AS THEY TRAILED THE MEN AND WOMEN responsible for organizing the rally at the hospital, Riker tried to get as close to them as he could without attracting their attention. Luckily they seemed too preoccupied … they never looked back to see if anyone was following. They simply assumed they were safe. Amateurs, Riker realized thankfully. They really have no idea what they’re doing, do they?
Perhaps a hundred other rally-goers had taken this street away from the square. With all their talk and chatter—mixed in with more chanting and slogan-shouting—Riker had a hard time trying to eavesdrop on the people he was following.
He caught bits and pieces:
“… mixers must be purged soon, or—”
“… save our families before the next plague—”
“… across the bridge, you know—”
None of it made much sense, though a lot of it offered tantalizing hints. The next plague? What did they know about the virus?
He quickened his pace, closing the gap, straining to hear more.
They left the commercial part of the city, crossed a small bridge, and entered a residential area. Tall houses now surrounded them, pressing close to each other.
Unfortunately, they chose that moment to pause in front of one of the houses. He almost walked into them and had to step around and keep going to avoid attracting their attention. He cursed his luck, and caught another fragment of dialog:
“… can’t be trusted tonight. Maybe tomorrow, if—”
Then they all entered the house and the door slammed shut. He heard a deadbolt slam home. Just when it had started to get interesting! “So much for that—” he said.
He turned to Yar and Data. “Did you hear any more of what they were saying than I did?”
“I heard everything, sir,” Data replied.
That’s right—Data had far keener hearing than a human, as well as a photographic memory.
“Summarize,” he said. “What did they say? I caught something about a second plague—are they planning to wipe out the Peladians next?”
“No, sir. They believe the Peladians are responsible for the first virus, and that a second one is coming to finish the job. It is supposed to wipe out all the humans on the planet.”
Riker shook his head. “Then they don’t know anything about it.”
“Apparently not.”
He had chosen the wrong group to follow.
He turned around and found the street deserted. “And we lost the rest of the rioters.”
“Perhaps we should return to the hospital,” Data suggested. “It might be possible to pick up Brother Paul’s trail,” Data suggested. “Someone might have seen which way he went.”
“That’s our best hope,” Riker agreed. “Let’s go!”
They set off at a jog, and fifteen minutes later they reached the hospital complex once more. Most of the people had left, but several hundred had stayed behind. They all stood around the bonfire, drinking, singing protest songs, and watching the flames. It seemed rather pathetic to Riker.
He searched the faces in the crowd but did not recognize anyone. Another dead end, he thought bitterly. This mission was not going well.
“Sir.” Data pointed to the left, and Riker squinted into the darkness at several shapes moving along the hospital’s wall behind the bushes. They moved like phantoms, keeping low to the ground.
“What are they doing?” he asked Data softly. “Your eyes are better than mine.”
“They appear to be planting explosive charges. However, from the looks of the devices they are not powerful enough to do any real damage. The hospital’s forcefield will protect it.”
Riker sucked in a deep breath. “Terrorists … this is what we’ve been waiting for. Keep an eye on them—we’re going to chase them all the way to Father Veritas if we have to!”
The shapes suddenly sprinted away from the hospital. A heartbeat later, a series of brilliant flashes and thunderous explosions sounded. Bushes flew and clods of dirt started to rain down. The people around the bonfire began to scream and run for cover.
“Now!” Riker shouted, sprinting. Data and Tasha Yar followed.
Together, they pounded up the street, gaining steadily on the terrorists. These men had a little more sense than the rally organizers—they kept glancing back, and clearly knew they were being followed.
At a five-way intersection, they split up. Riker picked the middle terrorist and kept chasing him. From behind, he heard sirens begin to ring. Here comes the cavalry, he thought, tucking down his head and speeding up his gait.
The man seemed to know he was about to be caught, since he abruptly stopped, turned, and raised his arm.
“Phaser!” Riker shouted. He dove to the side a heartbeat ahead of the beam of brilliant blue light that lashed out at him. He rolled to his feet and darted into an alley for cover.
The terrorist’s weapon had been set on kill, he realized. Its beam played across the building behind him, blowing out part of the second-floor wall. Bits of bricks and mortar began to thud to the ground around him.
Riker scrambled for cover. The terrorist fired again, taking out a shop window. Flames leaped inside the building, and more alarms began to ring.
Riker ducked into an alley as a third shot nearly took off his head.
Panting, Riker pulled out his own phaser. He counted to three, leaned out, and fired. Years of target practice paid off—he caught the man square in the side.
But the terrorist seemed to shrug off the light stun setting. I knew using local weapons was a mistake, Riker thought. Next time he’d follow his instincts.
Raising his phaser, the terrorist fired at Riker again. Riker staggered back as the corner of the building exploded into debris. When he peeked out again, the man had taken off at a dead run.
Sirens wailed. Stepping out, Riker aimed his phaser and fired a second time. Once more he hit the mark—but once more the weak light-stun setting had little effect.
“Data! Yar!” he shouted.
“Here, sir!” came both voices.
That’s one good thing. They’re both still alive and safe.
After counting to ten, he peeked around the corner. Two buildings were on fire and a third had a hole in its second floor big enough to fly one of the Enterprise’s shuttles through. The peace officers are not going to be happy, he thought. Not to mention the shopkeepers.
“I think he’s gone!” Riker shouted. “Join me in the alley!”
Yar dashed over, and a second later Data followed. Yar was disheveled and out of breath. Data looked a mess. Even by the dim, flickering light of the fires, Riker could see that Data’s human makeup had been rubbed off along the whole left side of his face, revealing his golden skin. And one of his eyepieces had fallen out.
“I hear aircars closing in on our position,” Data said. “I strongly suggest we move away from this alley, sir, before we are arrested.”
“Right. We still have that terrorist to catch.” He stepped out onto the street—but a couple of phaser shots lashed out at him. He wheeled back as bits of masonry blasted loose, peppering his face and hands. That wasn’t a stun setting, he realized.
“I thought you said they didn’t have kill settings enabled on their weapons!” he said to Yar, rubbing at the stinging little wounds. He was lucky they hadn’t blinded him.
“That’s only the civilians, sir. The peace officers have fully functioning phasers.”
“Now you tell me!”
One of the burning buildings suddenly collapsed with a shower of sparks and an avalanche of duracrete slabs. Dust rose in a cloud—that would provide them with cover for a few minutes, he thought. They had to get out of here.
He glanced behind him, but the alley dead-ended. There was only one way out—the way they had come in.
“I don’t think they saw you two,” he said. “I’ll draw their fire, then do an emergency beamout. Get past them and try to catch up with our terrorist friend.”
“Where will we meet up?” Yar demanded.
“Back at the alley where we beamed in. Be there in one hour.”
She gave a nod. “Got it.”
Riker leaped from hiding with his phaser in hand, blasting at every figure he saw. Just like target practice, he thought.
Light stun certainly worked better at close range. One man fell, then another, then a third. Riker rolled, landed behind a pile of duracrete slabs and paused, listening. Let them think I’m wounded. He felt his heart pounding like a battering ram. I’ll catch them when they least expect it.
On the count of ten, he leaped out again—but headed back the way he had come instead of making for the next natural hiding place. His tactic caught two more peace officers by surprise. They had been trying to sneak up behind him. A pair of perfectly executed shots took them down.
That’s five. How many are there?
They would have caught him if he’d behaved like a sensible terrorist and tried to get away. Too bad I’m neither sensible nor a terrorist. I’m not interested in getting away—at least, not on foot.
He started counting again. One more volley, then I’ll have the Enterprise beam me to safety, he thought.
Licking his lips, he tensed to spring—but a sudden intense burst of phaser fire struck the building directly behind and above him. Bricks blasted outward, and he felt several strike his back, throwing him to the ground. Moaning in pain, he reached for his combadge—but it had come off. Where? His fingers scrabbled in the dirt and debris, searching.
“Riker to Enterprise,” he said urgently, hoping it had somehow activated. “Emergency beamout—”
Then something struck the back of his head, and he knew no more.