Star Trek: The Next Generation: The Battle of Betazed by Charlotte Douglas & Susan Kearney

Author:Charlotte Douglas & Susan Kearney
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780743434355
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2002-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Standing before the door Director Lanolan’s housekeeper had just slammed in their faces, Deanna Troi prepared to reach for her phaser. With their cover blown and the Jem’Hadar at their backs, the Daronan away team would have to fight their way to the prison.

“I’ll take the leader,” Vaughn whispered quickly. “On my signal . . .”

Before Vaughn could complete his instructions, the door swept open and Director Lanolan stepped onto the porch. “You must forgive Adana. The soldiers frightened her. Please, come in.”

The director, tall and thin as Deanna remembered but with his dark hair now completely gray, stood aside for them to enter. Crusher assisted Vaughn, who continued his senile old man disguise, across the threshold. To maintain her character in the family charade, Deanna gave Data an impatient shove, then followed him inside.

We told the Jem’Hadar we’re a family who work for you, Deanna advised Lanolan as she passed. Please don’t give us away.

I’ll do my best.

Once his visitors were inside, Lanolan descended the steps toward the patrol leader. Deanna and the others moved out of sight of the open door and, on Vaughn’s signal, drew their phaser rifles.

“If Lanolan can’t convince them we’re his domestics,” Vaughn whispered, “we attack first to gain the advantage. Understood?”

Deanna nodded with the others, but she feared for her mentor. The director stood directly in the line of fire between them and the Jem’Hadar.

“Is there a problem with my staff?” Lanolan’s loud, clear voice carried easily and echoed off the limestone floor of the foyer where the away team hovered in the shadows.

“They have been wandering the countryside without proper credentials,” the patrol leader said.

“Idiots,” the director said heatedly. “I’ve told them repeatedly, but they’re not very bright, I’m afraid. Shall I send them for their ID chips now?”

The patrol leader hesitated, as if considering Lanolan’s offer.

“Set phasers to maximum,” Vaughn ordered in a soft but steely voice.

Deanna held her breath and checked her weapon, dreading the prospect of taking life but ready to carry out her orders.

“We’ve already wasted enough time,” the Jem’Hadar said. “Be warned that if they’re abroad again without ID chips, we’ll kill them.”

“Understood,” Lanolan said in a conciliatory tone. “They are a trial to my patience as well, but with the war, domestics are hard to find, even poor ones.”

Without another word, the Jem’Hadar patrol marched down the walkway and onto the road. A moment later, Lanolan stepped inside, closed the heavy outer door and locked it. He turned to Deanna, a thin sheen of perspiration glistening on his upper lip.

“That was close. Come.” With three long strides, he crossed the foyer to what appeared simply another of the wooden panels that lined the walls, but with a flick of his hand along the top molding, the panel swung inward. “You’ll be safe in here, in case the Jem’Hadar return.”

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