CHAPTER 19

A third time, the ship was walloped by Klingon fire. Holding tight to her armrests, Beverly gritted her teeth.

It had been a long time since she'd been in a battle, and she wasn't about to engage in one now, if she could help it. Especially not with the deck stacked so thoroughly against her.

She looked to Chilton and kept her tone as even as possible. "Warp speed, Ensign. Get us out of here!"

Chilton worked at her conn board. "I can't comply. Warp power off-line, sir."

Another jolt. This time, Beverly was nearly torn from her chair.

"Bring us about," she commanded. "Course one-four-eight mark two-one-five. Full impulse."

The ship came about, but it didn't do them much good. The Klingon attack cruisers were right on their tail. Yet again, they were raked by enemy fire. On the bridge, they felt the impact as a series of vicious jerks.

"Warp power fluctuating," Chilton announced. "Shields down to thirty percent."

Beverly bit her lip. Behind her, she heard a familiar voice make itself heard over the melee.

"Weapons status, Mr. Worf?"

For that one moment, Picard almost looked and sounded like his old self. It was as if he'd temporarily shrugged off the debilitating effects of his disease and become the master strategist again.

What's more, the answer he'd demanded wasn't long in coming. "These phasers are no match for their shields, sir. Our only hope is to escape."

Consumed with anger, Beverly whirled. "I thought you said I had eight hours, Worf. What the hell are they doing here now?"

"These must be ships from some other sector," the Klingon shot back. He frowned at his monitor, no doubt wondering why he hadn't foreseen this possibility.

Beverly turned to Geordi. "We need warp power—now."

The former chief engineer worked at his console—but it didn't look good. Finally he raised his head.

"Sorry, Captain. They're just too much for us. I can't keep the phase inducers on-line any—" He was interrupted by another bone-rattling blow to the ship.

"Shields down to nine percent," reported Chilton. "One more hit and they'll collapse entirely."

Beverly cursed under her breath. There was only one option left to her—and though she didn't like it, she'd have to exercise it.

"Worf," she said, "open a channel. Signal our surrender."

Thirty years ago, the Klingon would have protested, desperate to avoid even the appearance of cowardice. Older and wiser now, he simply complied.

They waited. A moment later, he looked up. But he didn't seem happy with the results.

"They will not accept our surrender," he informed them. "They intend to complete what they began."

Before she could assimilate the information, the ship lurched again under the Klingons' barrage, throwing her clear of the captain's chair. Before she hit the deck, she saw Chilton's console explode in a geyser of sparks, catching the ensign full in the face.

Jean-Luc, who was nearer to Chilton than anyone else, came to the woman's aid as quickly as he could. But Beverly could see that it was too late. Her ensign was dead.

Jean-Luc looked up and met Beverly's gaze. His expression reminded her that he'd lost people in much the same way.

In the meantime, Worf had taken over Chilton's duties from his aft console. "Our shields have collapsed," he remarked soberly. "We are defenseless against them."

Returning to her captain's chair, Beverly ignored her bruises and fixed her attention on the viewscreen. It showed only one of their pursuers, who had now taken up positions surrounding them.

She sighed raggedly. It was only a matter of time now. Seeing that their prey had nothing left, the Klingons would apply the death stroke. And, knowing them, they would be quick about it.

"Captain," said Data, "there's another ship decloaking—bearing two-one-five mark three-one-oh." Beverly turned to look at him, wondering why their adversaries needed reinforcements against a medical vessel.

The android looked surprised. "Captain... it's the Enterprise!"

Beverly's heart leapt at the mere mention of their old ship. Returning her attention to the viewscreen, she watched as the Galaxy-class vessel decloaked behind and above the unsuspecting Klingon cruiser.

Suddenly, the Enterprise let loose with a furious volley of phasers and photon torpedoes. Hammered beyond its capacity to defend itself, the attack cruiser shot apart in a cloud of blue plasma.

Before anyone on the Pasteur could celebrate, the medical ship pitched again. "Direct hit to the warp core," shouted Geordi. "Heavy damage..."

Jean-Luc's face went white with dread. "The warp core... we can't let that happen! We have to stabilize it!" he cried—and moved to help Geordi at the console.

"The Klingon ships are disengaging," Data declared.

However, the Pasteur was rocked yet again.

"But not without a few parting shots," the android added.

"Captain," Geordi bellowed, "I can't stabilize the core. It's going critical!"

Abruptly, a voice came through over their intercom grid—a voice that Beverly had heard before. "Enterprise to Pasteur. Our sensors show your ship has a warp-core breach in progress."

"Damned right it does!" she responded.

"Prepare for emergency beam-out," the voice advised.

Jean-Luc looked up in wonder. Then he turned to her, his eyes posing the question even before he could say the word.

"Riker?" he breathed.

"Riker," Beverly repeated, confirming it for him.

Jean-Luc seemed perplexed—and no wonder. Just a little while ago, his former exec had refused to help him. And now…

Before she could take her speculation any further, Beverly found herself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Will Riker was sitting in the center seat, as he had in the past when Jean-Luc was absent or off-duty.

Except now, he looked a bit more comfortable there.

Of course, that came as no surprise. Will had commanded the Enterprise for several years after Jean-Luc joined the diplomatic corps—and before Riker himself became an admiral.

Beverly didn't recognize his crew, but she hadn't expected to. Hell, she hadn't expected anything except to be blasted to atoms.

Looking behind her, she saw that Jean-Luc, Worf, Data, Geordi, and her bridge officers—with the exception of poor Chilton—had materialized on the bridge as well. But what about the rest of her people?

She was answered by the officer at tactical. "The Pasteur crew is safely aboard, Admiral."

"Raise shields," responded Riker. "Where are the Klingons?"

The tactical officer consulted his board. "They're still moving off, sir—half a light-year distant."

The admiral nodded. "They'll be back," he said confidently.

But for now, Beverly assured herself, they were safe. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked around appraisingly.

Apparently, the Enterprise had seen a few technological updates over the years. The captain's chair was slightly higher than it used to be, and there were other changes in evidence. But it was still basically the same place she had once called home.

Satisfied that the battle was over, Riker turned to the new arrivals and favored them with a smile. "Well?" he asked, only half-seriously. "Isn't somebody going to say thank you?"

Worf took a step toward the admiral. His face was racked with barely restrained fury.

"There is nothing to thank you for." he snarled, his mouth twisting around the words. "If you had not turned the captain down when he came to you for help, none of this would have happened."

Riker's smile disappeared. "What about you, Worf?. I can't believe you let a defenseless ship cross into hostile territory without an escort."

"I did what was right," the Klingon insisted. His lips pulled back from his teeth. "Unlike some people," he grated, "I still have a sense of loyalty. Of honor."

"It wasn't a question of honor," said the admiral. "It was a question of common sense."

"Or of cowardice," spat Worf.

Riker's eyes flashed. "Remember who you're talking to, Governor."

Jean-Luc stepped between them before the confrontation could escalate any further. "We don't have time for this," he insisted. "Will, you have to shut down the warp-core breach on the Pasteur."

The admiral looked at him. "What?"

The older man nodded vigorously. "The subspace barrier in this region... it's very thin. If that ship explodes, it could rupture the barrier... flood this whole area with anti-time. Don't you see—this could be the very thing that destroys humanity!" Oh, no, thought Beverly. Not that again.

Riker looked at Jean-Luc as if he had gone completely mad. Then he turned to Data, to Geordi, and, finally, to Beverly.

"What the hews he talking about?"

She shook her head. "Frankly, I'm not sure anymore."

Jean-Luc grew wild. He grasped the android by the arm.

"Data, tell them! Tell them!"

The android met Riker's gaze. "The subspace barrier in this area is quite thin... though not unusually so."

"You see, you see?" Jean-Luc pointed to the viewscreen, where the Pasteur hung crippled in space, its hull charred by disruptor fire. "If that ship explodes, it could destroy everything!"

The admiral shot a glance at his tactical officer. "Mr. Gaines, is there any way to repair the warp-core breach on the Pasteur?"

The man didn't look optimistic. "I don't think so, sir. The plasma injector is already..." Abruptly, something caught his eye. His fingers flew over his controls.

"Wait a minute, sir. I think it's about to breach.... "

Beverly focused on the viewscreen. For a moment, there was no change in the Pasteur's status. Then, with shocking finality, the ship vanished in a burst of blue-white energy.

She felt a pang in her throat. The Pasteur was her first vessel... her first command. It was as if she had just seen a part of herself destroyed.

But Jean-Luc... his horror was much worse than hers, she observed. For, by his lights, the destruction of the Pasteur might well mean the end of all humanity.