"Thank you," said Riker.

He tried to think. To ignore the challenge he couldn't help but see in the midst of the viewscreen's golden chaos.

"The Klah'kimmbri," said Troi, at his side. "The captain was right, wasn't he?"

She was still a little shaky, barely recovered from the turbulent, desperate emotions she'd experienced as she probed the away team before its sudden disappearance. However, she was a lot more composed than she had been even moments ago.

Riker nodded in answer to her question. "But it's not just a matter of polarization, apparently. They seem to be able to penetrate the mantle in either direction-send as well as receive. That's the only way they could have established the coordinates they needed to beam down our away team. Or, for that matter, the crew of the Mendel."

"It was the one possibility we didn't consider," said the empath. "That the research people could have been teleported off their ship."

"And for good reason," said Riker. "It just didn't make any sense. Still doesn't. Why would the Klah'kimmbri develop a special transporter beam-one which can ignore the mantle-when it would be useless against any real aggressor? Obviously, it can't penetrate a high-energy shield, or we'd have seen some disappearances on the Enterprise as well. The only crews vulnerable to forced teleportation would be those on primitive vessels without sophisticated shield technology-or crippled ships like the Mendel, where..."

He stopped himself.

Troi regarded him. "What's the matter?"

Riker glanced at the screen again. "I wonder," he said. "Could they have been waiting for a ship like the Mendel to come along? A crippled vessel, without any shields to protect it?" He licked his lips. "Maybe we've been looking at this the wrong way. What if the Klah'kimmbri aren't on the defensive after all? What if their real objective is to, say, kidnap the crews of unprotected vessels?"

Troi's delicate, dark brows came together. "But...?" Her unspoken question seemed to hang in the air.

The first officer finished it for her. "Why would the Klah'kimmbri want to do such a thing?" He shook his head. "I don't know, Deanna." Resolve stiffened in him. "But I'm damned well going to find out."

Chapter Six.

STARFLEET OFFICERS weren't supposed to take things personally. Will Riker did. It was evident in the way he leaned forward out of his seat, elbows dug into his knees, hands locked together like primordial creatures engaged in a death struggle. It could be seen in the way his eyes narrowed as he considered the splendid turmoil on the main viewer-the nearest thing he had to a real antagonist.

Deanna Troi didn't have to open her mind to read the combative emotions seething in the first officer. As a trained psychologist, she could glean all she had to through visual observation alone.

Amazing, she mused briefly, how the primitive hunter-defender still survives in the human psyche-even after all those centuries of so-called civilization. Sometimes I think humans and Klingons have more in common than either race would like to admit.

On the other hand, as involved as Riker got, he didn't let it affect his decisions. That's one reason it was taking him so long to make this one-knowing how confrontational he could be when the ship or its crew was threatened, he wanted to be absolutely sure be had distanced himself from his feelings.

Finally, he decided that he'd weighed the options long enough. Leaning back in his seat, he noticed her scrutiny.

"Taking the measure of my emotional stability?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

"It's my job," she reminded him in the same tone.

"And?" he asked. "Do I seem confident?"

She thought about it for a second or so. "Yes," she decided. "You do."

His chuckle was a little drier than usual. "Shows what you know."

She smiled. "But you have come to a decision."

Riker nodded. "Have you ever heard that expression the captain uses? 'If the mountain won't come to Mohammed...' "

She had heard it. " 'Then Mohammed must go to the mountain.' "

"Exactly," he said. "And that's what we're going to do." He raised his voice to the necessary level: "Mister Data, I want you to drop us down into the closest orbit possible. How far can the ship descend before we get into trouble?"

The android turned away from his console and shot him a querulous look.

The first officer amended his question. "Before either gravity or atmospheric friction starts to present a danger to us?"

Data gave a quick little nod to show he understood. "It is difficult to say, Commander. The energy mantle makes my readings somewhat unreliable. But at sixty kilometers of altitude, we should still have sufficient margin for error."

"All right," said Riker. "Then take us down that far-at half impulse. Mister Fong, let me know how the shields hold up."

"Aye, sir," said Fong, busy at the tactical board.

"Engineering," called the first officer.

Modiano, Geordi's second-in-command, responded after a moment or two.

"We're taking the ship down into the planet's upper atmosphere," advised Riker. "Be prepared for some stress on the engines."

"Aye, sir," said Modiano. "We'll be ready."

Under Data's expert touch, the feeling of descent was imperceptible. But Troi felt it nonetheless, the way one feels a wall when approaching it in the dark. After all, in a very real sense, the energy mantle had made blind men out of all of them.

"Well," she said, "this ought to get their attention."

"That's the idea," said Riker. "Of course, it's possible that the mantle will dissipate at a certain depth, and we'll be able to finally see what we're up against. But I'm not counting on that. All I really want to do is give them the idea that we're going to land in their backyard. Then-maybe- they'll be moved to open communications."

She nodded. "I see. And if it comes to a battle first?"

The first officer frowned. "That's something else again. I can't fight a whole planet-not this one, anyway. But with any luck, it won't come to that."

"One hundred kilometers," announced Data. "And closing."

"Some strain on the deflector shields," said Fong. "But hull temperatures well within normal limits."

"Thank you," said the first officer. "Steady as she goes."

Troi recalled what Worf had said about bringing the Enterprise into the energy field: What if the energy level is raised suddenly? We could find ourselves trapped. Or worse.

It wasn't a reassuring thought. The idea of the ship being caught like an insect in a spider's web...

No doubt, Riker had considered that possibility-and decided it was a risk worth taking. So far, circumstances had yet to prove him wrong.

"Eighty kilometers," called Data.

"The burden on the shields is increasing," Fong reported. "At this point, it's a geometric progression. But we've still got everything under control."

"Good," said Riker. "Let's keep it that way."

Where was the Klah'kimmbri response? Surely, by now, they would have noted the ship's approach.

Or had they recognized the move for the bluff that it was? And decided to maintain communications silence?

From where Troi sat, she could see the muscles in Riker's jaw rippling now beneath his beard. Was that what he was thinking too?

"Sixty kilometers," said Data. "We have reached the safety threshold."

"Shields are buckling," warned Fong. "The friction is too much." And then, almost in the same breath, "Shield Number One is gone, sir."

Riker's eyes took on a noticeably harder cast. He shifted in his seat. "Continue to descend," he ordered. "Maintain speed."

Not one of them balked. They continued to do their jobs as if nothing unusual were going on. As if there were no danger at all.

Troi herself resisted glancing at the first officer. She looked straight ahead, her hands composed in her lap-the picture of confidence, even if her feelings were in direct contrast.

"Come on," said Riker. "Come out from under your rock, you slimy-"

"Shield Number Two is gone," said Fong. "The hull is beginning to heat up, sir."

"Fifty kilometers," noted Data. "Still no break in the energy field."

Was it Troi's imagination, or was the bridge starting to feel warm? She could feel the perspiration beading up on her brow.

"Forty-five kilometers," marked the android. "And-"

"All right," Riker cut in. "That's enough. Arrest descent, Data. Take her back up."

It wasn't an order that had come easy to him, Troi knew. But what choice did he have?

"Descent arrested, sir. Preparing to-"

"Commander!" cried Fong. "I'm receiving a hailing signal-from the planet's surface."

Riker pounded his fist on his armrest. Triumph, the empath told herself. Standing, the first officer turned to address Fong.

"Can we maintain this position?" he asked the security officer.

Fong frowned. "For a little while-but not long. We're down to our last shield. And if the Klah'kimmbri should decide to fire on us-"

He was interrupted by a disembodied intercom voice. After a moment, Troi recognized it as Modiano's.

"The engines are laboring pretty badly, sir. If we don't get out of here soon, we may not get out of here at all."

"Noted," said Riker. "Nurse them just a little longer, Mister Modiano." Then, to Fong: "Answer their hail. Let's see what these Klah'kimmbri have to say for themselves."

"This is the High Council of A'klah," said one of the seven enthroned figures. "Who dares disturb our perfect peace?"

Riker, standing before the viewscreen, was prepared with a response. But before he could bring himself to say the words, he was struck by the Council's appearance. With those narrow faces, that pale skin and those golden eyes, they were dead fingers for...

He shook off his surprise. "I am William Riker, first officer in command of the Federation starship Enterprise. It is not our intention to disturb your peace, but to obtain information-concerning the smaller vessel in orbit around your world."

"We have been aware of it," said the same figure who spoke earlier. "But we have no information concerning it."

Riker darted a glance at Troi, standing over by a bulkhead-where she was not likely to be noticed. She shook her head subtly from side to side: they are lying.

Well, at least they'd established that.

But he couldn't confront this Council with it. It would gain him nothing-and it might cost him the chance to learn something about Picard and the others.

Fine. The indirect approach, then...

"We sent an away team to the ship just a little while ago," Riker went on. "Shortly thereafter, it disappeared. We thought you might be able to shed some light on the disappearance."

"I told you," said the councillor, "we have no information concerning that vessel. Nor do we have information regarding what you call your away team. Finally, we wonder if this professed need for information is your real reason for disturbing us. In any case, you are not welcome here."

"Am I to understand," asked Riker, "that you will not help us in our investigation? Even though our comrades' lives may be at stake?"

"This is correct."

"Perhaps, then, you can drop your energy field-temporarily. So that we may conduct our own investigation."

"That is impossible-for security reasons. What's more, if you do not depart immediately, we will be forced to defend ourselves against your presence. This is the end of our communication."

A moment later, the image on the viewscreen blinked out, to be replaced by the mantle's now familiar interference field.

"They've terminated their signal," reported Fong, underlining the obvious.

Riker bit his lip. The Klah'kimmbri were playing their role to the hilt.

But he'd be jeopardizing the ship and its crew if he stayed here. The engines were already being pushed to their limits. It was the wrong time to get involved in an exchange of fire.

"Mister Data, take us back to our former position."

"Aye, Commander."

Riker was halfway back to the command center when he had a brainstorm.

"No-check that, Data. Heading-let's see... seven four four mark nine one. Half-impulse until we break free of A'klah's atmosphere."

"Acknowledged," said the android.

With only the slightest of tremors, the ship started to ascend. The golden light of the mantle continued to whip from one end of the viewscreen to the other. But soon it would begin to thin out.