Klaxons rang their warning, creating echoes of panic within Carmen's Betazoid senses. Flashes of emergency lights filled her vision as she raced down the empty corridor. The turbolift was just ahead, but as she slid to a stop, she could see that it was clearly out of order. Kicking the gutted panel with her boot, she huffed out a frustrated snarl. Someone had destroyed this panel on purpose. To keep anyone from reaching the bridge, no doubt.
A small cry rose up from the bundle clutched tightly to her chest. She shifted the weight onto her hip and, pushing back the edge of a blanket, revealed the face of a baby boy. Dark curls framed his tear-stained cheeks. His eyes, blue as hers, blue as their father's, gazed up at her woefully.
"Hey," she said, a gentle rebuke. "Don't worry. I'll find another way to reach mom and dad." His bottom lip trembled on the verge of another wail. Carmen lifted him so that his head rested against her shoulder and patted him gently on the back. "Shh, shh. It's going to be alright, Billy. I promise."
According to Counselor Troi, his name was an ode to William Frederick Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, the cowboy who traipsed through her favorite bedtime stories. But if you asked William Riker, he'd tell you (with a proud puff of his chest) that the boy was named after him. Carmen liked to tell people that both of them were right. Only a boy as special as her little brother could be named after two heroes instead of just one.
Billy whimpered softly. She bounced him against her shoulder and tried her best to project soothing thoughts, just in case he could see them. Thoughts of his favorite window in Ten Forward, where distant galaxies sparkled like those Alaskan brooks in early morning light. Thoughts of Betazed, where he was born, and nana's lakehouse. They had all stayed there for Billy's first month of life, on that beautiful corner of Lake Cataria. Carmen would watch him in the evenings to let their parents get some rest. As the sky turned purple with dusk, she'd walk along the edge of the water and tell him stories of ancient Klingon warriors. Those were happy days, filled with the hazy bliss of new beginnings. Only three months from this moment, yet a lifetime ago it seemed.
She turned away from the hopeless turbolift, racking her mind for a plan. Then her feet froze in horror. A shadow filled the hall, and it was plodding towards them calmly. A single red eye gleamed in the dark. It stared at the young woman straight from her worst fears. She clutched the baby tighter and backed away.
As the being came closer, it lifted its arms and uttered a single phrase aloud. A phrase that chilled the blood in her veins. A phrase she heard in every nightmare that haunted her sleep. "Resistance is futile..."