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“Evade!” Donatra snarled.

The words had barely escaped her when she was catapulted forward. The next thing she knew she was piled against a bulkhead, one of her arms throbbing with pain.

Tomalak, Donatra thought.

He had tricked her, exchanging ships with one of his commanders. Then he had ordered that commander to attack her while Tomalak himself waited for an opening.

“Get us out of here!” Donatra exhorted her helm officer.

On the viewscreen above her, the enemy released another volley. She felt a second impact, worse than the first. In its wake another console exploded, sending up a geyser of smoke and sparks.

“Helm!” Donatra bellowed, dragging herself to her feet.

Then she saw that the helm was unmanned, her officer dead or otherwise incapacitated. Staggering across the bridge, she brought her good hand down on the controls and punched in a prearranged maneuver.

I may perish, she thought, turning back to the viewscreen in defiance, but I will not go down without a fight!

Decalon had caught a glimpse of Doctor Crusher as she went tumbling into a gully. However, he was too busy dodging disruptor beams to do anything about it.

Finally, one of them found him-or rather, found his weapon, blasting it out of his hand. But the Romulan who did it was leveled by the Kevrata, giving Decalon a moment’s respite.

He used it to go after Doctor Crusher.

It wouldn’t be easy to find her among the twisting curtains of snow, but Decalon was determined, and he had always had a good sense of direction. Finally, after staggering around for a while, he caught sight of something-a slash of purple that might have been part of a Kevratan overcoat.

It’s her, he thought. It must be.

But before he could reach the doctor, someone beat him to it. One of Sela’s centurions. And he had a disruptor lodged in his fist, which gave him a considerable advantage over Decalon.

There was no telling what orders Sela had given her soldiers-whether they were to recapture Doctor Crusher or simply kill her-so Decalon didn’t have the luxury of sneaking up on his target.

Putting his head down, he covered the intervening distance as quickly as he could. Thirty meters, he thought. Twenty. Ten…

Finally, with a last desperate burst of speed, Decalon went bowling into the centurion. There was a flash of pale green energy-errant, he hoped-and they were skidding into the gully together, jockeying for position as they fell.

They wound up side by side, struggling for the centurion’s disruptor-but not for long. Because just as Decalon thought he might wrest the weapon away, the centurion elbowed him in the face.

Decalon lost his grip for a moment-but that was all the time the centurion needed. Scrambling to his feet, he aimed his weapon at Decalon and fired.

Decalon was thrown backward, the air exploding from his lungs. But when he landed, he found he was still alive. Fighting hard to breathe, he thought: Stun. It was set on stun.

Through a haze of pain, Decalon watched Beverly tackle the centurion and try to take him down. But he backhanded her across the face, sending her flying backward, and aimed his weapon at her as he had aimed it at Decalon.

No doubt, he meant to knock her unconscious. Then he would take her to Sela, who would kill her or torture her for what she knew.

Either way, Decalon couldn’t allow it. Doctor Crusher was one of those who had risked their lives to smuggle him to freedom. She wouldn’t become a prisoner of the Empire as long as he was alive to prevent it.

Pushing himself up out of the snow, he took a step and dove flat-out across the gully.

But he was too weak, too starved for air. His dive carried him only as far as the centurion’s feet.

Turning to Decalon, the centurion frowned in annoyance. Then, calmly and methodically, he reset his disruptor.

Decalon grabbed the centurion’s leg and tried to push him back. But it was no use. He didn’t have the strength. Without comment, the centurion trained his weapon on Decalon again.

And depressed the trigger.

Picard had to fight