The Escape (16 page)

"With pleasure," he said. He headed for the door, moving with a purposeful little march. When he grabbed the handle, the door burst open.

Neelix had to stagger back and away as Rawlik and two orange suits came in. "Damn," Torres whispered.

"Nice timing," Neelix said under his breath, then glanced at Torres. "That wasn't accidental?" Torres shook her head. All the adrenaline pumping through her body suddenly had nowhere to go. She started forward, but the orange suits trained weapons on her.

"Don't, B'Elanna," Rawlik said.

"Last time you got shot up pretty good." "Then why didn't you back-time to get me?" she snapped.

"We did. You broke both the guards'jaws before we could restrain you. We decided that maybe reason would prevent bloodshed." "Funny," she said, "we were hoping that would work with your people." 171 "I've got to admit," Rawlik said, "we've never had prisoners as determined and creative as you three." "Thanks," Neelix said. 611 think." Kim clasped his hands behind his back.

61SO, was he said, "how far did we get on our first attempt?" "Almost to the time shuttle with the guard as hostage." Rawlik paused and looked directly at Tor-. 6'ally res out know this new violation won't help your chances much in the morning," "Did we really have much chance anyway?" Torres asked. "No tilde was Rawlik said.

"But all this effort is not inspiring to the council.

I'll still see what I can do." "Thank you," Torres said. She worked hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The energy was still flowing through her. Another few hours of pacing might get rid of it. 16 We'll wait here." She dropped down into a thick chair and put her feet up, pretending to be unconcerned. She'd made up her mind. When they came to take her to her death tomorrow she'd die fighting. She would go out in such a way as to make her Klingon mother proud.

Neelix sat down in the chair beside her as Rawlik motioned for the guards to take up positions on both sides of the door. Then Rawlik nodded to Torres and left without a word.

"Well," Kim said. "I guess we gave it a good try." "I must have been brilliant," Neelix said.

"I only wish I could remember it." When the transporter beam released him, Paris let out a sigh. No wind, and relative warmth-at least 172 zero degrees Celsius, which was balmy compared to the surface. What a relief He had arrived before Tuvok, something Ensign Hoffman had warned them about, considering the layers of rock and equipment the signal would have to penetrate.

Tavok materialized a half second behind him, lantern already lit. Tiny dust motes floated in the air around them, apparently disturbed by Paris's first movement.

"Wow," Paris said.

This had obviously been a huge control center, with workstations and paths through them. Hundreds of people must have worked here at once. But now everything had a smooth, gray look to it as if covered with dirty snow. The air was bone dry, but at least the wind wasn't cutting his skin down here. "Move slowly," Tuvok said, pointing downward.

Paris glanced down. A thick layer of fine, light dust flowed over the top of his shoes. The dust was still settling from his first involuntary movement.

"We will have to be very careful in here," Tuvok said.

"Each movement could create a dust storm. Step lightly and spread out so that we don't cover the other person." Tuvok glanced at his tricorder and then said, "This way." They headed off to the right. Paris took slow, medium steps. After ten feet, he wished for the wind.

With each step, no matter how softly taken, the dust would swirl into the air in billowing clouds. He couldn't avoid breathing the stuff. He finally reached into his kit, and removed a mask. Tuvok did the same. 173 Then'Paris got out his lantern. In this dust they were going to need them both.

Both men waited for the dust to settle, but most of it just stayed in the air swirling with the faint currents their movement had caused. "Stay ahead of it," Tuvok said, and they started walking again. Paris didn't even want to breathe hard. The stuff coated him and stuck to any moisture. He was glad that the cavern wasn't hot. If he were sweating the stuff would coat him like glue.

"Wow, this is some dust, isn't it?" He tried to sound casual, but he doubted Tuvok was fooled.

"The tricorder says so," Tuvok said.

"Nothing harmfid in the particles,. They are just inconvenient." Which was, apparently, the Vulcan way of saying damn annoying. They finally settled on a pace that would allow them to stay just barely ahead of the clouds their movements were making. "Don't stop fast," Paris said.

He found himself thinking of ways to avoid the dust instead of ways to help Kim and the others. That annoyed him even more. Tljvok indicated ahead.

"Fresh prints leading away from the time machine and toward that tunnel." Paris carefully slowed down as he neared the prints. He didn't want to disturb them. "They could be new or they could be twenty years old. It's impossible to tell since the air doesn't move down here." "Not impossible," Tuvok said. "Notice that the comers of the prints are firm, not rounded and pulled down by gravity. These prints are recent. They lead to T74 a tunnel which is located beneath the shuttle that took the first away team. Our ghost's first appearance on our equipment occurred when he transported to the surface directly over that tunnel." Paris nodded. "So, as we figured, our ghost wears boots." The both turned and slowly made their way toward the time shuttle. It was down a very dusty hall. They had to cover the distance of the hall side by side, shoulders almost touching to keep the dust from choking them.

They weren't so lucky with the doors and Paris ended up following 1bvok through gray clouds that even his lantern had trouble penetrating. By the time they reached the small room, they were caked in gray dust.

Tuvok looked like a ghost himself. The gray leached the color from his uniform, and lodged on his skin and hair. His mask, initially white, was now gray and probably as useless as Paris's had become.

Paris's nose Was totally blocked and he could taste the grit against his teeth. God only knew what it was doing to his eyes, "An individual time shuttle," Tuvok said as he stood and stared at the small machine off one side of the room. Prints in the dust led away from the machine. "This area here-was He pointed the tricorder at where a workstation once was. "comused to control this machine and probably still does three hundred thousand years in the past." Paris moved slowly closer to the shuttle. "So this shuttle must be set for automatic return.

When our ghost finishes his mission, he gets in and goes home." They both studied the machine. Paris could find no obvious means of propulsion, although the thing was emitting a thin, steady stream of chroniton particles.

Finally, Tuvok tapped his comm badge.

"Voyager?" "Go ahead, Mr. Tuvok," Captain Janeway'and voice answered. Even through the comm badge it filled the small room with authority. Paris looked up, half expecting a cloud of dust to rise in reaction to the strength of the captain's voice.

"We have found the time shuttle. It appears to be built for one or two people. It has obviously been used by someone in the very near past." "Is there any evidence of that person nearby?" Janeway asked.

"Footprints," Paris said. "But we didn't expect to find our ghost here. It's still got to be on the surface. Have the teams on the surface had any spectral visitations?" "Not yet," Janeway said. "But they just got there less than ten minutes ago." "Captain," Tuvok said. "After viewing this area, I have an idea on how to capture our ghost.

Have the transporter room lock in the coordinates of this room so we can beam directly back here when we need to." "Thank you," Paris said under his breath. He didn't much like the thought of another trek through the dust of that huge cavern and those halls. "Then beam us directly to the landing party," Tuvok said.

Paris moaned. A shower and a little more tomato soup would have been nice first. Ali, well, better to get filthy all in one trip. That way if they had to use 176 engine-room grade scrapers to get the dirt off, they would only have to do it once.

"Stand by," Janeway said.

A moment later the transporter beam took them from the murky room to the high wind and blowing sand of the surface. The dirt from Paris's mask blew into his eyes. With a quick, impatient gesture, he ripped the mask off and let the wind take it. Then he winced as the sand cut into the tiny unhealed cuts on his cheeks.

"I'm beginning to really hate this place," Paris said.

DRICKEL FINISHED BINDING HIS ARM SO THAT HE WOULDN'T jar his injured shoulder. He made certain he had enough flexibility to allow the use of his right hand. He had taken a special powder for his headache and pain-one that allowed him to think clearly, but that dulled the pain. He half hoped the powder would dull the effects of the wind as well. The voices outside were businesslike and insistent.

Drickel had monitored the new arrivals for a few minutes before tending his arm. For once, the PlanetHoppers weren't interested in this ship, but in the ships beside it. At first he had thought that a good coincidence. Then he realized they were taking the ships apart, trying to see how they worked. Judging by the sophistication of the transporter devices and the calm with which old Pointed Ears had 178 faced brickel earlier, these PlanetHoppers just might figure everything out. Which gave Drickel only a short time to medicate himself, bind his arm, and prepare for his next show.

He decided against threatening the PlanetHoppers, at least for the moment. He would put on a great floating display, and if that didn't work he would pursue the weakest link with something sharp and shiny. Watchman Regulation Code 3,765.41, Section 0 1, stated that no interloper could be hurt without just cause. The just-cause clause had recently been superseded by Code 3,765.41, Section OLIA, and its language was confusing.

He still didn't know if he could cause injury or, if he did, whether he would be allowed to back-time to prevent it.

Sometimes a man had to operate on guesswork with all these regulations. Considering what he was up against here, he didn't want to mess with any changes at all. Besides, to back-time he would have to get special dispensation (watchman Regulation Code 0000 1. 18, Section 99.32But), and sometimes that dispensation took a month of Real Time hearings. He was having too much fun matching wits with these PlanetHoppers to interrupt it now with special hearings.

DT-ICKEL grabbed his bag with his good hand, made certain he had all the equipment he needed, and doublechecked his invisibility cloak. Then he moved down the hall and out of the shuttle.

The wind seemed even colder than it had before, and the sand was blowing so hard it actually made lines across his vision. He had to squint to see clearly. 179 He got to the bottom of the ramp and studied the scene. A man in a dull yellow and black uniform stood weapon at ready, his back to the wind.

He seemed to be guarding the north side of one of the wrecks. Drickel assumed that was one of the wrecks being worked on. Another guard stood in a sheltered location to the west, another to the east, and Drickel could make out a fourth to the south of the same wreck.

Four other guards stood in similar positions around a second wreck. On that ship, Drickel could see other PlanetHoppers ripping the hull and moving the plates aside. This was clearly not scavenging work. This was serious investigation.

Drickel stood beside the ramp, as far out of the wind as he could get. He used his sensors to determine what he was up against., There were five more PlanetHoppers inside each ship, but only one had a weapon.

"An awful lot of firepower," he said to himself.

"I bet that's all for me." He laughed as the wind carried his voice away. They'd never catch him.

He was the best from the Back Room. No one had ever been able to keep pace with him.

No one.

Not in over two hundred and forty successfully completed missions. These people wouldn't find him either.

They showed their nervousness through the level of firepower they had brought with them. That many guards and weapons meant the PlanetHoppers were afraid ISO of him. Or at the very least, worried. And that was exactly what he wanted them to be.

Worried.

He used his good arm to shift his bag to his shoulder. Now they were in for a real show. He had twenty antigravity pads and countless smaller antigravity disks. He'd see how these PlanetHoppers would act with five old wrecks in the air at once.

Keeping his face as covered as he could from the wind, he walked across the open area. He still favored his bruised hip-the powder had dulled the pain but not taken it away-and the wind was stronger, actually a force he had to fight. He dug out some of the pads as he walked. When he reached the wreck he had used in the first show, he carefully placed the pads in the exact same spots on the underside. This wreck was right beside one of the ships the PlanetHoppers were working on. A guard was using it for a sort of shelter from the wind as he stood duty.

After placing the pads, Drickel walked up behind the guard and tugged slightly on his right ear. The guy spun, weapon at ready. Drickel held up his hands, pretending he was captured, as the guy looked around wildly, finally shaking his head, and scratching his ear before returning his attention to his duty.

Drickel yanked on the guard's ear again and then moved on to the next ship laughing as the guard frantically searched for something he couldn't see. As Drickel placed four more pads on the underside of another wreck, something caught his eye. Two men shimmered in the last sparkles of a transporter beam. lell They were beaming into an open area near the working time shuttle. The men were covered with dirt-their uniforms were gray-and they wore masks over their faces. The wind instantly blew the dirt off them. The first man ripped his mask off and let the wind take it. The other man took off his mask and calmly folded it into his pocket.

Old Pointed Ears and his pale companion.

Drickel's stomach twisted. They had obviously been into the old Control caverns. If they saw his footprints they would know he wasn't a ghost. Then an even worse thought struck him. What if they had found the shuttle?