Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [71]
With a touch of his thumb, he eliminated the beeping. Then he pressed the device into the doctor’s hand and led her up the slope.
“You first,” she whispered, as she stashed the thing in her tunic. She braced herself and held out her hands.
He shook his head. “No.”
If Crusher went first, at least one of them had a shot at getting away. If they wasted time trying to get him out, they might both be caught.
And he couldn’t allow that. They had just found the key to recovering Fortune’s Light; it was important that it not be lost again.
The doctor glared at him, but gave in. There was no time to protest and she knew it.
This time, Riker held out his hand—just one, unfortunately, but Crusher was a slender woman. It would have to do.
Placing her boot in his palm, grasping his good shoulder for balance, she launched herself up toward the crossways-lying rock. Riker couldn’t add anything to her effort—it was all he could do to keep his hand steady against the thrust of her heel.
But it turned out to be enough. And once the doctor had a good grasp on the rock, she managed to wrestle her way out of the pit. It wasn’t easy for her—far from it. But she managed.
“All right,” she gasped, leaning her head over the brink. “Come on. There’s nobody around—not yet.”
She held out her hand to him, but they both knew it was a token gesture. If he was going to get out, it would be under his own power. And he had to make it on the first try; after that, with his strength at low ebb already, the odds would drop precipitously.
Setting his teeth, Riker eased his arm out of the sling. His shoulder complained, sending shoots of fire through the muscles in his back. He did his best to ignore them.
Hell, he told himself, this is nothing. If you can’t take this, you might as well give up the whole idea.
Taking hold of the rocky projection he’d used once before, he gathered himself and sprang for the cross-piece. His hands hooked around either side of it. In the same motion, he swung his legs up and past, until they found the lip of the pit.
Agony. Like talons shredding the newborn nerve ends in his shoulder. Like acid searing the raw, half-formed flesh.
No time to breathe. No time to think about what would come next.
As Riker readjusted his grip on the rock, pushed with his feet and twisted, he cried out—he couldn’t help it. He thought his shoulder would give out before he could reach the top. He thought he would find himself on his back next to his friend, hopeless, having spent the last of his strength.
He was wrong on all counts. On the other side of the blinding pain was Crusher. And the hard, reassuring ground that surrounded the pit.
“Come on,” she was saying, trying to get him up off his back. “Let’s move, Commander.”
Cursing inwardly, he allowed her to help him to his feet. Then, slipping his bad arm back inside the sling, he started off with her down the passageway.
It was getting late, he noted. Up above, the sky was approaching the color of twilight.
Behind them, there were footfalls—distinct now, unmistakable. It gave them a greater sense of urgency as they negotiated a bend in the corridor and rushed through the gathering gloom.
They had a head start, he told himself. They could probably elude whoever was pursuing them.
But more than likely, there were other pursuers in the maze. And maybe a few outside as well, waiting for them to emerge.
A blaster would help to even the odds. It would help a lot.
Making up his mind, Riker stopped dead in his tracks. A moment later, the doctor stopped too—and looked back.
“What’s the matter?” she breathed.
“Nothing. Just hoping our friend is well armed, that’s all.”
“What does that mean?”
“We need a blaster,” he explained. “And I can’t think of another way to get one.” Slowly, as silently as he could, he worked his way back to the twist in the passageway.
When he reached it, he listened. The footfalls were getting louder. Closer. Suddenly they stopped.
In the vicinity of the pit? Perhaps to see if anything