BOOGEYMEN

by Mel Gilden

  Though Picard understood the need for a place like the rec deck, all that open space seemed a little unnatural on a starship. He touched a companel, got the twinkle, and said, “This is, er, Mr. Picard. Captain Crusher orders the presence of all personnel on the recreation deck. Secure your positions and come immediately.”

  A moment later the computer said, “Mr. Picard is not in the chain of command and therefore cannot give such an order.”

  “Why—” Picard began angrily, then realized that huffing and puffing at the companel would do him no good. He took a few deep breaths and said, “Mr. Data, perhaps you can do better.”

  “Yes, sir.” Data touched the companel.

  “Identify Lieutenant Commander Data,” the computer said.

  Data repeated Picard’s order word for word.

  The computer said, “Requesting the presence of all on-duty personnel is against regulations.”

  To Picard, Data said, “At any one time at least a third of the crew is off duty. I think that will be enough for our purposes.”

  “Very well.”

  “Computer,” Data said. “Working.”

  “Captain Crusher orders the presence of all off-duty personnel on the recreation deck. Immediately.”

  A moment later they heard the computer’s voice echoing throughout the ship. It came from every companel, from the insignia of every off-duty crew member. Picard admired the computer’s attempt to continue the illusion that this was the real Enterprise. The computer could, of course, have just made them come. Or even just made them suddenly appear. Or maybe it couldn’t, Picard thought. After all, wasn’t finding out things like that a point of this exercise?

  Crew members arrived singly and in twos, threes, and larger groups. Though Vulcans had been serving with humans on starships for many years and members of other races had followed, Starfleet had found through hard experience that the crews of starships were generally happier if all the members came from the same race. This wasn’t a value judgment—Starfleet never tried to decide if one race was better than another, but it was certain that they were all different.

  Though it carried a primarily human crew, the Enterprise had a tradition of leavening the mix with nonhumans. Worf was a Klingon, of course—unthinkable on a Federation vessel till just recently—and Troi was half Betazoid. But there were a few Vulcans on the Enterprise too, most of them in the science sections. Also some Benzites with their smoking gas feeders around their necks.

  That seemed like a lot of nonhumans when Picard saw them all together, but they actually accounted for much less than one percent of the crew.

  Picard and Data stood to one side, watching them arrive. The first few crew members seemed to move normally, though Data said he could detect a slow-down. After the first ten or so entered the rec deck, Picard leaned over to Data and said, “Yes, I see.” Even with his merely human senses, he could not help noticing that the gathering crew members were moving as if they were underwater. As more of them arrived, the ones already there slowed even more. They stood around like cadets at their first Academy dance.

  “Becoming very creaky, aren’t they? Almost painful to watch.”

  “They are not real,” Data said.

  “No. But they seem—”

  There was a loud pop, and a bright flash filled the room. Picard lowered his arm from his eyes. Through his blinking he saw that they were once again on a blank holodeck.

  “Real or simulation?” Picard said.

  “Captain!” a voice cried.

  He spun around and saw Wesley walking toward him and Data from a far corner.

  Picard shook hands warmly with Wesley and said, “Mr. Crusher, it is good to see you again. Where have you been?”

  “In my cabin, sir. Or in a simulation of my cabin, anyway. Three Boogeymen were guarding me, but I don’t know what they wanted. They didn’t know what they wanted. They knew they’d won the game, but they didn’t know what to do next.”

  “Indeed,” said Data. “The captain and I had the same problem.”

  Wesley looked around uncertainly. “Is this the real holodeck or just another simulation?”

  Heartily, with great optimism, Picard said, “I suggest we call for an exit and find out. Computer—”

  Before Picard could say more, the twin doors of the holodeck exit grated open, giving Lieutenant Commander La Forge just enough room to force his way onto the holodeck sideways. He regained his balance and smiled as he walked toward them quickly. Picard said, “Good to see you, Mr. La Forge.”

  “Same here, Captain. We’ve been trying to get onto the holodeck since we lost contact with you.” La Forge looked around. “You must have been pretty bored stuck on a blank holodeck all this time. What’s so funny, Wes?”

  Wesley shook his head.

  Picard said, “It’s a long story, Mr. La Forge. Data can fill you in on any technical details. I want every holodeck on the ship sealed until we discover what’s wrong with this one.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  As Data and La Forge walked off together, already deep in conversation about chips, memory capacity, computing speed, and energy flow, Wesley said, “What about me, sir?”

  Picard studied Wesley for a moment, deciding how hard he should be on the boy. He said, “Go home. Think about what you’ve learned today, not only about computer programming but also about the dangers of doing an experiment that you have not thought through completely.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wesley said dejectedly.

  Picard almost suggested Wesley go help La Forge and Data, but he thought better of it. Wesley always enjoyed a technical problem, the more tangled the better, and no doubt he would have something to contribute. But just for the moment, Picard thought it would be better if Wesley had some time on his hands. Let him ponder his errors in judgment. Maybe he would learn something.

  Picard squeezed through the partly open holodeck doors, smiled, and nodded at the crew that was cleaning up the mess La Forge had made while attempting to force the doors open. As he approached the cross corridor, he hesitated for a moment, chided himself for being silly, and walked on.

  Alone aboard the turbolift, on his way to the bridge, Picard’s paranoia got the better of him for a moment. He called, “Exit holodeck.”

  No exit appeared. The computer said, “Null command.” Picard sighed.

  No one was in sickbay but an orderly, who told Wesley that Dr. Crusher had gone to Ten Forward with Counselor Troi. While watching for Boogeymen he knew were not there, Wesley walked the corridors, rode the turbolift, smiled at the people. Being back in the real world was such a relief, he could barely believe he was really there.

  The captain had told him to think. He would have done that anyway. Counselor Troi told him that he sometimes thought too much. His thinking went like this: Creating the Boogeymen had seemed like a good idea before, and it still did. If Wesley was to deal with the unknown, he needed more interesting adversaries than computer composites of Romulans or Ferengi. Starfleet used simulations to test their cadets. Why couldn’t Wesley use them to test himself? The idea was sound.

  Wesley believed that he could have made a programming error, but he refused to believe that Data was fallible in that way. Besides, no programming error, no matter how horrendous, could have caused the problems they’d had on the holodeck. A program so deformed would simply not run at all. No, something else was wrong. Wesley needed more facts. He’d have to join Geordi and Data.

  While Wesley was on his way to Ten Forward, the turbolift shuddered, almost knocking him down. Despite his wild first thoughts, he knew the Boogeymen couldn’t be the cause. This was the real Enterprise. Still, a malfunction of that type was unusual. He touched his insignia and called Maintenance. The crew member on duty said she’d take care of the problem. Wesley was certain she would, but he could not help worrying.

  He arrived safely at deck ten and walked into Ten Forward. He stood at the door, allowing his eyes to adjust to the low light while searching
for his mother. She found him first and ran across the room to hug him, embarrassing Wesley.

  “Uh, hi, Mom. I’m back. Counselor Troi with you?”

  Dr. Crusher backed off and looked at him fondly. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Fine, Mom. Can we sit down? Everybody’s looking at us.”

  “Sure. Come on.”

  People greeted them as they walked to the table, but the greetings were normal, not the grandiose words you would expect for somebody who’d just come back from a great adventure. A great adventure on the holodeck. That was almost a contradiction in terms.

  Counselor Troi smiled at Wesley in the way that always made him wish he were a little older. “Good to see you, Wes. We were worried.”

  Wesley nodded, embarrassed again, this time because Troi thought he was a hero. The captain was a hero. Professor Baldwin was a hero. He was just some kid who’d gotten caught hanging a little bad input. Guinan brought Wesley a clear ether. She smiled at him, patted his shoulder, and went away. Wesley pulled the blue plastic spaceship from the clear fizzing liquid and nibbled on the cherry it impaled. As far back as he could remember, the plastic spaceships had always been green. Come on, Wesley, he told himself. The Boogeymen are gone. You’re home. Give it a rest.

  “Are you going to tell us about it, or do I have to tickle you the way I did when you were a child?”

  “Mom!” Wesley cried, horrified.

  She folded her arms on the table and sipped her drink through a straw, waiting innocently for him to begin.

  Wesley told the story. Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi listened, interrupting only to gasp in astonishment at every setback and clever solution. They laughed when Wesley told them about Rhonda Howe. Dr. Crusher said, “I’ll have to remember that next time I want to get the captain’s attention.”

  Wesley shook his head. He knew his mother and the captain were friends. He even knew his mother had an interest in the captain that went well beyond duty or even friendship. But it was difficult—impossible—for Wesley to think of her in the same way he thought of Rhonda Howe. And it was even more impossible for him to imagine the captain and his mother doing anything together they wouldn’t do on the bridge.

  “So how did you get out?” Dr. Crusher said. “Did Geordi save you?”

  “He tried, but he was a little late.” Wesley leaned toward them as if confiding a secret and smiled. “This is good,” he said. He felt more comfortable talking about nuts and bolts than about feelings. “Data and Captain Picard overloaded the computer.”

  “How did they do that?” Dr. Crusher said.

  “Data noticed that the more people the computer fabricated, the slower they moved. He and the captain guessed that if they forced it to fabricate enough people, the computer would go into overload. It would need so much memory and computing power to manifest the other people that it would be forced to overwrite the Boogeymen, which after all are just manifestations of a program.”

  Dr. Crusher said, “I’ve seen hundreds of people at a time in some of the holodeck programs I’ve run.”

  “Sure. That was a computer running at top efficiency. Obviously the Boogeyman program clogged up the computer somehow.”

  “Obviously,” said Counselor Troi.

  “Obviously,” said Dr. Crusher.

  “So the captain called a meeting of the crew on the recreation deck of the simulated Enterprise. When enough of them had arrived, there was a big flash and the whole simulation disappeared.”

  “A remarkable story,” Troi said. “You really are a hero.”

  “Not me,” said Wesley. “Data’s the hero. Captain Picard’s the hero.”

  “Neither of them was forced to confront his childhood fears.” Troi watched Wesley very seriously.

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Crusher said.

  “Yeah, well, if I hadn’t designed them that way, I wouldn’t have had to confront them that way.”

  They drank for a while. Wesley looked out the window at the rainbows. They were still creeping along at warp five so that Shubunkin would have time to debrief Baldwin before the Enterprise reached Memory Alpha. Thinking about the shuddering turbolift and the blue plastic spaceship made Wesley uneasy, but he could not stop himself. He’d have to see Geordi and Data as soon as he could.

  “So,” said Dr. Crusher, “did you find out what you wanted to know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You went to the holodeck to test yourself in a command situation. How did you do?”

  “Mom, I got snookered by my own program.”

  “This time.”

  That stopped Wesley. He’d gotten so bound up in feeling sorry for himself, because of the trouble caused by his Boogeyman program, because he’d lost his ship during the Kobayashi Maru incident, that it hadn’t occurred to him that he might get a second chance.

  Speaking out loud but to himself, Wesley said, “I’ll write a new, improved Boogeyman program, one without the bugs.”

  “Experience is a great teacher,” Troi said.

  Wesley’s head exploded with theories, equations, possibilities. He found it difficult to stay in his chair. He needed to talk with Data and Geordi right now.

  “You did good, kid,” Dr. Crusher said and poked him in the shoulder.

  “Yeah,” said Wesley and smiled.

  Picard visited the bridge and discovered to his relief that the computer malfunction was limited to the holodeck. Riker said, “Still cruising at warp five. All readings nominal.”

  “Anything from Starfleet on Commander Mont?”

  “Evidently Commander Mont visited Axer a year ago on a diplomatic mission. Starfleet security suspects that the man who came back was this assassin.”

  “But certainly, keeping up the charade would have been difficult. He would have needed to submit to computer verification occasionally.”

  “Evidently,” Riker said, “he was clever enough to maneuver others to be verified. He got in on their say-so.”

  Picard nodded. “Other moles?”

  “None have turned up yet, sir.”

  “Unfortunately, a negative result, though possibly correct, is never satisfying.”

  “You always wonder what you missed.”

  “Indeed.” The captain wondered if more of Professor Baldwin’s enemies awaited him. A negative result would certainly not be satisfying to him. Paranoia thrived on negative results. Picard said, “Very well, Number One. I’ll be with Shubunkin and Baldwin in the exobiology lab on deck five.” He made as if to leave.

  “Oh, and Captain, good to have you back.”

  “That’s what was odd about my little adventure. I was never actually away.” Picard shook his head. The Enterprise was his home. Having it turn against him was not something he would care to experience again.

  “I’d be interested in hearing about it, if you’d like to talk.”

  Would I? Picard wondered. He was generally a very private person, but the impulse to share one’s experiences was strong in humans, as it was in many races; the feeling was working hard in Picard at the moment. Troi would probably say that he needed to talk out his ambivalent feelings about the holodeck, but as far as Picard was concerned, he was just telling a good story.

  “Indeed I would, Number One.” He sat down in the command chair and ruminated while Riker sat down next to him. Except for the normal twitters and chirps—the sound of the ship talking to itself—the bridge was silent. Ensign Winston-Smyth was at the conn and Ensign Perry was at Ops, standing by in the unlikely event the main computer needed a human backup. Stars—their appearance having been corrected by the viewscreen—looked normal as they poured toward the Enterprise, despite the ship’s warp speed.

  As Picard spoke in his clear, clipped voice, he noticed Winston-Smyth and Perry cocking their heads a little, listening without being obvious about it. The captain didn’t mind. What had happened on the holodeck was not a secret and, in fact, might prove instructive to others. Word would get around the ship. Of cours
e, word would get around anyway. Scuttlebutt was still the fastest thing in Starfleet, not excepting galaxy-class starships.

  Wesley finally escaped from Counselor Troi and his mom and went down to Engineering. He found Geordi and Data at a work station watching the readout screen flash as the holodeck satellite of the main computer ran a processor diagnostic on itself.

  “Anything?” said Wesley.

  While still watching the screen, Data said, “The Boogeyman program is gone, overwritten when the computer drew on more memory to fill the recreation deck with crew members.”

  “No significant abnormalities,” La Forge said, and touched a control surface. The display froze, and he ran his finger under a line of code. He touched the control again, and the screen began to serve up more information.

  “I thought everything was significant,” Wesley said.

  La Forge shook his head. “A starship is the most complicated piece of machinery ever built by any of the Federation races. Its programs are enormously complicated, too, and the main computer and its satellites talk to one another all the time. Code gets duplicated. Information is recorded someplace where it might never be needed again. Subroutines written for specific one-shot purposes are left in memory. Every year or so we have to go into the computer with a machete and clear out the underbrush.”

  Data looked horrified. “I presume you are speaking metaphorically.”

  “More or less,” La Forge said.

  The computer said, “End of diagnostic. No significant abnormalities.”

  “That’s a relief,” Wesley said, thinking about the turbolift and the blue plastic spaceship.

  La Forge turned his head in Wesley’s direction and said, “Yeah, it is. But you’re relieved about more than just the lack of abnormalities.”

  “Maybe.” Wesley told them about the two abnormalities he’d just observed. “Significant or not?” he asked.