Snowbound
Author: Anna C. Bowling
Part: 4/6 Rating: PG-13 Codes: R/f, Series: TNG, Tapestry Saga,
| Comments, praise and flames to: Unzadi@aol.com | |
| Date: 30 Dec 1998 00:05:51 GMT |  |
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything and anything even remotely related to
Star Trek. The story and original characters therein are mine, mine, mine. So
there. >:) Tuckus covered.
Summary: Riker and his more-than-a-colleague, Sarah Cromwell, trek through the
frozen wasteland of Philemon III to uncover the Romulan's nefarious doings.
PART FOUR
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eliva, Sabu and Taylor stared at the VISOR in Eliva's hand, not quite knowing
what to do next. The very fact that the VISOR was in Eliva's hand, instead of
with Lieutenant Commander LaForge, where it belonged, cast a pall on the air
around them. Suddenly, Eliva's two days of senority over Sabu and Taylor
seemed remarkably irrelevant. There was no next logical step, unless calling
for her mother counted. Somehow, she was sure it didn't. She kept looking at
the VISOR.
"Ma'am?" There was a small amount of respect in Taylor's voice. Personal
opinions aside, it was always wise to be on the good side of one's commanding
officer. Seeing the VISOR all by itself had made him feel very alone. "What
do we do now?"
What *did* they do now? Eliva turned the VISOR over in her hands, wishing she
could tell if it were still functioning, or if it had been damaged somehow.
When and if they encountered LaForge, he'd certainly want to know. She took a
moment to think, keeping her eyes and antennae down. There was no
benefit in allowing Taylor and Sabu to know she was just as nervous as they
were.
She remembered from the early days of her training, that the first thing in any
emergency was to make a preliminary diagnosis. Lieutenant Commander LaForge
was likely injured, at the very best disoriented. If he had been bitten by a
dunf, which was likely, since the animal would choose the prey that could be
most easily surprised, his heartbeat would be greatly accelerated. With
an accelerated heartbeat, the venom would have spread rapidly, bringing with it
paralysis. If he hadn't received the antitoxin by now, there was nothing she
could do; he would already be dead, and she didn't have the proper equipment to
resuscitate him. If he had received the antitoxin, that meant there was
someone
with him to tend him. Both possible scenarios firmly in place in her mind, she
handed the VISOR to Sabu.
"Can you tell if there hasss been," she paused, "any damage?"
"I'll try, ma'am." Sabu took the VISOR and examined it at first visually, and
then with the increasingly unreliable tricorder. He'd always wanted to get a
good look at the VISOR, but not like this. Ideally, he'd like to have Commander
LaForge there to answer his questions and point out all the interesting
features. A VISOR was a masterpiece of medical engineering. He'd studied
records and logs
on its development, and thought it was an absolute miracle, but the actual
thing was far different from anything he'd read about.
Apart from a few scratches to the metallic surface, Sabu couldn't find anything
wrong. The tricorder scan didn't report any damage either, but he wasn't so
sure he should accept that.
"I can't find any damage, ma'am," he said at length, "but I've been getting
some abnormal readings from my tricorder for the past several minutes, since we
passed the stalactites."
"And you're just telling us now?" Taylor demanded.
Eliva shot him a quelling look, her antennae nearly erect with impatience.
"Abnormal? Define abnormal, please."
"Life signs have been erratic. The number in our party has been frequently
varying, according to my readings. Right now, nobody's here, but the VISOR
is." Knowing how absurd that sounded, he added, "Honestly. It is. Have a
look."
Taylor peered over Sabu's shoulder. "He's right."
Eliva didn't need to look. Ever since they'd passed the stalactites, Sabu had
said. That would stand to reason that the stalactites had something to do with
the abnormality. "Taylor, check your tricorder," she ordered, while
recalibrating her own.
"I have two life signs," Taylor reported, "but I can't tell who...or what."
Eliva repeated her test. I have only one; myself. We will return to the
stalactites for further testing."
"What about the VISOR?" Sabu asked, turning it over again for another look at
the connectors.
Eliva extended her hand. "I consssider it to be medical equipment." She
paused. "I will carry it in my pack until we rendezvous with Lieutenant
Commander LaForge." She congratulated herself on sounding certain that they
would make that rendezvous. She wasn't certain, to be honest, but as she had
heard Commander Riker say before, it wasn't what she knew that mattered, it was
what others thought she knew. If she had confidence, so would her team.
"And then?"
"And then, Mr Taylor, Lieutenant Commander LaForge can determine its status.
Until then, it isss medical equipment. We will return to the stalactites."
She paused, reminding herself to think like a command officer. "Phasers set to
kill."
* * *
Sarah watched mutely as the dunf, springing from the darkness of a hidden
tunnel, launched itself at Riker. The two of them went down in a swirl of
white fur, making it impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.
The sound of Riker's body crushing his pack against the rock wall of the cave
made her wince. A fast move of one finger chanced her phaser's setting from
heavy stun to kill. There was no room for error. She'd seen the dunf's double
row of teeth
clearly...could imagine the long canine fangs dripping their deadly venom into
Willie's bloodstream.
"Not if I can help it."
Sarah wasn't aware she had spoken as she estimated the best place to direct her
single shot. There wouldn't be time for more.
Riker and the dunf turned over in the frozen gravel, rolling over each other as
they struggled for dominance. As soon as Sarah had a good clear shot at the
back of the animal's neck, she took her chance. The phaser's bright crimson
beam sliced through the dim light, finding its target precisely. The dunf
slumped over Riker, going limp. There were more, she was certain of that, and
they would be coming soon, attracted by the scent of their fallen comrade. The
scent of dead dunf would be to the rest of the pack like Mum's Yorkshire
pudding was to Sarah's
brothers. As it was, the smell of warm dunf meat was making *her* hungry.
Other dunfs would be even hungrier, and didn't need a call to dinner.
A few quick steps took her to Riker's side. Rolling the dunf's body off him,
Sarah inhaled sharply. The thick fur robe covering Riker's chest was torn and
damp. The clothing beneath was torn as well. Pulling the cloth and fur away
from the open wound, Sarah muttered an Orion oath as she saw the dark blood
seeping from the torn flesh, and the sickly clear yellow of the dunf venom
swirling
through it.
*The pack. There's a medikit in the pack, Cromwell. Stop wasting your time
gaping and deal with the situation.*
The straps holding the pack to Riker's body had torn free in his struggle with
the dunf. The pack itself lay several meters away. Not taking her eyes from
him, Sarah propped her lantern against a loose rock and scooted backward,
feeling for the pack. As soon as she had it, she resumed her earlier position.
Thrusting one hand deep into the pack, Sarah swore again. She should have
known. The medikit had taken the brunt of the impact when Riker had hit the
wall. Although her gloves protected her from the sharp edges of broken glass
and metal, she could tell that the damage was severe.
"Useless." There was still a small amount of antitoxin in the broken
hypospray, but the mechanism to drain the venom had been shattered. The
bandages couldn't be called sterile anymore, but they'd do, especially since
one of the rolls had soaked up the majority of the antitoxin.
"We're going to have to work quickly," she explained as she selected one of the
sharper Philemite knives from the pack. "How are you feeling?"
Riker's movements were slow as he drew himself into a sitting position. "Fine.
What are you doing with that?" From where he was, it looked like Sarah was
aiming a phaser at a knife she held. Why did she have a knife? "We'd better
get moving. The dunfs..."
Sarah clicked off the phaser and turned back to Riker. "You'll get no argument
from me on that, Willie. I don't relish the thought of having to drag you
through this labyrinth. I'd much rather have you walk on your own." She took
a steadying breath. "The vial of antitoxin broke; there's not much left. I'm
going to try to suck our the venom, so I'll need you to lie still." Pulling
aside Riker's robe to expose the wound, she tried not to let her horror show as
she saw the shiny swelling that had already begun to pollute his flesh.
"Bloody hell, Willie. If you succumb to this, I'm going to be cross with you.
Extremely cross."
"Then I'll...try....not to."
"I should be glad of that," she said firmly as she made a thin x-shaped
incision over the centre of the swelling area. She was fairly certain that
Willie could hear, that the dunfs could hear, that the bloody, bleeding Romulan
sods could hear her heartbeat echoing throughout the caves as she pressed her
lips against his fevered skin, drawing the poision into her own mouth. As soon
as Sarah tasted the bitter venom, mixed with the sickly sweet taste of blood,
she spat forcefully,
then began again.
Riker remained still while Sarah worked, trying to focus his thoughts on
something other than the numbness that was already starting to muddy his mind.
He oculd feel the hurried suction of Sarah's mouth against the throbbing wound,
feel the venom being drawn out. Sarah was doing everything she could, but the
fact remained that the makeshift treatment might not be enough. He had to face
that possibility, to plan for it.
"Brit," he began, the next time Sarah lifted her mouth to spit, "if I don't
make it..."
"You're going to," she informed him tersely before sucking once more.
Riker closed his eyes briefly, trying to will the numbness from spreading
through his thoughts to his body. It was important to continue. With him or
without him, there was a mission to be completed.
"If I don't make it," he repeated, "I want you to take what you need and," he
paused, filling his lungs with barely enough air, "get out of here."
Sarah said nothing, but kept on draining the venom.
"Get to the others if you can. If not, then try to contact the *Enterprise*
and have them beam you back. That's an order, Lieutenant."
"You're going to make it," Sarah insisted, before drawing what she devoutly
hoped ws the last of the venom into her mouth. She spat. "This might hurt a
bit." She pressed the flesh around the wound, frimly, watching the blood rise
to the surface and flow around the fingers of her gloves, staining them bright
red.
*Bright red on white fur...* Sarah could feel again the horrible cramping pain,
the warm wet rush dampening her garments...no. There was no time for that.
She was touching Willie now, not the sod of a Romulan guard, and she wasn't
anywhere near the bloody door. Compressing her lips into a firm line, she
kept one hand on the wound, reaching with the other for the precious vial.
"Willie, I need your help now. Give me your hand; we've got to keep the wound
open to get the antitoxin in there."
It wasn't far to move, but just bringing his hand up to his own shoulder took
longer than either of them would have liked. Riker found himself tired from
the effort.
"I'm ready," he told her, as he forced his trembling fingers to pull the edge
of the wound open. He was lying, and he could tell she knew it.
Biting the inside of her lower lip, Sarah tipped the broken vial, watching the
pale amber liquid drip over the angry red flesh. It was far from the dosage
recommended, but it was all they had.
As the first drop touched the open wound, Riker stifled a curse of his own, not
wanting to attract any attention from whoever else might be in the caves. "You
lied," he accused through gritted teeth, his voice laced with equal parts of
pain and humour.
"I don't lie."
"Yes, you do. You said it would hurt a bit. It hurts like hell." He managed a
weak grin.
"Then I'm sorry," Sarah returned, making sure she'd gotten every last bloody
drop of antitoxin into the wound. Maybe if she broke off the bottom... "You
should try Romulan disruptor fire sometime. Makes this seem like pleasure."
Riker grimaced, feeling the burn of the antitoxin as it began to flow through
his bloodstream. "I have. It does."
"Then count yourself fortunate," she told him, in the same tone he remembered
her chastising her younger brothers for sneaking into Cromwell Manor's kitchens
after hours. "How are you feeling?"
"Fabulous," he answered, although he was having trouble focusing his vision at
the moment. "Never better. Too bad there's no music; I feel like dancing."
*With both of you,* he added silently, closing his eyes tightly. When he
opened them, he could make out Sarah's hands, only one set of them, presing the
bandage in place over the wound. The small amount of warmth the bandage
provided felt wonderful. Sarah's hand felt better. He ran his tongue over
drying lips. "What
about the dunfs?"
Sarah glanced at the hidden tunnel and the one they'd just come from. Already,
curious dunfs were no doubt making their way toward the tasty meal that was
sprawled only a meter away, a phaser wound marring the perfect white of its
fur. In the silence of the cave, she could hear the faint skitter of claws on
gravel.
"They'll be here soon." Sarah estimated the distance. Soon was an
understatement. "Can you walk?"
"I think so." He was guessing.
"Good." Sarah was busily scooping the remains of the medikit back into the
pack, careful to leave nothing behind. She didn't relish the thought of dunfs
tracking them; the stupid beasts already had the home advantage. "Movement
should help the antitoxin circulate faster. Give me your hand." Riker's
movements were visibly slower. "How's your vision?"
"No problem," Riker lied. The paintings on the cave walls looked like they
were moving in a gentle, rhythmic wave. Gaining his feet, he paused only a
moment to get enough of his bearings to continue. "Where's my phaser?"
Sarah looked around. "I don't see...there." She prodded the dead dunf with
one booted foot, then bent to pull the phaser from under the body. "Sir, I
recommend setting phasers to kill."
Riker knew there were words to respond to Sarah's, but he couldn't summon them.
Instead, he nodded, a limp, rag-doll motion. Somewhere in the distance, he
heard a howl, then another. Wolves answered each other's howls, he
remembered... There was somebody tugging on his arm insistently. Not a dunf;
human.
"This way," Sarah prodded, pulling at the sleeve of Riker's robe. "Unless
you'd like to be the second course," she added under her breath. When this was
all over, she promised herself she was going to go someplace warm, very warm,
and gorge herself on decent English food until her arteries clogged.
As soon as the two humans had disappeared around the bend of the north tunnel,
a young dunf, shaggy and half-grown, cautiously emerged from the hidden tunnel.
He sniffed the spot where the large human had lain, and rolled on the cold,
rough ground, claiming the territory. His mark made, he turned his attention
to the tasty meal nearby.
* * *
Counsellor Troi rolled her eyes back in her head as the erratically crackling
image of Governor Eric Anderson was replaced by an orbital view of Philemon
Three. She was fairly certain she felt a headache coming on, but it could be
the captain's. It could have belonged to any of the bridge's occupants, for
that matter. A symphonic headache, she decided, might be the best term for it.
Anderson had managed to annoy everybody.
"Counsellor?"
Deanna crossed her legs and re-draped her skirt, hedging. "He's not
consciously hiding anything,but he is very insecure." She couldn't tell if it
were Anderson's normal manner, or peculiar to this situation. "He is worried."
Picard pounced on her diagnosis. "Insecure? How? Worried about what?"
"The governor is trying to give the impression that he is in control of the
situation," she explained, slim fingers kneading at her temple.
"He's not," Picard disagreed with a derisive snort.
Deanna looked up at Worf, who stood over the Tactical station, a strong look of
concentration on his face. The Klingon was sending out intense anger, much of
it directed at the governor. That, combined with Picard's impatience and
Wesley's anxiety, made it difficult for her to focus on Anderson's emotions.
She was grateful for the Vulcan ensign occupying Data's station, providing a
calm counterpoint she could centre herself on.
"Sir," Worf interrupted, "I am picking up power fluctuations on the planet's
surface. It is in the..." he growled, growing more irritated when the readout
changed again. "*Near* the crash site," he finished, glaring at his station,
as if daring the readout to change one more time.
Picard was out of his chair in an instant, striding up the deck to join the
Klingon. "Show me."
Worf jabbed a lean brown finger at the display on the console. "Here," he
informed the captain tersely, "is the source of the fluctuation."
Picard looked at the map, making a quick, critical survey. "Are there any of
the shuttlecraft's remains left at the site?"
"No. Chief O'Brien reported that all parts of the shuttlecraft not beamed
aboard broke up on transport."
Picard's hand gripped the rail of the Tactical station, his knuckles showing
white against the dark wood-toned finish. "So, there's nothing left at the
site that could read as a power source?" His keen eyes lit on another reading.
"What is this?"
Worf followed Picard's pointing finger. "That is the mining field closest to
the crash site."
"And this?"
Worf scowled. "That is your thumbprint, sir."
Deanna stifled a giggle as Picard forced a cough and straightened, clasping
both hands behind his back.
"Thank you, Mr Worf. I was referring to the reading next to the thumbprint."
The Klingon didn't even look up from his console. "That is the settlement's
auxiliary generator."
Picard nodded. He couldn't make sense of the displays at Tactical at that
moment, so he strode by the science station, peering briefly over the shoulder
of the female Tellarite who was still sweeping the general area for life signs.
There was still no new information. It bothered him. There were too many
unknown factors for him to be comfortable. Deanna had told him she was certain
all of
the away team were still alive. Normally, her assurance would have been
enough, but not this time.
For a governor, Eric Anderson seemed remarkably ill-informed. The man didn't
seem to know anything about Philemon Three that didn't directly relate to the
mining settlement. That wasn't good enough. While Picard admired focus, he had
no patience for incompetence. Anderson was pushing the word to its limit.
There were nine Starfleet officers down there, likely to run into any number of
Romulans; Romulans who were possibly using Anderson's precious crystals to
power cloaked shuttles and God alone knew what else. Picard found it
incredulous that Anderson could know as little as he claimed about it all.
The bridge itself seemed alien as Picard's mind filled in the empty seats.
Riker should have been in the seat to the right of the centre chair, and it
should have been Data sitting where the Vulcan officer now sat. What Picard
wanted most at the moment was to call Riker and Data into his ready room for a
conference. Thanks to Anderson's inability to see what was going on literally
beneath his own feet, that wasn't possible.
If there were indeed Romulans stationed on Philemon Three, and they were indeed
able to cloak a shuttle, then what else could they cloak? Picard put a hand to
his throbbing forehead, in a futile attempt to ease the pounding inside his
skull. This infernal waiting was too much. He wanted to check on O'Brien's
progress with the holographic recreation of the Romulan shuttle, but he'd just
done that ten minutes ago.
O'Brien and his team were close; maybe in a couple of hours or so, they'd have
something to show the captain. O'Brien had said as much the last two times
Picard had checked on him. Once they had a good, solid idea of what the power
source had been, it would only be a matter of locating that resource, and then
they'd know where to start looking. Until then, all any of them could do was
wait.
Picard wondered, and not for the first time, if he hadn't made a mistake in
allowing Lieutenant Cromwell to transport down. Certainly, Chief O'Brien could
use her input; she knew the shuttle better than anyone on board, even if that
knowledge was only cursory. She'd piloted the damned thing. Riker had
protested; maybe he should have listened. After all, the young woman was just
recovering from six months of Romulan captivity. How much could they possibly
expect from her?
"Captain!" Worf's voice brought Picard back to the tactical station instantly.
"One of the away teams is attempting communication."
"Communication? Can you determine who?"
Worf's fingers flew over the touchpad, attempting to clear a channel and get a
firm fix on the shaky signal. "No, sir. I cannot determine the exact source,
although it is a few kilometers from the fluctuation I was reading earlier."
Deanna Troi could feel the tension on the bridge lift considerably. Even
though the ice storm had been over for nearly two hours, there had been no
communication from any of the away team before now. The small breakthrough was
encouraging, but not enough. She could sense Wesley Crusher's hope rising.
Although the boy wouldn't admit to anything; in fact, he had denied being
worried at all when Deanna had talked to him an hour earlier, she knew he was
concerned about his mother. In Wesley's mind, the signal was clear and
definite. To him, it was obviously his mother's communicator. He needed for
it to be, Deanna knew, his childlike desperation piercing through the sense of
duty he wanted to project.
Beverly had been having a running argument with Wes over some clothing fad the
young people had picked up from the last starbase. Mother and son had had a
few words the day before, loud enough for Deanna to have heard them while she
passed by their door. Deanna hadn't stopped then, but she had discussed the
situation with Beverly that morning over breakfast. In light of the current
situation, whether or not Wes would be allowed to wear the brightly-coloured
alien headdress didn't matter to anyone but the boy himself. The part of him
that hadn't yet made the full transition from boy to young man was ready to
accept the blame for anything that might happen to his mother.
Shifting in her seat, Deanna admitted to herself that she might have been doing
something similar. Being on the receiving end of one of Will Riker's bad moods
was not a pleasant experience, and for Deanna, it was a relatively new one.
For some reason, Sarah Cromwell was a sore spot where Will was concerned. The
fact that Will strongly preferred that Deanna keep her distance from the young
woman pricked at her counsellor's instinct. Deanna wondered if Will would have
mentioned his reasons when they met to discuss Deanna's "breach of protocol."
There were only a few hours left until the time for their appointment.
Deanna shifted again, uneasily. Even though it was several hours past, their
confrontation still unnerved her. Will had felt violated when she'd entered
the room where he was comforting Lieutenant Cromwell. There was something
beneath the feeling of violation, something he'd been unwilling for her to
read, but this was neither the time nor the place for thinking about it. Even
so, the
intensity of the emotions continued to nag at her.
END OF PART FOUR
* * *
Chamber of the Warrior Queen
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This story is re-posted with kind permission from the author.
Snowbound is part of the Snow Quartet. It is #2 out of four. Please check our STAR TREK Story Menu for other stories from Anne - or take a look directly at the Tapestry Saga website members.aol.com/unzadi. Also in the saga is E. Catherine Tobler's story, "Treasures," with more to come from both Anne and Catherine. The site also includes a saga timeline, family trees and other "companion" resources.
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