The entire crew presented the appearance of cool professionalism but Riker could see telltale tautness in their faces-even in Data's.

His own neck muscles had acquired a painful rigidity and he had to make a conscious effort to relax and avoid a spasm. Fateful decisions were arrayed before him like the forking paths of a labyrinth.

"They're taking him toward transporter room four-same one they came in on," Worf told Riker. "My people can converge and surprise-"

"No, Worf."

"But sir, we can't just sit here and let them take the captain off our ship."

"How do you know they won't simply kill all of our people at the moment of first approach? Anyway, if all the Rampartians wanted to do was to execute the captain they would have already done so. If we interfere now we might force them to it."

"If I went down there myself, sir, I could-"

"You're staying on the bridge, Worf."

Worf emitted a low growl resembling that of a grizzly bear as he returned his attention to his console.

Riker wasn't alarmed by the guttural sound. He knew Worf well enough to recognize the growl as a way of venting Klingon steam. Worf would do his duty.

"They're at the transporter room door," said Worf.

The precise, clipped voice of Ferris came over the bridge speakers.

"Commander Riker, acknowledge. This is Major Ferris."

"He's using the captain's communicator," said Worf.

"This is Riker. Is the captain all right?"

"He is conscious and in good condition," said Ferris.

"Let me speak to him."

"Open the door to the transporter room first."

"Give me a moment."

Crichton broke into the conversation.

"Riker. I remind you that your captain is of use to me only while I have your cooperation. Stop cooperating and I will kill him."

Riker looked at Worf. "They controlled those doors to let their devices out. They can probably get back in too, but don't want us to know it. Anyway, we don't have a choice. Open the doors, and give us visual."

Worf's face twitched as he touched his panel.

A view of the transporter room flickered onto the bridge viewscreen. The same transporter room from which the Rampartians' one-eyes had launched their attack.

The unconscious forms of two security ensigns, one man and one woman, lay to the side of the platform. Transporter Chief O'Brien was sprawled near the console.

Ferris and Crichton entered with Picard between them. They held his arms at his sides. A one-eye glided over and hovered near O'Brien's head.

Riker kept his eyes on this scene as he called his ace in the hole, chief engineer Geordi La Forge.

"Riker to La Forge."

"La Forge here, Commander," came the reply over bridge speakers.

"Prepare to override the transporter circuits."

"Override is standing by. When can I get a look at the intruder devices?"

"Switch your viewer to the bridge channel. You can watch along with us."

"Aye, switching ... d.a.m.n! They've still got the captain!"

"We may be able to change that. Stand by. Data, can you tell what that device is doing to O'Brien?"

"Some type of scanning, possibly for metabolic signs."

"What is...o...b..ien's condition?"

"Comatose, like the two security ensigns. Sir, it is possible that the device is reading the memory information encoded in O'Brien's brain tissue, and that it is also capable of reading the thoughts, the active brain waves, he'd have if he were conscious."

When there was no response, Data turned around to look at Riker. Riker was still pondering the remark.

"I think you have something there, Data," Riker said finally.

"It would explain a lot, Commander ... why the other one-eyes left O'Brien alive, for instance: to save information valuable to them. And, why they have been able to outwit and outshoot the personnel they have encountered."

On the screen, Crichton held a communicator-the communicator stolen from Picard-and brought it to his mouth. Yes, thought Riker, Ferris and Crichton would know all about our communicators if their one-eyes have been reading minds. And just think of how much else they would know ...

"Riker."

"I'm listening."

"And watching us as well."

Riker upwardly revised his estimate of what Ferris and Crichton knew about the Enterprise.

"We are going to transport to the surface of Rampart with your captain," said Crichton, his mask-face a cipher. "We don't need your help to do so. Once again I caution you against interference if you value your captain's life. We'll return him when I am sure you'll leave my world alone."

"Believe me," said Riker, "I want nothing to do with your world. I'm willing to call off the search-at least for now. Just give me back the captain."

"No. I can't risk the safety and health of my planet's population based on your word. You think I believe your lie, your fiction about some ship lost here? I've seen that your Enterprise is laden with vile, deadly myths, entire books and computers and minds full of contagious insanity and blasphemy against the only true word of reason and of G.o.d. Your so-called imagination comes from a primitive, barbaric time. We on Rampart don't consort with dreamed-up creatures anymore. We don't draw pictures in the dirt or spend all day looking at the sky. We've already solved all the universe's mysteries."

"That's one way in which we differ," said Riker.

"Expectation confirmed," said Crichton.

"Commander," Troi whispered to Riker. "Could you ask him about the aliens; the Other-worlders?"

The doubt was plain on Riker's face.

"I've had time to observe him. I now suspect he's hiding information," Troi continued. "What he's hiding feels somewhat like the Other-worlders. I want to be sure."

Riker hesitated for a moment, but the determined look on her face convinced him.

He turned back to the viewscreen.

"Are you aware of aliens in this sector of s.p.a.ce?"

Crichton stared back blankly.

"There may be aliens hidden here," Riker went on, "perhaps in another physical plane or universe. They could be a danger to you. Are you sure you don't want to talk about them?"

"My headset is filtering out your words."

"Crichton, this isn't fiction! This may be important to the welfare of your planet."

"All right, Riker, I'll give you a chance. Let's see if you can be rational."

Crichton switched off the fiction-filter on his helmet.

Riker repeated his remarks about the Other-worlders.

"Another fiction," said Crichton, as his nerveless mask-face tried to stretch itself into a grimace. "Science fiction, the worst of all. True science has determined that there is no alien life. Earth is the only planet where life arose. All life you see on Rampart we brought from Earth, because Rampart was a dead stone in s.p.a.ce. Humans are alone in the universe. You and your people just can't face that. Your minds are full of fantasies about aliens, even aliens that serve on your own ship."

Riker allowed himself a short, ironic laugh. He was standing near a full Klingon security officer and a half-Betazoid counselor.

"Injurious just to talk to you," Crichton went on, his cadence speeding up, an edge of hysteria becoming audible. "You're incurable, just like the criminals on Rampart, the Dissenters, with their diseased brains and h.o.a.rds of deadly fiction. You plan to help their insurgency, don't you? That's really why you came here."

"Not true."

"So you say, but you're full of fiction. Just as the Dissenters are full of fiction."

"This isn't fiction. This really happened. Maybe my counselor's own description will convince you," said Riker, nodding at Troi.

"These aliens appear to invade one's mind," said Troi. "They may already know about your personal life, as they already knew about mine. They can take you to other planets-"

"Enough!" Crichton cried. "For G.o.d's sake, stop!" He was visibly traumatized.

As Troi watched Crichton's blanching mask-face she sensed with great force that her words had rung true for him. He had experienced the Other-worlders, or aliens of some similar kind. It was something he could never admit to, something powerful that permeated the dark fear-substrata of his mind-maybe the cause of his tics and compulsions, his hand-washing and his verbal stampedes. Maybe the key to his personality.

As she watched Crichton and Ferris set controls on the transporter, she turned from the viewscreen to tell Riker what she'd discovered. But Riker had other business to take care of.

"Riker to La Forge."

"La Forge here."

"The two men from Rampart are going to try to beam down with the captain. Can you isolate the captain's signal and hold him here?"

"Stand by ... Should be just a sweet little piece of cake ... Should be but isn't ... No, they couldn't know how to do that! Only O'Brien would know that!"

"a.s.sume they know everything O'Brien knows."

"Then I can't override, the way they've rigged it. Not without cutting the power completely."

"Forget that. The fools might kill the captain. Based on what you've seen, do you know of any way we can neutralize the one-eye and storm the room?"

"Not yet. But I've just been looking at the transporter records of the one-eyes' structure, and there's one way we definitely can't neutralize them. Phasers. The one-eyes can be set to explode when penetrated by direct phaser fire. Could take out a whole deck. My guess is their b.o.o.by traps will be set as Ferris and Crichton leave the ship."

"Worf, you heard all that," said Riker. "Relay instructions to all hands-no phasers. Geordi, what about using the transporter to beam the one-eyes out into s.p.a.ce?"

"The one-eyes already have that covered. They're emitting the perfect interference frequencies."

Riker's eyes, like the rest of the bridge crew's, were locked onto the viewscreen. He saw Crichton and Ferris push Picard onto the transporter platform, then step onto it after him. The one-eye hovered next to them obediently. It was going to beam down with them. That meant ten were going to remain on the ship.

Picard now seemed fully alert, recovered from the blow that had knocked him out, an adamant expression on his face that said, "This is but a momentary setback."

"Commander," said Geordi's voice over the speakers, "their transporter sequence has started."

"I'm letting them go, Geordi."

Riker and his crew watched as Ferris tossed the captain's communicator pin against the wall of the transporter room. Then the figures of Picard, Ferris, Crichton, and the one-eye glowed, faded, and dematerialized.

"Data, do you have a fix on the beamdown point?"

"Yes, sir."

"Put it on screen."

Aerial view of a sprawling complex: blocky concrete buildings, spindly broadcast towers, white radomes, vast hangars for aircraft.

"Sensor information indicates this is the security force headquarters, sir. The only secure complex in the area. Highest density of surveillance gear and weaponry."

"This is probably where they'll hold him," said Riker. "Not a place we can beam right into."

Data cycled the screen through differing wavelengths, differing views. In one, large lettering on the side of the building became visible: CephCom.

In another view, underground topography showed itself in enhanced color.

"There!" Riker strode closer to the screen. "What are those faint radiating lines?"

"Underground tunnels or cavities. Too irregular to be man-made. But they do intersect with the foundation of the building."

"Any life signs down there?"

"Some, but not many. Too much interference to identify. No evidence of surveillance gear or weapons, though."