Maya regained consciousness slowly, aware of cold and pain as the main components of her senses before warm hands touched her and she blinked at Will's blue eyes.
"Careful," he said. "Move slowly, it's disorientating at first. Here."
She tried to get to her knees but swayed, sickly, and found herself lying against Riker, held close. The cold was less but the pain was still there and getting worse.
"We're in some kind of dungeon," he said, in a low but matter-of-fact voice. "My guess is we were knocked out with gas and kidnapped, but by whom or why I don't know yet."
"I remember - something striking me - "
"Whoever knocked us out with the gas burst in through the door. I caught a glimpse before I went under - I think the edge of the door slammed into you."
Maya realised it was her arm that hurt, and it was hurting more because Riker was pressing it. She wriggled free and looked, with something approaching fascination, at a deep running bruise on her upper arm near the elbow.
Riker studied it. "That's nasty. But you can move it, so it's not broken. You might have to live with it until we can get back to the Enterprise."
Her head clearing rapidly, Maya tried to assess their surroundings. They were in a low-ceilinged, dismal room with a flagstone floor and walls of brick. There were no windows and only one empty doorway. She went to it and saw immediately that there were electrodes lashed to the outer frame, generating an invisible but very solid forcefield. She ran her hand over it, feeling its numbness. From the positioning of the nodes, crudely attached though they were with binding tape, she could see that the field criss-crossed the entire doorway with no gaps.
"It's a forcefield," said Riker.
"Yes, I know. I was looking for a way through. A fingerwidth of a gap, and I could get out."
"Really? Something about this set-up gives me the impression that they know about you - whoever they are."
Maya tried to see what was beyond the doorway; there was nothing but darkness. The light in the room came from a glowing crystal placed on an upturned, smashed-in box. The only other item was a heap of grimy fabric, where she had been lying.
She shivered. It was very cold, and she was wearing nothing but her insubstantial nightdress.
"Come here," said Will. "Body heat."
Aware that it was sensible, Maya huddled up against him on the cloth. He wrapped her firmly in his arms, then grinned.
"This wasn't what I had in mind for tonight."
"It may not be night any more," said Maya, rather pleased at her own coolness. Here she was, as close to him as she could get and almost undressed, and yet the spell was broken. She felt sexless, as if she were being cuddled by a rather large girlfriend. "Without windows, it's impossible to tell what the time is. We've no point of reference."
"They took our comm badges, of course. Hang on, I'm going to try and rouse some interest." He got up, and went to the door. "Hey! Hi there! Is anyone listening?"
Maya searched round the walls, running her fingers over the crumbling brickwork, trying to find a drain or a ventilation shaft or any kind of opening.
Riker's shouting produced quick results. A young woman appeared at the doorway, stared at them, and ran away again. Even dressed as she was in utilitarian padded trousers and a thick tunic, with her hair tied back, Maya recognised her immediately as the hotel receptionist.
A few moments later the woman returned with two others, a man and a woman dressed in similar style. They looked familiar too, and Maya realised that they were their fellow guests the elderly couple. Only they were not elderly. All three of their captors were holding clumsy-looking but undoubtedly effective weapons.
The elder of the two women stepped forward, holding the gun across her front as if it were a shield. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Do you mind telling us who you are, and why you've imprisoned us?" said Riker, without apparent rancour.
"We represent the true interests of Lanthenon and its Royal House," said the woman. "You're going to be instrumental in preventing the greatest calamity that could ever befall our people."
"I'm glad to hear it, but you should know that kidnapping a Starfleet officer is a pretty serious offence in the Federation, and you're in the Federation now."
"We don't recognise the Federation's jurisdiction."
"You might not, but your law enforcers certainly do."
"As a Starfleet officer," the woman continued, "you make a valuable hostage, and our King, who has fallen under the influence of traitors and republicans, will do anything to appease the Federation. He'll agree to call off the wedding to prevent your assassination."
"You've taken us hostage," said Maya, "to stop the Princess's wedding?"
"Yes," said the woman shortly. "If the King and your Captain deal with us honourably you won't be harmed."
"I don't know what King Bahu's opinion on the matter is," said Riker, "but you should know that it's Starfleet policy never to pay ransoms of whatever kind. Captain Picard won't concede to any of your demands, and nor will Starfleet Command. So you may as well release us now."
"We keep our promises," said the woman. "We've already spoken to Captain Picard and told him what will happen to you if the Princess marries the alien."
"At least let her go," said Riker. "She's not a member of Starfleet, she isn't even a citizen of the Federation. She's no use to you."
Maya stared uneasily back as the leader of the group turned her hard, nervous gaze on her. There was contempt in the woman's expression. "Are you married to him?"
"No," said Maya, flatly.
"Aren't you ashamed to be with him like this?"
"That's none of your business," said Riker. "Leave her alone."
"You're wrong, it's very much out business. Because this kind of behaviour, and these attitudes, are what the Federation will spread to Lanthenon, and destroy the ties that bind people to people."
Maya drew her arms tighter round herself, stung by the passion in the woman's voice, and trying not to show her embarrassment and dismay. Even though she had no intention of explaining to this hostile stranger that things were not as they appeared, she felt keenly how hopelessly compromised she was.
"Let her go," said Riker gently. "I'm hostage enough for you."
"No," said the woman. "She's our insurance to make sure you don't cause any trouble." She turned as if to go.
"Wait," said Riker. "Bring us some warm clothing, or better blankets at least."
"Pedra," said the woman, "go and see what we've got spare."
The group departed, taking their swinging lights with them. Riker peered round the doorway. "Can't see anything," he said. "I guess we're in some kind of cellar. If we're deep underground, it'll be impossible for the Enterprise to get a fix on us."
"Will they be searching for us?"
"They'll be doing nothing else. Unless an opportunity presents itself, our best tactic could be to wait for rescue. I don't hold out much hope of reasoning with these people." He sat down on the heap of blankets and stretched out his arm.
She joined him again. Her bare feet had gone numb on the stone floor, and she welcomed the warmth he gave her. There was nothing she could really say to object when he started to stroke her hair away from her forehead.
"I'm sorry you got involved in this," he said.
"It wasn't your fault." She shook her head with an automatic motion and he took his hand away.
"I wonder how much they know about you?" he said, in a tone which Maya felt she recognised. He wasn't really prepared to sit here and let himself be rescued.
"I don't see that they can know very much. I think one of them saw me when I was a bird, over the lake. I saw someone with a telescope and at the time I thought it was a bird-watcher."
"So perhaps they think you can turn into a bird, nothing else, some kind of dual species - they might not have come across shapeshifters before. If you turned into something fierce, could you overpower them?"
"Easily. But I would still be vulnerable to their weapons."
"When she comes back and drops the barrier to give us the warm clothes, do you stuff. The element of surprise should be strong enough for us to disarm her before she can use the gun."
"All right."
They waited in silence until the young woman Pedra returned, carrying two jackets like the one she was wearing. She tumbled them to the ground and, pointing her gun directly at them, took a device from her pocket and waved it at the doorframe. Maya heard a faint sizzle as the forcefield deactivated. She started to get to her feet.
"No," said Pedra, swinging the gun. Her voice was higher, and more nervous than the ringleader's. She sounded like a frightened girl. "Stay back. There's no stun setting on this weapon."
"Then you'd better be careful with it," said Riker. "Your leader wouldn't be pleased if you killed her hostages."
Pedra's eyes flicked towards him.
Maya hurled herself at her, transforming in mid-lunge into a Psychon wildcat, a beast of coiled muscle and hooked claws and teeth. Pedra screamed and fired, only just missing her. Maya landed on her, claws retracted, trying to floor her and disarm her without hurting her.
Pedra screamed again, and the gun skidded across the floor.
"I've got it!" Riker shouted.
Pedra was still screaming, pinned under Maya's weight. She was about to let go when the other two rounded the corner of the corridor.
Maya prepared to spring, but she was just a second too late. Without hesitation the ringleader lifted her gun and fired.
Helena had ignored the Captain's unspoken signals and accompanied John to the observation room when they returned, along with the others, to see what progress had been made. The King had brought with him a dignified middle-aged woman whom Helena supposed was his security advisor Ankara. The Princess was pale and silent.
Deanna Troi and Worf had returned from their investigation of the hotel.
"I sensed no trace of Commander Riker anywhere in the building," Deanna said. She looked, Helena thought, under strain, as though her composure was maintained with an effort. "I searched through every floor, but there was nothing. Of course, that may have been because he was still unconscious."
"There has been no further communication from the terrorists," said the Captain. "If they keep their promise to contact us at their daybreak, it could be within the next few minutes."
Helena followed his glance to the screen on the wall.
"We are ready for them," said Data. "We have analysed the nature of the blocking signal and there is a 95.3 percent chance that the ship's engineer will be able to track the source of the transmission accurately enough to allow an away team to beam down nearby."
"Well," said the Captain, "while we're waiting, please report on what you found out about this terrorist group."
"Minister Ankara is the expert," said Data.
The Captain nodded at her.
"The Crown Guard is a fanatical group with a long history of opposition to constitutional reform," she said, in the clear decisive voice of someone used to speaking in an assembly. "They claim descent of authority from the original Crown Guard, the hereditary elite bodyguard of the Royal House of Lanthenon. It was one of the institutions disbanded when the monarchy was reformed in our year 974 - the is, one hundred and forty-eight years ago, in Federation standard time. There were a number of hereditary offices associated with the Royal House and they were all done away with, in an attempt to remove anything that could be seen as non-democratic in the government - other than the king himself, of course. I don't think Lanthenon would ever have stood for abolition of the monarchy. But the reform was painful to many parties, even though King Ushquen was the prime motivator. There were suicides amongst the hereditary officers. And several of the Crown Guard, and their families, ended up exiled from the royal favour for refusing to retire gracefully. The present-day so-called Crown Guard are the descendants and sympathisers of these rebels. The problem for us in combating them is that they have a lot of popular support, particularly as they choose their targets carefully. They don't go in for indiscriminate killings of civilians and innocents, they attack unpopular public figures or non-Lanthenons, or anyone who might have a case to answer. Commander Riker is a typical choice. An outsider, and a representative of a Federation that many Lanthenons felt ambiguous about joining."
"And my officer, Maya?" said John shortly.
Minister Ankara turned to him, looking faintly annoyed at the interruption. "Again, an outsider. It's very unfortunate. You have my sympathy."
"What's the best way to proceed with them, in your opinion?" said the Captain.
"I wouldn't advise a rescue mission," she said, "not unless you're very certain of exactly where they are and are almost sure of succeeding."
"Why?"
"They're capable of ruthless action, and when they say they'll do something, you can be sure that they'll do it. If you want to guarantee the safety of the hostages, it's important to present the appearance at least of complying with their wishes."
"Lanthenon does not have transporter technology," said Data.
"That's correct."
"So they will not be prepared for a rescue mission to beam down. Intellectually they will be aware of the possibility, psychologically, they may not allow for it."
"That's a good point, Data," said Picard. "But we won't make a decision on our next move until we talk to them."
Helena almost sensed, rather than heard, John sigh, and she saw his fist balling under the table. Below the table, out of sight, she twined her fingers into his other hand and squeezed. She got no response.
Picard was about to speak again when his communicator sounded. "Captain, a personal transmission for you."
"Thank you, ensign. Put it through to the observation room screen."
The screen on the wall switched on, and a woman's face appeared in close focus. The image was slightly distorted. "Captain Picard," she said. "I want to speak to you alone."
The Captain stood up, and walked in front of the screen. He held out a hand to the table. "All of these people are affected by your actions in kidnapping Commander Riker and Maya. One of them is your King, in whose name you have done this."
"We're doing this for the greater good of Lanthenon," said the woman. "An alien wouldn't understand. Does His Majesty agree to our terms?"
"I do not," said the King. "If you were true royalists you would be loyal to the wishes of the House and its heir. "
"Does Your Majesty know who I am?"
"Of course I don't."
"I am Lady Elbathura, great-granddaughter of Lord Neha of Elu, the last Captain of the Crown Guard. It should be my place to stand at the right hand of Your Majesty's royal person, protecting you from the usurpers the republicans and traitors have tricked into the court. That minister there - Ankara - she's nothing more than a peasant woman. Her grandmother pulled grain out of the swamps of Equon, her father was a factory manager. Don't you realise that the world has been turned upside down? If your Majesty allows Her Royal Highness to marry the alien, then the royal blood of Lanthenon will be tainted forever. I'll die myself before I see that happen - so don't think we won't go to any extremes to prevent it."
"You cannot prevent it," said the King. "The wedding is going ahead in two days' time, whatever else happens."
"Then Commander Riker will die. And to prove we're serious, we'll kill the woman at noon today."
"Now wait a minute," said John, standing up.
"Mr Koenig!" said the Captain sharply. "Lady Elbathura, you misunderstand us if you imagine that we consider Maya to be any less important than Commander Riker. If any harm comes to either of them, you won't escape the full force of Federation law."
"Then agree to our terms."
"Perhaps we could meet to discuss it."
She frowned, and then said, "Yes. I'll meet with the King. Nobody else. At noon today, or we'll execute the woman. Your Majesty," she concluded, with an incongruous bow of her head.
The transmission was cut and the screen went dark.
Picard turned round on his heel and faced the table, letting out a long breath. "Perhaps we should have kept her talking longer. Mr Data?"
Data was tapping a hand-held terminal. "There was no need to prolong the conversation, sir. The computer located the signal within the first fifteen seconds. It appears to originate from the Gargatha mountain range, where the hotel is located."
"Then they were not taken far," said Worf.
"Great," said John. "So we know roughly where they are."
"Roughly is not going to be good enough," said the Captain. "Unfortunately, as the Minister has already pointed out, a bungled attempt at rescue could easily endanger the hostages."
"Absolutely," said Ankara. "Elbathura's shown her face, she's desperate. She doesn't expect to get out of this alive. Don't underestimate these people's fanaticism."
"There is a further problem," said Data. "The mountains around Hotel Gargatha are rich in the mineral garradium, one o the metals which interfere with transporter beams. That is certainly one reason why sensor sweeps of the area have not picked up Commander Riker or Maya's life signs. If they are being held underground, we will not be able to rescue them simply by beaming them out, even if we can locate them."
"It seems they chose their hiding place well," said the Captain. "Very well, Mr Data. Keep trying with the sensor sweeps, you may still pick up something. Your Majesty, are you prepared to meet this woman, as she suggested?"
"Impossible," said Minister Ankara. "It won't achieve anything."
"What do you mean, it won't achieve anything?" said John angrily. "It might save Maya's life."
"The King cannot possibly put his own security at risk in any way."
"But," said Picard, "we could construct a trap around it."
"For whom? For Elbathura? She'll have her followers holding a gun at the hostages, and if you take her they'll press the button."
"With respect, Minister Ankara, we can't pass up the opportunity to get closer to them."
"You have to go," said John. "We can make it look as though you're alone, but while you keep her talking, the rest of us can fan out and search for them."
Minister Ankara laced her fingers and shook her head.
"We have at least six hours until noon over Gargatha," said Picard, impassively but with a hint of apology in his tone. "We'll have a plan in place by then. Mr Worf - "
John pushed his chair back from the table and left the room.
Helena went after John, her heart beating fast, her stomach moving uneasily. In their quarters he strode back and forth in silence while she sat on the bed, fighting down the nausea that had overtaken everything else.
"Picard isn't free to act," he said, still pacing. "The Lanthenons don't care about Maya or Riker. They let one of their own people die at the hands of these terrorists."
"If - Commander Riker is killed - surely it will embarrass them?"
"Yes, but they're more interested in their domestic politic scene than the Federation. The agenda there is be tough on the terrorists and be seen to be an enlightened monarchy." He stopped moving, sat down, and put his head briefly in his hands. "I shouldn't have walked out of there, but you were right. He was cutting me out, nothing I said would have made a difference. Are you okay?"
Helena made it to the bathroom before she was sick, bringing up the cocoa she had drunk in the tense, tedious two hours between the meetings. She washed her face, feeling slightly shaky and irritated by the lack of control she had over her body. After hesitating in the doorway, John came to her and kissed her neck.
"I'm going to get Tony," he said, much calmer. "Maybe it's a risk, but I can't leave her down there."
"I know."
"I wish Alan were here - "
"He would do what you told him. But Tony's smarter, you know that."
"Yes... are you all right?"
She nodded.
Maya opened her eyes to darkness. For a while, shaking the confusion out of her brain, she wondered if her eyesight had been affected. But gradually, grey outlines of a tiny room like a cupboard formed from the gloom, and she decided that she had been left somewhere without a light.
She moved experimentally and found that she was uninjured, though her arm still hurt and she had the kind of dull sick headache she associated with a stun weapon. Someone had thrown a jacket over her, and a blanket.
"Will?" she said, though she knew he was not there. They had been separated.
She explored her new surroundings by touch, feeling the same rough stonework on the walls and floor, and another forcefield over the doorway. The damp, musty smell was stronger in here, though she was not so cold.
Despite the headache, she concentrated and turned into a night weasel, whose infra-red vision enabled her to see every detail of the room. As she had suspected, it was a small featureless storecupboard without any openings in the floor, wall or ceiling. Again, the door appeared to have been wrenched off to make the forcefield easier to install. Outside, she could see a passageway ending in a sharp turn. The room's wooden door was lying halfway along, abandoned on the floor.
When she fell back into her own form the headache was worse. There was nothing to do but fold the blanket into the corner as best she could, and sit down to wait. The hard stone of the floor, and the cold of the wall, worked through the thin fabric.
She hoped that Will was all right, but she supposed that he was. He was their key hostage. It was likely that she had been separated from him to make him easier to blackmail into good behaviour.
The darkness and the silence grew shadows, and it was difficult not to be irrationally afraid. She wondered if it was daylight yet.
This was with morning she might have woken up with Will. As this occurred to her she had a brief vivid image of how that might have been, and felt a flash of longing to be safe in a warm bed, curled against another body.
"Tony," she said out loud, pointlessly.
Whatever danger she was in, she would rather be here now than in the hotel in bed with Will.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me as soon as you knew?"
John couldn't stop himself exchanging a glance with Helena, and he saw Tony noticing that and scowling in exasperation. Tony was pulling on his clothes, having woken up as soon as they both arrived, uneasy, at his quarters.
"You thought it wasn't my business if Maya was in trouble?" he said, fastening his boots.
John did not want, now, to get engaged in personal discussions, though he realised the situation was fraught with emotion. He could see that Tony was raw all over, but he could also see that there was a great difference in him since the last time they had spoken, in the medical centre. His confidence, the spark of independence and determination, had re-ignited.
"We didn't think that, Tony," said Helena, sitting down on the bed beside him and touching his arm. "We just - thought at first that it was best to let Captain Picard deal with it. The situation's - delicate."
"And if I'd gone in all guns blazing it would've upset everyone?"
Helena took her hand away and sighed.
"How long ago did they get her?"
"Three hours ago," said John.
"Three hours!" Tony snapped his head up, glaring. "You two have sat around doing nothing for three hours?"
"In my judgement Picard was more capable than we were of getting them out of there. I gave him the chance to do it his way, Tony. I never intended to do nothing and I certainly don't now that they've threatened Maya's life directly. That's why I'm here."
"Okay, then let's go." He stood up, then turned and looked at Helena.
"I'm staying here," she said. "Commander's orders."
"Are you sure, John?" said Tony. "We might need her."
"This is a two-person mission. Less people, less risk - to us and them."
"What if someone gets hurt?"
"We can ask for direct beam-up to the Enterprise."
"John," said Helena, "what about those caves, or mines, or whatever they are? The metal disrupts transporter beams. We don't know what you're going to find down there - you don't know what emergency might arise. Perhaps I should come."
"No," said John, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline that was a mixture of fear and excitement. "Non-negotiable."
Tony was at the door, making no attempt to conceal his impatience to be gone. John broke off his gaze with Helena, who looked mildly pleased, and went with him.
They never said goodbye.
John had already considered and rejected taking what might have been the easy way down to the planet, via the transporter room. That route would require a third party to operate the transporter controls, and none of the Alphans knew how. He and Tony had reached the docking bay where Eagle Ten was before it occurred to him that someone from the Enterprise would have to open the doors to let it out, but at least he would have his own transport. Alan had been right.
The Enterprise was not in a state of alert because knowledge of the kidnapping was restricted to the command crew, and the ship was still on its graveyard shift. In the docking bay there was a long technician, electronic board in hand, going through what looked like a series of maintenance checks. He stopped to look over the Eagle, running his hand along the metal of the hull, and started as if guilty when John and Tony stepped into view.
"Fine old ship," said the technician.
"I bet you never thought you'd see anything like it," said John, genially.
"Not outside a museum. Not in working order. It does work, doesn't it?"
"It's fully maintained, overhauled from top to bottom on a monthly turnaround. Do you want to come for a spin?"
"Ah - not me, sir. Thank you."
"We've got space suits in there."
The technician grinned uneasily.
"We're taking her out, just to check she's running smoothly - it's part of the maintenance routine. Go on, I promise you it's safe."
"I'm not allowed to leave the ship, not without permission. I'm sure she is spaceworthy - no offence, sir."
"None taken. Well, Mr Verdeschi, are you ready to take your life in your hands?"
"I think so, sir."
"Would you operate the docking bay for us, ensign?"
"Certainly, sir."
John climbed into the Eagle more confidently than he felt, pleased that Tony followed him with deadpan casualness. He was frowning impatiently as he strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat. "Is he going to fall for it?"
"This is our ship and we don't belong to Starfleet. As far as I'm concerned we're doing nothing wrong." He tapped his badge. "Ready to launch, ensign."
"Aye, Commander. I'm clearing the docking bay now. Wait for my signal before starting your - ah - engines."
There was a tense wait of perhaps forty seconds while the docking bay decompressed and the space doors rolled back. John watched Tony drumming his fingers on the flight console. Then, to his relief, the bright voice of the ensign said, "Clear to go, Commander."
He pulled back on the thruster and the Eagle moved, with its familiar shudder, clear of the Enterprise's hull.
