CAPTAIN PICARD STUMBLED in the cabin of the Skegge, and was surprised when Colleen Cabot caught him. A giggle caused him to look up and see an unfamiliar, rather scurvy-looking Androssi staring at him. Wesley popped magically out of his suit and stood beside it as it collapsed to the floor.

Christine Vale sat in the pilot’s seat, fearlessly manning the Skegge’s controls. “I’m doing what I told everyone not to do,” she announced. “We’re retreating with the cloak still on.”

“Make it so,” barked Picard. With Cabot’s help, he pulled off his helmet and asked, “What about the Enterprise?”

“We were cloaked,” answered Wesley. “The Pakled ship is making directly for the Enterprise. They’ve got no place to hide, and they can’t outrun the cruiser in the graveyard.”

The lights dimmed, and the artificial gravity seemed to lessen, making Picard feel light-footed as Colleen helped him out of his EV suit. “I take it you got a clean bill of health,” he said to the counselor.

“Yep, and it looks like I made it back just in time.” They were clearly moving and none too soon, because a Pakled overcruiser identical to the first one was bearing down on their position. Wesley dropped into the secondary-console seat and started running sensor scans.

Picard took a step behind the young Traveler. “Are those two ships really the same?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. These sensors aren’t precise enough. It’s definitely the same class. Now I’m losing the data entirely.”

Under Vale’s piloting, they were pulling away so fast from the approaching duplicate that the sensors became useless—they were back to relying on their eyes alone.

“What’s the Enterprise doing?” asked Picard worriedly.

“They’re holding their ground,” answered Vale, “but there’s really nowhere for them to run. They could be hailing each other on subspace, and we wouldn’t know.”

Wes turned to look at the captain. “I could check on them.”

Picard was considering that option when Colleen stepped between them. “No, Wes,” she insisted. “You’re on this crew. You can’t make a whole starship disappear, so what can you do to protect them?”

“I agree,” Picard said firmly. “Stay with us until we know what the danger is.”

The old Androssi in the rear suddenly concurred. “Stay with me, Wesley! Don’t leave me!”

A bright flash from the graveyard almost blinded them. At first Picard feared that they’d been hit by an errant bolt of energy. Vale struggled with the controls for a moment, then she slowed down and cut engines to let their momentum carry them.

With relief in his voice, Wesley reported, “The Pakleds have fired phasers! No damage to the Enterprise.”

The captain let out a pent-up breath and turned to his counselor and their Androssi visitor. “You must be Fristan,” he remarked. He waggled his finger at the elder. “Behave yourself and we’ll keep you safe.”

Fristan made a mock salute. “Safe he says! Hoohoo! Another one who wants to die.”

Picard tried to shake off that unexpected and disturbing response.

“Vale,” ordered the captain, “take us to maximum visual range and keep them both in sight. Maintain cloak, then send subspace to the Enterprise that we’re all right. As soon as we know they’re out of danger, I want to get back to the Hickock. I want to be early for our rendezvous with the Androssi. If we’re going to conquer this thing, we need to start getting some cooperation from our neighbors.”

“What are we going to tell the Androssi about Fristan?” asked Wes in a low voice. “They’re not expecting him to be here.”

Picard glanced over his shoulder at the deranged former prisoner and the dedicated counselor who was trying to comfort him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe they’ll look at him and realize he’s not worth fighting over.”

 

“Those damned idiots,” muttered Riker under his breath, leaning forward in the command chair. “Shooting off phasers in the middle of Rashanar? They’re not the sharpest knives in the cupboard. Mr. Erwin, send them another subspace message that we didn’t kill their comrades, we tried to rescue them.”

“They didn’t answer the last one,” said the Bolian. “But I will resend.”

“Shields are holding,” said Data as another phaser blast gently jarred them. “To continue this one-sided bombardment will risk plasma discharges and energy arcs. If we run, we may come close to the derelicts and make it easy for them to destroy us.”

“I know,” answered Riker, jumping out of his chair. He glanced at Deanna.

“They are very angry,” she said unhelpfully.

Riker fumed. “I’m glad the away team is cloaked.”

“Captain!” called Erwin, intently studying his board. “Coming in on subspace…the Skegge reports normal, code one.”

“Data, take over the weapons systems. Target the incapacitated ship with pinpoint phaser and take off a nacelle. Ignore the one firing at us.”

“Aye, sir. Targeting complete.”

“Fire.”

A narrow beam, hardly visible, streaked across the blackness in the surreal confines of Rashanar and struck the crippled ship, shearing off the port nacelle in an impressive display of marksmanship.

“That got a response out of them, sir,” said Lieutenant Erwin. “They say we are cowards and heathens because we’re trifling with their dead.”

“Tell them we’ll vaporize their dead if they don’t stop firing at us,” ordered Riker. “Conn, take us closer to the crippled cruiser—try to get it between them and us.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Kell Perim. They made a careful circuit around a few pockets of rubble in order to get a good shot at both cruisers, while making it difficult for the active one to fire at them without hitting their fallen comrades. At any rate, the Pakleds had stopped firing.

The situation under control, Riker straightened his tunic, stepping back toward his command chair. “Mr. Erwin, tell the Pakleds to inspect their damaged ship and conduct their inquiry. They’ll find that it wasn’t us. We will welcome contact with them later. However, we’re leaving now. If we’re followed, we’ll destroy both of their ships. Have you got all that?”

“Yes, sir,” answered the Bolian. “Transmitting.”

“Mr. Perim, plot a course back to the vicinity of the Hickock, safest route.”

“Yes, sir.” They watched the Pakled cruiser while beating a slow retreat into the graveyard. When they neared the closest derelict, they were extra vigilant, fearing the Pakleds might fire wildly in hope of starting a deadly chain reaction. But their foe had apparently decided to let them leave, since they were busy trying to dock with the disabled vessel. The Enterprise crew remained cautious until the Pakleds were a distant blur among the rest of the bones in the yard.

“We are out of effective sensor range with the Pakled cruiser,” announced Data. “They would have difficulty following us. No sign of any other vessels of the same class.”

“Good,” breathed Riker. “Mr. Erwin, send subspace to the Skegge and tell them that we’ve escaped from our friends. We’re taking our time going back.”

“Very good, sir.”

More to himself than anyone else, Riker said, “We need a plan or we’ll be chasing our own tails…until something bad happens again.”

He stared glumly at the viewscreen, watching distant eruptions illuminate the ghostly silhouettes of Rashanar. After a moment, Will detected a pleasant fragrance and a welcome presence to his right. Deanna put a hand on his shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile.

“We haven’t been here very long,” she said. “We’ll figure out the right way to handle this.”

“Those cruisers aren’t salvage vessels,” Riker admitted. “What are the Pakleds doing here?”

“We know they’ve been kidnapping people, collecting ransom, making deals, running a tavern, and acting like gangsters. With the Federation vessels officially gone from Rashanar, the scavengers are getting bolder and better organized. They’ve formed syndicates which need protection from other competitors. Hence, the need for warships and rougher tactics.”

“You’re probably right,” muttered Riker. “And the Ontailians seem to be preoccupied with keeping everyone inside the graveyard. You can check in, but you can’t check out.”

“Like the battle of Rashanar all over again,” said Troi softly, her brow knitted in thought. “What if they did this during the original battle? What if the Ontailians surrounded the site, letting no one get out…for fear of letting it out?”

“Let’s hope the outcome is different this time.” Something bright splattered against their forward shields, and he added, “Slow and steady, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Kell Perim.

 

“You see, Wes, I’m definitely needed on this mission,” said Colleen with a coy smile. “The Skegge may be a small craft, but I’ve already got two patients. That’s half the crew.”

Crusher shifted uneasily on the deck, where he was sitting cross-legged as there were no more chairs left. The traumatized Fristan was asleep on the bunk, exhaustion finally taking its toll on him. Colleen was seated at the rear station. While Vale piloted and Picard navigated, she was trying to cheer Wes up; he had been subdued ever since seeing the Pakled cruiser fall prey to the mimic ship.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “You touched a buoy. That’s what you’re supposed to do here—investigate. You were meant to see its transformation and tell us about it. Do you think it’s a living creature?”

“That’s a good question. And don’t tell me we’ve got to capture it alive. If you ever saw this thing up close, you would realize that we don’t have a cage big enough to hold it.”

“Fristan claims he can control it,” whispered Colleen, pointing to the snoozing Androssi. “He calls it his Avenger.”

Wes looked skeptical. “Does he? If it weren’t for me, his little pet would have killed him along with everyone else on that cruiser. Little by little, we’re learning about it. With every bit of knowledge comes a chance to beat it.”

Colleen sat beside him on the deck and put her head on his shoulder. “I don’t suppose we can sneak off somewhere for an hour or so?” she whispered.

He laughed. “I thought you said my place was here on the Skegge. Besides, I’m afraid Rashanar doesn’t have any romantic getaway spots.”

“We could make one,” she suggested.

“Look alive,” said Picard. “The Androssi are at the Hickock, waiting for us.”

Wes jumped to his feet, then helped Colleen to hers. “I thought our meeting wasn’t for another six hours.”

“Apparently it’s been moved up,” answered Picard. Their cloaking had been turned off ever since they made their escape from the grieving, angry Pakleds, so they couldn’t hide their presence.

Colleen glanced at the sleeping Fristan, telling herself that she wouldn’t let the captain give the Androssi up. The demon ship was the only thing Picard wanted, and she doubted whether Overseer Jacer and his colleagues could produce the scourge of Rashanar. She crossed her arms and watched while Christine Vale carefully piloted them to their unofficial home port under the battered saucer section of the Hickock. The Androssi salvage ship immediately maneuvered under their bow, looking to dock. The counselor couldn’t see any real place to hide Fristan.

“How are we going to explain Wesley?” she pointed out. “He wasn’t here any of the times we met with them.”

“I can make myself scarce,” responded Wesley.

Picard quickly realized that once again, quite against his better judgment, he was going to have to use the Traveler’s special abilities. Colleen was beginning to understand the captain better. He was such a straight arrow without any ulterior motives, except when it came to protecting his ship and crew; then he was almost obsessed. They heard a clanking sound beneath their feet. No one had to tell them that Overseer Jacer had docked with the Skegge.

“Wesley, you should stay,” said Picard finally. “The Androssi have more than one ship here, as do the Pakleds, Orions, and everyone else. We picked up some help—there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If they even believe we’re Maquis,” remarked Cabot. “I’m not sure they do.”

“That’s immaterial,” said Picard. “No one around here is particularly honest.” They heard a knocking on the hatch. The captain himself went to open it.

Jacer stuck his bearded head through the opening and smiled with pleasure at his fellow thieves, immediately noticing the extra crew member, Wesley.

“Jean,” he said, taking Picard’s hand and letting the captain pull him onto the deck. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“Our meeting is not for six more hours,” said Picard.

The Androssi stared at Wesley, who kept a blank expression on his face. “Somehow you added to your crew. How did you manage that?”

“We had an advance spotter here,” answered Picard. “I believe the Androssi have been known to do that, too.”

“True,” replied Jacer with a nod. “You can never have too many eyes in Rashanar. So are you ready to do our negotiation for us?”

“We would be, but it’s unnecessary. That Pakled cruiser was destroyed by the demon ship…with almost all hands lost.”

“No!” exclaimed Jacer, sounding shocked. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll be happy to give you the coordinates,” said Picard. “Another Pakled cruiser is there, investigating, so I’d be careful.”

The Androssi looked honestly stumped. “Then I suppose our deal is broken. You’ll have to give us back the cloaking device, unless you have something of value.”

“We have Fristan. We liberated him before the demon ship got there.”

Jacer was smiling, as he wagged a slender finger at the captain. “Jean, I have always heard that humans were the most devious race in the quadrant, but I always thought that was jealous Ferengi talk. How can I believe that you have Fristan?”

Picard motioned to Colleen. “Show him.”

She dutifully stepped aside to reveal the slight, snoring Androssi asleep on the lower bunk. When Jacer’s hand moved toward his weapon, Christine Vale produced a phaser, pointing it directly at the Androssi scavenger. “Don’t make a move,” she warned.

Jacer let out a breath, smiled again, and moved his hand away. “Well, it seems that you are in a very good bargaining position. I suppose you want the ransom that we were going to pay the Pakleds, in addition to the cloaking device you already have.”

“We haven’t decided to give him up,” answered Picard. “If he’s so valuable, I’d like to know why.”

Now Jacer’s face darkened, and he pointed a long-nailed finger at Captain Picard. “Jean, I have you and everyone else outnumbered.”

“Rashanar is a house of cards built on a volcano. Everyone is scrambling to steal as much as they can before they get killed.” Picard scoffed. “You know there’s something bad out there. Why do you think the Ontailians and Starfleet fled? The demon ship got the Pakleds. It will get you, me, and everyone else in this graveyard unless we stop it.”

That thought sobered the Androssi. He pursed his lips, trying to think of a coherent response. Colleen motioned to Picard that he was on the right track.

“Fristan can help us find it, can’t he?” asked Picard.

Overseer Jacer narrowed his golden eyes at the human. “You tossed out the deal we made, stole what was ours behind our backs, and now you’re making demands. How do I know we can trust you?”

“We want to kill the entity that endangers Rashanar,” said Picard with steel in his eyes. “It’s a grudge, I admit. If you help us do that, we’ll help you with your task, whatever it is.”

“We need Fristan to do that,” insisted the Androssi. “He’s the one who knows—”

“He doesn’t know,” Colleen broke in. “The Pakleds tried everything possible to get it out of him. They never discovered this so-called cache of antimatter. They were looking for the same thing we are. Whatever Fristan found, he lost, and this includes his mind. He can’t tell you anything, or maybe you just wanted to make sure of that.”

The Androssi captain glowered, but the counselor figured she had scored a hit. Sticking out her chin, she said, “We’ll arrange an exchange of hostages. We’ll keep Fristan on this tug, and I’ll go with you on your craft.”

She almost laughed at the horrified looks Wesley and Picard flashed at her, but the Androssi gave the offer serious consideration. “That is acceptable,” replied Jacer.

“I’d rather have you take Wes here,” said Picard, pointing to the Traveler.

Jacer chuckled. “I’m sure you would. The woman made the offer, or don’t you let your crew have free will? Is she your slave?”

“He’ll agree,” replied Colleen with a smile. “Jean doesn’t tell me what to do. But let’s get a plan, shall we, before we do any splitting up. Jacer, does your ship have cloaking?”

“Yes.”

“Then we set a trap.” She smiled slyly at Wesley, who squirmed noticeably under her gaze.

 

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Will Riker took a rather scorched and beat-up tricorder from Geordi La Forge. A wire trailed off to a gel power pack, since it had been deactivated by the mimic ship.

“I got a little data off this,” explained La Forge. “It was all collected before it got fried. In its natural state, the demon flyer could be mistaken for the antimatter asteroid we’ve seen, although it’s not. In fact, that may be just another mimic mechanism. Just before it died, the reading shows increased antimatter and traces of neptunium, which we’ve seen near the gravity sink. I can’t claim these anomalies are all related, but there may be some connections. Also, the power was drained through a tiny fissure in the tricorder, which we don’t think existed there before.”

He handed the captain a digital magnifying glass and turned the tricorder to a taped marking on its side. Riker was amazed to see a precision cut of several centimeters that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. “We need to look over the shuttlecraft where you and Data—”

La Forge shook his head. “It’s back in San Francisco, evidence that was never used in the court-martial that never was.”

“Yeah,” said Riker. “Now that we know what to look for, we don’t have it.”

“Captain, there’s a subspace message from the Skegge,” announced Lieutenant Erwin. “It’s code five, saying the weather is calm but hot back home.”

Riker rose from his command chair, pacing in front of the viewscreen, which showed him nothing but emptiness and waste. “That means they’re on the move, possibly hunting the mimic ship, and they’re not alone. The Androssi must be with them. I wish we could get more information out of these crude codes.”

He turned to Data on ops. “Do we still have the Skegge on sensors?”

“Just barely. Once they cloak or leave the Hickock, we will lose them. If we change position, we risk showing up on the Androssi’s sensors.”

“Then we’re stuck,” said Riker. “It’s their move.” He stepped toward the viewscreen, staring at the vast graveyard, where death seemed to have everyone outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

 

“How can you know so much about the Ontailians?” asked Overseer Jacer suspiciously as he leaned over Wesley’s shoulder. Everyone was watching as the young human programmed the distress-signal emitter of the Skegge, being very careful not to set it off.

“I’ve studied them,” he answered defensively. “That only makes sense, if you’re going to be in Rashanar.”

“And how is this going to work without us all getting killed?” asked the Androssi doubtfully.

“We’ll pick a remote marker buoy, then use its subspace relay to send out the distress signal. I can patch it in from here, programming it to repeat indefinitely. All we’ll be risking is the buoy. Starfleet left plenty of them around Rashanar.”

Jacer cocked a golden eyebrow. “And how do you know so much about Starfleet?”

“My parents were in it,” said Wes truthfully. “I’m not Starfleet, believe me.” He glanced at Colleen, who gave him a saucy smile, but he didn’t return it. He was mad at her for volunteering to go with the Androssi. Wes didn’t trust them; also, he hated being separated from her, unless she was back on the Enterprise where she belonged.

“I know a likely buoy not too far from here,” answered Jacer. “Are you almost done?”

“I’m done,” stated Wes. “We could use some tests, but we don’t have time for that.”

“No, we don’t.” The Androssi turned to Colleen. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes. Please give me a moment with my colleagues. Go on to your ship. I’ll be right there.”

The Androssi scanned the human faces in the cramped cabin, then looked at Fristan in the bunk. “If there is any trickery, we will hunt you down and destroy you. We leave as soon as she comes aboard. When you see us leave, you follow.” With that, the slender scavenger dropped down into the hold and crawled back into his own ship.

Picard, Crusher, and Vale all looked at Cabot with concern. “I wish there could have been another way,” muttered Picard.

“You don’t gain the trust of thieves easily,” answered the counselor. “You have to make broad gestures and clear sacrifices, which they understand. Besides, I have a guardian angel.”

She looked at Wes, and he said, “It’s not easy for me to come and go in these little scows. I’ll be worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” she replied with a laugh. “Here in this delightful place, what could happen to me?”

Without warning, Wes took her in his arms and hugged her fiercely. Picard and Vale looked away, trying to give the illusion of privacy, but there was no place to hide in the little tug. Words failed both of them and the lovers clung to each other, until they heard sniffling from the back of the cabin.

She turned to see Fristan, sitting up in the bunk. “It’s so sad, you leaving,” he said hoarsely. “You risk your neck to save mine, yes you do. Beware them turgut s—Jacer and his lot. Take Wesley with you.”

“I’m hoping he’ll check in with me,” answered Colleen, holding back tears. She gently pushed the Traveler away from her and descended into the hold. His reason to exist seemed to vanish with her.

Wes felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a sympathetic Picard. “We won’t let her get far away,” vowed the captain. His tone was sharper with their Androssi passenger. “Fristan, you can see that we protected you, even risking Counselor Cabot. If you’ve got anything useful to tell us before we hunt your Avenger, now would be a good time.”

“It stores it, it does,” said Fristan mysteriously. “Only I know where its larder is.”

Picard glowered at him and turned back to Christine Vale. “What are they doing?”

“The Androssi ship has just disengaged and is firing thrusters,” answered the lieutenant from the pilot’s seat. “There she goes.”

From beneath their belly, a similar cobbled-together craft darted into space and paused long enough to let the Skegge fire engines. Picard jumped into the auxiliary chair. “Go ahead, I’ll help navigate.”

With Vale manning the control, the Skegge streaked after the Androssi tug. For several minutes, the two small craft played tag among the hulking wrecks and fiery energy bolts. Wesley sat beside Fristan on the bunk.

“Listen,” he whsipered, “if anything happens to her, I’m going to hold you responsible. You could help us, but, so far, you refuse to do so.”

“This is my livelihood, turgut!” snapped Fristan. “You are looking out for me, says you, but how do I know? You stole me before someone else could steal me—doesn’t make you honest, no, no! If you kill the Avenger, you kill my secret along with my livelihood.”

“So it’s like a bee—it collects antimatter and takes it somewhere. And you know where.”

“A bee?” asked Fristan, puzzled.

“An insect. It collects nectar from flowers.”

“Like a turgut!” Fristan cackled and slapped his knee; then he began one of his garbled songs. As the Androssi warbled off-key, he rocked back and forth, closing his eyes. Wes saw no further reason to talk to him, so he stood and paced nervously in the rear of the cabin.

“They’re slowing down near buoy thirty-two,” announced Vale. “That must be our destination. How close do we have to be to patch in?”

“Ten meters should do,” answered Wes. “Even with the interference, the signal should be strong enough from there. Excuse me, Captain.”

Picard rose from the auxiliary console. “Is this going to work?”

The young man shrugged. “A distress signal is an open invitation. You never know who will respond.”

As soon as Vale killed the thrusters and stopped the craft close to the buoy, Wes sat down and began to go to work. After several minutes, he reported, “I’ve dumped the signal to the relay. It’s repeating.”

For proof, he turned on the audio speaker in his console, and they listened to the urgent chirps of an Ontailian distress signal. Vale said, “The Androssi have backed off to three kilometers.”

“Go to our position,” Picard ordered, stepping behind his pilot. They watched silently as Vale brought them to a distance of three kilometers from the buoy, across from the Androssi vessel. Now they had the buoy bracketed. The Androssi vanished from sight, leaving only rubble and a man-sized buoy shimmering in the graveyard.

“They’ve put up their cloak,” said Vale.

“So will we.” Picard moved to the rear console, where he manually activated the jerry-rigged cloaking device. It was all that hung between them and destruction if the mimic ship showed up as planned.

Wes knew that he could make the difference in any encounter, but all he could think about was Colleen aboard that ragtag Androssi scow. What’s she doing? How are they treating her? It was maddening not to be able to check on her, even for a moment. He realized that her bold offer had won the scavengers over and allowed the Skegge to keep their cloak. How much good was Androssi aid? How much good was a cloak going to be against…what he had seen?

“Mr. Crusher, watch those sensors,” warned Picard. “I know they’re not always accurate; however, they might spot a ship coming toward us.”

“Of course, sir.” Wes felt remiss about being caught daydreaming. There was no sign of any living ship, not even the Androssi scow.

He looked out the viewport and saw a hulking Klingon battle cruiser that had been split in two. Startling ruptures like that were such a common sight in Rashanar that he hadn’t thought much about them until now. No starship ought to be broken in half like that by normal weaponry. Had the Klingon vessel cracked while the mimic ship was trying to extract its antimatter?

The Traveler looked at the eerie expanse of space, broken by dark mountains of twisted metal and glittering clouds of debris. He seriously doubted they could ever tame this war-torn wilderness. His senses told him where the Androssi scow was hiding, even though neither he nor the scanners could see it. He could tell where Colleen was, but not what they were doing to her.

I hope you’re all right, Colleen. I hope they’re not making you do anything against your will.

 

Colleen Cabot stood behind a phalanx of slender Androssi; it seemed to take six of them to man the three stations on the Androssi bridge. Even though the Androssi vessel was only a bit larger than the Skegge, its crew had to number at least twelve. In fact, it was shoulder-to-shoulder, standing-room-only in the main cabin. She noticed that some of them were heavily armed.

“They have put up their cloak,” she heard one of them say.

Overseer Jacer glanced uneasily at her and said, “This plan is not likely to succeed.”

“I realize that,” she answered. “In fact, I don’t want to destroy it at all. This demon ship is the perfect tool to find all the antimatter in Rashanar. It’s better than Fristan, who’s lost his mind. We should follow it and capture it.”

“You want to betray your comrades? They’re expecting us to destroy it.”

“If the demon flyer lives,” said Colleen, “just remember that it’s not over. As long as we’re cloaked, we may have other means to control it…like artificial gravity, magnetic fields! There are ways to control antimatter.”

“In small amounts.” Jacer countered. “We would require a starship for that.”

“I know where we can get one. Not a dead one either.”

He lifted an amber eyebrow. “That Starfleet vessel…or a facsimile of a Starfleet vessel.”

“She would be big enough to control it, wouldn’t she?” Colleen gave him an encouraging smile.

“Overseer!” called a voice. “Pakled overcruiser closing on the buoy. They’re eight lengths away and slowing.”

Jacer looked at Colleen. “That is the shape it had before.”

“Yes, but there are also real Pakled cruisers around here.”

“Prepare to engage tractor beam,” ordered Jacer, lifting his finger to signal.

Despite the crowd in the Androssi scow, Colleen could hear her own breath as they watched the Pakled cruiser drift to within half a kilometer of the buoy. A standard communications frequency suddenly crackled with interference, and the Androssi pilot said, “I think they’re trying to hail the Ontailian ship, because they can’t see it anywhere. They must not realize it’s the buoy that’s putting out the signal.”

Overseer Jacer lowered his hand. “Then it must be real Pakleds.”

The tactical officer agreed. “It would seem so…except I’m not certain the hail is coming from them.”

Colleen saw a moving reflection in the viewport at about one hundred and fifty degreess to starboard. She gripped Jacer’s wiry arm and pointed. “There! What’s that?”

His biceps tensed with fear as another Pakled cruiser became visible in the swirl of wreckage just below them. Jacer asked hoarsely, “Can sensors tell us which one is real?”

“No, sir,” answered the tactical officer.

Colleen felt a press at her back as the other Androssi pushed forward to see. It was clear that they couldn’t move or drop their cloak, because Pakled cruisers or the mimic ship were equally deadly. They had no choice but to hold their breath, watch, and see how the two cruisers reacted to each other.

The closest ship suddenly elongated like an eel, shooting straight toward the farther one off starboard. The silvery wad oozed around a wreck like a glob of mercury, resumed its former shape, and streaked toward its new prey.

“Run!” shouted Colleen to no one in particular. “Tell them to run!”

“Hails are no good,” the tactical officer reported. “Too much interference. They’re still within tractor-beam range, Overseer.”

Jacer hesitated, but Captain Picard didn’t. The Skegge became visible as a blip in the chaotic firmament, and its tractor beam grazed the rushing demon flyer. A slice was skimmed off, and exploded with achain reaction of searing pops. Colleen was momentarily blinded, and when she could focus again, she quickly saw that none of this had any effect on the entity, which streaked toward its prey like a bolt of lightning.

“Save them, Wesley!” begged Colleen.

“What?” asked Jacer, thinking she was talking to him.

The woman blinked at the Androssi and said, “Follow the demon ship! Keep the cloak on. Hurry!”

Jacer hesitated only for a moment. “Follow it. Cloak and shields up.”

“Yes, Overseer.” Colleen could see the alien’s larynx bobbing nervously in the alien’s skinny neck, but she felt exhilarated by the chase.