The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [49]
“I wasn’t going to let you have all the fun,” La Forge replied, never taking the focus of his ocular implants off the Cardassian. “Drop your weapon.”
The Cardassian’s finger flexed. La Forge reacted faster and fired his phaser. The second Cardassian hit the deck with a thud, and the engineer shook his head. “They never learn when to give up.”
Riker wondered briefly how the Enterprise was faring. He had limitless faith in Captain Picard, but they’d transported away from a tactical nightmare—one Picard had deliberately taken the ship into so Riker’s team could insert.
Then there was Deanna, who, along with two of his closest friends and one arrogant, inscrutable old man, might even now be fighting for her life trying to break a sociopath out of prison on an enemy-occupied planet—
Enough! Snap out of it, Will! Stay focused!
At Riker’s signal, O’Brien and the rest of the team poured through the access panel. Riker ordered security to restrain and gag the wounded Cardassians and move them out of sight into one of the brig’s holding cells.
O’Brien reached into his tool kit and took out a Starfleet tricorder and a Cardassian padd. The padd was specifically loaded, he’d claimed, with the root patterns of every decryption program the Cardassian military had in use until the Cardassians withdrew from Bajor. There was, of course, a very good chance a lot of them would no longer work. But a few still would. The trick was going to be finding the right one so they could hack in. O’Brien placed the padd on the desk, then set up an interface between the padd, the tricorder, and the security console.
Riker eyed the unlikely arrangement of devices warily. “I hope this works.”
“So do I, Commander,” O’Brien said without looking up.
Riker nodded toward the padd. “Who’d you say you got those codes from again?”
“Fellow I know on DS9,” O’Brien said absently. “The guy who fixes my pants.”
*
Standing before the door Director Lanolan’s housekeeper had just slammed in their faces, Deanna Troi prepared to reach for her phaser. With their cover blown and the Jem’Hadar at their backs, the Daronan away team would have to fight their way to the prison.
“I’ll take the leader,” Vaughn whispered quickly. “On my signal …”
Before Vaughn could complete his instructions, the door swept open and Director Lanolan stepped onto the porch. “You must forgive Adana. The soldiers frightened her. Please, come in.”
The director, tall and thin as Deanna remembered but with his dark hair now completely gray, stood aside for them to enter. Crusher assisted Vaughn, who continued his senile old man disguise, across the threshold. To maintain her character in the family charade, Deanna gave Data an impatient shove, then followed him inside.
We told the Jem’Hadar we’re a family who work for you, Deanna advised Lanolan as she passed. Please don’t give us away.
I’ll do my best.
Once his visitors were inside, Lanolan descended the steps toward the patrol leader. Deanna and the others moved out of sight of the open door and, on Vaughn’s signal, drew their phaser rifles.
“If Lanolan can’t convince them we’re his domestics,” Vaughn whispered, “we attack first to gain the advantage. Understood?”
Deanna nodded with the others, but she feared for her mentor. The director stood directly in the line of fire between them and the Jem’Hadar.
“Is there a problem with my staff?” Lanolan’s loud, clear voice carried easily and echoed off the limestone floor of the foyer where the away team hovered in the shadows.
“They have been wandering the countryside without proper credentials,” the patrol leader said.
“Idiots,” the director said heatedly. “I’ve told them repeatedly, but they’re not very bright, I’m afraid. Shall I send them for their ID chips now?”
The patrol leader hesitated, as if considering Lanolan’s offer.
“Set phasers to maximum,” Vaughn ordered in a soft but steely voice.
Deanna held her breath and checked her weapon, dreading the prospect of taking life but ready to carry out