Good!

Batok said defiantly, as if he had won his point.

And what if in his actions Picard proves me right?

Then we shall act at the first opportunity. But on my order, Batok.Not yours.

Speak plainly with me, brother.

Kadar faced Worf head-on and gripped the other Klingons shoulders.

His grip was tight, his smile one of admiration.

Worf did not shrug off the embrace, but neither did he clamp his hands around Kadars arms to complete it.

Captain Picard wishes to meet with you and Urosk in private.

Still smiling, Kadar dropped his hands with a fraternal slap on Worfs shoulders.

The Hidran have thought us weak since we left their s.p.a.ce. You were right to execute Zhad. You have restored our honor.

I executed no one.

Anger welled in Worfs chest. He could feel his muscles tighten and he balled his fists at this sides.

And you weredriven from their s.p.a.ce.

The words were meant to gouge at Kadar, and Worf knew they had. It wasnt just the truth that was injury to the Klingon captainit was Worf referring to his people as you.

It was a distance never spoken by Klingons.

Kadars dark face crumpled into offense and he stepped closer to Worf, overtly making sure not to touch him ... yet.

What are you?

Worf knew the rote answer was to beI am Klingon . Silence furthered the insult.

Areyou my brother?

Kadar growled.

Again there was silence as Worf studied the Klingon captains face. Was this the picture he himself cast? Was his own face this severe and cold? Was he a brother to this one who would gladly kill every last Hidran?

I am Worf, and my captain wishes to speak with you.

Did they still kill the messengers of bad news? At this point DePotter would have welcomed death.

Anything was better than reporting the demise of a superior officer. What was protocol? Should he come right out and say it?

Sir?

Data turned from the science station.

Yes, Mr. DePotter.

Slowly ... calmly ...just say it . Hed so wanted to find them. Wanted to save them. He didnt know what to expecthe almost thought thered be some beacon to guide him. No such ensigns luck. Or first officers luck for that matter.

Planetary scans complete, sir. Weve pinpointed the Velexian shuttle. Its crash-landed, sir.

Commander Riker and the counselor?

DePotter hesitated. He didnt know how to say such a thing. He just looked down, unable to meet Commander Datas eyes.

No life signs, sir.

There, it was said. His heart shrank and a chill washed over him.

Data stood, pulling DePotters gaze upward as he did.

Ensign, have you scanned for corpses?

Corpses?

DePotter looked down at the padd he carried, as if he might find the answer there.

The bodies, sir? No, sir.

One too many sirs.

And two too few bodies. The thought was gruesome. Hed just a.s.sumed that with the crash ... and he shouldnt have a.s.sumed.

Im sorry, sir.

Data nodded, his bright gold eyes impa.s.sive to the error.

Do not be sorry, Mr. DePotter. Be thorough.

Barbara watched Picard intently, not knowing if she should stay or go. She wanted to stayto hear something about Will. Was all this talk cla.s.sified between Picard and his ship?

She supposed that the tight little man would tell her if so. The captains jaw clenched so often it was a wonder he hadnt worn his teeth into nubs. And he kept playing with that d.a.m.n spoontwirling the thing back and forth between his fingers. How anyone so brusque and affected was able to keep command of hundreds was beyond her.

Answers, Mr. Data, Picard said, annoyed.

Youre not giving me answers.

I only have theories at this point, sir.

At this point, Commander, Id take readings from a crystal ball.

There was silence save for some static over the communicator. Then: I am unfamiliar with that reference, Captain.

Barbara smiled and rolled her eyes downward. There was a bit of gratification in knowing that someone could ruffle Picards feathers.

The starship captain was obviously in no mood for this.

Then you have something to occupy your off hours, Commander. Whats your theory?

Data seemed unfazed.

I have two, sir. Since Commander Riker and Counselor Trois bodies are not with the shuttle, they may have been taken as hostages and the crashed shuttle left as disinformation.

By whom? For what purpose?

Picard snapped.

I would not presume to fathom purposes while formulating such a hypothesis, sir.

One moment he demanded answers, the next he chastised Data because the answer wasnt what he wanted to hear. Barbara had never really thought about joining Starfleet ... and she was glad.

She was going to say something, but held herself back. Most important thing now was to hope Picard shut up so she could hear Datas theories on Rikers whereabouts. If he had any. And she had to believewanted to believehe did.

Frowning, Picard rose and walked to the small window across from him.

What would the Hidran gain by doing so?

Data quickly answered the rhetorical question.

The Hidran, sir? Nothing.

Looking out across the saffron fields he began tapping the handle of the spoon on the window sill. This all made such little sense. The Hidran had no cause. The Klingons had no cause.

Whats your second theory, Mr. Data?

There is some inexplicable radiation residue at the site. Conclusive answers cannot be made without local investigation since the white-noise transmission is re-engaged, but indications are the area has been exposed to some form of high energy other than the explosion of the shuttle itself.

Picard cradled the spoon in his hand as if it were a Starfleet-issue hand phaser.

High energy like a weapon?

That is a possibility, sir.

Disgust washed over the captain. He stared at the spoon, thumbed what would be the trigger if it were a phaser, then dropped it to the sill.

The spoon hung for a moment, left a small silver mark on the ledges stone surface, then dropped to the floor.

Chapter Six.

DARKNESS.

Not the kind that came with sleep, at night, eyes resting. This darkness was without the familiar swirls of shadows, and lacked the comfort of fading memories of color.

Perhaps somewhere else there was light, but not here. Here the universe consisted of pitch blacknesschilly and sticky, a cold sweat.

It was the blindness of death, to be sure.

She reached out to grasp something. Anything. She felt nothing. There was no feeling. Was she even moving or was there nothing there to touch? All she knew was that shewasnt dead. And that alone was based on the fragile idea that death didnt come with headaches. If the pounding in her head was a measure of life, she wasnt in any danger of dying.

She tried to croak out a word but found she couldnt push the air from her lungs. Thiswas a nightmare.

It had to be.

Motion! She felt! Shed moved! A harsh shudder vibrated through her, like the sensation of falling just before drifting off to sleep.

Will?

Her own voice.

Sound! Motion and sound! What more did anyone want from life?

Her eyes were open, werent they? She felt herself blinking. They had been closed, and now she felt the cool air on her open eyes.

Therewas light here. Faint, but lovely in its own way; pencil line shafts radiating from ... a control panel? Sickbay? Notoo cold for thattoo musty.

Deanna!

His voice choked dryly, echoing.Not sickbay .

Will?

Yes. Where are you?

She heard him groan and she began to rise, but her head pounded her back, dizziness washing over her, sheets of cold fog blurring her mind. She quickly lowered herself the few inches back onto the cold slab of whatever shed been lying on.

Deanna, stay where you are. Dont get up quickly.

I cant feel you, she sobbed, her voice raspy. An echo.Not sickbay .

Im right here.

But he wasnt there. Not in the sense she meant. She shook her head, or imagined she did, and tried to put into words the emotions she was feeling. Her emotionsnot his. His were absent, and the loss was palpable.

No, Will, she said slowly, trying to control the quaver in her voice.