position.
"A and B wing with me. C wing run back up, E and F wing close at 280 mark 3.
Punch it, men." Kerin's squad dove towards their targets, other squads coming in right behind them with blinding speed.
Lwaxana was pacing her quarters, feeling helpless and frustrated. Everything had fallen completely apart. It was the greatest fiasco of her diplomatic career--not that she had caused it in any way, but still.
And that poor girl! She remembered that sweet, innocent face and pictured her dying in the cold of space. Would she feel anything? Would death be instantaneous, or would there be long moments of agony? And the girl's mother! What hell would she live through-- Would any of them live through! The Tizarin were going out to fight and die, and it was all so senseless.
"Q!" she cried out. "Q, please! Do something! If you love me, do something!" "What?" She spun and he was there, leaning against a wall, looking calm as anything. "What would you have me do, Lwaxana?"
"Still trying to raise the Tizarin," said Worf.
"They are not responding, even to the message about the girl." "They're refusing to receive it," said Picard tonelessly. "The fools." "We could fly right in between them," Riker said.
"Try to break it up that way." "We can't interfere, Number One!
You know that! If they want to blow themselves to hell and gone, that's their right, damn it all!" Picard was barely restraining his fury. "A waste. A massive, insane waste."
Sehra didn't know where to look first.
So many ships! Gods! Hundreds, thousands.
Instruments flashed at her, computers gave readouts. Everything was coming at her with unbelievable speed. She didn't know where she was supposed to be, or what she was supposed to be doing.
She'd hurled herself into the void out of a grand sense of responsibility, coupled with a bleak despair that life was hopeless, pointless, and flat-out not worth living anymore. This feeling of hopelessness lasted until the depths of space reached out to encompass her. With death now staring her in the face, Sehra began to blink excessively.
She thought her heart was going to leap out through her throat. Her hands were shaking, her breath coming in short gasps.
And then bleak despair settled over her.
They'll miss me when I'm gone, she thought darkly. And Kerin will miss me most of all.
With that black sentiment supporting her, Sehra angled upwards towards the descending Nistral ships.
"Make them stop fighting, Q!" Lwaxana begged. "You have the power! You can do it!" "Of course I could," Q told her, but he sounded extremely sad. "The problem is, dear woman, that I mustn't." "Why not, in heaven's name?" "I've sworn to my fellow Q that I would not use my powers to force my way into the affairs of mortals," he said simply. "I can interact, of course. Talk. Try and gain knowledge. But not "bully," as it has been called. They would be very upset if I just muscled into the Tizarin dispute, much as that dispute pains me." "But you would be doing a great service! You would be helping mortals, not hurting them! You'd be saving lives!" Q paced slowly, his hands behind his back.
"It's not the actions that are disputed, Lwaxana.
It's the principle. The principle is consistent, you see. I wasn't told by the Q that I could butt in only when it was "right." That's a very subjective interpretation, you see." "That girl is going to die!" said Lwaxana.
She went to him and put her hands on his chest. "And hundreds more like her. Please! You must stop them!" "I can't," he said simply.
Lwaxana sagged against a chair.
And then Q said slowly, "However..." She looked up hopefully. "However what?" "Well, you're certainly under no such obligation, are you?" For one of the few times in her life, Mrs.
Lwaxana Troi didn't know what to say.
Wesley walked onto the bridge quickly, still catching his breath from having run from sickbay to the turbolift. His ribs and head still ached him somewhat. Picard turned in his chair. "Your information was timely, Mr. Crusher, but unfortunately, the Tizarin don't seem interested in listening to it." "That's crazy!" said Wes, even as he took his station.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Crusher, people do not have to be sane to kill each other," Riker said dryly.
Worf looked up from the sensors.
"Captain," he said in a deathly voice, "the fighter ships are opening fire on one another." There, on the viewscreen, they could see the flashes of light that indicated blaster fire. The battle was joined.
Picard slid down slightly in the command chair and felt a little of himself die with every shot.
Kerin dove through the air, dodging incoming fire with brilliant precision. His wing guard was with him, and they opened fire on the oncoming ships.
On the first pass, all shields held on all sides, but a few more attack runs would take care of that.
Then Kerin noticed something out of the corner of his eye. One of the Graziunas ships had broken off from formation. It was spiralling towards the house ship of Nistral at breakneck speed.
Moreover, Kerin's sensor array quickly told him that that renegade ship didn't have shields.
He tried to come up with a reason for it, and couldn't find one, except that it was some sort of bizarre trick.
"Wing Flight, break off. Reconnoiter," he checked quickly, "at 143 mark 14." "What's up, Kerin?" came the question.
"Have to chase down a raider," he said crisply. "Won't take a minute." He swung about and set off in pursuit of the Graziunas ship that was evidently on some sort of suicide run.
Sehra had gotten totally turned around.
She couldn't believe how easy it was to become lost or off course. But her attention had wavered for a moment, and now she'd lost her bearings completely. She couldn't see the other ships.
She couldn't see.
There! Ahead of her was a house ship. The immensity of it drew her towards it before her mind fully realized that it was, in fact, the Nistral ship. She tried to reset her course, but she was starting to lose control. It was getting hard to breathe, and the cockpit was cramped, closing in on her. She felt panic bubbling up through her, beyond her ability to handle.
An instrument in front of her flashed a warning. She wasn't sure what it meant. Then she looked up. A Nistral fighter ship was hurtling down towards her.
I'm going to die, she thought, I'm really going to die. Oh gods. Kerin, I'm sorry.
And suddenly she didn't want to die. There in the coffinlike crampedness, there in the blackness of space, she had had more than a taste of death and decided that it was more than enough.
Her shields would protect her enough to break off and get the hell out of there-- Shields.
She hadn't activated the shields.
Kerin spun towards the Graziunas ship.
He was about to kill his first person. He had trained for it, known, as a defender of Nistral, it would come sooner or later. But he had always believed it would be against some marauding outsider.
Ferengi or Orions, perhaps. Not against his own people.
He was about to kill one of Sehra's kin.
And he had no choice. The attacker was heading right towards the Nistral ship and had to be stopped --now.
Kerin targeted the ship.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Sehra reached desperately for the shield activator. Then there was a flash just above her and she knew what was about to happen.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
The wingboard blasters spit out death and Kerin's aim was perfect. The diving ship below him was blown to pieces, random bits spiralling out into space.
Of the pilot of the ship, there was nothing left.
Chapter Twenty-three
On the bridge of the Enterprise, there was a flash of light and a sound that was, oddly, noiseless.
Picard was immediately on his feet, anticipating who it was. "Q--to was he began angrily, about to tell the all-powerful entity that now was most definitely not the time.
It wasn't Q.
There was a long moment of silence, and then Deanna Troi slowly rose, holding the edge of her chair for support. It was a good thing it was there, because otherwise she would unquestionably have fallen over.
"Mother?" She could barely get the word out.
Lwaxana Troi stood before them, a soft haze around her. She was smiling beatifically, and there was a calm about her that seemed totally alien to her nature.
"Mother, I--" Deanna couldn't find the words.
