Chapter XI
'Sir, scans are complete. We've got her onboard.'
Picard tensed up at Data's terse report, although he knew it had been coming. 'Where?'
'Holodeck two,' said Data.
'Is she trying to re-route the controls?' asked Riker.
'No,' said Data, and his tone was faintly surprised. 'At the moment, she has the holodeck up and running – that's all.'
Picard stared at the back of Data's head for a moment, puzzling out the situation. Then he stood. 'I didn't think that she'd self-destructed the Spirit while she was still aboard,' he said. 'Now what is she doing in the holodeck? It doesn't make any sense.'
'Her priorities were to get to Emeralle II in the last hunt,' stated Data simply. 'Waiting for us to chase her into the holodecks is incompatible with the drive she has demonstrated earlier.'
'If only we knew what her motives were,' said Riker, and Picard gave him a puzzled glance.
'I think that they are self-explanatory, Number One.'
Riker nodded slowly, but his expression was still puzzled. Picard stood up and looked at the bridge crew in one sweeping glance. 'We've all done this before. I want you all with me now. We're not taking any chances with her. Commander Hedly, have a security detail meet us at holodeck two, armed with phaser rifles and photon grenades.'
Hedly nodded, and Picard started for the aft turbolift, followed by Troi, Riker, Data, and Thames. Hedly turned and followed them a moment later.
The turbolift opened, and the bridge crew spilled out and made their way to the holodeck. Only Picard stopped and turned to the last figure, his wife. Already he could hear her objections in the back of his mind. 'I don't want you in there with us,' he said.
Thames looked up at him with an unfamiliar emotion in her eyes, dark hatred. 'You don't understand. I have to.'
Picard sensed again that familiar feeling – the feeling of looking into another's eyes to find only that his own anger was mirrored there. And in this pair of dark brown eyes, into which his soul melted so easily and freely, that sensation of reflection was not welcome. He gripped her tightly, felt her embrace him with a fierceness that belied her actual strength. 'Why?' he asked quietly after a moment.
'She's taken too much from us already, Jean-Luc,' she whispered to him. 'Your life, my friends – she's got to be stopped. And I need to be there when that happens.'
Picard gazed into her eyes for another long moment, and leant down and kissed her. When they broke away, he nodded slowly. 'You'll be there. I promise.'
Then he let go, and they advanced, side by side, to the holodeck door.
Troi watched quietly as the short exchange between Picard and Thames ended, and they came down the corridor towards the security team, similar expressions of anger and determination on their faces. She had felt the bond between them getting stronger at that moment, and now it was an almost visible silver cord connecting the two.
Imzadi, in that moment, was being given it's true meaning.
Riker threw Picard a phaser rifle, and the captain caught it with ease. A practised motion allowed him to check it's setting and then he held it comfortably under one arm, gripping the blackened barrel with a gentleness that belied the true anger in his emotions.
Thames received a rifle in gentler fashion than her husband, and performed the same procedure with slightly less ease. After a moment, Picard stepped forward, back to the holodeck door. He glanced at the large group. 'I have no idea what Admiral Nechayev's objectives are in there, but one thing is for certain. She wants to kill each and everyone on this ship – no exceptions. Thus, we are going to play the same game. We will scour every inch of that holodeck until we drive her out of hiding, and then we will blast her out of our misery. Is that understood?'
One by one, the team nodded, the senior officers with considerably less happiness than the security detail showed. The people killed on Galorndon Core, Starbase 629 and the Spirit had been fellow officers, but mostly security officers. And security did not forgive and forget easily. As Picard glanced at their young faces, he recognised Ensigns Cavell and Horner and Lieutenant Burnell from the original hunt. Hedly had chosen her people well.
Picard turned and looked at the computer readout of the program running inside, and felt a faint frown cross his brow. He didn't recognise the program. He sighed, and pressed the button to open the doors.
As the orange doors slid aside with a hiss of motors, Picard felt his heart give a lurch as he recognised the surroundings.
Before the team, a long plain stretched out, with rocky outcroppings poking from the flat ground like fingers of a buried giant. In the far distance, a tall mountain peak stretched into the air. And all around that peak, lightning and thunder clashed like a battle of ancient gods, and rain washed the ground under foot, causing long rivulets of water to cascade down the peaks of the fingers of rock.
But that was not what held Picard's attention. In the dark sky, black shapes huddled close together. Huge ships, bigger than many planets that Picard had seen, giant black monoliths of ultimate destruction that oppressed the soul with shades of darkness reaching across the sky like a giant shadow.
Picard felt the incredulous gasps of all those with him as they saw the vast shapes in the sky, and Riker asked, 'My god, sir, what are they?'
There was only one answer, Picard knew. 'They, Number One, are the Aralla.'
Only Data was not transfixed by the ships that loomed over them. He was scanning with his tricorder. 'Sir,' he said eventually, 'I have located Admiral Nechayev's life-signs. She is approximately two miles due east of our position.'
'Two miles?' asked Riker.
'In holodeck terms,' said Data calmly. He holstered the scanning device. 'I believe that we cannot trust the tricorders except to deny or confirm Admiral Nechayev's presence in the simulation.'
Picard nodded, tearing his eyes away from the black ships. He drew in a shuddering breath. Troi noticed the effect it had upon him and stepped closer to him, as did Thames. 'Sir,' asked the Counsellor, 'what's the problem?'
Picard did not look at her, but said, 'When Q showed me the Aralla fleet on the other side of the gateway, this was the planet he showed me. Seeing it again, with those ships in the sky – it brought back some unpleasant memories.'
Thames gripped his arm. 'Don't worry, Jean-Luc.'
Picard rested his free hand on hers, and smiled slightly. 'Computer, end program.'
'Unable to comply,' said the calm tones of the computer.
'Authorisation Picard-4-7-alpha-tango,' said the captain with an exasperated sigh. 'Computer, end program.'
'Unable to comply. Command codes are locked out of the system.'
'By whose authority?' asked Picard, astonished. The computer remained silent.
Data stepped closer to Picard. 'Sir, it is possible to lock out command authorisation to the computer without giving a prior command code. If so, I suspect that Admiral Nechayev has deactivated the safety protocols.'
Picard glanced at the android. 'That means we have to do this the old-fashioned way.'
'I can remain here and try to unlock the computer codes,' said Data.
Picard shook his head. 'I need you here, my friend.'
Data nodded calmly. 'Understood, sir.'
Picard glanced at the others. 'Let's get on with it.'
Stepping from the arch out onto the sodden earth, the away team advanced.
Nechayev watched calmly as the away team set out to find her. Oddly comforting was this program, staring as it could at the silent, unmoving, inanimate shapes of the Aralla fleet. Alone as it was now in this universe – indeed, in existence – it could almost sense its compatriots calling to it.
Shaking itself from its reveries, it grasped the barrel of the phaser rifle and turned to watch the away team making its slow way across the plain to her location.
And saw an opportunity it had not expected to ever have. Silently, it picked up the rifle and moved away.
Picard could see how tense his officers were from their movements. Only Hedly moved with any assurance over the treacherous surface, her rifle gripped with deceptive gentleness. She caught Picard's glance for a second, and then moved forward slightly. She was now advancing just ahead of the main group.
For the third time, Picard felt a twinge of guilt at allowing Thames to accompany him on this assault. Still, he could not hide her from the dangers of the galaxy for the rest of her married life – much as he wanted to. Starfleet duty did not allow that.
He had connived to get her into the centre of the formation, making sure that she was as protected as possible from –
A phaser blast shattered an outcropping of rock to the left. Before the group could react, another blast struck Hedly in the shoulder, sending her to the ground.
'Cover!' shouted Riker, while he dived forward to drag Hedly's body clear of the firing line. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet, just as another beam blew apart the ground where she had lain.
As the first officer got her into cover, Picard could see the horrific wound in his security chief's shoulder – blackened flesh displayed to the rain by the torn and ruined uniform. Her arm hung limply at her side, and Hedly's face had gone white with pain and shock. Another flicker of anger crept across Riker's face as he inspected the wound. The glance he cast Picard told him all he needed to know – the injury was serious.
Picard indicated that one of the security guards should take their chief back to the holodeck entrance. Riker picked one of the guards whom Picard had not met before, and the young man took Hedly by the shoulders and carried her away.
Two down, thought Picard. He glanced about, assuring himself of the locations of the others in the team –
He froze, dreaded horror freezing his very soul. Where was his wife?
Picard cast about desperately, but there was no sign of Thames anywhere. He signalled for Data to join him, and the android did so. 'Data, did you see Lieutenant Thames leave at any time?'
Data shook his head. 'She was just behind me, sir, at the back.'
Picard stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. His wife had been alone at the back.... 'Scan for her, Data!'
Data took the tricorder from his belt and performed a short scan. His features became concerned. He looked up at his captain. 'Sir, I've picked up her signal. She's about two hundred metres away from here.'
'Which direction?' asked Picard, his tone tinged with dread and fear.
'Towards the mountain,' said Data. 'Sir, her signal is very close to that of Admiral Nechayev.'
No wonder, realised Picard, that he had not sensed any alarm or fear from Thames. She had obviously seen Nechayev and gone after her. His racing heart slowed somewhat, knowing that his wife was not a captive, but he was still concerned. Thames had no experience at hunting an armed, dangerous and skilful quarry like Nechayev.
Rosanna, he thought despairingly, why?
Thames watched quietly as Nechayev disappeared from view behind some more rocks, moving carefully and placidly, showing no sign that she realised she was being tailed.
She carefully stood from her position, and moved quickly after the admiral. When she spotted her quarry again, she crouched down to observe, waiting for that one clear shot that would end these months of death and horror.
Suddenly, Nechayev ducked out of sight. Thames felt a rush of worry through her, and stood to get a clearer look.
There was no sign of the admiral. Taking a few steps forward, she rounded the rock outcrop that Nechayev had ducked behind. Again, there was no sign of the admiral.
At that moment, she decided to return to the away team. She was not experienced enough for the task she was trying to do.
She turned, just as a purple hand reached from behind the rocks, and wrapped itself around her....
Picard felt it that time, the shock and terror that passed through the link. The away team had already quickened its pace, and now Picard broke into a run.
The others all shouted after him, but their captain could not – would not – hear them. The concern in his heart blossomed into full fear, panic claimed his being, and Picard ran harder, chasing the source of that terror. Behind him, the away team chased him.
It was Troi who spotted them at last – the two figures struggling up the side of the peak, one dressed in a tattered red admiral's uniform, the other in the dark uniform of a Starfleet officer. Although the dark figure was leading, it was even clearer who directed the climb. 'Captain!' shouted the Counsellor, and as Picard glanced up, he saw the two figures and changed his direction.
The away team followed.
Nechayev glanced back at the small figures on the ground pounding towards the foot of the mountain. It looked at Thames, who stared at her, eyes terrified, but making a determined effort to hide that fear. 'Who are you? Why are you doing this?' she asked.
Nechayev did not listen. A single motion of the rifle forced Thames onwards up the mountain.
Picard came to the foot of the mountain, and looked up at the two figures higher up. In the conditions, the climb was unbelievably treacherous.
The away team hurried to his side, and Riker followed Picard's stare. 'She's taken Lieutenant Thames hostage,' he said, stating the obvious.
Picard nodded silently. He still looked up, unable to understand how they had gotten so far without slipping.
It was Lieutenant Burnell who provided the answer. 'Sir!' They followed her call, and Picard stared for a moment at a small, winding path that led up the mountain. Dangerous, yes, but passable.
Without a word, Picard slung his rifle over his shoulders and started along it. With a sigh, Riker followed him. The others followed their lead. Picard turned around a moment later. He stared at the security team. 'Lieutenant Burnell, take your squad and surround the mountain as best you can. Nechayev may be heading for a point at which she can descend again. I want you to stop her if she does so.'
Burnell nodded calmly, and turned to her fellows and began issuing orders. Picard turned away and set off again.
The long climb was not as difficult as Picard had feared at first. Although the path wove and ducked and climbed steeply in places, it was for the most part clear of rain and water, allowing for an easier climb. Occasionally, Picard would turn his gaze upwards at the two figures who climbed higher. But the away team was catching them, slowly.
Picard could feel Thames' fear passing through to him, and continuously, he would send reassurance and calm through the link, hiding his anger and fear.
Thames felt this calm presence following her up the mountain and she refused to allow herself to look back, possibly alerting Nechayev to the approaching away team. Instead, she pressed on along the path that led to a small outcropping of rock, she could see now. This small ledge held a clear view of what followed the two, Thames realised. From there, Nechayev would have a clear field of fire on the away team. Desperately, she tried to make her husband aware of the danger.
Picard glanced up again as the path straightened out before him for a few metres. Thames and Nechayev were in range of a shot from the rifles, he knew, but he did not dare for fear he might hit his wife. Instead, he increased his pace – and felt the contact.
He looked up again, and saw what Thames was indicating. The ledge would give Nechayev a clear field of fire. Picard glanced back at Riker and signalled the danger. His first officer acknowledged, and signalled for the away team to increase the pace.
It was a race against time now.
From the foot of the mountain, it was clear how the race was progressing. Ensign Cavell watched as the larger party to the rear closed with the smaller leaders. Although darkness enclosed the peak now, and the Aralla ships in the sky could no longer be seen, thunder and lightning would crash around the peak, illuminating the desperate race.
Picard could see how close he was now, only thirty metres or so away from the admiral. He unslung the rifle, and forced himself onwards. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky as he led the team after the fleeing Aralla.
Thames could not help but glance backwards now as the lightning brightened the darkness, and thunder filled the air. They were close now to the ledge, and Nechayev knew how close their pursuers were. The rifle dug into Thames' side, forcing her onwards as the rain fell around them, and thunder crashed again.
Picard leapt over an outcrop of rock and found himself on the last straight leg of the journey to the ledge. He could feel the pain in his legs, and the weariness and strain on his face were obvious when the lightning washed him with light. But he forced himself on, weapon raised, fury building, and concern rising.
Nechayev and Thames reached the ledge a second before Picard came into view. The away team had not kept up with their captain, and it would be a couple of minutes before they would arrive. He trained the rifle on the admiral, who gripped Thames tightly, holding the phaser to her back.
It was the first time that Picard had confronted the admiral in the time he had been hunting her. He could see the damage wrought by the Aralla parasite on her body. The eyes stared glassily at him, and the mouth hung open slackly. One hand, the intact human one, held the phaser, while the other, a large purple monstrosity, gripped Thames hard around the neck. The uniform jacket hung loosely from Nechayev's shoulders, exposing the skin beneath, and Picard could see where various appendages on the Aralla body had torn the skin and protruded through. At this moment, he realised that true horror of what had happened to a woman he had respected and trusted implicitly.
Suddenly, the slack mouth tightened into a grimace of a smile. 'You are Picard,' gasped a throttled, breathy voice that sent shivers down Picard's spine. He recognised that voice, the one that spoke for the Aralla, the one that had spoken through Beverly Crusher's body.
'Yes,' managed Picard. The lightning flashed again, illuminating Thames' fear-filled, pained eyes. 'Let her go.'
'We have no intention,' said the Aralla. The mouth did not quite move in time with the words, Picard saw, and realised that the voice of the Aralla was coming directly from the parasite; no, creature, within. 'We have no quarrel with her.'
Picard felt, rather than saw, the away team approaching him. He felt his hand strengthened. 'If you don't, let her go. I'm the one you want.'
The Aralla regarded him for a moment, ignoring the away team behind him as if they did not exist. 'You are right. Vengeance for the Aralla death on you. We have no intention of freeing her.'
'Why not?' asked Riker from behind Picard. The Aralla wearing Nechayev's body ignored him to speak to the captain.
'We cannot hear them any longer. There is no voice for us, as there is voice for you. You destroyed the voice, and we cannot live without the voice.'
At last, Picard saw the Aralla purpose – saw what it wanted from him. Revenge – nothing more, nothing less. It also knew of his link to Thames. And horror, terror, desperation gripped him as he saw the truth.
The Aralla smiled again, providing Picard with a glimpse into horror as it saw he realised what it planned. 'No voice,' it said. 'You brought this. You pay.'
It fired the rifle.
Thames went stiff with shock, her mouth opening in a soundless scream as the phaser blast set to kill flashed into her back. Picard felt the pain through his link and he screamed in sympathetic pain. He felt the link itself tremble and strain to breaking point in his mind, which sent further reverberations of pain ricocheting around his soul.
The Aralla held the stiff body for a moment, and then turned and fled along the path, dropping Thames from its grasp, and the phaser rifle with her. Two shots from the away team missed it. Picard caught the falling body of his dying wife in his arms.
'No!' he cried to the storm, as he brushed the rain-slicked hair from her face and felt the tears flowing from his eyes. 'No!'
Her eyes opened, and Thames stared weakly at her husband. Her hand tried to reach his, and Picard caught it in his hand and pressed it to his lips desperately. 'No,' he whispered, feeling her slip away from him, 'don't leave me!'
She smiled at him, and said, in a choked, fading voice, 'I'll never leave you, my love. Never....'
As Thames' eyes closed in death, Picard felt the silver cord vanish from his mind, felt every torture in the universe as that link to his only love's mind snapped in twain. Picard was alone.
Sobbing furiously into his wife's dead body, Picard knelt on the mountain, ignoring the rain that splattered the rocks and the lightning that crazed all around, alone in his mind again. Lifting his face to the sky, he screamed, a wordless, hoarse, furious and bitter howl of loss that echoed around the mountain.
Behind him, the rain mingling with the tears that flowed, his friends watched, unable to help their captain, weeping for his and their loss. Troi sobbed into Riker's arms, feeling the pain and darkness that blighted Picard's soul, while Riker watched silently as Picard set the body to the ground gently and picked up his phaser rifle again.
Without a single backward glance, he started along the path that Nechayev had fled along. Data stepped forward after him, but Riker restrained the android. They watched as Picard stalked blindly along the path.
Nechayev had felt the link for so long itself that it was almost surprised when it vanished. Vengeance had been achieved for the Aralla, and it fled blindly itself, knowing that Picard would soon come for it. But that did not matter any longer.
It reached the summit of the mountain, and stood, unarmed as Picard rounded the corner, pure unadulterated hate on his face. In his tortured mind, he saw nothing but the face of his wife, calm and beautiful in the pouring rain, slaughtered, cut down in her prime by the abomination that stood before him now, watching him calmly. The eyes of the Starfleet admiral watched, in the face of the Starfleet admiral, controlled by the mind of a creature that would kill and kill and kill for all eternity, bore through him to his soul, and saw the darkness there. There was no word for the emotions that Picard carried in his heart now, all reason gone, primal frenzy boiling through him.
He levelled the rifle, seeing it all ending before him. He could see, silhouetted by the lightning, the black shapes of the Aralla mother ships, unmoving behind their last representative in existence.
Picard fired that first shot that he hoped would cleanse his dying soul in fire. The blast caught Nechayev in the arm, blowing it free from her body in a spray of purple gore. It staggered and continued to stare at Picard.
Picard fired again, striking the cadaver in the chest. The explosion of energy flashed across her body, leaving a huge gout of blood on the nearby rocks as its chest was blown through its torso, and vaporised by the energy.
The Aralla sagged to its knees and continued to give Picard the look of calm that enraged his soul, and seared across his mind like a flame across paper.
He stepped close to the dying creature, and knelt to stare at it, allowing it to see what it had done to him in his eyes. Then he rested the tip of the rifle against its forehead, stared into its eyes until the last, and fired.
The last Aralla's head exploded in a welter of blood and bone which splattered across Picard's uniform and hands. For a moment, it remained upright on its knees, headless in a gruesome reminder of the death of Commander Remmick so long before, and then fell back, dead at last.
The hunt was done, the Aralla were extinct, and Admiral Nechayev and all those who had died were avenged.
But Picard knelt there, congealing blood drying on his uniform, a mangled dead body next to him, feeling the cool rain running down his face and mingling with the tears of bitterness that flowed down his cheeks. And, he smiled to himself, and looked at the sky, and started to laugh quietly.
And that was how he was when the away team found him, ten minutes later.