Sousa didn't say anything in return. He didn't have the strength. But at least he wasn't glaring at him. Maybe later he'd remember what happened and hate him like crazy. But for now, it was all right.

Kane found that he had a lump in his throat-a big one. He closed his eyes, not wanting to show the emotion there. If only they would get on with the d.a.m.ned transport already, he told himself. If only ...

And then he realized that the winds had stopped bowling. Opening his eyes, he saw that they were standing on a transporter platform. As a squad of medical personnel rushed up to take Sousa off their hands, the ensign spotted Captain Picard at the far end of the room, next to Chief O'Brien.

Once he was certain that the away team had arrived in one piece, the captain tapped his communicator. "Picard to the bridge."

"Aye, sir?" came the reply. It sounded like Commander Data.

"We've got them," the captain said. "Let Geordi know we're on our way."

Kane turned to a haggard, hollow-eyed Riker. "Will that be all, sir?" he rasped.

The first officer clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, Ensign. That'll be all."

"Thank you, sir," said Kane. After all, he hadn't wanted to lose consciousness while he was still on duty. But since he was on his own time now, he fainted dead away.

"Commander La Forge?"

Geordi looked down at his communications panel. He knew that voice.

"What is it, Data?"

"I have been asked to tell you We have recovered Commander Riker's team. We are on our way to the entrance now."

The engineer let out a breath. "That's good, Data. Another minute and-"

Suddenly, one of the panels in the Ops center exploded, bathing both Geordi and Scott in a rain of white-hot sparks. Before the younger man knew it, Scott was rushing over to check the damage.

"d.a.m.n!" he cried. "The plasma intercooler's gone. She's overheatin'!"

Working at his console to contain the problem, Geordi muttered a curse of his own. "I've lost helm control!"

"Geordi? Are you all right?" the android asked.

Geordi shook his head, forgetting that there was no way Data could see him. "I've been better!" he cried.

A second panel blew out, and then a third. Both of them burst into flame. They were losing the battle-and on the verge of losing the war.

"We've reached our limit," said Scott, "and pa.s.sed it. There's no way we're going to get the ship out of here now! Tell 'em!"

Geordi pounded on his useless control console. His partner was right. No matter what, they were stuck here-until the hatch destroyed their shields and crushed them like a walnut.

"Mr. La Forge!" It was the captain he heard now. "What is your status?"

"Lousy," he cried. "We won't be able to move the Jenolen out of the way when you arrive."

"What are you saying?" asked Picard. His voice was breaking up now; even the communications system was going to pieces.

Gagging on the smoke that was filling the Ops center at an alarming rate, Geordi barked "What I'm saying is this ... you're going to have to destroy the Jenolen in order to get out of there!"

Absorbing La Forge's bleak message, Picard turned to his second officer. "Mr. Data ... how long will it take us to reach them?"

"With our impulse engines operating at sixty percent power," said the android, "it will take one minute forty seconds to reach the entrance."

Captain Scott's voice came over the communications link, strident with urgen cy. "I cannae hold her together any longer, sir. Ye've got maybe two minutes before the engines go critical-tops!"

Picard spoke to the intercom grid. He'd sent Riker down to engineering, to expedite things if he could. "This is the captain. I need more speed, Commander."

"Aye, sir," came the answer. "We're on it, sir!"

Picard felt his fists clenching. Despite Riker's optimistic response, there was only so much he could do down there. It was going to be close-too close.

"Bridge to Transporter Room Three," he said. "Stand by to beam two from the Jenolen as soon as we're in range."

"Aye, Captain," replied O'Brien. "Standing by!"

On the viewscreen, the starfield faded ... turned blue, with a hint of green. Abruptly, the Enterprise was plummeting through the atmosphere, heading for the distant escape hatch.

Once again, their diminished shield capacity left them open to rising temperatures from the friction of "reentry"-but not so much as when they had no shields at all. Besides ... what other choice did they have?

Picard glanced at Worf. "Load photon torpedoes," he commanded.

"Photon torpedoes loaded and locked on target," the Klingon barked.

On the Jenolen, everything was falling apart. The ship was shaking badly. Consoles were sparking and exploding. The lighting was flickering and the engine noise was a shriek of overworked metal.

Scott had been called a miracle worker in his day. But he'd just run out of miracles. Turning to La Forge, he shouted over the din.

"She's coming apart, lad! I cannae do anything more for her!"

The younger man looked at him, sweat streaming down both sides of his face. He managed a smile, even now. "I know, Scotty. I know."

What else could he say? They'd fought the good fight. They'd done their best. They'd even come close.

But in the end, Scott reflected bitterly, they'd lost.

Chapter Sixteen.

PICARD SAW DATA TURN to glance over his shoulder at him. "We are within transporter range, sir."

The captain felt as if he had been waiting for that cue forever. Without a moment's hesitation, he said "Bridge to transporter room! Energize!" And then to Worf, almost in the same breath "Fire torpedoes, Lieutenant!"

"Aye, sir!" called the Klingon, executing as quickly as he possibly could. After all, there was no margin for error. If he got his barrage off even a split second too late, they'd hit the Jenolen and go up in the biggest conflagration this strange world had ever known.

Picard watched the forward viewscreen as the transport ship-still caught in the hatchway of the Dyson Sphere-loomed larger and larger, bathed in bright splashes of phaser fire. But even then, the plucky Jenolen refused to succ.u.mb, refused to yield to the atom-shredding blasts.

For a terrible, gut-wrenching instant, the captain was certain they weren't going to destroy the ship in time. He was certain they were going to plow into her, destroying both vessels and all their occupants.

Fortunately, he was wrong. In a sudden blaze of glory, the Jenolen exploded. But they weren't out of danger yet-far from it.

Because as soon as the Jenolen was out of the way, the jaws of the hatch had begun to come together again. And though the Enterprise was hurtling toward the opening as fast as its damaged engines could propel it, the aperture was already pitifully small.

Would they make it? Would they get there before the hatch closed, trapping them inside again-perhaps forever?

Picard's eyes narrowed as he watched their window of opportunity dwindle. By his reckoning, the Enterprise was already too wide to get through.

"Helm," he cried, "roll to port-ninety degrees!"

The image on the viewscreen rotated ninety degrees in the opposite direction. The captain's estimate had been a good one; they were now in a position to slip through the ever-narrowing egress.

Holding his breath, Picard concentrated on the sliver of star-strewn s.p.a.ce that beckoned from beyond their escape hatch-knowing full well it might be the last thing he ever saw. After all, they had long ago given up the option of turning back. And if they didn't hit their mark in time, they would dash their lives out on the sphere's superhard inner skin.

Close they came, closer still...

And then, before he knew it, before he could even begin to believe it, the splinter of an opening was gone. It had been replaced by a familiar sight that of the sprawling galaxy in all its star-p.r.i.c.ked splendor.

Exhaling, the captain pulled down on his uniform front and turned to Data "Rear view, Commander."

As the android complied, the viewscreen showed them the dark, foreboding surface of the Dyson Sphere-once again flawless, once again unperturbed. And best left that way, Picard thought.

Suddenly, he remembered Geordi. Captain Scott.

"You've got the conn," he told Data. And without a word of explanation, he headed for the transporter room.

"Come on," growled Chief O'Brien, laboring at his controls. "After all you've been through, you can't give up now. d.a.m.n it, you can't!"

As if either of his charges had any voice in whether they came back to the Enterprise alive-or remained on the Jenolen in the form of biological debris. As if it wasn't, finally and irrevocably, up to him-Mrs. O'Brien's boy Miles.

Across the room, up on the transporter platform, the outlines of two men flickered hopefully. A grim O'Brien set his teeth. He had a chance. They were out there somewhere, if only he could reel them in.

Abruptly, the shimmering outlines disappeared. O'Brien's heart sank. But he'd done this enough times to know that there was still a chance. Making adjustments in the att.i.tude of the emitter array, he tried to bring them back again.

A moment later, they reappeared-but they were still flickering. This was going to be a fight all the way. Ever so carefully, he modulated the gain in the phase transition coils and sent more power to the pattern buffer.

The images got stronger. And stronger still. He could almost make out details in their clothing, even in their faces. One of them was wearing a VISOR, he noted.

Still, the transporter chief had to be careful. After all, he'd captured a whole lot of molecules that were neither Geordi nor Scott, and it would take some doing to separate those out. If he got too eager, if he failed to bring them out of the buffer at just the right frequency ... he didn't even want to think about it.

"Steady now," he told himself. "Slow and steady does it."

Finally, the outlines stabilized. They took on texture. And then, as if their atoms hadn't been travelling through s.p.a.ce a few seconds ago at a speed that could barely be imagined, the two men materialized.

For a moment, they just stood there, amazed that they were still alive. Then they looked at each other. And they laughed, despite everything. Or was it because of everything?

Scott threw an arm around La Forge's shoulder. "There now," he said. "That was nae so bad, was it?"

Geordi smiled back at him. "I guess it could've been worse," he said judiciously. "Although I think I've had one close transport too many."

Scott's eyes opened wide. "You? How about me? If I never see another transporter, it'll be too soon."

And like a couple of drunken sailors, they staggered off the platform together. O'Brien watched them go-hearing their banter rise to a crescendo as they saw a familiar face out in the corridor-until the doors closed behind them.

Shaking his head and chuckling, he said "You're welcome, lads. Pleased to be of service."

At the sound of her door chimes, Deanna Troi turned away from her desktop monitor. She hadn't been expecting anyone...

But then, she was the ship's counselor. And people's problems didn't stick to a regimented schedule.

"Come in," she said.

A moment later, the door slid aside. Ensign Kane was standing in the opening, looking more than a little uncomfortable-even hesitating for a bit before taking her up on her invitation to come inside.

The Betazoid smiled. "Sit down, Mr. Kane." And then, after he'd taken a seat "What can I do for you?"

Not that she had any doubt about why he was here. This had to be about what had happened on the away mission.

But Kane didn't talk about it. Not directly-not yet. "I just visited Ensign Sousa," he said. "He's sleeping now, but he's going to be all right."

"Yes," she replied. "I know. I have been to see him too."

"He certainly gave us a scare," the young man noted.

"That he did," Troi agreed.

Kane cleared his throat. "Uh, back in that tower..." he began. "The one where the wedge of machinery fell on Ensign Sousa?"

"Yes," she said. "I remember."

Kane straightened. "That machinery didn't just come off the wall. I, uh ... I shot it off with my phaser." He licked his lips. "Accidentally, of course. But it was me all the same."

"I see," said the Betazoid. "Have you told this to anyone else?"

"No," he responded. "You're the first. Because you've got a pretty good idea of what happened already, I think. And... because it's easier than telling Commander Riker."

Troi met the young man's gaze. "But don't you think he knows?"

Kane looked shocked. "Commander Riker? How would he... ?"

"Simple," said the counselor. "He got a look at the machinery. He saw the edge, with its burnt components." She shook her head. "Only a phaser beamor something very much like it-could have created an edge like that."

The ensign swallowed. "I see," he said. "Then maybe I should go to see him after all. Anyway, you probably don't accept resignations."