From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: T'Selar Part 4 (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:41:30 GMT


Star Trek
The Next Generation

_T'Selar_

_Part_IV_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      The five Enterprise officers sat around the polished black table as
Captain Picard stood, his hands resting on the back of his chair.  He looked
at each of them in turn.
      "Counselor, what impressions did you get about the doctors' condition?"
      "Nothing beyond the obvious, Captain.  Beverly, besides being injured,
is feeling helpless.  Selar's thoughts are chaotic; I sensed,"  she paused,
clearly disturbed.  "hatred."
      Geordi looked up surprised.  "Hate, Counselor?  I thought Vulcans were
beyond emotions such as that."
      "No, Geordi, the Vulcans can normally hide their emotions completely,
but during certain physically stressful times, their emotions can show. 
Though I admit, I've never sensed hate from a Vulcan."
      "Hmmmmm," Picard pondered aloud for a moment.  "Mr. LaForge, Data, can
we pinpoint the doctors' position aboard the Retribution?"
      Geordi spoke up.  "We can program the sensors to locate humans and
Vulcans aboard the Retribution.  It'll only take a few minutes.  We can get
their location and O'Brien can reset the transporter to operate during the
Romulan's shield fluctuations.  Should be no problem."
      "No, Commander LaForge."  Worf looked disappointed in the Engineer's
simple-minded scheme.  "The detention cells on board the Warbird will be
shielded specifically against transporter beams.  You will not be able to beam
them out of their cells."
      "Well," Riker said, simply.  "We'll just have to go in there and take
them out of their cells."
      "Captain.  We do not have much time to implement this plan."  Data was
looking at a terminal that was sitting on the conference table.  "Long-range
sensors have just detected three more Warbirds en route to this position. 
They will arrive in one hour, twenty three minutes."
      Picard nodded and looked at Riker.  "Prepare a boarding party and wait
in transporter room three while Mr. LaForge and O'Brien locate the doctors and
punch through the shields with the transporter beam."
      "Right."  Riker stood up and started for the door.  "Mr Worf, Data,
accompany me to transporter room three."
      
* * * * *

      Selar was huddled in the corner of her cell muttering to herself in
Vulcan.  Every once in a while she would lapse into Federation Common, and
Beverly would pick up a vile curse.  Selar was stronger after the Romulan
woman's mind meld, but she was still very emotional.
      Dr. Crusher looked up.  She had dried blood on her upper lip and chin
from where she had reset her own broken nose.  She couldn't open her jaw very
wide and both of her eyes were swollen almost shut.  Her voice was a deep,
throaty mumble.  "Selar, calm down.  The Romulan woman helped you.  You would
have died if she hadn't."
      "I would prefer to have died,"  The Vulcan's black eyebrows were pulled
down and together over her white eyes in a look of pure hatred.  "rather than
to have mind-melded with that...thing."
      "But..."  Crusher began to refute the Vulcan, but was cut short when
Selar continued.
      "I'd rather have been raped by the guards.  At least that way my mind
would still be my own."  She clenched her fists.  "If that crone comes back
here I will kill her."

* * * * *

      R'annec was perched on a catwalk, half-heartedly working on the cloaking
shield generator.  Below her, the power couplings for the cloaking device and
the defensive and navigational shields lay exposed.  She waved a tool over the
couplings and sat back, dropping the instrument on the catwalk.
      I can't believe he doesn't care about the Vulcan woman.  He was never
like that before.  It must be the pheromones.  He's reacting to them a bit
differently than he would to a Romulan woman's.
      She picked up another tool and leaned into the pulsing cabinet. 
Scanning the power bus, she frowned and leaned back.
      "Computer, what is causing the surges during the shield fluctuations?"
      "An external power source is attempting to transmit power from outside
the defensive shields to inside."
      She picked up a data pad and called out to the computer.  "Computer,
place a graph of the external power supply on data pad number sixteen."  As
the image appeared on the hand-held computer, she frowned and pondered the 
strange signal.  "Computer, overlay this image with the graph of the
transporter energy output."  The computer complied and she thought for a
moment.  "Not OUR transporter signal, the Federations'."  The computer changed
the display on her data pad and she smiled as the pattern matched almost
exactly.
      "So, they're trying to beam over here.  We'll fix that."  R'annec leaned
back.  "Computer, modulate the shield frequencies using a random offset
frequency and change that offset frequency at random intervals, not to exceed
fifteen seconds."
      She leaned forward into the shielding cabinet again and began making
adjustments, satisfied that it would be impossible for the Federation ship to
beam through the shields now.  She frowned.  If Falkl'or would just return the
Vulcan to her ship, this could end.  Senseless.  She shook her head.

* * * * *

      Geordi looked up from the transporter console and blew an exasperated
breath, his cheeks puffing out.  He reached up and scratched his forehead.     
Looking over at O'Brien, he shrugged.
      "Damn!  We just about had it.  They started modulating their shields
just as we were about to break through."
      The transporter chief scowled and tweaked another control on the panel,
then looked up and shook his head.  There was no way they were going to be
able to get a signal through that.  Both of them stood back and looked up at
the away team waiting on the transporter platform.
      Riker, Worf, and Data were wearing shiny, black, energy-ablative vests
over their standard Starfleet jackets to help protect them from phaser fire. 
Worf would have preferred full Klingon battle armor, but the Enterprise didn't
carry armor in their arsenal.  The ablative vests were intended to provide
minimal protection during unshielded engine work, but they would serve as
armor in a pinch.  The three stepped down from the transporter pad when the
Engineer indicated that it was useless trying to beam through.  Worf looked
positively deflated.
      Riker reached up and tapped his badge, which he had pinned on his
shoulder when he put the vest on.  "Riker to Picard.  We're unable to punch a
transporter beam through the Romulan shields.  They've discovered our plans
and they are specifically blocking us."  He tilted his head, looked up at the
ceiling, and awaited a reply.
      On the bridge, Picard plopped into his chair, his plans exhausted. 

* * * * *

      The Vulcans stood around the sleeping mat, discussing the dying Vulcan. 
The doctors had done everything medically possible to stabilize Styhk's
condition, but by refusing Pentu's services, Styhk had sacrificed his own
life.
      "There is a way."  Styhk's elderly father stated to the doctors.
      The doctors stood waiting quietly for the elderly Vulcan to continue.
      "A mind meld will strengthen him.  It will give Picard time to retrieve
Selar."
      One of the doctors shook his head.  "Unadvisable."
      "With a group meld, the side effects should be negligible."
      The doctor looked down at Styhk, who was weeping and spasming.  He
looked back up and repeated his diagnosis.  "Unadvisable."
      Staoq glanced at his emotional son and considered the possible side
effects of melding with a mind in such turmoil.  Even with the effects spread
over a group, insanity could ensue; or even worse - emotion.  The elderly
Vulcan bowed his head in deference to the doctor's logic.

* * * * *

      R'annec shook her head, leaned back, and rubbed her temples.  She was
beginning to get a headache but she couldn't stop now.  The cloaking device
was still not working properly, and Falkl'or had told her not to leave until
the ship was invisible again.  With a huff, she leaned back into her work.
      As she adjusted the device, her thoughts drifted back to the prisoners. 
The mind meld had been painful; the Vulcan's mind was in such turmoil. 
R'annec had actually felt the guard on top of her, had smelled his breath and
the smell of the phaser burning through him.  She could feel her logic
slipping away; her sanity leaving her.
      R'annec had also felt Selar's hatred for the Romulans.  I don't really
blame her, the engineer thought.  Falkl'or should have let her go.  Damned
foolishness, that's what this is.  Selar should not be here.  She should be
lying with Styhk.  Poor Styhk, he sent me...sent her poems every week,
faithfully.  Why can't I...  R'annec shook her head again.  Why can't she be
there for him - he needs her...needs us now.  I can't just stand around while
Styhk needs me.
      She leaned back again and looked down from the catwalk.  There were two
other engineers in the room, but they were occupied.  She carefully removed
the protective shielding from the back of one of her instruments, exposing the
power pack.  With another look around, she leaned forward and carefully lay
the instrument inside the cabinet with the power pack touching the couplings.
      Hmmm.  Now to make it look like an accident.  She looked around.  The
other engineers were still busy.  She picked up her data pad and scooted
closer to the cabinet.  She lay her head on the side of the opening to the
power couplings, carefully positioning herself where she would be scorched by
the blast, but not killed.  With one more glance at the busy engineers, she
spoke softly into the sensor on the data pad.
      "Computer, raise the charge on the power couplings one-hundred and fifty
percent."
      There was a faint hum, followed by a blast of noise and sparks.  She
screamed and dove off the catwalk, her hair singed.  As she rolled to a stop
on the deck and looked back, a secondary blast melted the power coupling, it's
cabinet, and the catwalk into slag.  There, she thought.  Now it's up to the
humans.  As the other engineers ran over and helped her up, a call came in
from the bridge.
      "What the hell was that!"  Falkl'or was outraged and R'annec was glad he
was on the other side of the intercom.  She ran over to an Engineering console
and checked a screen.  Then she addressed the intercom.
      "My Lord, there has been an accident here in Engineering.  Shield and
cloaking generators are damaged.  It'll take about five minutes to reroute
power.  Engineer out."  She thumbed the communication panel off before he had
a chance to reply.
      One of R'annec's subordinates looked up at her after checking another
screen.  "Engineer, I think we can reroute power through the submixers and
save a couple of minutes."
      Damn, she thought, but displayed no emotion.  "Good idea, engineer." 
She touched the intercom button.  "My Lord, make that three minutes."
      Damn, she thought.

* * * * *

      On the bridge of the Enterprise, Picard had just stood up from his
chair.  He was tilting his head back and pressing his fingers into the back of
his neck, hoping to squeeze the tension headache out of existence.
      He thought back to the start of this mission.  I knew this wouldn't be
simple.  Just a matter of time until the Romulans showed up.  Blast their
incessant interference.
      Deanna leaned back in her chair, her forehead creased with concern.  She
knew it was futile to suggest Picard get some rest right now.  She was about
to suggest calling a doctor to administer a headache remedy when an alarm on
the Operations console tweedled.  Picard snapped back to attention.
      "Captain," said the operations ensign.  "There has been an explosion
aboard the Retribution.  Her shield generators appear to be disabled."
      "Ha!"  Picard strode forward to stand between the Helm and the
Operations stations.  "Is there any indication how long they will be down?"
      The ensign nervously ran his fingers over the panel for several seconds
while Picard waited, impatiently looking over the ensign's shoulder.
      "They seem to be charging a set of power mixers to power the shields. 
I'd estimate about five minutes, sir."  He looked up at the captain.  "Best
guess."
      "That'll have to do."  The captain looked up from the operations
console.  "Picard to Riker.  The Retribution's shields are down.  You have  
four minutes to get the doctors out of there."
      "We're halfway there, captain,"  came the Commander's voice.

* * * * *

      The three Federation officers materialized in a triangle, facing
outward, weapons drawn.  The corridor was empty, though; O'Brien had done a
good job of placing them.  The normal lighting on the Warbird had a slight
greenish tinge, and the red emergency lighting combined with this to make
everything look dull and grayish.
      Worf dropped into a fighting stance looking down the corridor while
Riker watched down the other way.  Data stood in the middle with a phaser in
one hand and tricorder in the other.  He swept the tricorder in a wide arc and
indicated the direction they should move.
      Data and Worf led the way, with Riker following a few paces behind. 
They quietly ran down the corridor for about forty meters, rounded a corner,
and ran into a couple of Romulans.  Data and Worf each stunned one of the
surprised Romulans.  They stepped over the prostrate bodies and continued.
      "We are now entering the transporter-shielded area of the Warbird," 
Data whispered flatly.  "I'm reading the doctors' life signs twenty meters in
that direction."  He pointed down the corridor and moved off.  Riker checked
his chronometer and started after Data and Worf.
      "Three minutes left."
      When they rounded the second corner, they were in the outer room of the
brig.  Four Romulan guards stood in the room, but these Romulans weren't
surprised.  Phasers were raised and fired, but the ablative vests dispersed
the deadly energy.  Riker, Worf, and Data ducked back out of the room and took
cover around the edge of the door.
      Data stood fingering the controls of the tricorder while Riker and Worf
fired quick shots into the room to keep the guards away.  They had managed to
stun two of them when more arrived from a door in the other side of the brig.
      "Commander,"  Data said.  "I am reading Romulan reinforcements."
      Riker ducked back out of the doorway as a barrage of phaser beams burst
into the corridor and sizzled against the bulkhead opposite the door.  "No
kidding!"  Riker fired another shot around the corner.
      "No, Commander.  I am detecting fifteen Romulan troops moving this way
from that direction."  He pointed back down the corridor they had come down
earlier just as the first of the reinforcements ran into the corridor, phasers
blasting.

* * * * *

      "Sir, the shields!  They're coming up faster than expected."
      Picard leaned forward.  "How much longer?"
      "Now estimating one minute, captain"
      The captain frowned and considered his options for a moment.  "Have they
reached the beam-back site yet?"
      "No sir, they're still inside the shielded area.  I'm now reading large
amounts of phaser fire."
      Picard reached down to the arm of his chair and pressed a button.  The
sound of phaser fire came over the communication channel.  "Picard to Riker. 
The shields are coming up faster than expected.  You have only one minute
left.  Move to a point where we can beam you back."
      "But captain,"  came the shouted reply.  "We're within spitting range of
the doctors.  We've got to get them out of here!"
      "There's not enough time.  Move back to the transport site immediately." 
He paused.  "That's an order."
      There was no sound on the channel except the crackling of phaser
discharge.  Finally Riker responded.
      "We're cut off captain.  We'll have to try to find another site outside
this shielding."
      Riker fired a shot at the advancing Romulan troops, then dove inside
another door across the hall from the brig.  As Data leaped into the door,
Riker motioned him into the lead position, then followed.
      Worf paused at the door, mashed a button on the phaser, and threw it
back down the hall at the pursuers.  "Thirty seconds!"  Riker yelled back at
the Klingon.  Drawing another phaser from under his vest, Worf hurried after
the other two. 
      "The transporter-shielding ends in another eighty meters, Commander." 
Data read from the tricorder.  The three officers turned and sprinted down the
corridor as a loud explosion sounded behind them.
      "Hmmmph,"  Worf grunted in satisfaction as he ran.

* * * * *

      R'annec was working as slowly as possible, while not overtly hindering
the shield repairs.  She had ducked into a control cabinet and was making some
adjustments to the shielding circuits when she heard phaser fire in the
engineering room.  Peeking out of the control cabinet, she saw three armored
Starfleet men with phasers.  The half-dozen engineers were quickly stunned and
the intruders glanced around the room.
      Not spotting R'annec, the tall, dark-haired human, tapped his
communicator and called out for the transporter to engage.  R'annec ducked
back into the cabinet and slapped the palm of her hand onto her forehead.
      "Damn!  They didn't get the prisoners."  She thought for a moment, then
looked out of the cabinet again.  The shimmering transporter effect was
beginning to take place.
      "Damn."  she repeated, and jumped out of the cabinet, running at the
three officers.  The bearded human was surprised and didn't quite have time to
raise his weapon when the lunging Romulan hit him with her entire body.  The
Romulan security guards burst into the engineering room moments later, only to
find the six unconscious engineers.

* * * * *

      As the frustrated landing party materialized, R'annec and Riker fell to
the platform.  Both of Data's hands were full and he looked back and forth
between them for a moment trying to determine what to do with the phaser and
tricorder so that he could help the Commander.  He finally put the instruments
down on the transporter pad and moved to help Riker, but the Klingon was
already there.
      Worf pulled the Romulan off the top of Riker and threw her across the
transporter room with a puissant shout.  R'annec hit the ground and skidded
across the floor into the far corner.  She started to get up and Worf leapt
forward with his phaser trained on her chest.  With a grimace, he started to
thumb the trigger.
      "Mr. Worf!"  Riker shouted, getting up.  Worf growled and R'annec
remained frozen halfway to her feet.  "At ease, Mr. Worf!"
      The Klingon slowly relaxed his body - just slightly.  He remained
vigilant, though, and when R'annec began to rise again, he growled, rendering
her motionless again.
      "I'm here to help you get your doctors back."  R'annec explained from
the corner.
      "Unlikely," snarled Worf.
      Riker nodded to the Klingon security officer.  "Agreed.  Mr. Worf,
escort her to the brig."
      "Gladly."  He moved forward and attempted to grab R'annec by the arm,
but she jerked her arm away from him and shouted at Riker.
      "Keep your ogre's hands off of me, damnit!  You can point me where you
want me to go, but I don't want to be touched by that thing again."  She
flicked her eyes at the outraged Klingon.
      "You,"  Worf stressed.  "don't have a say in the matter, Romulan!"  He
made another grab for her arm, but she eluded him again.
      "Call your ogre off, commander.  I'm here to help you."
      "Mr. Worf, Could you simply direct our -guest- to her cell."  Riker
conceded.
      Worf grumblingly complied and backed off, waving his phaser toward the
door.  The Romulan Engineer stood up and straightened her uniform, then left
the room with the Klingon following a short distance behind.
      Riker looked at Data and shrugged.

* * * * *

      The cell block of the Retribution was a mess.  Beverly and Selar watched
through the detention field as Romulan medics revived the stunned guards and
technicians repaired the battle-damaged equipment in the outer room.
      "Do you suppose the boarding party escaped?  Do you suppose,"  Beverly
addressed the Vulcan hesitantly.  "that they're still alive?"
      "They have not been brought here to be detained, Doctor.  As for their
medical condition, I cannot say."  Selar's voice was tinged with irritation at
the illogical question.
      "They were so close.  They almost had us."  Beverly turned away from the
detention field and paced a few steps, considering the abortive rescue
attempt.
      "As you can see, Beverly..."  Selar's irritation trailed off as did her
voice.  Beverly turned around to see the Vulcan pitch forward and hit the
floor.

* * * * *

      The boarding party hardly had time to remove their ablative vests when
they were summoned to the conference room.  When Picard heard the description
of what happened aboard the Retribution, and about the Romulan woman being
brought back, he made a thoughtful noise and had Worf send for her to be
brought to the conference room.  He stood looking out the window at the green
running lights of the Retribution while they waited in silence.
      When the Romulan arrived, with a pair of security officers, Picard
turned around and looked at her for a moment.  She stood quiet and still until
he spoke.
      "What is your name and rank?"
      "R'annec.  My position is analogous to that of your Chief Engineer."

      Picard glanced at Troi who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. 
"Engineer R'annec, didn't you think it a bit futile to attempt to tackle my
officer while he was already in transit.  You couldn't have stopped him, but
you could have killed both him and yourself."
      "As I have told your ogre, I was not attempting to stop him from
transporting.  I wanted to be brought here to help you."
      "Hmmmph!"  Worf looked away from the prisoner.  Picard ignored the
Klingon's objection and thought for another moment.
      "Why should you desire to help us?"
      "The Vulcan, Selar should not be there.  She should be on Vulcan, but
the captain will not return her to you.  Her condition is affecting the males
on the Retribution.  They are not themselves."
      "Selar's condition?"  Troi asked.  Picard had not told anyone else the
nature of Selar's journey to Vulcan, but he now gave them the most terse
update possible.
      "Why do you concern yourself with Selar's condition?"  Picard continued.
      "I just do."
      "What makes you think you think you can help us?"  Riker queried the
Romulan prisoner.
      "You can use me as a bargaining chip.  If you manipulate the situation
correctly, my captain will trade your officers for my release."
      "That is a lie."  Worf stated flatly.  "The Romulans would never make a
trade of prisoners - especially two for one."  He looked at R'annec.  "They do
not have that much honor."  The Klingon folded his arms across his chest,
effectively ending the conversation as far as he was concerned.
      "The captain..."  R'annec paused, considering her words.  "Cares.  He
and I are - close."  R'annec frowned the smallest of frowns.  Troi didn't miss
it, and she frowned also.
      Riker saw the counselor's reaction and spoke out.  "I agree with Worf. 
They won't bite for this one."
      "You don't have a choice."  R'annec shouted.  "If you don't hurry, Selar
will die, and so will all of you.  There are more Warbirds on their way to
destroy you.  They'll be here in minutes."
      Data looked over at Picard.  "Twenty one minutes to weapons range,
captain."  There was a silence, during which Picard walked back around the
table and looked out the window again.
      He turned back around and looked at each of the officers in turn.  Worf
shook his head no.  Riker shook his head no.  Data made no motion or
expression.  Geordi shrugged.  Deanna nodded.  "Counselor?"
      "Captain, she is truly concerned - I don't know why.  She believes that
the captain of the Retribution will make the trade."  She sat calmly with her
hands in her lap.
      Picard was silent for another minute, while all eyes focussed on him. 
Finally he nodded.  "We don't have anything to lose playing this hand out." 
He started toward the door, but R'annec called out.
      "Captain,"  Picard turned to her.  "A favor please?"
      Worf grunted.  Picard raised an eyebrow.
      "I do not wish to look like a traitor to my people.  Do not mention my
cooperation."  She paused.  The room was silent.  "Please."  Picard mumbled
something incomprehensible, turned and left.

* * * * *

      "My lord, they are hailing us."
      Falkl'or spun around to the screen, still in a rage.  "Put them
through."  Falkl'or's second in command stepped up beside the captain as the
screen resolved to the bridge of the Enterprise.  Piek'rd sat in his chair
with a smug look.  Strange, Falkl'or thought.  He almost looks proud that his
rescue attempt failed.
      "You seem quite satisfied with yourself, Piek'rd.  Despite the fact that
your raiding party failed completely."
      "Not completely, captain.  We didn't get our people back, but we got the
next best thing."  He smiled and motioned to his side.  A Klingon entered the
range of the viewer dragging R'annec behind him in chains.  The Klingon pushed
her onto her knees in front of Piek'rd.  Falkl'or's jaw dropped.
      "It seems, Falkl'or, that we did manage to bring back a quite valuable
member of your crew.  Your Chief Engineer, in fact.  Quite informative."
      Falkl'or stammered and Piek'rd continued.  "Perhaps you would like to
discuss a trade."  Falkl'or's jaw snapped shut at the bold idea.  He looked
thoughtful.
      The second in command stepped forward.  "Outrageous!  You should know
that we would never..."  He was brought up short as the back of Falkl'or's
fist found his face.  Falkl'or smiled as his first officer stumbled back.
      "That is...acceptable, Piek'rd.  I would enjoy getting such a valuable
officer back."
      The first officer's eyes flew open as he held his nose.  Falkl'or
continued.  "Our conduct has been truly miscreant.  Please forgive me and
return my officer in trade for yours."
      Picard smiled.  "If you will move our doctors to a transporter pad on
your ship, we will pick them up with our transporters.  To do so, we will both
have to lower our shields, at which time you can beam your engineer back.  The
trade will be simultaneous."
      Falkl'or beamed a broad grin.  "Very good, Captain.  We will call you
when we get the doctors in position for transport.  Retribution out."

* * * * *

      "He's lying," said Riker, Deanna, and Worf simultaneously as the
communication channel closed.  The looked at each other and Troi continued.
      "He is definitely dissembling.  He does not truly intend to trade
prisoners in good faith."
      Picard looked up at Geordi, who was standing at the main-bridge
engineering terminal.  "Is there anything they can do to stop it, Mr.
LaForge?"
      "Not that I can see, captain.  They'll have to lower their shields to
beam her back, and they couldn't possibly raise them again fast enough to
block us from locking onto the doctors."
      Picard nodded.  "Mr. Worf, remove those manacles and escort Engineer
R'annec to transporter room three."  He looked back to the other bridge
officers.  "We may as well try, since Commander LaForge doesn't see how they
could stop it.  We need to get the doctors back and get out of the neutral
zone before the Romulan warships arrive in ..."
      Data looked up.  "Twelve minutes."

* * * * *

      Dr. Crusher was hoping for a miracle.  She sat in the cell beside Selar,
staring at the floor.  The Vulcan lay very still on the floor, her eyes glazed
over with the milky membranes.  She was not asleep, but she wasn't exactly
awake either.
      Bev had felt that Jean-Luc would come through for her - and she knew
he'd tried, but she was beginning to fear it was too late.  Selar was about to
die.  Tears of frustration squeezed from Bev's blackened and swollen eyes.
      She could understand what Selar had meant about the sound of the
detention field getting on her nerves.  Logically, Dr. Crusher knew there was
no way she could be hearing the subsonics of the field, but she swore she
could hear their hum in her head.  The sound, whether imagined or real,
rattled her soul to it's core and drained her of hope.  She sat alone in the
cell slowly losing her mind.
      Suddenly everything was quiet.  No subsonic hum.  She stared at the
floor in disbelief.  Had she just snapped?  Was that the end of her sanity? 
She was startled when a pair of Romulan guards picked her up by the arms and
began to carry her from the cell.  To weak and afraid to resist, she looked
back to see another pair of guards picking up Selar and following along
behind.
      They were carried down the hall and around a corner.  Bev tried to keep
up with where they were, but her vision was blurry.  They were carried for an
indeterminate amount of time before they set her down.  Bev looked up and
realized that she and Selar were on a transporter pad.
      She looked around.  There was another Romulan - familiar.  Oh, it's the
Romulan captain.  Crusher suddenly realized they were being released.  They
were going home.
      "Oh, thank you, Jean-Luc; thank you,"  she said to noone in particular. 
Selar looked up, weakly and smiled.  Bev reached out and took Selar's hand and
squeezed it.  "We're going home, Selar.  Hold on."  They held hands as the
transporter beam began to dematerialize them.
      As they disappeared, R'annec began to materialize.  Just as she became
solid, during the brief moment of disorientation, Falkl'or reached up and
jerked her from the pad.
      "Now!"  He shouted at the transporter operator, who pressed a set of
buttons on his console.  The Romulan smiled and nodded at his captain.

* * * * *
  
      O'Brien smiled as R'annec dematerialized off of his pad.  He already had
the lock on the two doctors and he thumbed the control to transport them home. 
He grinned bigger as the doctors began to take shape on his pad.  O'Brien
loved his job.
      Suddenly the doctors were gone.  He blinked and looked at the controls. 
he still had a lock, but their signals were dispersing.  Oh my God!  He ran
his fingers over the controls and the doctor's forms flickered, then
disappeared again.  O'Brien hated his job.

      "What do you mean they're fading?"  Riker shouted into the communicator
badge.
      O'Brien's voice came back over the channel.  "Their signals are being
scrambled, sir.  I'm losing them."
      "Well hang onto them, damnit!"
      Picard turned to Worf.  "Open hailing frequencies."  He turned back
around to see the Romulan bridge, Falkl'or standing in the center, holding
R'annec by the elbow.  R'annec had a look of outrage on her face.
      "What have you done?"  Picard shouted at the Romulan captain.
      Falkl'or just grinned.  "I would suggest you give us back the prisoners
before they're completely lost."
      Chief O'Brien's voice came over the communicator again.  "Captain,
there's nothing I can do.  I'm losing them."
      "O'Brien, place them back onto the Retribution, immediately."  Picard
stared at the Romulan captain who was grinning like an ass.  He turned his
attention To R'annec.  Raising his finger, he shouted, "You!"
      Just that moment, Counselor stood up, reached over the rail to Worf's
console, and slapped the control to terminate communications.  Worf and Picard
both scowled at her.
      "Captain, she asked you not to reveal her part in the rescue attempt."
      "She lied!"  Worf growled at the counselor, who stood her ground.
      "She tried, captain.  This deception was not her doing.  By not exposing
her, perhaps she may still be able to help us."
      "Do you think so, counselor?"  Picard asked.
      "I do."
      Just then, Data turned around in his chair at the operations console. 
"Captain, I don't think Engineer R'annec will have time to help us.  There are
three Warbirds entering weapons range; on tactical."  Everyone on the bridge
looked up to see three ships swoop in to encircle the Enterprise, their
forward disruptors glowing like the furnaces of hell.


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