Federation
Page 40
“What was Traklamek expecting out of all this?”
“What else?” the Data-thing replied. “Your ship. Traklamek thought he was dealing with a machine intelligence eager to be transported to the vessel from which it had been separated. So we worked out an ’arrangement.’ If Traklamek could get me aboard the Enterprise, then I would seize control of it, send it into the Neutral Zone to initiate certain aggressive acts, and then make certain that he could capture it relatively intact.”
“And in return?”
“I told Traklamek that I knew where the rest of ’me’ was, and if he would take me there, I could reunite with my own ship and be free to go home.” The Data-thing grinned nastily. “Romulans have such childlike devotion to their home that Traklamek believed me without question. Such a gullible people.”
“So you coming aboard the Enterprise was his idea,” Picard asked. He still wasn’t any closer to understanding what the Thorsen personality was after.
“Of course not,” the android replied in irritation. “Being here, now, was my goal from the beginning. I just had to do it in a way that would guarantee you would connect me with your computers. And if you had just ’happened’ to find me floating by in space, you would have been far too cautious to ever allow that.
“No, the Romulans were very clever to use the Borg artifact as a Trojan horse. And to bring in the Ferengi to add further layers of deception designed to lull you into acceptance. But it is my goal which has been achieved.”
“What about Commander Tarl?”
“She was Traklamek’s wife. Those fools had visions of becoming proconsuls or some such together. I really couldn’t spare much attention for their backward culture.”
For a moment, Picard didn’t know what to say. If Tarl and Traklamek had been mates, then Picard was surprised that the instant the Enterprise had destroyed Traklamek’s Warbird that Tarl hadn’t attacked in revenge. He wondered if the Thorsen entity was actually speaking the truth. Picard was certain no Romulan mate could leave such an outrage unavenged.
“So who is meeting us around the black hole?” Picard asked, hoping that Data’s possessor would continue to shed light on his actions and thus help Picard and his crew to outmaneuver him somehow.
“That’s why I called you back from the void, Captain. I’m not expecting to find anyone around the black hole. I believe the ship that is there is one of yours. And I want you to deal with it.”
“In what way?”
The Data-thing’s eyes glittered. “It seems to be a Federation vessel. Feel free to order it to withdraw. And if it doesn’t, destroy it.”
Picard stood in front of the android. “If you want me to do anything, get out of my chair. Anyone who sees a lieutenant commander sitting there with the captain beside him is going to know something’s wrong.”
The Data-thing shrugged and moved over to sit in Counselor Troi’s position. Picard watched the move with increased interest. The Thorsen personality hadn’t moved to the first-officer position. If he had access to all of Data’s memories, he should have known that that was where he belonged as operations manager in the first officer’s absence. Perhaps the slipup meant that while he had access to Data’s memories, he wasn’t in the habit of looking up every detail in them. That might be another advantage to be exploited.
Picard made himself comfortable. Just by being in this seat, he felt the situation was halfway back to being salvageable. “Mr. O’Brien, status update, please.”
From his position at the ops board, O’Brien replied, “We’re operating on ninety-percent automatic controls, sir. Engineering is under direct control of the engineering crew. The majority of the crew remains unconscious after exposure to anesthezine. The ship remains closed off by locked doors, security fields, and inoperative communications.”
“None of that is your concern,” the Data-thing warned. “I want that Federation vessel gone.”
Picard tried to ignore the android beside him. “Do we have identification of the vessel in question?”
“None, sir,” O’Brien answered. “It appears to be an Oberthclass starship, now orbiting one thousand kilometers above the singularity’s electromagnetic event horizon. Without access to the computer, I can’t call up any Fleet records so I have no way of knowing which ship she is or what she’s doing there.”
“Where are we, exactly?” Picard asked.
“Three million kilometers away and closing on impulse.”
“Mr. Worf,” Picard said. “Open a hailing frequency.”
The Klingon’s response was terse. “Communications remain inoperative, sir. Colonel Thorsen has placed lockout codes on all key functions.”
Picard looked at the Data-thing with a shrug. The Data-thing shrugged theatrically in return, swung around a command console, and entered a series of commands.
“Subspace communications back on-line,” Worf said. “Hailing the unidentified vessel.”
The main viewscreen image of the plasma jets and gas disk was suddenly replaced by a transmission from a Starfleet vessel. A young human captain sat in her command chair, brushing crisp brown hair from her forehead. “Hello, Enterprise and Captain Picard,” she said cheerfully. “Captain Bondar, U.S.S. Garneau. I knew this recovery operation was big, but I didn’t know it was this big. Glad to have you along.”
Picard didn’t recognize the woman, though she obviously knew of him. “Greetings, Captain Bondar,” he began. “What recovery operation do you mean?”
The Data-thing spoke in a menacing whisper. “Tell her to leave or you will destroy her.”
Captain Bondar shifted position in her chair, suddenly taking on a more formal demeanor. “Excuse me, Captain Picard, but you are here as part of the recovery mission, aren’t you?”
Picard could see that the Data-thing was about to speak again, so he replied quickly, before he could be stopped. “We have no knowledge of any recovery mission.”
“Last chance,” the Data-thing said.
“We are, however, on a classified mission,” Picard continued. “And we require you to leave your position at once.”
Bondar looked stern. All sense of friendly welcome was gone. “Under whose authorization?”
“Admiral Hanson,” Picard said, grabbing the first name to come to mind. “Starbase 324.”
Bondar reacted with dismay. “Oh, damn, it’s something to do with the Borg, isn’t it?” She motioned to someone out of the viewer’s range to come closer. “Captain, you’re presenting me with a real conflict. We’ve been on station here as a priority-one science mission for the past three months, and we’re coming up to a critical time in the mission profile.” A Bolian commander stepped up beside Bondar, giving her a padd as she continued speaking. “Our command authorization is such that I am going to have to request verification of your orders from Starfleet Command. I hope you—”
“Viewscreen off,” the Data-thing said. He tapped more commands into his console. “Phaser banks on-line. Tactical officer will now target the Garneau.”
“Captain Picard,” Worf said in consternation. “I cannot fire on a Federation vessel.”
Picard turned to the Data-thing. “Why is it so important for us to be here and that ship not to be?”
“The Enterprise will be going into hiding soon, and the fewer who know her last location, the better.” The Data-thing looked up over his shoulder. “Now, Klingon, destroy that ship or I will do it myself and kill one of you as an example.”
Picard clenched his fists. “Mr. Worf, fire a warning shot across the Garneau’s bow.”
“Locking phasers,” Worf replied.
“What pathetic weaklings this species has become without leadership,” said the Data-thing, shaking its head in disgust.
The phasers hummed.
“Low-level burst detonating one kilometer in front of the Garneau,” Worf reported. “Captain, we are receiving an urgent hail.”
Picard stared defiantly at the Data-thing. “Onscreen,” he said.
Picard didn’t understand Captain Bondar’s use of the code. One Alpha Zero meant a spaceship was in distress. But there were no other ships in the area. What did she mean?
The Data-thing’s voice rose sharply. “Go to battle stations at once. That puny vessel is no match for this ship.”
“This ship has no crew,” Picard snapped. “If we go into battle relying on automatic controls only, that puny vessel could blow us out of space.”
The Garneau’s captain stared out from the viewscreen in confusion. “Picard? What was that about having no crew? Are you in some kind of operational difficulty?”
Picard started to answer but the Data-thing stood up in front of him.
“There is no difficulty,” the android said. “Worf! Fire!”
Picard saw his chance. He reached out for the android’s back and—
The Data-thing’s hand moved in a blur and closed around Picard’s right wrist. With a burning twist, Picard felt bones crack and he cried out in shock.
“Fire!” the android shouted.
“All hands battle stations!” Bondar ordered on the viewscreen. Then she added quickly, “Listen Enterprise, whoever’s in charge, just remember the gravitational environment you’re in. No ship can survive being crippled this close to the event horizon. One shield fluctuation and the tidal forces will stretch you to taffy. This is your last chance. You must withdraw!”
“Fiiire!” the Data-thing screamed, and he wrenched Picard forward to throw him on the deck of the bridge at the same time.
Picard hit and rolled with a gasp of pain. His right hand hung useless. He saw the Data-thing spin to face Worf, but Worf took his hands from the tactical controls. He refused to fire.
Incoherent with rage, the Data-thing rushed to the side of the bridge rail, leapt over it, and threw himself at Worf. The Klingon bravely stood his ground, got in one powerful though ineffectual blow to the android’s head, and then was smashed sideways into a control console, which exploded in the impact. Worf slumped senseless to the deck as Troi, Wesley, and Dr. Crusher ran to his aid. Riker, clutching his leg on the floor, could only watch in helpless frustration.
The Data-thing took over Worf’s console, and the Enterprise’s phasers fired. Picard pushed himself up to look at the screen.
The bridge of the Garneau rocked with the hit it took. Picard heard warning sirens sound on the science vessel. “Captain Bondar!” he called out. “The Enterprise has been hijacked! It is no longer under Starfleet control! Withdraw at once!”
The Enterprise lurched as three photon torpedoes from the Garneau burst across her primary hull shields. Damage warnings sounded on his own bridge.
“This is a rescue operation, Picard! We cannot withdraw,” Bondar shouted.
“Where is the other ship you’re to rescue?!” Picard demanded as he heard the Data-thing fire phasers again.
“Beyond the event horizon!” Bondar answered. She held on tightly as her command chair shuddered. Picard saw sparks erupt from a console behind her. “It’s a science package Starfleet launched ninety-nine years ago. We’ve got to—” The transmission washed out in a wave of static, then came back half-strength. “Damn you, Picard! Can’t you take responsibility for your own ship?!”
Picard groaned in pain and frustration. Why wouldn’t this captain realize the danger she was in? He heard the twang of photon torpedoes launching even as the Enterprise trembled beneath the Garneau’s phaser blasts. “Get out of there, Bondar! Starfleet can always launch another science package!”
“You don’t understand!” the captain said. “There is a passenger on board it! He is crucial to the security of the Federation! He is—”
The transmission ended without static, signifying a complete shutdown of the Garneau’s communication system. But from the view of the gas disk that returned to the main screen, Picard could see no indication of the science vessel’s fate.
But he knew the real mission of the Thorsen personality.
Picard confronted the Data-thing. “You want that passenger, don’t you? Whoever he is, he’s from a century ago; you’re from almost three centuries in the past … you’re still fighting some war that ended generations ago.”
The Data-thing contemplated Picard. Its rage was no longer evident. “Very impressive, Captain, except that the war continues. And I will triumph.”
“How?” Picard asked. “By leaving the passenger inside the event horizon? Trapped forever?”
But the Data-thing slowly shook his head. “Oh, no, Picard, I came to ’rescue’ the passenger myself. I saw him go in there, and I intend to bring him out. Personally.”
“Why? Who is it?”
“He is a man who dared claim that I exist because of him. So I want him to see what he has made of my existence, before I destroy his.”
“You’re mad,” Picard said. It was the only explanation.
“The entire universe is mad, Captain Picard. That’s why it needs me to lead it. I’m going to protect the rest of you from yourselves.” The Data-thing looked past Picard. “Mr. O’Brien—status of the Garneau.”
“No readings,” O’Brien reported sullenly.
“Destroyed?” Picard asked.
“This close to the event horizon, sir, I can’t be sure. Half of our sensors are still off-line.”
The Data-thing walked purposefully down the ramp to the command area again. “That’s all right,” he said. “I understand the environment beyond an electromagnetic event horizon is quite simple. Sensors will not be taxed.”
With those words, for the very first time, Picard also understood why the Thorsen personality had come for the Enterprise.
“No,” Picard said. “You cannot do this.”
“Correct,” the Data-thing agreed as he walked past Picard and casually reached out to snag McKnight’s uniform and toss her from her station. “I cannot. But the Enterprise can.”
Picard stood helplessly by the android as he watched the new heading entered into the navigation controls. “The Enterprise has just experienced a collision,” he said. “Her crew is incapacitated. Her structural integrity field has been overloaded.”
The Data-thing glanced up at Picard with contempt. “I have had subroutines monitoring Starfleet computers for decades, Picard. I know this ship was designed to withstand warp tunneling through electromagnetic event horizons.”
“Theoretically!” Picard insisted. “Event horizon missions have only been carried out by remote probes—never by crewed vehicles.” He looked up at the main screen. The giant, dark ellipse of the event horizon curved across the bottom of the image, lit by blinding flashes wherever gas and dust and debris fell in, accelerated to light-speed by the monstrous gravitational pull of the singularity deep within it.
“Then it appears I know something you don’t,” the Data-thing gloated. “Where we are going, we will not be the first.”
Collision alert sirens sounded.
“But we will be the last.”
Absolute darkness filled the viewscreen.
Impact.
Part Three
WHERE NO ONE HAS GONE BEFORE
THORSEN
Adrik Thorsen’s dream had consumed him until only that dream remained.
What once had been human had died on Earth, centuries before, as humanity had stood on a threshold and rejected him and his kind, moving forward.
What once had been human, restored, augmented, and enhanced by the products of human technology, had brooded and plotted alone in space, until the Grigari had offered their bargain, the age-old trap—life eternal in exchange for all that made life worthwhile.
What once had been a Grigari amalgam, the last vestiges of flesh augmented by blindly programmed, self-organizing machines, had hunted for revenge. Only to find itself
a silent witness to the events of TNC 65813, stardate 3856, orbiting in the second Klingon cruiser, watching all that played out below him.
Cochrane had escaped that day. Revenge was denied. Incomplete. Non-optimal.
But knowledge burned deeply within what remained of Thorsen, as painful as the laser burst forever etched within his optic nerve—the knowledge that though Cochrane had escaped, Cochrane, in time, would return.
Thorsen vowed to be there when he did.
And then the Grigari bargain claimed its final payment and all that was left of the original Thorsen died.
But the evil that had spawned him lived on. Hatred, intolerance, unrestrained greed, all those qualities which had once defined humanity so well, proved fertile still, even in this day when they had been vanquished in so many others.
Blindly, the Grigari machines continued their work, replacing the necrotized flesh in its entirety, maintaining the form and the function, following the most basic program that had fueled Thorsen in his life. The desire to destroy Cochrane and all those like him whose very humanity now mocked the travesty that pursued them.
To fulfill Thorsen’s purpose, the Grigari machines spread out, an invisible, mechanical plague, infecting computers and starships, scanning for any clue or event linked to Zefram Cochrane and the time of his return.
Eventually, the time of the fabled scientist’s return was calculated by Starfleet, and the Grigari machines knew. They brought their information back to the construct that they served, the construct that existed now with only one program, an echo from a distant past, a version of a personality driven by desires no longer based in living thought or tissue.
A mathematical duplicate of Thorsen’s intellect devised the plan. A Galaxy-class starship must be found to survive the mission to recover Cochrane, to save him, and then destroy him. A long-lost alien object would be the bait for the trap. The Romulans, caught up by hatreds of their own, proved willing accomplices. Thorsen’s personality matrix would continue, jumping from one storage device to another, as blind in its desires as were the unknowing machines that had formed it.