Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [119]
Security Chief he had to consider every possibility to keep the away team safe. “We cannot go unarmed, and we certainly will not be mistaken for Konor. But what if there is some taboo against clothing, as the Ferengi have against clothing women?”
But another conference with Tichelon assured them that the idea had already been tried, to no avail.
So the away team, fully clothed and armed, beamed down to Dacket. They materialized on the steps of the building most likely to be the center of local government. A few people nearby stopped, stared at them, but did not move or speak.
Strangers-who are you?
Counselor Troi stepped forward, smiling.
From all sides, Kbnor men, women, and children converged on the away team.
Are you soulless cattle, or Konor? Answer, strange ones, or die! The command was so loud Data reduced his audio gain. It didn’t help.
Thralen’s antennae retracted reflexively, and Worf put his hands to the sides of his head.
“Do you hear them?” Troi asked, her smile now forced through pain, her eyes huge and unfocused.
“Yes!” Riker replied in tones of utter amazement. Then he shouted, “Deanna-no!” as the counselor moved ahead of the others, hands outstretched toward the Konor.
Data knew Troi must be projecting a message of peaceful greeting to the Konor, using Betazoid techniques. But the Konor only stared at her, their faces angry. “I hear you,” Troi gasped, the look on her face changing from joy to confusion to horror as the din in 331 Data’s head increased. “Such terrible anger-but why? Why will you not listen to me?”
Data had to focus his attention on vision alone to be able to keep pace with Troi as she strode into danger.
His companions could not so easily cope with the bursts of furious noise. Riker grasped the sides of his head, fighting for control. Pain was clear in his movements, but he forced his way to Troi’s side. Thralen staggered, his skin paling and his antennae retracting again as his mouth opened in a grimace.
Even Worf winced-but did not lose stride, keeping his hand on his phaser as he moved forward.
The Konor converged on Troi, the serenity of their faces gone now, although their looks seemed more disdainful than angry. Ikonor! Strangers!
Heathens! Barbarians! Soulless animals! “Beam us up!” Riker ordered.
“Stand still!” came O’Brien’s voice. “There are Konor too close-was “Bring them along, but beam us up!” Riker repeated. Picard’s voice confirmed, “Get the away team out of there!”
Even as the faint hum of the transporter began, the Konor attacked, flinging missiles. The away team had no choice but to run, taking them out of the transporter focus.
Worf and Riker drew phasers. Two people trying to grab Troi fell, stunned.
That did not stop the Konor. The crowd converged on them, faces contorted in anger. Parcels suddenly turned into weapons, and other, more deadly implements began to appear in the mob’s hands.
“Get Deanna out!” Riker shouted as Konor shoved him away from her. The counselor was both the focus of the Konor attack and the least skilled of the five at self-defense.
Worf and Data managed to keep pace with Troi, protecting her on either side. Worf knocked aside a brick aimed at him, which threw him slightly to his right-just far enough off equals balance for the split second it took a Konor to thrust a metal rod past him, toward Troi.
It wasn’t a weapon, but some kind of building material. That made it no less lethal.
Data tried to intervene, but four hefty Konor working in concert shoved him aside.
Troi stumbled, and the spear missed.
The attacker shifted his grip and swung his improvised weapon up, ready to bring it down on the counselor’s head. With the power of his fury behind it, it would split her skull.
“Deanna!” Riker shouted, lunging desperately toward her. Worf raised his weapon to stun the attacker, but another Konor struck his arm. The shot went high.
Data threw off” his attackers and ran to protect the counselor. From the opposite direction, Thralen flung himself at Troi