FicWad

- The Things Of Hell -

9

The Sovereign-class Enterprise cruised along at warp factor 3 on a direct course for the Sal Fusia System. Lieutenant Commander La Forge had managed to make a degree of warp power available three hours into repairs. Since then, they had been moving steadily to their target, gradually increasing to warp 3. They were five hours out of the Tri Ro'Ku System before the forward phaser arrays and sensors were up and running and shields were almost up to 20% of capacity. The torpedo launching system was still down and sections of decks 3, 7 and 8 were off-limits due to two gaping holes in the skin of the ship, and the subsequent damage to those decks.

It had taken Picard and his crew 7 years to wreck the Enterprise-D. The way they'd been handling this ship since it was commissioned convinced Picard it wouldn't even last 5.

The Captain was doubly eager to get to their destination as soon as possible as the Vasco da Gama had not sent confirmation of their interception of the Klingon ship. It was entirely possible that 'Data' had activated the cloaking device. Another reason to get there quickly.

*

"Starfleet are sending the nearest suitable ship to meet us," said Picard to his bridge crew. "It could be midday before we rendezvous."

Riker sighed. "Let's hope we don't get into another dog-fight before back-up arrives."

Picard addressed Troi: "How are the crew holding up, Counsellor?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances. I think it would help if they had more of an idea about what they were facing."

"Yes, it would," grumbled Riker.

Troi gave him a look. He was being hostile again. He smiled at her and raised his hands. "I'm sorry. I can't help myself."

"Captain." It was Barnaby at Ops - he was analysing the readings at his station. They were still over an hour from their objective.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"I'm detecting what appears to be the wreckage of a ship, sir; just ahead."

"All-stop, Lieutenant Nevares," Riker asked of the young Hispanic man at the Conn.

The ever-so-faint sensation of movement eased off and the ship came to a halt.

"Helm answering all-stop, Commander," confirmed Nevares.

"On screen," said Picard, leaning forward in his command chair.

The viewer materialised at the front of the bridge to show stars. Among the stars, and just barely visible, were clusters of gleaming particles far off into the distance.

Picard strained his eyes. "Increase magnification."

The particles were clearly tiny shards of a metallic substance.

"I'm picking up traces of duranium and tritanium," said Lt. Barnaby.

The same material used to build Federation starships. Among others.

"The Vasco da Gama?"

"I'm not detecting a transponder signal. But I am detecting a faint subspace resonance signature - possibly from a Federation warp core." He worked the controls some more. "Scanning for frequency variances... checking computer records... It is the Vasco da Gama, sir."

'Was' Picard rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 'Damn it'

"This means Data's got weapons and shields back at full strength," Riker deducted.

"It's not Data, Will," Deanna pointed out to him.

"I know. But we don't even have a name for 'it'. Am I the only one who finds it more than a little frustrating?"

"Certainly not," admitted Picard in an unsettled tone.

"I'm also reading another signature," said Barnaby. "On a course for the Sal Fusia System, sir. It's degrading fast, but it appears to match a Klingon warp field."

Well, that settled any question of where he was heading.

Picard tapped his Comm. "Bridge to engineering. Geordi, how are the injector assemblies coming on?"

"I've done all I can with them, Captain," came his reply. "I think we'll get warp four out of her for a while, but she needs a whole new phase adjustment coil."

"Very well. If you could assign the remaining repairs to your staff, I'd like you on the bridge when we arrive."

"I'll be right up."

Picard leant back in his chair. This situation was dire and disturbing, and it was made all the more so knowing that Data was the instrument with which so much destruction had been caused. Picard hoped beyond hope that he could find his second officer - his friend - and bring him home safely. "Get us back on course, Mr. Nevares - warp four."

"Aye, sir."

"Engage."

*

"Young and naïve?" said Giles, pacing at first then sitting down at the breakfast table in his room. "I'll say." He found it beguiling that, even as far from home as they were, his living space had again become the focal point for the group. In the tone of a disappointed parent, he continued to scold Willow: "What you did was extremely... silly. I...I really thought you had more sense about you. You must realise that you are delving into powers far beyond your capabilities." Giles paused a moment, having become suddenly aware that Xander was in rather an urgent need of a shave. He shook off the distraction and continued: "You're very lucky to be in one piece."

The young Wicca wanted to protest, to defend her capabilities, but felt it to be a bad time, seeing as Giles' face had turned a curious shade of aubergine. Which was never good. "Well, if it's any consolation, Mr. Grumpy-pants, she told me not to disturb her again... or else."

"Or else what?" asked Xander. "She'll bowl another King-Kong curry-fart your way?"

"It's no laughing matter," she retorted.

"It certainly is not!" Giles put in. He'd gone all British again.

Xander, Buffy, Anya and especially Willow could tell he was gonna be no fun at all that day.

"So," said Giles, moving on, "what else did she have to say?"

Willow gave him an annoyed look. "Oh, so now you wanna know what she said?"

The group all focused in on him. "Well...we...we may as well garner what information we can from this...incident."

After a moment of deep thought, Willow recounted: "She did make some comment about Japanese cartoons... 'anime'," she said, pulling a 'Whatever-that-was-about' face.

"Anime?" Giles pondered. "Are you certain it was 'anime'? Could she have said 'Ani-/ma/'?"

"Anima? ... Yeah. That sounds right. Is that Latin? 'Cos I don't recognise that word."

"Anima refers to the spirit - the soul - of a person. This could be important. Can you be more specific about the context in which she used the word?"

"She said I was 'strong to bear anima', or something. She was kinda vague." She turned to Buffy. "Gods are always awkward that way."

"Mmm, interesting," Giles pondered aloud. 'Strong to bear the spirit' ... 'Strong to bear the soul'

"Sure; they're superior beings," Buffy said to Willow. "But it's no excuse for acting all high-and-mighty."

Willow nodded. "Oh, and she said something about my room being too dark ... that I was 'Dancing in the dark'."

To that, Buffy said: "You sure it wasn't the ghost of Bruce Springsteen?"

That didn't sound right to Xander. "Technically he can't have a ghost if he's still alive, right?"

Buffy shook her head at him. "Not if it's Bruce Springsteen from this universe."

"But how do we know he sang the same songs in this reality?" Anya pointed out.

"Or even that he existed at all," said Buffy.

'What on Earth are they talking about?' Giles thought. "Excuse me, people," he interrupted, tapping a finger on the table. "We must concentrate! Finding a way to defeat this evil force is a difficult enough task with no means of researching the topic further, without you lot confusing matters unnecessarily."

Their faces betrayed their thoughts. 'Riiiight'

"Anyway," said Willow finally. "It wasn't Bruce Springsteen."

"Mr. Giles?" came a woman's voice, as if from nowhere.

Some of them instantly looked to the doorway of his bedroom - expressions of shock already fixed firmly on their faces.

The former Watcher was momentarily confused until he saw Xander indicating to his insignia badge.

'Of course!' "Um...Yes?" he answered, tapping his chest.

"We're about to enter the Sal Fusia System, and the captain has requested your presence on the bridge."

"Err...On my way." He gave the group a shrug and made his way out.

Although they had not been invited, the gang followed him.

*

It was fair to say that the Bridge was heaving when the Enterprise dropped out of warp and glided into the Sal Fusia System.

Worf and Martok were peering over the shoulders of the officer at tactical, and the Sunnydale group - now including Spike - hung around behind Troi's chair. The doctor was also present, leaning against a small station near the turbolift.

*

The Sal Fusia 6 science station had a central dome, or semi-sphere, surrounded by a protective scaffold-like ring from which two 'arms' of differing lengths reached out at odd angles. Each antennae 'arm' was finished off with specialist sensor clusters and, at the apex of the dome, sat a small group of science labs that resembled 20th century city skyscrapers.

The Enterprise slipped into synchronous orbit alongside the science station and began running a scan.

*

"I'm only reading one life-sign; very faint," La Forge reported at the operations console.

"Are there any other ships in the vicinity, Geordi?" asked Picard.

"None that I'm detecting."

"Any tachyon traces of a cloaked ship?" said Riker.

"No. Looks like the coast's clear."

Picard nodded thoughtfully, as he often did when making quick decisions. "Lower shields and beam the casualty directly to sickbay."

Daniels was about to comply...

"Wait," called Crusher. "This isn't an emergency-transport situation, Captain. I have to stabilise the patient before beaming them aboard."

'Blasted regulations' "Alright," Picard agreed. "We can take this opportunity to assess the situation over there."

Anticipating his orders, Security Chief Daniels approached Picard from tactical.

The Captain stood. "Lieutenant Daniels - take a security attachment and escort Doctor Crusher to the station."

"CAPTAIN!"

Picard turned to see Martok approach him in a determined manner.

"Captain Picard, circumstances have personally involved my delegation in these unfortunate events. With all due respect, I insist on having a Klingon presence on the away-team."

"Agreed, Chancellor."

"I will take Worf with me."

"I'm sorry? ...I will allow you to send two of your men, Chancellor, but I have no intention of sending the leader of the Klingon people into a potentially hazardous situation."

"I have authority here-"

"As Captain of this ship I will not allow it."

"I will go," offered Worf. "I shall take Gor'agh with me."

Unsatisfied, yet powerless to argue, Martok agreed. "So be it."

"Again, Ambassador," Picard said to Worf, "I cannot allow-"

"I insist," Martok said firmly. "I have made one compromise. I do not wish to make another. As leader of the Klingon people, I give Worf my personal commission to attend."

The Captain sighed heavily and said: "As you wish, Chancellor." He then gave Worf and Daniels the same task. "Find out what happened on that station, gentlemen."

"I hope you've got room for one more," said Buffy.

Riker almost laughed. "You must be joking! Captain-"

Giles cut in: "Captain Picard, Buffy is the Slayer. If there's any kind of demonic activity, you may well need her there. She is the one person most equipped to deal with it."

Something told Picard he should bend the rules a little and allow this infringement. However, he didn't want to alienate his first officer, who clearly was not about to breach any regulations to let a civilian girl on an away mission.

Riker noted that his Captain was looking to him for an opinion. He also saw that Deanna was giving him the evil eye again. They were involved ... and she was their chosen representative...

So he found himself nodding agreeably. "Just stay close to Daniels and his men. And don't get in the way." He then turned to glare at the Counsellor as if to mean: 'There; are you satisfied?'

She smiled back at him warmly: 'I suppose so'.

*

"Anyway," Buffy asked of Worf as they made their way to the transporter room. "How come when we first...met, we couldn't understand you? Then, in sickbay, you were talking all... English?"

Worf replied to the annoying little girl's query with irritation: "When combined with a ships' computer, the communicators worn by Starfleet personnel act as a universal translator."

'Mmm' "So...whatever language you speak, it all gets turned into English?"

"No."

"That it? Just 'No'? You're not gonna tell me why?"

Couldn't she just leave him in peace? Worf answered impatiently: "If there were three individuals. One only speaks and understands Klingon, one Cardassian and one...Vulcan. A universal translator will allow all three to communicate with any one of the others. That is why it is 'universal'."

"Oh," said Buffy. "Nifty."

Buffy waited outside the main transporter room for Daniels and his team. Though part of her just didn't want to hang around in there with the Klingons. Worf's equally ass-faced friend had already been waiting for him when they arrived.

"I'm coming with," said Xander, emerging from a side corridor followed by Spike. "You might need some Scooby back-up. Just in case anything over there decides to get ugly. And these security guys don't come across as being all that slick."

"You sure you wanna beam there?"

"/Beam/?" His face fell in dread and he replied sarcastically: "On second thoughts...I promised Anya she could wax my chest!"

"Thanks anyway, but I'd feel better if I didn't have to worry about anyone else."

Xander lowered his gaze. "Right." It was for the best, really. If he had gone off risking his life, Anya would have killed him.

"I'll watch your back." It was out before Spike even realised he was gonna speak. 'Quick - an excuse'... "I'm gettin' bored sittin' 'round here, twiddlin' m'thumbs. Change of scenery's just what I need to take my mind off... the... intense craving I've got for a cig!" 'There'. They'd buy that. He wasn't really sure why he wanted to go along. Apart from the strange desire he felt to look out for the Slayer, there was something else. Something drawing him to the station. Anyway, he really was bored hanging around the ship.

Daniels soon appeared with three gun-toting security officers and they all moved into the transporter room.

"Here." Daniels tried to hand Buffy a rifle.

When she declined it, he smiled at her as if to a child. "There's no need to be afraid of it. It's set to stun only. I'll show you how to use it."

"I'm not really one for guns." She caught sight of the bat'leth strapped to Worf's back. "Don't suppose I could get one of those?"

Worf, insulted, grunted loudly. "This is the sacred weapon of a Klingon warrior!" he growled.

"So that's a big 'No', then?"

"You can have /this/," Worf said, handing her his small d'k tagh knife with a wry grin. His companion laughed.

She flicked the switch on the knife and two smaller side-blades snapped out. "It'll do."

To Worf's surprise, she slipped the knife in her waistband and stepped onto the transporter platform. She was serious! Or she was insane.

When the doc arrived with a medical field kit, Spike, Worf and Gor'agh followed her onto the pad with Daniels and his men.

Warren handed Buffy and Spike a Comm badge to make a transporter-lock easier. The Klingons were already wearing their own arm-mounted communicators. Spike flat-out refused to wear the thing, claiming it might interfere with the chip in his head and melt his 'brain'.

"Besides, you can't miss me. I'm the corpse, remember?" he pointed out.

And so, they all stood there on the platform and prepared for the unknown...

]

They materialised to find themselves in the central rotunda, only partially illuminated by dim emergency lighting. And the image that greeted them sent an arctic chill through their bones.

Fist-sized clots of torn and ravaged flesh hung from the crossbeams, pasted the walls, and littered the floor. There were even skulls amongst the butchery - or remnants of heads, if you will, as they appeared to still have some flaps of skin and the underlying muscle attached.

Blood painted the scene, causing Buffy to feel like Alice in a nightmare of Wonderland. Someone had really gone all-out to paint the town red. She could not recall ever seeing anything quite as horrific in all her time as a Slayer. The remains were already starting to decay and the air had begun to turn foul with the smell of it.

BLOOD

Dark Flowing Cascading Surrounding Filling Drowning Red Danger DEATH!

The lumpy masses looked to Buffy like... "And their hearts swam in rivers of blood," she whispered to no one in particular.

"What's that?" asked Daniels on hearing her.

"Oh... nothing. Just something I read." She cocked an ear. "What's making that humming noise?"

Daniels listened hard. "Sounds like the torque sensors are out of alignment. Nothing to worry about." He made a mental note - the girl had the ears of a Vulcan.

The room itself was circular, domed, with tiers of seats surrounding the central arena they stood in - like an amphitheatre, and with two levels. On either side of them, simple metal stairs led up to a narrow gangway that ran around the room, edged by a railing. A large screen in the centre of the upper floor angled downward to face the arena. It looked like they were in a meeting place. A forum. It reminded Buffy of a lecture hall from college.

'Damn!' she thought, grimacing. She realised she had homework to do if - when - she got home.

Worf saw this and took it to mean she was grimacing at the carnage surrounding them. "I have seen far worse sights than this in battle," he told her. "The Battle of Tong Vey was a fierce one in the history of my people. I have a holodeck program of it that I visit regularly." He paused, savouring the thought. "Many warriors were disembowelled and left for days to die from their wounds."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. 'Exaggerating much?' she thought. What she said was: "Well, thanks for taking our minds off the death and slaughter by telling us about all that...death and slaughter." She heard him growl at her deeply.

Picard's voice cut through the frightfulness of the scene: "Enterprise to Daniels. Report."

The blond-haired man struggled to find his voice. "...I...It's horrible. I...can't describe it, sir."

Worf studied the upper level and saw what he was looking for. "Captain. I will attempt to activate the conference screen," he said, already making his way up a set of stairs and onto the second level walkway. His feet left deep imprints in the thick carpet of blood.

*

"This's weird," La Forge said from the front of the bridge. "There were four type-six shuttles and three runabouts assigned to this station. ...They're all missing!"

Picard frowned heavily, as did Riker who repeated: "Missing?" Not everyone on that station would fit in those shuttles. So where were they? Data certainly couldn't fly them /all/, and a tractor beam would be far too weak. Unless they all went through the 'wormhole'. "Maybe he just wanted to go home," offered the Commander.

Xander took this chance to put him down a peg. "You're really not following any of this, are you?"

Riker pierced him with a glare.

"Besides, Number One," said the Captain. "Why would he take all the shuttles?"

Martok, having taken it upon himself to man the tactical post, spoke up: "The image-feed from the station is available, Captain."

"Put it on screen, Chancellor."

The view appeared suddenly of Worf's body in the dullness - his head off-screen. He stepped aside to reveal a wide, angled view looking down on the first level of the rotunda. The image was badly lit, but after a moment of adjustment, the true nature of the situation became apparent. The mood on the bridge turned grim.

*

Dr. Crusher had seen some terrible things during her time as a CMO - some of them had been within the last 12 hours - but this... It was beginning to turn even her stomach. She quickly regained her composure, unholstered her medical tricorder and began a bio-scan.

Daniels and Gor'agh remained by her side as the other two security officers and Ambassador Worf secured the area.

Buffy noted that the Klingons had not yet seen fit to draw their weapons. Whereas the guards - one Human with dusky brown hair and a thin goatee, and one Human/ish/, but with elf-like pointed ears and a fixed quizzical expression on his face - both held large and unusual rifles. As did Daniels.

"This way," Crusher said, indicating a corridor that led out of the rotunda. "We'd better hurry. The life-sign is fading." She started to lead the way out, but Daniels made it his duty to keep a step or two ahead of her.

Worf appeared in front of Buffy and signalled her to follow. She saw no reason not to comply, so she did as he wished. After all, she was on /their/ turf. Though that never usually stopped her.

Buffy followed the doc, the Klingons falling into step behind her with the other two Starfleets' covering the rear.

*

On the bridge of the Enterprise, they watched as the away-team disappeared from view.

*

The corridor was somewhat larger than that of the Enterprise and more octagonal than square. Piping, conduits and cables ran the length of it along the ceiling, and it appeared to have seen less trauma than the forum in the rotunda, as it was less bloody.

They moved cautiously along, the passage growing darker and darker still.

"The emergency lighting must have failed in this section," Daniels said.

The three security officers activated small torches at the head of their weapons and the passage before them was lit with an eerie mix of light and shadow. As they walked, trying to hurry without rushing foolishly on, the shadows danced ahead of them in the torch-beams; beckoning them into their lair. It seemed as though, at any moment, something might jump out at them unexpectedly.

Passing beneath an overhead hatch built into the ceiling, Daniels seemed to sense Buffy and Spike's thoughts. "Access to the next deck," he said dismissively, concentrating his torchlight on it for a moment. It was locked from the deck above.

They continued on through the murky darkness, the doctor updating them that they were drawing closer to her patient. The group struggled to see what was outside the streams of the rifle-light, but Spike could easily see beyond it. Darkness was his home and he felt like he really had come home. He'd spent far too long in the light. The vampire saw before them what the others could not. "Mind your step there," he advised.

Daniels, leading, stopped and dropped the end of his phaser rifle downward. A small flight of steps - maybe four or five of them - led down to a slightly lower level corridor that looked to end with a half-open double-door.

"Just twenty metres ahead," Crusher informed them.

"Okay," said the Security Chief, addressing his men and the Klingons. "When we get in; secure the area. Pattern delta."

As a former Federation security chief, Worf understood. He quickly barked a command to his fellow Klingon and Gor'agh nodded.

When Daniels saw they were ready, he moved down and made for the room ahead.

Only a single wall panel in the room was lit, and it flickered randomly on and off. Considering the time it would take the eyes to adjust to its light, it offered little illumination.

The guards and the warriors stood in their secured positions, those with rifles playing their light over the room. Buffy, Spike, Daniels and the doc looked in from the doorway.

Buffy saw that, in the torch beams, there were computer panels and controls along the walls, and the room seemed to be hexagonal, or a pentagon, and roughly half the size of the one they had arrived in. There was still food half-eaten on the worktops, a few cups and such lying wasted on the deck. She remembered the film 'Aliens' and it sent a shiver through her.

"This's like something out of 'Aliens'," said Spike, almost like he read her mind. But she could see that he was as nervous here as her.

And he could see that she believed he was.

The sudden thought of ravaging her skipped through his mind. 'No', a voice said to him from within, '/Not yet. Not quite yet. They have to see it first/...'

Crusher glanced up from her tricorder and pointed. "Over there; at the far side of the room."

Worf put a hand over his shoulder and let it rest on the bat'leth he carried against his back.

The three shafts of torchlight skipped across the scene, each passing over a large master systems display table at the centre of the room, and coming together to rest against the far wall. And, for a moment, all but one of them felt their heart stop.

A girl.

She couldn't have been more than 7 or 8 - hanging limp. Clothes ragged, her skin bruised and ripped all over. A tritanium-coated cable protruding from the rafters was bent out of shape, piercing through her cheeks. It held her there over the floor, stretching the flesh around her mouth unnaturally as her weight pulled her downwards.

"My God! Get her down!" Crusher pleaded desperately.

Worf rushed in to take the girl's weight as Daniels grabbed a nearby anti-grav chair, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. He slid the chair next to her.

"Try to do as little damage as you can!" Crusher ordered as the security chief got up onto the chair.

Daniels' heart was racing. This was unbelievable. He'd never known anything like it. Not even from the Breen. A quick test of the rigid cable told him he wouldn't be able to remove it without shredding the poor girl's face apart. He did the only thing he could; taking hold of the back of her head where it met her neck, he slid her gently off the cable while using his other hand to ensure her mouth followed. When she was clear, Worf let her drop into his arms and rested her unconscious body carefully on the display table as Dr. Crusher ordered.

Stepping in from the entrance, Buffy had a hand over her mouth. She tried with all her heart to repress the horror she felt, but it was her heart that caused her to imagine what this defenceless girl must have gone through. Worse still, in some part of her, she couldn't help but be reminded of Dawn.

The doctor ran her probe over the child's battered form as Buffy came over and brushed some of the girl's long brown hair away from her tortured face. "How is she?" As soon as she said it, it sounded like the stupidest question she'd ever heard.

"She's swallowed some blood. There's sign of head trauma. Broken limbs. Internal bleeding. She's in hypovolemic shock." The doc, without hesitation, slung her carry-case onto the table and snapped it open, struggling to find what she needed in the dark, "I need some more light here!" she demanded urgently. "And clear her airway!" she said to Buffy.

The Slayer made a move to do something then stopped. "H...how?"

"Turn her on her side. Use your fingers if you have to." Crusher loaded a hypo and gave the girl a shot of epinephrine to increase her cardiac output before diving back into the field kit.

Buffy let her fingers slide down the girl's small throat, pulling out blood and whatever else was in there. God, this was unreal.

The doctor's mind was racing with procedures and diagnosis. She knew she had to control the internal bleeding, knew she'd need to arrange blood replacement back in sickbay, knew then that she'd have to tackle the head injuries. But a passage from her Starfleet medical 'Bible' rang in her mind: 'In cases of hypovolemic or cardiogenic shock, death is likely even with immediate medical attention.' But there was always a possibility. Always.

The girl's body had begun to tremble and sweat profusely, yet Buffy noted her skin was cold to touch as she stroked her hair and face reassuringly. She watched the doctor attach a small device to the patient's stomach area and begin to interface her foldaway hand-sensor with it.

Crusher's tricorder told her that the bleeding was already under control and that her internal organs were now starting to receive vital blood supply. And the drug was helping; her vitals were slowly stabilising. "Give her a second, and we should be able to transport her."

Buffy stroked the girl's face gently. 'Poor, poor kid'

Then, suddenly, she coughed, and her eyes opened wearily.

This surprised Buffy and, on seeing her stood there, the girl tried to speak: "Please-" She coughed. "Hel-" This time when she coughed, a small discharge of blood came with it. "Help me..." Her words slurred with the distortion of her mouth.

"It's alright," Buffy assured her. "You're going to be alright. There's a doctor here and she's gonna fix you up good as new. I promise."

Spike was watching. Smiling. This was fun. To see their reaction. It made the effort worthwhile. Christ! Spike wanted to laugh at them - at how easily they could be led. His smile quickly hid behind shock when Buffy turned to check on him. She had no idea. When the Slayer turned her attention away from him again, he quickly took a strange futuristic wrench that sat on a worktop - one he'd been eyeing since entering the room - and hid it up his sleeve unnoticed.

"My name's Buffy. Stupid name, huh?"

The girl, eyes fluttering, seemed to try to smile.

"What's yours?"

She didn't answer. Instead, her eyes just fluttered once more ... then closed.

The tricorder sounded. There wasn't enough blood-flow to the brain. It was shutting down!

Dr. Crusher quickly pulled a cortical stimulator from her kit, laid her patient onto her back again and placed the device on the girl's forehead. She tried a few times to shock the brain, but to no avail.

Buffy stepped back in an attempt to distance herself from what she was watching, her mouth open, eyes filling with tears. The horror. 'But...I promised...'

"I'm losing her!" Crusher warned, still trying to revive her.

And trying...

And trying...

And stopped.

She was gone.

"Too much trauma..." said the doctor, as if to justify or explain her failure to get her back. She really couldn't have done anything.

Buffy could barely breathe. '...I promised...' She turned away and wiped away tears from her face. She didn't like any of this.

*

"I don't like this," confessed Riker, watching the empty rotunda on the viewer. "Something's not right. A hundred-strong crew and only one survivor?"

"Yes," Picard agreed. "It is rather...dubious. Still; we must investigate."

"That's what bothers me."

*

"Something bothering you?" Daniels asked of Buffy as she looked about them.

"This's all wrong," she said, taking the end of his phaser and guiding the light around the room. They were cornered. Small room, no windows, no doors. No way in or out other than the way they came. And with the mess of this place...why only one survivor?'

'Ex-survivor'

Even the ventilation ducts were too small for a person to fit in.

Clawing Crawling Gnawing Choking...

"It's a trap," she said pointedly.

Then the trouble started.

Spike had been watching the Slayer closely. Darkness had an interest in her. My, how tasty she looked. And how nice it would be... to bathe in her blood and to feel great mouthfuls of her flesh sliding down his throat... 'Aw, sick' ... 'Wait...no. Not sick' In fact...it sounded... delicious.

She was looking around. Her mind undoubtedly racing - trying to find a way out. Yes, he knew her well. Knew how her mind worked. Wondered what it would look like in his hands. He let the wrench drop into his palm, and his grip on it tightened. With her back to him, the Slayer said something: "It's a trap."

It was time to make his move.

*

Unknown to them - in the passageway - the access hatch to the upper deck ... opened.

*

"In the name of Darkness, DIE, SLAYER!" Spike screamed.

Buffy spun to see the wrench come to within inches of her face and, before she had time to react, Spike withdrew suddenly; screaming out in agony, dropping the weapon and clutching at his head. "BLOODY, SODDIN' 'ELL!" he cried. "Change of plan ya hypnotic arsehole! I'm nobody's soddin' lap-dog, d'ya hear? I'M the Big Bad here, Mister!"

Worf walked over to Buffy, regarding the vampire with new-found distrust. "What is wrong with him?"

Daniels joined them. "Who's he talking to?"

"Spike!" she shouted, getting his attention. "You wanna explain to me why you just tried to cave my head in? Or should I just save us some time and dust you?"

She was not in a good mood by any means, and Spike quickly came to his own defence: "It wasn't my fault. Honest. Something was makin' me do it. In my head. Lieutenant Commander 'I'll-be-back', I reckon," he said, using his best Arnie voice, then continued: "He's got the power to command evil... things. Things without a soul. Didn't figure on me havin' a nasty little chip in m' skull, though, did he?... DID YOU!" he yelled to the heavens.

"But you're alright now?" she asked.

"Yeah. Under control. It's either that or a head-splittin' migraine. I'll take my chances stickin' twos up at His Evilness." Which he did. Very enthusiastically. Spike didn't say, but the pain of not giving in to the will of Evil was almost as intense as the pain in his head. Still, he found it within himself to resist.

"What was that?" Gor'agh asked suddenly.

They all looked up. They'd heard it too. It had sounded like a muffled scratching.

The Vulcan - Tokk - used his keen ears to pinpoint the source of the sound and brought his light to bear on it.

Klingons feared nothing and, as the closer of the two, Gor'agh stepped into the light to investigate.

It looked like a Federation pet-carrier, so the warrior undid the latch and swung the small flap open. Nothing happened at first. Then, tentatively, a tiny puppy - possibly a Labrador - crept into view, then stumbled out. There was dried blood matted into its fur.

Gor'agh lifted it by the scruff of its neck and examined it.

Tokk followed his movements with the torchlight as the away-team watched.

It seemed that one of its eyes had been gouged out and there was even blood in its mouth. The tall, heavily muscled Klingon looked over to the doctor. "I should end this animal's suffering."

After a quick glance at the faces of the people around her, Crusher nodded to the warrior.

Gor'agh reached up to hold the pup's body while he snapped its neck. It would be quick.

A second before he did the deed, the doctor spoke: "I'm not reading any life-sign from it," she said, directing her tricorder toward the infant dog.

The instant Gor'agh looked over at Crusher, it struck. The animal turned and bit down on the flesh between his thumb and index finger. With an instinctive cry, the Klingon tore his hand free, sending a small spray of blood through the air. The pup minded none, as it dug its sharp claws into his face and sank its teeth deep into his rippled forehead.

Gor'agh roared and ripped it away from him - tearing tissue from his face. Pulling his d'k tagh knife from his belt, he impaled the mutt through its chest and pinned it on the wall.

Stuck there, nearly 6 feet from the ground - blade through its heart - it writhed and growled.

"I hate Terran pets!" he said as the doctor checked him over and gave him a combination anti-viral/painkiller hypospray.

"What is happening here?" he said to Crusher.

"I-" A figure appeared suddenly behind Gor'agh and Crusher fell back in surprise.

The Klingon cried out again as something grabbed him from behind, wrapping its withered arms around him and plunging its mouth into his neck savagely.

It looked like a man. Yet not. Skin rotting. Flesh bleeding, ruptured and lacerated. Hair thinning. Tendons showing... Nauseous. Repulsive. Sickening... Putrid.

Everyone took a step back as Gor'agh slammed his back against the wall, cracking something inside the body of the thing. But it didn't flinch. Wrapped tightly around him, it began to shake its head with such ferocity that the meat of his neck started to rip away.

"I WILL TEAR YOUR STILL-BEATING HEART FROM YOUR CHEST WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Gor'agh yelled as he took hold of the slimy hair of the creatures head and flung it over his shoulder, leaving him holding a fistful of hair and scalp.

It hit the deck, skidded onto its knees, clambered to its feet and came back at him...

...Until the Slayer came from the shadows and cut into it with a side-kick that slammed the thing against a workstation. Before it recovered, she went to punch its face, only to have her fist caught by a perished claw. The abomination dug its sharp talons into her wrist and moved in to bite her face; grabbing at her throat.

With her one free arm, her Slayer-strength barely kept its hideous teeth at bay. It was like a monster possessed.

Gnawing Choking

"Fforr Darrknessss," it hissed at her, spittle from its gnarled and twisted mouth landing on her face.

"I really have to draw the line at spitting," she said, landing a hard head-butt into its partial nose, smashing whatever support was behind it, and taking out most of the thing's teeth in the process. She brought a leg up and rammed it into the creature's bony chest, sending it reeling back into the work terminal.

Tokk fired a blast from his phaser, catching it in the midriff, yet it still came forth. Reaching for them.

"Set phasers to kill," Daniels commanded.

"They're already dead!" yelled Buffy.

He tried anyway - in vain - before resetting his rifle again and firing. This time, when the phaser-pulse impacted, the zombie disappeared in a cloud of vapour.

There was a long silence.

Buffy ended it by taking Daniels' gun, pointing it at the display table and vaporising the dead girl's body before throwing it back to him.

"At least they're still made of normal matter," said Crusher, in mild relief.

"They're just dead people," stated the Slayer, too pumped to feel anything other than hate and disgust at that point.

Almost as if it had only just occurred to her, Crusher pressed her Comm. "Crusher to Enterprise."

Nothing.

"Daniels to Enterprise!"

Still nothing.

Crusher quickly accessed the non-medical functions of her tricorder. "There's a dampening field around this room. We have to go back."

That was when Buffy noticed a faint whiff of something creep up on her. She sniffed. 'Ew, foul' She sniffed again. Then her Slayer-sense kicked in. 'Oh, hell!'

She turned to the entrance...

A single panel flickered...

...4 of them... 9...

Flickered again...

...More...

And again...

...15... 20... More...

In the light of his rifle, Daniels could see that Buffy was agitated. "What's wrong?" When she didn't acknowledge him he stepped closer to her, as if his proximity to her would make him more noticeable. "Miss Summers?"

Crusher became worried when she didn't respond again. "Buffy?"

"We've got company," she said at last.

Daniels looked at the doctor, who checked her tricorder and shook her head at him. He was beginning to realise there was more to this Summers girl than meets the eye. So, against his better judgement, the security chief slowly turned his rifle away from Buffy and aimed it towards the doorway. And the shaft of light from it followed.

Bloodthirsty, rotten, festering corpses - too many to count - blocked the exit. Men, women, children, animals. Zombies. Flesh dissolving. Some with hollow cavities where eyes once were. Some missing jaws or arms. Some were Starfleet - even the uniforms were perished, ripped, stained with blood. Ravaged half-eaten monsters.

"They're not human," Buffy assured them.

Technically, most of them were Sal Fusian.

"They're not anything," Crusher confirmed, snapping the tricorder shut and holstering it. She fought back her fear. "We have to get back to the conference centre."

The security officers copied Daniels and aimed their rifles at the closest ones as their chief said: "We'll take them down."

"You can't zap 'em all," Buffy pointed out. No. They'd have to go through them.

Daniels was beginning to sweat. "There's nearly fifty metres of corridor to get past. And we have no idea how many of them there are."

Buffy and Worf shared a look. They each knew what they must do.

Gor'agh drew his mek'leth - a short, curved, 'h'-shaped sword with a sharp edge, favoured by many Klingon warriors - and said passionately: "I DO NOT THINK TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE."

Work agreed completely, readying his bat'leth.

Spike recovered the wrench and held it like a bat. "Just like being back on the field."

The doctor pulled her hand-phaser and set it to the minimum disruptor level as Buffy gave the small d'k tagh knife a thoughtful glance. It really would have to do.

And the creatures just stared; waiting for them to make a futile effort to escape; drawing out their fear.

"We need a diversion," whispered the Slayer. "Something to distract them so we can get past."

"We can..." The doctor began quietly, suppressing the urge to keep her knowledge to herself. "We can set my phaser to overload. It would give us an advantage."

"Is that like a bomb?" Buffy asked.

"Yes," Crusher answered. "But I'd be defenceless."

"Don't worry. I'll watch your back," said Buffy.

Daniels looked down on her. "Who's going to watch yours?" He took the hand-phaser and initiated a discharge loop in the pre-fire chamber. Crusher monitored the overload with her tricorder. When the energy levels had almost exceeded the structural limit of the pre-fire chamber, she gave him a nod.

Daniels tossed the phaser - just behind the front row of monsters - and guided the group in backing away.

A second of panic hit when the bomb didn't detonate immediately.

Then: (((BOOM)))

The front row blew away in pieces - bits of people and things flew in all directions. Without hesitation, the away-team advanced.

Worf was the first to move, swinging his sword elegantly, taking off heads; the bodies falling to the deck, but still clawing.

Clawing Crawling

A full-grown canine ran forward. Gor'agh, hurt and bleeding, lunged past it, cutting through its neck on the way, and brought his mek'leth up in an uppercut. It dug into the groin of one of the more decayed zombies and he was surprised, given their strength, at how easily he let his blade slit it from gut to gullet. It fell away from him in two equal parts and he moved on to the next. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to be in battle.

Buffy guided the doc into the swarm, kicking and pushing the creatures aside to cover as much ground as she could as quickly as she could. Soon they were surrounded, and Buffy began to use the knife to pave a way for them. She was vaguely aware of the creatures vaporising around her - disintegrating under the weapon-fire of the Starfleet officers. And the path ahead was made easier by the Klingons who ploughed viscously through the crowd. In the erratic rifle-light, she could see that the beasts filled the length of the visible corridor. There were masses of the creatures.

Tokk and his partner 'Shaw' - The bearded officer - were starting to run out of room to fire off the phasers, so they began using them as clubs against the Hell-spawn. But there were simply too many of them and Shaw was not as powerful as the Vulcan. He soon found himself tackling a particularly determined one of the monstrosities. It held onto his rifle with both hands, as did he, and they stayed like that for what seemed, to Shaw, to be forever. But forever proved to be too long...

Terror gripped him as two more of them came from behind and reached for his arms. In desperation, he let go of the gun and tried to push his attackers away - without success as two sets of rotten jaws latched onto his upper arms. Shaw, legs frozen in fear, could only watch as the one holding his weapon dropped it and looked up at him with its one good eye, licking its lips. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could. Maybe he would wake up from this.

'God, please let me wake up from this...'

It leapt on him, digging its claws into his body and its teeth deep into his throat; pushing him to the floor where more of them followed, scavenging from him.

As the pain fell away to nothing, the last thing Stewart Shaw knew was the smell of death.

Worf was almost clear of the 'zombie' crowd, when a garbled cry from Shaw made him turn just in time to see the man disappear under a frenzied mass of the freaks. Torchlight bounced madly around the tunnel and Worf saw that Daniels, Tokk and the injured Gor'agh were separated, each having trouble, and the small girl was nowhere to be seen. He had to go back for them.

Buffy was beginning to realise she was in trouble. The small knife just wasn't big enough to do any real damage to these things and it was getting harder to keep them away from the doctor. They were cornered.

Daniels brought his rifle up with both hands and rammed the butt into the nearest face. He tried to pull back for another go, but there just wasn't the room. He'd never felt so claustrophobic. In sheer desperation, he held his gun as it was designed for, and dropped onto his back - right at their feet - and fired frantically again and again; blowing off as many zombie heads as he could manage.

Buffy remembered the hatchway. Knowing that the chance of it being right over them was slim, she looked up anyway. She was right - it wasn't there. But there were pipes. Big pipes. High up. "Hey, Doc! Can you get up there?"

Crusher tried. "It's too high!"

'Okay,' Buffy thought, 'Here goes nothing...' She did the best spin kick she could manage in a tight space, knocking the creatures back long enough for her to turn and give the doctor a boost.

Crusher pulled her entire body up to the biggest pipe, wrapping her legs and arms tight around it, while Buffy picked the knife back up and stabbed it between the nearest set of eyes.

Worf doubled-back, cutting the enemy down with his Klingon sword. Though, when he saw Doctor Crusher taking refuge on the ceiling, it became clear he might not get to them in time.

He saw Crusher hanging from a pipe. Holding her body tight up to...a pipe. A pipe! A fuel pipe!

Sal Fusians believed in not hiding the things that made their technology work! And the fuel they use to power the thrusters turns to a gas when oxidised! He also knew that those pipes could withstand tremendous heat pressure and that, without power, this pipe was cut off from the main fuel supply! A plan! Now all he needed was a phaser.

Gor'agh had seen Shaw fall, and when he managed to shake off the beast that gnawed at his leg, he grabbed one by the throat and flung it with all his might into the crowd - clearing a path to Shaw. It was too late. Shaw was gone. Almost entirely. But, when the Klingon saw the body move, he thought again. 'Tough Human!' He picked the man up, between kicking and punching zombies away. The warrior realised his error, however, when Shaw suddenly latched onto him, gripping the bottom of Gor'agh's face in his mouth. The warrior roared for the umpteenth time since beaming aboard. He was getting tired of being every freak's free lunch.

He lost all patience and snapped, cutting upward suddenly. His mek'leth severed Shaw's head from his body which fell away in a torrent of fresh blood. With Shaw's head still hanging from his bleeding face, the Klingon lashed out in all directions, severing, ripping, cutting and slashing feverishly. And the things of hell fell at his feet. Pulling the head off his face and slamming it to the ground, he roared his final roar. One not of pain, but of warning and victory. He was prepared to take NO more! Then something bumped into his back. He spun, grabbed, and rammed it against the bulkhead.

Spike yelped and brought his wrench up in defence.

They both eyed each other briefly, realising their joint mistake.

"Where's the Slayer?" Spike asked. "Where's Buffy?"

The tall warrior looked above the crowd, smacked a mighty fist into one of the creatures that got too close, and said to Spike: "SHE IS BENEATH THE DOCTOR!"

Spike looked up and saw what he meant.

"I MUST ASSIST LIEUTENANT DANIELS!"

With that, they separated - Spike heading for the Slayer, Gor'agh for the security chief. Until the Klingon heard a familiar voice calling him from further down the corridor where it was black. Worf. He was calling for a phaser.

Ambassador Worf heard something creeping up on him. He came about and cut it in half with his bat'leth. But, when he turned back, he was blinded by a light.

"AMBASSADOR!"

It was Gor'agh! With a rifle! Worf sheathed his sword on his back and caught the weapon his fellow Klingon had thrown to him. It was time to pray for luck.

He reset the rifle and aimed carefully, trying to judge the correct angle so as not to block the corridor entirely, and pulled the trigger.

The phaser pulse hit the fuel pipe halfway between him and the others, punching a small hole in it, spewing forth a great jet of fire as the now gaseous fuel from the pipe ignited and burned away. There wasn't much time.

Crusher saw the fire and realised the pipe she held onto was suddenly becoming very hot. She let go instinctively and fell, landing hard on top of Spike.

The flame grew in intensity, filling the width of the corridor, taking out a whole bunch of the zombies. Worf cursed himself. The others were trapped. He had to get them through before the fire went out - while the creatures were backing away from it.

All the beastly monsters stopped their attack and moved away from the fire, apparently afraid of it. But there was nothing the away-team could do. They were stuck.

Worf blew the huge hatch door off its hinges and moved aside as it fell to the floor. He removed the armour from one of his sleeves and tore himself two shreds of cloth from it. Wrapping them around his hands, he took hold of the handles on the face of the hatch and lifted it above his head. This had to be one of the craziest damn things he'd ever tried.

"LOOK!" said Gor'agh, pointing.

They watched as the flame moved to one side, skipping over the hatch that Worf used to manoeuvre a passage for them.

"Let's go!" Buffy shouted.

Worf held the fire back as Gor'agh, Buffy, Crusher, Spike, Tokk and Daniels slipped through the gap. When they were all through, Worf stepped back and threw the smoking hatch door to the ground. He removed the bandages from his hands to see they were a little scolded. Not to worry. Not yet. "WHERE IS THE OTHER-?" he began to ask.

"HE IS GONE!" Gor'agh answered wearily. He looked weak, and he was bleeding badly all over. His uniform was almost invisible beneath it.

Crusher went over to him. "I'm sorry. I lost my field kit!" She looked at Worf.

He knew what she was thinking. They had to get Gor'agh to sickbay quickly.

"IT IS OF NO CONCERN!" The wounded Klingon said bravely. "THE BATTLE IS NOT YET OVER!"

He was right.

Worf handed Crusher the phaser rifle and brought his bat'leth out again. "WE MUST GO NOW, BEFORE THE FIRE DIES!"

Right at that moment, the fire died. For an insane second they all just stood and looked at where the flame had been, willing it to come back. Then the creatures stirred.

Buffy grabbed the doc's arm. "Run!"

And they ran. At full-pelt they ran through the corridor, hoping to make the rotunda before the beasts could act. But that was not to be.

At the rear, Tokk turned to see them moving in. Reaching out in that strange way they had. So he ran faster. But, as he looked forward, he felt something suddenly take his feet from beneath him and, before he had time to think, he landed face-first on the deck with a thud, sending his weapon skidding across the floor.

The others - farther ahead - turned to see what had happened.

Buffy stopped the rifle with her foot.

Daniels brought his light around, and they saw as the monsters overwhelmed Tokk. He was damned if he'd see both his men lost! He fired off a series of quick shots - vanquishing Tokk's attackers one by one until he was clear of them. However, after a quick inspection, it was apparent that Tokk's neck had been snapped. Either by the fall or by 'them'.

Gor'agh approached him unsteadily. "You must finish him."

"What?"

"FINISH HIM!" he repeated, taking hold of Daniels' phaser and aiming the light at his own torn face. "Or he will come back! And you will NOT be glad to see him!"

So, a little reluctantly, he vaporised his own man. "I've seen enough. Can we get the hell out of here?"

They set off again. Though Gor'agh stumbled slightly at first, he refused assistance and pushed onward. They were almost home and dry.

*

"What's happening?" Picard asked when firelight appeared from the tunnel taken by the away-team.

La Forge analysed his readings. "I don't know ... there's a dampening field in that section!"

Picard and Riker looked at each other. Then the screen went blank.

"Have we lost the connection, Chancellor?" asked the captain.

Martok, at tactical, said: "Negative. We still have a connection. It is the screen on the station that has been disengaged!"

How? There was no one in there!

"Get it back please, Chancellor."

When the picture returned, they were surprised as something moved across the screen.

*

The away-team ran into the rotunda, thankful at last for safety and some lighting. Thankful to be rid of the...

...Zombies!

It must have been the entire station complement! All fresh out of hell and hungry for blood.

The group was completely encircled. They'd landed right in the middle of the spider's web. Fallen like dumb, lead bricks into Evil's trap.

Daniels and Crusher kept the nearer of the beasts in their sights; rifles ready and aimed.

But the creatures were not advancing upon them. Instead they were being watched with hungry eyes and drooling, inhuman mouths. It was some kind of nightmarish stand-off. And the Slayer had lost her knife. Worst of all, she hadn't thought to pick up the elf-man's gun. They were supposed to be safe here.

The doctor, fear-bitten, forced one shaky hand away from her phaser and pressed her insignia with more force than was necessary. "Crusher to Enterprise."

*

Every member of the bridge crew and every guest therein were standing, attention locked on what they struggled to believe on the screen before them. Those that were already stood had moved a step forward unconsciously.

Crusher's words sounded from the Comm system and echoed with the audio-feed from the station viewer.

For someone who had refused to believe, it was surprising that Riker was the first to drift back to reality. "Captain!"

Picard immediately came back from his hectic thoughts and said quickly: "Enterprise here. Stand by." He then hit his badge. "Bridge to main transporter room - lock on to the away-team and pull them out of there!"

*

"LOOK OUT!" came Riker's cry from the conference screen as the team turned to see Gor'agh yell out in pain and stumble forward.

Daniels and the doctor tried to stay focused on the zombie mass. But Worf, Buffy and Spike watched the traumatised Klingon pull something from his back and bring it round for them to see. A large knife - shaped like a stretched spade one might find on a playing card, with razor sharp teeth running along the outer rim - lay in his gloved hand. To Buffy the knife looked strangely familiar and it was stained thick with the distinctly pinkish hue of Klingon blood. His eyelids drew back suddenly and his gaze pierced Worf. Falling to his knees, the blade slipping from his hand, Gor'agh's breath came in rasping fits. "I think perhaps today ... may be ... a good day..." He took in a last quick breath ... then fell back - arms outstretched - and came to rest on the blood-drenched floor. His eyes were still wide, but empty.

Worf let out a wild roar - the Death Wail - to warn all fallen warriors in Sto-vo-kor that another would be joining them. Gor'agh was dead. But he died with eyes open, staring death in the face. That was the important thing. The ambassador roughly flipped his dead fellow over, tore the bat'leth from his bleeding back and, with both hands, he swiftly brought it down to sever the Klingon's head from his body so that he would stay dead.

Buffy found his lack of respect for his dead friend somewhat disturbing.

But Worf simply held both swords ready and prepared to fight to the end. However that end would come.

*

Warren was surprised by the readings on his transporter control panel, and tapped his Comm. "Warren to bridge. I'm only reading four of the eight team members, sir."

"We know, Chief!" came Riker's voice. "Get them out of there NOW!"

*

"Well, isn't this a brave, new world?!"

The away-team spun at the sound of a new voice from the gangway on the upper level. Stood there, one foot resting casually on the railing, was a big, spiny-headed, yellow guy. With a disturbing grin across his leathery face.

The Slayer gasped. A demon! The same breed that had attacked her during 'Slayerfest 98' - the night both she and Cordelia had failed to make Homecoming Queen. That's where she'd seen the knife!

"Now ... I'm not really sure how I know this..." The demon called down to them, "but if I press this ... and this..." he continued, working a control panel, "it means you're all stuck here. And that means fun for me."

Doctor Crusher confirmed it with the tricorder. "Another dampening field."

*

Warren swore and slammed a fist on his computer terminal.

*

"Listen!" Buffy called to the demon arbitrarily. "You're only doing this because you're under some kind of evil spell! You have to resist it!"

He laughed. "I am Duumok of the Miquot Clan! And you are The Slayer! One of your kind banished most of mine to the Demon Realm of Iszor ten centuries ago! It was not pleasant! So, you see, ... I don't take much convincing to kill you!"

"You can't honestly blame me for- "

Duumok's forearm opened and another knife flipped out into his hand. He held it out to her - at her - in challenge.

"Fine," she huffed. "We'll do this your way."

Worf grabbed her arm. "DO NOT BE A FOOL! YOU WILL BE KILLED! WE MUST STAY TOGETHER!"

"Look; sooner or later you people are going to have to wake up to what a Slayer really is! Now, I've dealt with his kind before. I won't be long. Just hold the fort 'till I get back. Spike - make sure they don't leave without me."

"Aye, aye."

Without even looking to Worf for approval, she picked up Gor'agh's fallen mek'leth and ran across the rotunda floor like she had purpose. She sliced off a zombie head, ducked under a zombie arm, kicked a zombie crotch, rolled over its back, and ran on.

Hitting the first row of seats, she tossed the small sword into the air and launched herself with full Slayer-strength up to the balcony, grabbing the railings and swinging onto the upper level.

She caught the Klingon blade effortlessly and took a stance.

"Very impressive," Duumok scoffed.

"And the National Gymnastics Association of America wouldn't even give me a try-out," she replied almost conversationally. "Though, they did say that if I'd been a little taller I'd have had a good chance of making the junior league. I mean; I know I'm petite, but there's no need for that kind of sarcasm, y'know?"

Duumok replied to her questioning look by frowning and letting his top lip curl up in disgust. "You talk too much. What kind of Slayer are you?"

Man, she was glad to finally meet something worth giving an ass-kicking. "Oh, I'm the kind that's gonna take that glorified bread-knife of yours and ram it through your chest."

The demon swore in his native tongue and attacked, swinging at her with the blade.

The Slayer ducked the blow and came up, locking his knife against a computer screen with her own weapon, and cracked a fist into his face. When he couldn't unlock his blade from hers, she punched him again. And again.

Letting go his grip on his knife, he grabbed for her arm - the one holding the mek'leth - and twisted it, pounding it against the railing-top. It took two attempts for her grip on the sword to loosen, and the Klingon weapon dropped from her hand; falling to the lower level; spearing a zombie in the head.

Duumok got her in a full-nelson, his fingers locking tightly behind her head. "How do you like /that/, Slayer? Now I have you right where I can kill you. How do you like it?"

The Slayer jumped off the gangway. Using the railing, she pushed herself into the air; arcing back over Duumok's head, slipping out of his grasp, and landing behind him. She kicked him at the base of his back and he slammed into the railings, almost toppling over the side.

Without looking, he shot a leg back at her, which she dodged and caught. She hooked her foot behind his, and took his grounded leg from under him.

Hitting the floor with a smack, he landed next to his knife. "How do you like /this/, Slayer?" he said as he threw it at her face.

She caught it in one hand. "Why don't you tell me?"

The demon got up quickly, looking for a place to go if she threw it back at him.

But, instead, she ran at him. Still holding his weapon, she leapt off the ground - one foot landing on the railing top. She kicked off, going higher into the air, and came down with a graceful Kung-Fu kick into the face of a surprised Duumok. He fell to his knees, and she ceaselessly moved in for the kill. She thrashed him with a variety of carefully performed kicks and finished with a spinning back-hander.

The demon stood tiredly, badly battered, the spines on his head seemed somehow to have gone limp.

She took his chin firmly in her free hand and lifted his bleeding face to hers. She gave him a severe glare that said more to him than words ever could. Then he felt his knife dig into his chest. His face gave away the shock he felt at being impaled by his own blade.

And Buffy's face said to him: 'I told you so'

"How do you like them apples?" she said finally, hurling him over the rails.

His body crashed down onto the lower deck, splashing blood in a torrent.

"How do you like it?"

*

All those onboard the bridge of the Enterprise stood gaping - open-mouthed. All but the Scoobies.

Xander, standing behind the captain's chair, said, upon seeing their reaction: "That's our Buffy. She's rough, tough and don't take no stuff."

"Commander Riker," said Picard absently, attention fixed on the viewscreen. "Meet them in the transporter room, please." He pressed his badge. "Nurse Ogawa to main transporter room."

*

"Miss Summers?"

Buffy felt herself slip out of Slayer-mode all at once. Looking around, she tried to locate the source of the voice calling her.

"Miss Summers. Look to the large screen beside you."

She did. It was the bridge of the Enterprise, with Captain Picard addressing her. She spotted Xander behind him waving at her proudly.

"In order to bring you back to the Enterprise, you must de-activate the dampening field."

"How?"

The creatures had not stirred for some time, and the action above the away-team had distracted them from the presence of the beasts around them. Reality hit, however, when Daniels felt large sharp teeth dig into his arm.

The zombies moved in, and the away-team was spurred into defensive action.

Buffy looked for the emergency override selector amongst the strange multi-coloured display.

...LCARS MODE SELECT ... OPERATIONS MANAGEMENT ... DEPARTMENT STATUS...

"Look for a large, yellow square on the upper display," Picard said, guiding her.

...COMMUNICATIONS ... EMERG OVERRIDE ... OPERATIONAL PRIORI-

'Wait,' she thought, 'back up...' EMERG OVERRIDE. "Got it!" she said.

"Press it."

She did. "Okay."

"Alright," Picard said, "now look at the 'Operating Systems' display beneath it ... there should be a small purple semi-circle followed by the number three-five-eight ... press that."

She found the button and tapped it. "Some writing's come up - a list."

"Yes. Look for 'Internal field generator' in the list."

The away-team were back to back, huddled as tightly together as they could manage, battling the monsters that wanted to devour them.

Beverly fired frantically at them, while Worf cut them down whenever one got too near. 'This 'Slayer' better hurry up with that dampening field,' he thought.

Once she'd accessed the appropriate system, Picard told Buffy to key in the code associated with the dampening field generator. When that was done, he said for her to punch the override button again. Which she did. These damn computer displays were confusing. She wondered how in the hell Willow had managed to get to grips with them.

"It's done," the captain said, now through her Comm badge. "Well done. Now join the away-team and prepare for immediate transport."

Buffy ran to the top of the stairway... And saw the predicament that the group was in.

She saw that Daniels had lost the use of an arm, and his gun was on the floor. Thinking on her feet, she ran at full-tilt down the steps and barged through the zombies who didn't even see her coming. She pulled one of the things away from the doctor just as it was about to grab her phaser. Moving quickly around to Daniels, Buffy asked politely to borrow his rifle. She pointed it up to the ceiling and, copying Worf, fired at the piping. But, from the pipes spewed nothing but air.

"It's the other one," Daniels informed her, "The big one."

"Oh," she said. "Oops." She re-aimed.

Worf saw her and shouted out: "NO!"

It was too late. The pipe burst, sparked, and a massive gust of flame shot out into the rotunda. The away-team hit the deck, the heat just bearable. They stayed that way for a few seconds until the fuel began to run out and the flames drew back.

The things of hell - those still uncooked - had dropped back, giving the team a wide berth.

Worf got to his feet and gave the hurt Daniels some support. He gave Buffy a disgruntled look.

"It /worked/," she pointed out.

Crusher, Spike, Buffy and Worf - holding Daniels up - formed a transporter line-up in their new clearing.

"Crusher to Enterprise. We're ready when you are."

Riker's voice sounded over the Comm. "It's about time. We're beaming you up now."

The transporter took hold of them and, to their unbridled relief, they were taken away from this hell.

All except for Spike. Again.

*

"Spike's not here," Buffy said, scanning the room.

Warren's vision was beginning to blur as he looked at his sensor readout. So many corpses! But which one of the damned things was Spike?

Commander Riker hovered over him impatiently. "In your own time, Chief."

'Oh, for God's sake/,' he told himself, '/just pick one!'

*

One of the withered creatures slammed into Spike suddenly, sending him crashing to the deck into a puddle of blood.

It regarded him for a brief moment, then prepared to pounce...

*

Warren locked on his annular confinement beam with some degree of confidence, and initialised the transporter stream, gently sliding his fingers up the control panel.

Matter began to re-combine on the transporter pad, coming together to form a dark figure.

Riker put a congratulatory hand on Warren's shoulder.

However, when the glittering shimmer of the matter-stream had subsided, Warren could have leapt into a vat of plasma coolant.

A hideous monstrosity formed before them, and it seemed angered to have been brought there.

Everyone leaving the room spun upon hearing its low growl and, as it lunged at them all, Buffy slipped Worf's d'k tagh knife from his belt, spun, and threw it with instinctive precision - right between its vacant eyes. The creature reeled back, giving Crusher the time to raise her rifle and blast it into oblivion.

All of them, especially Riker, turned to look at Warren.

His face had gone an unflattering shade of red and, as hard as he tried to utter an apology, nothing came out.

*

The zombie was about to turn Spike into vampire mincemeat, when it vanished in a shimmering aura.

'Son of a...!' Spike cursed mentally. They'd beam any old freak out of this hellhole except for him! Then it clicked. He was just as much a corpse as these things were. But he wasn't gonna stay here if he could help it.

Spike rolled backward onto his feet and jumped off the ground, knocking one of 'them' down with a fierce kick. When he landed, he licked blood from the side of his hand in a Bruce Lee-esque manner, but instead of spitting it out he swallowed deeply. The blood was all around him and he became aware of the smell of it. Sour and metallic. Beautiful. He felt its dark life-force filling every part of him.

Dark Flowing Surrounding Filling Red Danger BLOOD!

His face creased - brow dropping to create a menacing scowl - teeth becoming deadly weapons - the nature of the vampire empowering him with a sudden infusion of strength. His senses doubled - sight, sound, smell - focusing together like an animal.

Sensing the movement behind him, he caught the bony hand that reached for him. Spinning to face his attacker, he let go of the arm and side kicked it right in the head sending it crashing back and into the floor. It was down but not out, yet Spike knew what he needed to do and there was no time to waste on these creatures. All it took was one distraction, and they'd be all over him.

He threw the wrench he still held, catching the fallen zombie before it could recover, and turned back to face his target - the dead Klingon.

Gor'agh's decapitated body lay only 10 feet away, his communicator still wrapped firmly around his forearm. A number of monstrous things, however, blocked the path. He was gonna have to move fast and use his speed to out-manoeuvre these things.

"You picked one hell of a time to turn to the light-side," he muttered to himself.

All at once he rushed forward and tackled the first zombie he met, lifting it off the ground and smashing it back down again with such force that its liquefied insides burst from its shattered body. Without faltering, he came up and grabbed the next one - which had gotten close - by the arm and whipped it round, twisting the limb so that the creature was forced to bend. Then he shot his leg out and kicked it in the ribs - sending it soaring into the path of most of its oncoming friends, and leaving the vampire holding a severed arm.

He eyed the limb; both surprised and amused.

Turning back, he saw that only one more stood in his way. And it was BIG.

So, he cracked it with the thick end of the arm; sending a mangy head soaring across the rotunda. Just another game of Baseball. "Now I hit a homerun," he moaned. "Charmin'."

Seeing that his path was now clear, he made his break for the exit...

...Until two more appeared from either side of him.

Not willing to risk any more delays, he simply dived to the floor and slipped between them - beneath their grasp - and right into Gor'agh. He took hold of the Klingon's arm and fumbled with the clasp that held the Comm-unit in place for a second that seemed like a second too long.

While he did this, he scanned the device for the button that might activate it. When it finally came free, he rolled quickly away from the two creatures he'd ducked past - the ones that were now coming for him - and hit all the buttons on the communicator in desperation.

"HELLO!" he yelled into it, pressing and pressing feverishly.

"HELLO! ... CAN ANY-?"

"Warren here!" came a heavenly reply at last. "Stand by."

'Thank God!' Then he frowned. What was he thinking? 'God'?

Spike, now secure in the knowledge he was saved, got up to face the horde of monstrosities that now surrounded him. Wiping off his long coat, and holding onto the Comm-unit, he stretched out both arms and gave them all the finger.

"Kiss my tight, pale arse, you mindless freaks!"

*

Spike appeared on the transporter platform - ragged, bloody, and vamp-faced.

He looked peeved. "Next time that happens, someone dies. Damn the bloody chip."

"Next time, wear your badge," Buffy retorted.

[

[**]"My tricorder didn't detect them," Crusher said when Picard came out of his readyroom to meet her at the centre of the bridge.

"And I didn't pick them up on the bio sensors," admitted La Forge.

"They were /demon zombies/!" Spike declared. "Not soddin' E.T!"

Giles made an observation: "It would appear that your computers weren't built to register things of supernatural origin."

"How can they?" Willow both asked and stated. "Think about it; these computers were built in a universe where 'supernatural' is just a word. How can they sense what doesn't even exist?"

Captain Picard gave it some thought, then asked La Forge: "Can we reconfigure all our sensors to track any animate dead..." He paused, trying to find the appropriate words. "...Mortal remains?"

"Sure. I'll modify the transporter program we created for Spike. I might need to increase the bandwidth, but it shouldn't interfere with our other sensor systems."

"Make it so, Geordi."

"Aye, sir," he replied and moved from Ops to a station at the rear of the bridge.

Spike caught Buffy looking at him thoughtfully. "What?"

"I'm trying to remember what you said to me right before you attacked my head with a wrench."

Xander instantly came over all defensive.

Spike put up his hands. "Whoa there, Sonny. It's not what you think. I was under... well... I was-"

"He was a minion of Evil," Buffy told them with pleasure.

Xander smiled at that, making sure Spike saw his amusement.

"I was not a minion. It's just... Darkness-"

"Darkness!" Buffy exclaimed. "That's what he said! And the zombie-guy that tried to eat my face said it was 'for Darkness'."

'Darkness,' thought Willow. 'That's it! That's what the Creatress had said!'

"Giles?" said Willow quizzically. "Does the name 'Darkness' mean anything to you?"

"Darkness? ...Darkness..." It did hold a familiarity for the ex-Watcher. He remembered the tale from the old cloth-bound book. "...Lands fell to ...Darkness! Oh, dear lord!"

"Here we go," Xander jested.

Anya, meanwhile, thought back to her days as a demon and began to recall a very distant memory.

Giles struggled to find the reference he was trying to make and, when he saw that the ex-demon too was deep in thought, he asked: "Anya - you know something?"

She started to explain her thoughts, realising that Picard's crew were also looking at her intently: "When...this 'friend' of mine first became a vengeance demon," she said carefully, "there was a...'story'...called 'Rhm'pestihl'n' - the Arash'ma term for 'Darkness'. The elders used to tell it to the young ones to keep them on the path of true evil. Something about the universe being formed by 'Darkness' so that he may lie in wait whilst life formed, and then come along and destroy it. Don't ask me why. And the only thing that kept Rhm'pestihl'n from destroying the world and taking the demon children was if they did as they were told and mess the world up enough to keep him entertained. Otherwise Rhm'pestihl'n would do it for them - for a price.

It went ... 'Darkness would come for the young ones and take them from Arashmaharr to be enslaved and made to eat Human flesh.' I think that was it. D'Hoffryn used to tell it best. But the story got a little diluted over the years. I think now humans call it Rumpelstiltskin."

"Just a little diluted, then?" Xander quipped.

Giles relieved some of his agitation by cleaning the lenses of his spectacles with a hanky. "I'm not sure how much of that we can rely on, but I believe I'm beginning to understand the nature of this 'evil' being."

They were all regarding him eagerly.

"Well, it...it's evil."

Upon seeing their expressions of 'Ya don't say', he explained: "It has no desire but to destroy and consume. It feeds on it. Thrives on it. Enjoys it. I believe that its ultimate goal will be to open the Hellmouth."

"Hellmouth?" - It was Commander Riker.

Giles quickly explained to them what the Hellmouth was and that it was a fixed point on Earth - in their reality. "Though 'Darkness' may have the power to open it in all realities. Consuming the entire universe in all its forms."

Very bad.

"I must warn Earth," said Picard. "Give them time to prepare a defence if Data... if 'Darkness'.../is/ on his way there."

Riker was tapping the small panel to the side of his chair. "There's no way to know where he went, Captain. It looks like he's masked his engine emissions with a polaron field this time."

'Great'

"Last time he wanted us to follow him," Spike said. "So we'd see /that/." He indicated the station with a flick of his head.

"We're not in any condition to go after him at the moment," said Picard. "Besides, we have our new orders. We are to rendezvous with the USS Rutherford at Starbase McClintock for repairs and a briefing."

"The Rutherford?" Riker asked, quite surprised.

Cpt. Freeman and his ship had acquired quite a reputation throughout Starfleet. Many young officers applied for positions on his ship, and only a few 'lucky' ones apparently made the crew complement. The Enterprise had never come across the Rutherford before, and Riker was curious as to why it was such a popular ship. Soon he may just find out.

He answered a beep at his small console and reported: "All the station logs have been downloaded, Captain."

Picard nodded sombrely, sat down in his central chair, and tugged on his tunic. "Do we have torpedoes yet?"

A young engineering crewman replied from the aft console: "Just this minute, Captain."

Picard gazed for a long instant at the image of the science stations' exterior, then continued: "I fear, Number One, that with the safety of the universe at stake... Data may be lost."

Riker knew what he meant. "Not if we can help it, sir."

After another moment, Picard said: "Chancellor Martok - lock onto the fuel supply. Fire a low intensity phaser blast. Just enough to break the hull."

A moment later, liquid fuel spilled out into space around the station.

"Helm - move us away from the station."

"Aye, sir."

"Single quantum torpedo, Chancellor. Target the heart of the structure and fire on my mark."

The captain addressed his crew: "What I am about to do," he began, "I do with sadness in my heart. But, above all, I do it for the spirit of all the innocent men, women, children and officers that dedicated years - and their lives - to the pursuit of knowledge and the advancement of the Federation. And who made this station their home."

Deanna gave him a reassuring smile, just so he knew he was doing the right thing. It gave him the strength he needed to make the order without faltering.

"Fire."