Kane, who was right behind him, shook his head to show he had no answer either. When they'd left the tower in which Sousa and the others were sheltered, the ensign had noticed that the breeze was much brisker. But it had been nothing like this.

If the ramps had been silent on the way in, they were hardly that now. The same gusts that buffeted them, forcing them to keep low to the surface or be pushed backward, seemed to spur entire flights of demonic howls from the depths of the chasms beneath them.

Fortunately, they had almost reached the beam-down site at the outskirts of the sensor-shielded area. Another hundred yards or so, maybe less, and they'd be able to contact the ship. What's more, there was a tower between them and their destination-a place to rest and catch their breath.

Kane was glad they didn't have to go back for their companions. In this wind, it would be nearly impossible. They would just take refuge in one of the towers -the one up ahead or some other-and wait for the shuttle to arrive.

Unlike people, a shuttle could handle weather like this, he told himself. They were built to withstand adverse conditions.

The concept of human fragility put him in mind of Sousa's injury. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just blasted away at those alien machines?

Kane wished he had it all back again. He wished he could rewind it and erase it, as if it had never really happened in the first place. But he couldn't, could he? No matter how well Sousa healed, no matter what else took place, he'd always have to live with the knowledge of what he'd done.

And he wouldn't be the only one. Troi knew too-maybe not down to the last detail, but she knew. And she wasn't going to keep it a secret-not something as serious as almost getting somebody killed on an away mission.

What's more, Kane didn't blame her. Whatever he got, he deserved.

Suddenly, the tower was right ahead of them. And as they pressed forward into its shadow, it shielded them from the wind to a certain degree. Tired and sore from their exertions, they lurched into the arched entranceway and took seats on the floor just inside.

Riker shook his head, his face red and windburned. "Nice weather we're having."

The ensign grunted-then turned away, as if sizing up the last stretch ahead of them. After what he'd done, he couldn't look the man in the eye.

Riker seemed not to notice. Sighing, he got to his feet again. "Come on," he said. "No rest for the weary, Ensign."

Following the first officer's example, Kane stood and made his way out onto the outgoing ramp. After his brief respite, the wind hit him with what seemed like even greater ferocity. Worse, it appeared to have gotten temperamental; it was shifting directions now, making it harder to keep his balance.

Alternately shuffling forward in the crosswinds and plunging forward when they momentarily abated, the ensign made good progress. But up ahead, Riker was plowing through at a much better clip. Maybe where he came from, Kane speculated, people were used to this kind of weather.

Suddenly, before his disbelieving eyes, the first officer was knocked right off his feet by an unexpectedly powerful gust. Nor did it stop there. Even as Riker clawed at the surface of the ramp, it slid him quickly and without warning to the very brink.

Kane tried to forge ahead with greater speed, to lend a hand, but it was no use; he couldn't make enough headway. He'd barely gone a half-dozen steps before Riker slipped over the edge and was gone.

"Noooo!" he cried, the wind tearing at the word as soon as it left his mouth. "d.a.m.n it, nooo!"

First Andy Sousa, and now Will Riker. Both victims of his foolishness. If not for his itchy trigger finger, they could all be huddled safe and sound in some tower. Instead, the first officer was dead-and maybe his friend would be too, before long.

All my fault, thought Kane. Mine.

And then he saw a hand still clutching at the edge of the ramp where Riker had gone over. Five fingers that were clinging to life, but slowly losing their grip ...

Diving forward, oblivious to the chance that he'd be blown over the side as well, the ensign landed a meter or so short of Riker's hand. "Hang on!" he cried, not sure at all that the man could hear him. "Hang on!"

Crawling forward on his belly, he ignored the crosswind that tore at him, trying to shove him in the wrong direction. His world, the entire universe, had come down to only one thing saving his commanding officer.

Inch by inch, he pulled himself forward. Inch by inch, he fought the winds, the slickness of the ramp and his own fatigue. And at last, after what seemed like forever, he was within striking distance.

By then, Riker's fingers were white, and only a knuckle away from oblivion. Kane reached out and grabbed for the spot where the man's wrist should have been. As he'd hoped, there was something there; he closed his hand on it...

Just as Riker lost his grip. Kane felt a terrible weight threaten to wrench his arm out of its socket as the first officer dangled free in the vicious air currents. Then, as he lay helpless to do anything about it, he found himself slipping slowly toward the edge.

Something inside him screamed for him to let Riker go. Otherwise, they'd both go over and be lost in the chasm below. They'd both die.

But Kane wasn't buying it. He hung on, his cheek pressed flat against the smooth surface, even as the first officer's weight dragged him to the very limit of the ramp. He could almost feel himself gliding over it into the maw of infinity ...

But he didn't. He stopped right there. And a moment later, Riker began climbing his arm. When he felt a viselike grip just below his elbow, he let go of the first officer's wrist-and then felt another grip above his bicep.

Before he knew it, Riker had climbed up his arm and clamped a hand on the ramp again. A second later, his other hand joined it. Without a weight to pull him down, Kane was able to grab at the front of the other man's tunic. And together, with one enormous effort, they dragged the first officer up out of death's dark domain.

For a time, they just lay there on the rampway, gasping-stripped to their barest emotions. Then Riker took the ensign by the shoulder and pulled him along toward the beam-down site.

Kane couldn't believe the man's courage. He'd been swinging in the wind a moment ago, so close to oblivion he could've reached out and touched it. And he still could find the wherewithal to push on-to complete his mission.

Half-walking, half-crawling, they closed the gap. Even before they reached the circular plate on which they'd materialized, the first officer tapped his communicator and called out the captain's name.

Luck was with them. "Number One-are you all right? What's all that noise in the background?" asked Picard.

Riker told him. He told him about Sousa, too.

"You'd better hurry," said the captain. In the next few moments, he explained about the Jenolen and the Enterprise's chance to escape the sphere. "We'll hold out as long as we can," he promised. "But we haven't got much time."

Picard's imperative was still echoing in Kane's head when he saw his companion tap his communicator again.

"Riker to shuttle," he bellowed.

"Shuttlecraft LaSalle responding," Riker's communicator replied.

As Kane looked up, he saw something he didn't like-not at all. "Commander-look!"

The ensign pointed to the shuttle, which was rocking violently in the heavy winds. It was no longer where they'd left it. It was now only meters away from one of the towers.

The first officer cursed.

"Two to beam up," he told the shuttle, "now."

But before the craft could comply, a mighty gust did just what they'd feared it smashed the LaSalle into the alien edifice. Hard.

A moment later there was a t.i.tanic explosion. Kane could feel the heat of it on his face. And just like that, the shuttle was gone-in its place, a shower of flaming debris.

The ensign's heart sank, but Riker didn't miss a beat. "We've got to alert the others," he said. "We've got to tell them to come on ahead as best they can." He paused grimly. "And then hope that the Enterprise can beam us up on her way out of here."

"Riker to Counselor Troi!" The first officer shouted.

No answer.

He tried it again.

Still nothing.

"It's the sensor shield," said Riker. It doesn't just stop signals from above. It stops signals underneath it as well."

The ensign nodded. "You're right," he said. "It's useless."

And that left only one alternative. Kane flinched inwardly at the thought of it. He glanced back the way they'd come ... at the zagging, wind-torn ramps and the howling chasms. Then he looked at Riker.

"You stay here," said the first officer. "I'll go back and get them!"

The ensign was tempted to let him have his way. At least for a second or two. And then he grabbed Riker's tunic again-just as he had a little while ago. "The h.e.l.l you will," he roared. "I'm coming too!" The first officer glared at him. And then, gradually, a smile spread over his face. "Have it your way," he bellowed. "Just don't get into any trouble, all right?" Kane nodded. "You've got my word on it!" s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up their nerve, they started back for Sousa and the others.

Chapter Fifteen.

DEANNA TROI HAD BEGUN to worry when she heard the winds outside their tower howling like banshees. Leaving Sousa in the hands of Bartel and Krause, she had gone over to the arched entrance through which Riker and Kane had departed and felt the force of the weather on her face.

She had said a single word, a name "Will..."

He was in danger. She didn't need a communicator to discover that; she could tell by the ebb and flow of his emotions. Terrible danger. And yet, she couldn't lift a hand to help him.

Now, she stood by the entranceway again-no longer afraid, but confused. The winds were still yowling, though perhaps they were starting to die down a bit.

And Will Riker was still alive-despite that awful moment when it had seemed he would perish. Even at a distance, she could sense his presence, vital, determined. And he'd certainly been gone long enough to get the shuttle. More than long enough.

So the shuttle should be on its way, she told herself. And Will, along with that guilt-ridden Ensign Kane, should be in it.

But they weren't. They were headed back the way they'd come-on foot. Something had gone wrong.

The shuttle was never going to arrive. Frowning, she looked back at Sousa and the two engineers. They were going to have to carry the injured man to the beam-down site, weren't they?

Just as she thought that, Troi scanned the expanse of alien architecture again-and saw two figures on. one of the ramps leading to their tower. Two men in red and black.

"My G.o.d," whispered a voice behind her. Turning, she saw Bartel. Normally the picture of efficiency, the woman looked shaken. "You were right, Counselor. They're coming back without the shuttle."

Minutes later, Riker and Kane came lurching into the tower. Both of them were out of breath, and their eyes were swollen from staring down the wind.

"No shuttle," Krause said, just for the record.

"No shuttle," the first officer confirmed. He was tired and he was breathing too hard. "We're going to have to reach the beam-down site on our own-and fast. Geordi's managed to use the Jenolen to wedge the hatch open, but it won't hold up in there forever."

Troi nodded. "So what are we waiting for?" she asked. "Let's do it."

Riker regarded the ensign and the two engineers. "You heard the counselor. If we each grab a limb, we can make it."

"And what about me?" Troi inquired.

The first officer looked at her, his face rubbed raw by his battle with the weather. "You replace the first one that falls," he said..

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Picard listened to the bad news. "Five more minutes," he echoed.

"At best," shouted Geordi, straining to be heard over the grinding of the Jenolen's engines. "Maybe not even that long." .

Picard nodded. Time was running out. But his chief engineer had been careful to restrict his comments to the status of the transport ship-and not to offer any advice as to the fate of the away team.

Only a captain could make the decision to leave a team behind-to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many. And if Picard refused to make that decision, neither Geordi nor anyone else could make it for him.

Come on, Will, he thought, silently encouraging his first officer. Don't make me be the one to sign your death warrant.

A b.l.o.o.d.y-shirted Kane held Andy Sousa's injured leg -the one the alien machinery had all but crushed -as he made his way through the winds of the long-dead Dyson Sphere world. Beside him, Riker held Sousa's good leg, and up ahead, Krause and Bartel led the way. Each of them held one of Sousa's shoulders; they took turns supporting his head.

Every now and then, the ensign glanced at his friend's face. It looked ruddy, but that was the effect of the weather. Beneath that deceptive glow, Sousa was hanging onto his life by a thread.

Some time ago, Kane had lost the feeling in his hands, but he refused to ask for help. Krause and Bartel had each been replaced by Counselor Troi at least once since they left the tower, but he was determined she wouldn't replace him.

After all, he was the one who'd gotten them into this mess. He wasn't going to let anyone else carry his rightful load.

Fortunately, the gusts had diminished somewhat in their intensity. Or at least he thought they had. The crosswinds were still vicious, still eager to tear them sideways off the ramps-but the team seemed to be making good headway despite them.

"Look!" cried the empath suddenly. She was pointing up ahead.

Kane had no perspective on how far they'd come. He'd been too intent on keeping his footing and not dragging the others down with him. But as he looked up now, following Troi's gesture, his heart leaped.

They were almost at the last tower. And just past that was the beam-down site. Now if only they'd made it in time ...

With renewed determination, they forged ahead. The tower seemed to loom larger and larger still, until they were almost on top of it. Then they were inside, and the winds were silent, if only for the briefest of moments.

They didn't have the luxury of resting up, of gathering themselves for that last stretch of rampway between them and their goal. They had to push on if they were to make their deadline.

And push on they did, the wind like a fist in his face. Kane's muscles fairly screamed from his exertions-especially those he'd used to pull Commander Riker back from certain death-but he gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the pain. It would all be over soon enough, he promised himself. It would be over in a few steps ... and a few more ... and a few more ...

Then, as if in a dream, he heard someone shouting. At him? He forced his puffy, wind-scoured eyes to focus-and saw Commander Riker, thundering at the top of his lungs.

But not at Kane. He was hollering at the heavens. And his hand-little more than a claw now-was pressed tightly to his communicator emblem.

The ensign looked around ... and wanted to cry. They'd reached the ramp that led to the beam-down site. They'd made it.

Now all they had to do was get through to the ship. The hatch wasn't far from here. The Enterprise would probably have to pa.s.s within transporter range on its way out of the sphere. Unless... unless the ship had already left without them. That was possible, wasn't it? No matter how badly the captain had wanted to retrieve them, he couldn't risk the lives of everyone else on board if the chance to escape was slipping from their grasp.

For a moment, Kane pondered the prospect of remaining in the sphere. Of wandering from tower to tower in a futile search for food and water until their legs couldn't support them anymore... of being forced to haunt this strange, sterile place along with all its other ghosts.

Then he heard a familiar voice wafting in the savage winds "Acknowledged, Number One! We're on our way!"

The ensign looked at Andy Sousa-and as if the injured man had heard Picard's voice too, he opened his eyes. For a second or two, he gazed at Kane, trying to get the man to stay in focus.

"d.a.m.n," said Kane. "I'm sorry, Andy. I really am."