The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [68]
Younger and fitter than either Barclay or the ambassador, Ro soon caught up with them. “Those slimy bastards aren’t giving up,” she said tersely. “They’re on our trail like a pack of Cardassian riding hounds.” She shook her head in disgust. “This is why I wanted to keep my phaser!”
“Your point is well taken, Ensign,” Lwaxana conceded. “Not that you seemed to need a phaser back there at the meeting site. You certainly turned the tables on our foes—in quite a resourceful manner.”
Ro shrugged. “You grow up in refugee camps, you learn to think fast.”
“I want you to know that I’ve always had a great degree of sympathy for your people.” Lwaxana swatted a mosquito away from her face. “Betazed has been in the forefront of the Federation’s efforts to negotiate an end to the Cardassian occupation.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ro said, only half listening. Right now, there were more urgent issues to deal with. She kept glancing back over her shoulder. Barclay and Lwaxana were slowing her down. “Get a move on.”
Easier said than done, Barclay thought. Lwaxana was sounding increasingly out of breath, and, to be honest, he could use a break himself. His legs were already tired from slogging through the mud and clotted vegetation. A stitch in his side throbbed with every step. Protruding roots threatened to trip him. Looking around for a safe place to rest, he spied a hummock of solid earth that was partially veiled by a thick curtain of hanging moss. “Over there,” he suggested, leading the way. He pulled back the moss so that Ro and Lwaxana could pass beneath it, then let it fall back into place behind him. They found themselves amid a cluster of gnarled willows and cypresses. Fallen leaves and needles littered the forest floor. “We can rest here, at least for a mmoment.”
“Thank goodness!” Lwaxana exclaimed. She settled down onto a fallen tree trunk and patted the fungus-covered wood beside her. He gladly joined her on the log.
Ro remained on her feet, standing guard. “What now, Lieutenant?” she asked him in a low voice.
As the highest-ranking officer present, Barclay found himself in charge. He gulped and tried to take stock of the situation. They were alone, outnumbered, and unarmed. The one thing they had going for them was that the Tadigeans seemed to be taking the swamp simulation at face value. They don’t realize we’re trapped in a finite space, Barclay thought. Right now, the holographic environment was their best defense. The phony swamp offered infinitely more opportunities to run and hide than an empty holochamber would. As long as the program keeps running, we have a chance.
But what about the rest of the Cataria’s crew? Barclay tapped the combadge on his chest. “Lieutenant Barclay to the bridge. We have an emergency situation in the holodeck. Please respond.” He waited expectantly, but no one answered his page. “Requesting immediate assistance. Please respond.”
“It’s no use, Lieutenant,” Lwaxana said, shaking her head. “The entire crew is Betazoid. They’ve doubtless been incapacitated by the same telepathic onslaught that felled poor Flev.” She massaged her temples, as though some lingering soreness persisted. “You should have felt the psychic energy emanating from that infernal crystal. It was all I could do to keep from collapsing like Flev.” She adjusted the cap atop her head. “Thank providence for this convenient helmet.”
Ro scratched her head. “I don’t get it. Why weren’t Barclay and I affected?”
“Because you’re not telepaths,” Lwaxana explained indulgently. “No offense, Ensign, but you and the lieutenant lack the sensitivity to succumb to such an insidious attack. One of the few advantages of being thought-blind, I suppose.”
Barclay decided to accept the remark in the spirit in which it was intended. “Did you have any idea that the Tadigeans might resort to violence?”
“Not