Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [69]
And then he saw a hand still clutching at the edge of the ramp where Riker had gone over. Five fingers that were clinging to life, but slowly losing their grip …
Diving forward, oblivious to the chance that he’d be blown over the side as well, the ensign landed a meter or so short of Riker’s hand. “Hang on!” he cried, not sure at all that the man could hear him. “Hang on!”
Crawling forward on his belly, he ignored the crosswind that tore at him, trying to shove him in the wrong direction. His world, the entire universe, had come down to only one thing saving his commanding officer.
Inch by inch, he pulled himself forward. Inch by inch, he fought the winds, the slickness of the ramp and his own fatigue. And at last, after what seemed like forever, he was within striking distance.
By then, Riker’s fingers were white, and only a knuckle away from oblivion. Kane reached out and grabbed for the spot where the man’s wrist should have been. As he’d hoped, there was something there; he closed his hand on it…
Just as Riker lost his grip. Kane felt a terrible weight threaten to wrench his arm out of its socket as the first officer dangled free in the vicious air currents. Then, as he lay helpless to do anything about it, he found himself slipping slowly toward the edge.
Something inside him screamed for him to let Riker go. Otherwise, they’d both go over and be lost in the chasm below. They’d both die.
But Kane wasn’t buying it. He hung on, his cheek pressed flat against the smooth surface, even as the first officer’s weight dragged him to the very limit of the ramp. He could almost feel himself gliding over it into the maw of infinity …
But he didn’t. He stopped right there. And a moment later, Riker began climbing his arm. When he felt a viselike grip just below his elbow, he let go of the first officer’s wrist-and then felt another grip above his bicep.
Before he knew it, Riker had climbed up his arm and clamped a hand on the ramp again. A second later, his other hand joined it. Without a weight to pull him down, Kane was able to grab at the front of the other man’s tunic. And together, with one enormous effort, they dragged the first officer up out of death’s dark domain.
For a time, they just lay there on the rampway, gasping-stripped to their barest emotions. Then Riker took the ensign by the shoulder and pulled him along toward the beam-down site.
Kane couldn’t believe the man’s courage. He’d been swinging in the wind a moment ago, so close to oblivion he could’ve reached out and touched it. And he still could find the wherewithal to push on-to complete his mission.
Half-walking, half-crawling, they closed the gap. Even before they reached the circular plate on which they’d materialized, the first officer tapped his communicator and called out the captain’s name.
Luck was with them. “Number One-are you all right? What’s all that noise in the background?” asked Picard.
Riker told him. He told him about Sousa, too.
“You’d better hurry,” said the captain. In the next few moments, he explained about the Jenolen and the Enterprise’s chance to escape the sphere. “We’ll hold out as long as we can,” he promised. “But we haven’t got much time.”
Picard’s imperative was still echoing in Kane’s head when he saw his companion tap his communicator again.
“Riker to shuttle,” he bellowed.
“Shuttlecraft LaSalle responding,” Riker’s communicator replied.
As Kane looked up, he saw something he didn’t like-not at all. “Commander-look!”
The ensign pointed to the shuttle, which was rocking violently in the heavy winds. It was no longer where they’d left it. It was now only meters away from one of the towers.
The first officer cursed.
“Two to beam up,” he told the shuttle, “now.”
But before the craft could comply, a mighty gust did just what they’d feared it smashed the LaSalle into the alien edifice. Hard.
A moment later there was a titanic explosion. Kane could feel the heat of it on his face. And just like that, the shuttle was gone-in its place, a shower of flaming debris.
The ensign’s heart sank, but Riker