Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [120]
The crowd surged against them. Thralen slammed into Troi, but they did not go down.
Troi’s assailant attempted his swing again-Data dived at him, not caring if he broke the man’s ribs if he deflected his aim. The weapon missed Troi, but struck Thralen a glancing blow to the head, connecting with one of his antennae. The Theskian collapsed forward onto Troi, red blood spurting over his yellow hair and blue skin. Gasping in pain and clutching his middle, the Konor fell on top of them.
Worf’s phaser hummed, and he strode over stunned Konor to the scene, as Riker, face white, converged from the other direction. And in the moment of stillness when the away team all stopped, the transporter found its fix and beamed them up.
Thralen’s assailant came with them. The moment he congealed on the platform, he tried to raise his bloodstained weapon again-but Worf fired, and the Konor collapsed, stunned.
“We’ve got them aboard, Captain,” O’Brien reported. Data slapped his combadge.
“Doctor Pulaski to the transporter room-emergency!” He pulled his tricorder from its holster, and knelt down by Thralen’s side.
At the same time, Commander Riker was bending over Counselor Troi, who had fallen as soon as the transporter beam released them. “Deanna!” he cried out.
Blood caked on her fair skin, and stained her uniform a deeper wine color.
“I’m all right,” she said. “But Thralen . .
.”
Worf moved the unconscious Theskian off her while Data continued to scan his vital signs.
Thralen was fading fast. Data slapped his combadge again. “Dr. Pulaski,” he ordered, “you will require Theskian life support-stat!
Please hurry, for if we lose him—” Data left the last words unspoken: they all knew what it would mean if the faltering heartbeat stopped entirely. A Theskian was not to be resuscitated. His people believed the soul left the body at that moment, and could not return even if the body were revived. “Do not die, Thralen,” Data whispered. “We are back on the ship. You are safe. Hang on!”
Again he felt that odd disorientation, the feeling he had had on Elysia’s sacred isle that somehow this event had happened before. The doors slid open to admit Dr. Pulaski and two assistants, with an antigrav medibed.
“He is still alive!” Data reported.
“Good,” Pulaski said in her brisk way.
“Let’s keep him that way.” They hurried Thralen to sickbay, while other medics carted off the unconscious Konor, Data, Troi, Worf, and Riker followed.
The Konor quickly recovered from the phaser stun.
Despite his broken ribs, on which healing rays were already at work, Pulaski had placed him in a restraint field.
Picard was already there, asking anxiously about Thralen. “He will recover completely,” the CMO said, much to Data’s relief. “The scalp wound was superficial, and there is no concussion or brain damage, but a bruise to a Theskian’s antenna is extremely painful. That’s what put him into shock, but he’s stable now. He’s sleeping, but he’ll be up and around tomorrow.”
The captain turned as the rest of the away team entered. He took in Troi’s disheveled appearance and asked, “Counselor, are you well enough to work?”
“Yes, Captain, although I don’t know what I can do.
“See if you can get through to this man, one-onone.”
“You’ve done it with me, Deanna,” Riker reminded her, “and I’m not telepathic at all.”
“Nor am I,” Worf added, “but on the planet I also heard these Konor inside my head.”
“They are broadcast telepaths,” said Troi.
“They do not seem to be receptive, like Betazoids.”
“Try,” Riker urged her. “Here, in private, without a crowd to drown you out, you may be able to reach him.”
By this time the Konor was groggily looking around.
Dr. Pulaski moved toward him, saying, “You are in our medical unit. We’re not going to hurt you-was Ikonor animals! I understand your primitive noises, but, thank Providence, the Konor communicate soul to soul. You may be powerful enough to kill me, but you are soulless beings who will never defeat us. But Dr. Pulaski was undaunted.
“We’ll leave the state of our souls to the theologians.