oOo
Larsch, gasping and sweating in panic, managed somehow to thrust Riker back into his mental prison and regain control of the other man's body, but not without being forced to endure the other man's wordless howl of triumph. His eyes locked with those of Troi, who merely stared back at him, eyes shining with triumph. "No." Larsch gasped out, horrified. "That's impossible!"
"Yet it happened." Larsch wrenched his gaze from that of Deanna Troi to meet the deadly anger of his commander's eyes. "Unless I'm very much mistaken," Narve continued, his tone implying he didn't believe that for a minute, "you just lost control of your host and gave Commander Riker a moment of freedom. Didn't you." He snapped his fingers, and two of the watching pirates sprang forward to grasp Riker's arms in grips of iron, yanking Larsch to his feet and dragging him closer to Narve and Troi.
Larsch wet his lips, too terrified to struggle or protest their hold. "I – I – " he stammered, then stopped, unable to deny what had just happened. Because he had either lost control of his host or his mind, and Narve was not the man to tolerate either.
"Because of your stupidity," Narve continued, his voice deceptively calm, "we are no locked out of the command functions of this vessel until Beverly Crusher releases control to us. I wonder how such a thing could happen." He shook Troi roughly, but she endured the crushing tightness of his fingers on her arm with equanimity, lifting her chin a notch. Just enough to let Narve know he was guessing correctly as to her complicity in this matter. "I wonder what the chances are that the CMO is still safely locked away in the cargo bay?" He turned his attention back to Larsch. Crusher would have to wait; punishment took precedence in matters like this. To delay was to imply weakness, something he could never show in front of his men. "You knew Troi and Riker shared an empathic link, yet you did not sever it. I wonder why." It was a question that demanded answering, no matter how flat a tone in which it was issued.
"I thought it might be useful, a way to control Riker or Troi," Larsch babbled, shrinking as far from Narve's relentless approach as his captors would allow, stomach churning with terror. Riker had finally fallen silent, but even that brought no comfort to his beleaguered invader.
Narve strode up to Larsch, eyes burning with a cold, savage fury. "Or course you did. Useful in an attempt to overthrow me, no doubt." He ignored Larsch's convulsive, guilty start. "If I'd realized you were still having difficulties controlling your host, I never would have allowed you one with access to such sensitive information. That was my mistake." His last words were nearly a whisper. "One I intend to rectify."
"But Commander, you don't understand," Larsch began, his gaze traveling desperately around the bridge as he continued to shrink away from the other man, looking for support and finding nothing but contempt from his crewmates.
"You're right, I don't understand," Narve agreed. "Furthermore, I don't wish to understand." He turned, slowly and deliberately, to look at Mast.
All he did was nod, and the other man stepped forward. All color drained from Riker's face as Larsch stared wildly around the Bridge. "No," he whimpered, still finding no support. The contempt reflected on the crews' faces was liberally interspersed with anticipation, ugly grins and nudges between men who knew what was coming next. "Please, Commander, it was an accident, a mistake, it'll never happen again…"
Narve ignored Larsch's continued pleading, moving to sit in Picard's command chair, leaning back and steepling his fingers. Leaving Troi standing uncertainly where he left her, with Mast on one side and Larsch and his captors facing them. Narve turned his piercing gaze on the two men Ro had escaped from, still standing uneasily by the turbolift. "You, two—redeem yourselves. Find Ro and bring her back. If you find Crusher as well, you may escape punishment entirely." They saluted stiffly before hastening into the turbolift.
Troi felt their relief almost as strongly as Larsch's terror, which was in turn almost overwhelmed by the eagerness and bloodlust of the crew surrounding them. Everyone except Mast and Narve, who were like two calm pools in the midst of a whirling maelstrom. The commander looked at Mast. "You know what to do."
Mast nodded, pulled out his phaser—and shot himself.
Troi tensed as Mast's incorporeal form floated free of Lt. MacGyver's body, then gasped as it plunged directly toward her. She raised her arms as if to prevent the attack, but there was no way for her to stop the invasion of self.
When she regained consciousness, she found herself helplessly locked away from control of her own body, barely in control of her own thoughts. It was a frighteningly familiar feeling, one she'd hoped never to experience again. She could do nothing but watch from a corner of her own mind as Mast brought her back to her feet and moved toward Larsch, who continued pulling vainly away from his captors. It wasn't until the assassin stood directly in front of Riker's body that Troi was allowed to understand her invader's intention. She cried out in mental protest, but Mast ignored her, focusing instead on the task before him.
He raised Troi's hands, lacing them almost tenderly on either side of Riker's face. Larsch flinched at the contact as if it burned and strained to pull his head away, to no avail. Mast held him ruthlessly still in that deceptively delicate hold. Troi felt her lips smiling, sensed Mast's slight anticipation at being allowed to do what he did best, but nothing more. If he felt anything else, he was successfully keeping it from her. She sensed then that this was how he always was, that he never felt more than the satisfaction of a job well done, no matter how gruesome a job it might be. It was a frightening realization and made this encounter all the more surreal. Troi found herself pleading with him to stop, but he ignored her even as he brought her lips forward to meet those of Riker in a parody of a kiss that quickly turned brutal—as brutal as the impact of Mast's mind on that of Larsch.
Troi could only watch in horror as Mast followed the slender telepathic link she shared with Will Riker, taking the same path she had used with such desperate effectiveness only moments before. Larsch hadn't had the presence of mind to sever it completely, and now he was about to pay for that lack of foresight. Mast ruthlessly plunged into Riker's mind, but it was Larsch he was after, Larsch whose consciousness he honed in on as he abandoned the link, severing it as casually as he broke off the parody of an embrace in his quest for Larsch's innermost self.
Troi keened soundlessly as the link abruptly vanished, at the mental anguish it caused both her and Will, but Mast would not allow himself to be distracted even by so traumatic an event in his host's mind. He ignored her, concentrating fully on the task at hand.
The bridge was silent, frozen with half-dreaded anticipation, until Larsch broke that silence with a whimper that began deep in his throat, growing until it became a howl of agony that echoed through Troi's mind as well as her ears. She could feel herself howling as well, as Larsch's pain reverberated through her, making her feel as if her own mind were the one being torn apart. Only the cold clarity of shock kept her sane and aware, horribly aware, of everything Mast was doing, how he was doing it, and exactly what he was trying to accomplish with this invasion. He allowed her that knowledge, absently, as if just remembering her presence—but more, she sensed, because he wanted her to see exactly what her vaunted empathy was capable of inflicting on another sentient being's mind. It was nothing more nor less than a calculated lesson in cruelty, and Troi wanted to flee inside herself, throw herself into a mental corner and cower there until it was over, but Mast wouldn't let her. Even though he concentrated the bulk of his mental energies on the destruction of Larsch's mind, he managed to spare enough to keep her alive and aware throughout the entire, horrific ordeal.
And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Nothing at all, as Mast swarmed all over Larsch's mind, searching for weaknesses. Larsch's lack of ability to fully control Riker outweighed even his considerable personal vanity and ambition, and Troi felt it as Mast pounced eagerly on the other man's frustration and exhaustion at the constant war his mind was waging against his putative captive. Troi's empathy was the weapon Mast used to feed on that frustration, on Larsch's terror and humiliation, compounding the emotions and forcing them back upon themselves until they utterly consumed the other man's mind.
Riker remained free of the attack, but Troi sensed that the horror of what Larsch was enduring was too much for his host, who fled in self-defense to the place where Larsch had tried so unsuccessfully to confine him. Fled and cowered there, his primal terror etching itself forever on Deanna Troi's own mind, even as she wished desperately to be able to join him in—she hoped—temporary oblivion.
It was over in a matter of minutes. As soon as Troi's hands left Riker's face, he dropped to the deck, eyes vacant, body limp. Troi thought she glimpsed a flicker of fading luminescence that vanished as Narve rose to his feet and walked over, prodding Riker with one toe. "Dead?"
Mast nodded. Troi watched dully through the killer's eyes as Narve smiled in satisfaction. "Good."
"Riker isn't," Mast said, as if noting something of little worth. "His body shouldn't be too damaged to use again, either."
"Excellent. It's a strong, healthy body; no sense in letting it go to waste. We'll have that Vulcan doctor Peris is so fond of check him over." The mention of the doctor brought a frown to Narve's face. "Or Crusher. She has to be found."
"Already on it, Commander." Mylal stepped forward, his eyes hidden by Commander LaForge's VISOR. "I sent out all available men to join the two you sent out. I also told them to be on the look-out for Verek," he added. "But I didn't do anything with the other prisoners, I wasn't sure how you wanted to handle them."
"Verek took Crusher and Troi to Sickbay after stashing Ro in his quarters," Mast offered. "They managed to deactivate him. Troi believes Crusher hid him, although she doesn't know where, after they ditched his comm badge." He did not mention Guinan's presence, nor did he explain how or why Verek had freed them in the first place, but Troi was too dazed to do more than note the omissions.
Narve accepted this information with a nod before turning back to Mylal. "Have Peris take some men down to the detention center for a head count. Have them question the guards and the prisoners, especially Selar. She's Crusher's Second; tell him to find out what she knows and if she can do anything about the mess Verek allowed Riker to get us into."
He wore a doubtful scowl even as he spoke. Troi knew that only Beverly would know the necessary code, but she understood Narve's position; every straw must be grasped if they were going to make good on their plans.
"Tell the men to stay in their own bodies unless absolutely necessary," he threw over his shoulder as he turned back to Mast. "I wouldn't put it past the good doctor to have some kind of trap set up, just waiting for one of us to be vulnerable." Mylal nodded and started issuing orders while Narve gave his full attention to Mast.
"Excellent work, Mast," the commander praised. "You killed their witch and you handled this in an exceptional manner, and you'll be amply rewarded for both." Narve glanced down at Riker's body. "Right now, I want you to take him to the brig."
"What about Troi?" Mast asked indifferently. He could care less what body he inhabited, and if Narve wanted him to stay put, then he would.
The other man paused, weighing his options. "Get back in your own body; we'll chance it now, here on the Bridge. I have plans for the Counselor that don't include anyone but me and her. And Captain Picard, of course," he added. "The three of us have an appointment; apparently she's interested in seeing a bit of history repeat itself, and I am more than willing to oblige her." He leaned closer. "Last time, Deanna," he whispered, "it was strictly business. This time, it's personal, and I can promise you I am a different man when acting on my own behalf rather than for my crew."
He stepped back. "When you're back in your own body, get her to the brig with Riker, until I can spare the time for her."
Mast nodded and stepped back, reaching down to pick up the discarded phaser. He conscientiously sat Troi next to Lt. MacGyver's body before repeating the process of stunning himself to freedom—and her to a blessed oblivion. Narve watched closely, but nothing interfered with the process.
Before Troi slipped into unconsciousness, however, she was aware of two things: Mast's fury at being tricked by Guinan, and his determination to kill her for real this time.