Vaughn worked the modified panel, then peered out from the control room. In the center of the clamshell doors, a dark line appeared, reaching from the top of the shuttlebay down to the decking. As he watched, the line widened. The two great doors folded into themselves, leaving only the forcefield in place, its functioning marked by a lighted blue ring rimming the opening. Stars became visible, seeming to stretch out into slender segments as Tomedpassed them, a result of the warp effect.
Not waiting for the doors to open completely, Vaughn retrieved his disruptor and exited the control room. He glanced around at the landing stage below, then started back down the ladder. He had descended two-thirds of the way when he felt as though he’d been struck by something along the entire side of his body, from head to foot. The disruptor flew from his grasp as his hands tightened about the ladder. Air gusted past him. He looked toward the doors, which continued to open, but he saw that the forcefield had been deactivated, the blue ring signaling its operation now inert.
As the atmosphere in the shuttlebay rushed out into space, Vaughn felt his Romulan scanner pull free of his uniform. He dropped a hand from the ladder and reached for the sensor veil at his waist. He grabbed the small device, not wanting to risk losing it, then hooked his arm around a rung of the ladder. Staying focused, he turned away from the doors and inhaled deeply. Seconds passed as he waited out the storm, his hand and arm holding securely to the ladder.
Finally, the atmosphere in the shuttlebay had emptied completely into space. Vaughn glanced down to judge his height above the landing stage, then loosed his grip on the ladder and dropped the rest of the way. He bent at the knees as he landed, absorbing the impact, then raced for Liss Riehn.He climbed inside and moved to the forward stations, where he operated the controls for the shuttle door and life-support. He felt the vibrations of the door as it closed, but he could not hear it in the absence of a medium to carry the sound to his ears. An indicator on the starboard panel began to glow, a bar of light rising through different colors as it measured the atmosphere pouring into the cabin. When it peaked, Vaughn exhaled and gasped for air. He took several fast, deep breaths, then worked to slow his respiration to a normal rate.
Obviously, the Romulans knew that he was here in the shuttlebay—or at least that he had been here. They had no doubt monitored the clamshell doors opening, and when they’d been unable to override, they’d chosen to drop the forcefield instead. They probably hoped that he’d been blown out into space, but he guessed that they would not take that hope for granted. Soon, he would have company.
Vaughn identified the controls for the shuttle’s passive sensors and activated them. Then he picked up his tools—still sitting atop one of the forward stations—and returned to the equipment columns at the rear of the cabin. He opened the second one and searched again for the system he needed, eventually locating the craft’s deflectors.
While he awaited the Romulans, he set to work.
As Harriman waited, preparing himself for battle, his thoughts drifted to Amina. Death did not scare him, but the prospect of never again seeing the woman he loved did. He also knew that thinking of her in this situation would not improve his chances for survival. With an effort, he left his emotions behind and concentrated on the task at hand.
He scrutinized the display of his tricorder, measuring the gait of the approaching Romulan. Strangely, they did not move as swiftly as he would have expected in these circumstances; they didn’t run or even trot, but seemed to walk at a normal, unhurried pace. Harriman wondered for a moment if they might actually be heading elsewhere, but then they turned in to the corridor leading here to the transporter room.
They’re being cautious,he thought. No, not cautious; tentative.Harriman recalled that the six Romulan crewmembers left aboard had been divided between the bridge and engineering, perhaps indicating the absence of any of Tomed’s security officers. If so, then his chances of surviving the coming encounter might have improved significantly.
Glancing up from his tricorder, Harriman ensured the high power setting of his phaser. Then, leaning back against the bulkhead, he let himself slide down to the deck, minimizing his profile as a target. He reached out and rested the side of his forearm atop his raised knee, steadying his aim as he pointed the phaser across the room at the doors. The tricorder showed the Romulan only a few strides away now.
Harriman waited tensely, anticipating the precise moment to take action, attempting to time his attack effectively. In the corridor, the tricorder told him, the Romulan neared. Three steps away, two steps—
The Romulan stopped before reaching the doors, moving close against the bulkhead just outside the transporter room. Harriman guessed that they would operate the doors manually, opening them without stepping in front of them and becoming a target.
Harriman fired, his index finger squeezing the pressure-sensitive firing plate of his phaser. A concentrated shaft of red fire leaped from the emitter crystal, slicing through the still air of the transporter room. Accompanied by a high-pitched whine, the beam struck the closed doors halfway up, along the line where they met. They absorbed the powerful phased energy for only an instant before blasting apart.
The sound of the explosion filled the transporter room. Harriman continued to fire for several seconds as smoke and dust emerged from the disrupted matter of the doors. He concentrated on the rolling, gray swirls, searching for the darker colors of a Romulan uniform moving within. But the clouds spread thickly into the room, obscuring his view.
Harriman released the firing plate of his phaser and immediately rolled to his left, into the corner. He came up to a sitting position and raised his weapon again, taking aim in the direction of the doorway. He fired five short blasts, high and low, left, right, and center.
The room quieted with the screech of his phaser at least momentarily silenced. Tiny specks of debris floated down onto the deck, producing a sound like the gentle tapping of a light rain. The soft, almost peaceful noise provided a vivid contrast to the blare of his weapon and the concussion of the explosion.
Harriman waited, unmoving, his eyes seeking the enemy. Time seemed to slow as the seconds passed. He kept his phaser trained on the doorway, but he neither saw nor heard any indication of his Romulan adversary.
Finally, he risked a look at his tricorder. He raised the device and studied its readouts. In the corridor outside the transporter room, in the surrounding sections of this deck, there were no Romulan life signs.
Harriman attached his tricorder to the belt of his uniform, then rose to his feet. Covering his mouth with his free hand to guard against the smoke and dust, he started forward. He did not take his gaze from the direction of the doorway, and he did not lower his phaser.
At the threshold separating the transporter room from the corridor, Harriman removed his hand from his face and waved at the clouds. As the air shifted, he spotted a narrow, mangled section of one door, its ragged edge reaching up less than a meter from the deck, rising at an angle to where it met the jamb. The rest of the doors had been destroyed.
Out of his long-ingrained training, Harriman dashed into the corridor. He spun around as he moved, bringing his weapon to bear on the last location the tricorder had shown the Romulan to be. Harriman reached the far wall and braced himself against it. Beside him, a fist-sized triangular slice of a door jutted from the bulkhead, evidence of the force of the blast.