by Mel Gilden
“Thank you, Captain. Will there be anything else?”
Riker said, “In Professor Baldwin’s infowafer, is there any mention of a computer virus?”
Still a bit stiffly, Shubunkin said, “Not that I’m aware of. Of course, I’ve only scratched the surface. Why?”
Picard said, “Thank you, Lieutenant Shubunkin. You had better return to your work. We’ll be getting to Memory Alpha sooner or later. You want to be ready with your report.”
“But—”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Number One, Mr. Crusher, come with me. Mr. Worf, you have the bridge.” Picard moved quickly to his ready room, Riker and Wesley following, leaving Shubunkin glaring after them. Picard heard Worf suggest that Shubunkin move along.
Picard touched a companel near his desk. “Dr. Crusher?”
“Here, Captain.”
“Anything to report?”
“A few things of interest,” Dr. Crusher said carefully. “It’s like a dormitory down here.”
“Please come to my ready room.”
“On my way, sir.”
Picard sat down behind the desk and said, “Mr. Crusher, both Data and Mr. La Forge are hard at work on the virus program, so you are here representing the science department.”
“Yes, sir,” Wesley said with all the seriousness of a young man who knew seriousness was called for.
“Somebody’s at the door,” a Boogeyman said, and everybody jumped.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Picard said. “Come.”
Dr. Crusher walked in looking harried and tired. As she entered, she realized she was carrying a tricorder and slipped it into one of the big pockets of her smock.
“Sit down, Dr. Crusher. I hope that you have something interesting to tell us.”
“Interesting, yes. Helpful, I’m not so sure.” She sank onto the couch across the room from Picard’s desk and said, “I’ve cross-referenced the records of all personnel in a trance.” She smiled wanly. “It took a long time using only tricorders.”
“Go on, Doctor,” Picard said gently.
“All of them have telepathic indexes that are much higher than normal. Counselor Troi’s is the highest, but others are almost as high.”
“But why are they in a trance?” Riker said.
“That, Commander, I do not know.”
“Could something outside the Enterprise, something like the teardrop ship on Tantamon Four, be responsible for it?”
Dr. Crusher looked surprised at the question and then shook her head. After a deep sigh, she said, “But I do know this: alpha and delta waves indicate they are all in deep sleep, the kind you might experience in the middle of the night if you were getting a good rest. Activity in the hypothalamus is normal. However”—she sat forward on the couch, excited by her own revelations—“activity in the Martinez node of the thalamus makes a medical tricorder light up like a Christmas tree.”
“What goes on in the Martinez node?” Riker said.
“As far as we knew before, primitive emotional responses.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know.” She massaged her forehead as she went on. “The activity is entirely unexpected. I’ve never seen anything like it. The Martinez node seems to be coordinating a complex interaction between the cerebellum, which deals with movement, and the thalamus, which is the site of a crude form of consciousness. They are all very busy, but I have no idea what at.”
After a short silence, during which Dr. Crusher slumped back on the couch, obviously very tired, Picard said, “Is it possible that the Martinez node is being stimulated by alien influences?”
Wesley said, “If so, it’s hard to see why. All those people are doing is sleeping.”
“Doctor?” Picard said.
“I’m with Wesley. First contact is always a surprising business. Some unknown individual or race might be doing this, but it is difficult to see how they benefit.”
As a challenge, Riker said, “We are cruising at warp eight without the warp engines.”
Dr. Crusher’s eyebrows went up. She looked over at Wesley and he nodded. She said, “You think there’s a connection?”
“The Boogeymen and that virus are giving us big trouble, but they are not supernatural.”
Wesley allowed himself a smile. “Sir, are you suggesting that the Enterprise is haunted?”
“No,” said Riker very seriously. “I’m just suggesting that I can’t see a connection between our speed and our computer problems.”
Dr. Crusher nodded, considering.
“Dr. Crusher,” Picard said, “as far as we have been able to determine, people fainted and the Enterprise slipped into warp at about the same time. Isn’t that correct, Mr. Crusher?”
Wesley nodded. “I heard Commander Riker call out Counselor Troi’s name the same second I noticed our new velocity.”
Picard said, “Also, the trance of our people is very much like the mental state of the humanoids aboard the teardrop we encountered out in the Omega Triangulae region. What is your opinion, Doctor?”
Dr. Crusher squared her shoulders and sat up a little straighter. She said, “My opinion, Captain, is that from the little I know about warp technology, nothing on this ship can make us go faster than the speed of light except the warp engines themselves. On the other hand, there’s still a lot about the human brain we don’t know.”
“Succinctly put. Number One?”
“What about the influence of the ship back on Tantamon Four?”
Dr. Crusher shrugged. “Unknown.”
Riker nodded and said, “Except for the activity in the Martinez node, all the sleepers are sleeping normally?”
“As far as we can tell, yes.”
“Then I suggest we sedate them. Knock out the Martinez node.”
Dr. Crusher nodded. “As one of my old professors used to say when unusual procedures were suggested, ‘It couldn’t hurt.’ ”
“Mr. Crusher?” Picard said.
Wesley had been deep in thought, and he jumped when Picard called his name. “Sorry, sir. I was just wondering where Professor Baldwin got that virus program.”
“Maybe he wrote it himself,” Riker said.
“Maybe,” said Wesley. “If Mom—Dr. Crusher agrees that sedating the sleepers won’t hurt them, then it sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Agreed,” said Picard. “Doctor, make it so.”
They went back out onto the bridge, and Wesley took his post at the conn. After a brief hesitation, Dr. Crusher stepped into the turbolift. Picard wondered how long it would be before the turbolifts did not work at all. He said, “Situation normal, Mr. Worf?”
“In a manner of speaking, sir.”
The turbolift opened, and La Forge crawled from inside it.
“Trouble, Mr. La Forge?” Riker said.
As he got to his feet, La Forge said, “Yes, sir, but I’m getting used to it. I have an update, sir.”
“Good news, I hope.”
“News, anyway. Data and I discovered that the machete program didn’t clean out the Boogeyman-virus combination because the machete program didn’t recognize the virus as a program.”
Wesley turned around to look at La Forge who had everybody’s attention, even Worf’s. Picard said, “An unusual program, is it, Mr. La Forge?”
“You bet, sir.” La Forge began to make shapes in the air with his hands. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The machete program just rolled right over it. Or the combination Boogeyman-exotic virus program managed to hide from the machete program, I’m not sure which. The machete program is not designed to hunt for a moving program, only to erase sitting ducks.”
Picard thought about Baldwin, his virus, and his desire to disappear. He said, “Could this exotic virus have come from the teardrop ship Professor Baldwin was studying on Tantamon Four?”
“Absolutely. It could have.”
“Find out if there is anything comparable on that infowafer Professor Baldwin brought on b
oard.”
“Aye, sir.”
Riker said, “Make sure that Shubunkin knows your request for the infowafer comes from the captain.”
La Forge smiled. “Aye, sir.” When the turbolift doors opened, he looked into the chamber warily, then got on.
The comlink twinkled—fortunately the twinkle had not yet changed into an announcement from a Boogeyman—and Dr. Crusher said, “Captain?”
“Here, Doctor. What have you found?”
“I chose ten subjects at random, Captain, and shot them as full of morphox as I dared. Rapid eye movement stopped immediately, and they went into a deep, dreamless sleep. But the activity in the Martinez node continued.”
“No way to shut it off?” Riker said.
“It’s a very primitive part of the brain, sir. I see no way to get at it short of murdering the subject.”
Picard said, “Thank you, Doctor. We will find another method.”
“Aye, sir. Crusher out.”
Picard said, “Any change in velocity, Mr. Crusher?”
“No, sir. On course for Tantamon Four at warp eight.”
“Damned curious,” Picard said.
From behind him came the rumbling voice of Lieutenant Worf. “Sir?”
“What is it, Worf?” Riker said.
“I know why we’re going back to Tantamon Four.”
Chapter Eleven
PICARD STOOD UP and looked at Worf with an innocent expression. “I assure you,” he said, “you have our complete attention.”
Worf was impervious to that sort of humor. He merely reported, “Audio transmission coming in from Tantamon Four.”
“Let us hear it,” Picard said.
The signal sounded like insects playing insect instruments. It had the same charm, the same sound as the signal from the d’Ort’d teardrop ship that had brought them out to the Omega Triangulae region the first time. Picard let it continue while he tried to make sense out of it. He would have left that job to the computer, but he had no great confidence in the computer at the moment.
“Stores,” Picard called out.
“Stores. Ward here, sir.”
“Mr. Ward, send a tricorder up to the bridge immediately.”
“Aye, sir. Ward out.”
While the alien music continued, Picard said, “How long has this been going on?”
“Unknown, sir,” said Worf. “It is not among the frequencies we normally scan for. I discovered it largely by accident.”
Riker’s eyebrows went up, and Picard knew why. Worf did not make such an admission lightly.
The turbolift arrived, and the person inside said, “Sir?” as if a little frightened. And with good reason. Ward was standing with his feet flat against the ceiling of the car. Worf and Riker got him down, a tricky job since the Boogeymen had apparently inverted the artificial gravity in that single turbolift.
Picard gave the tricorder to Wesley and ordered him to see if he could make the music yield a message. While Ward went away on the turbolift—oriented normally for the moment—Wesley took a sample of the alien sound. He sat down at the conn, all the while pushing buttons on the tricorder and studying the results.
Mr. Worf’s discovery of the alien signal had triggered many thoughts in Picard’s head, and for the first time since he and Wesley and Data had emerged from the holodeck, the thoughts led him to conclusions that made sense. While half listening to Wesley tinker with the insect music, Picard matched the evidence together in his head and was delighted to discover that the fit was firm. He looked up and saw Riker watching him.
Earnestly, Picard said, “Number One, I feel that things are coming to a head. The virus seems to have originated aboard the d’Ort’d teardrop ship, although Professor Baldwin may have modified the program for his own use. We are receiving a signal from Tantamon Four that could be coming only from the d’Ort’d ship. We are traveling at warp speed without using our engines, which is something at least one d’Ort’d ship has demonstrated the ability to do. Evidence strongly suggests that the sleepers and the Martinez node have something to do with our speed. Which means that the trance state also has something to do with the d’Ort’d. How does this sound to you, Number One?”
“Good so far, sir.”
“Then the d’Ort’d are the key. Perhaps using that key we can reduce our many problems to one.”
“Unfortunately,” said Riker, “the galaxy’s leading expert on the d’Ort’d is in a trance down in sickbay.”
“Yes. We will have to make do with Shubunkin.”
“He really does know his stuff, sir.”
“Glad you realize that. Call a meeting of everyone involved. The conference lounge in ten minutes.”
Picard sat at the head of the table, Riker at his right hand. La Forge, Data, Dr. Crusher, and Shubunkin were ranged down the table waiting coolly for him to begin. He wished Troi were there, stabilizing them, reminding them of the human part of the equation if they should ever forget. Still, he felt better now that the problems all had handles, the same handle, the d’Ort’d. Together, he and his staff would save the ship. He only hoped they figured out how to do so before the Boogeymen took total control.
Picard said, “As I see it, we have three problems. First, and perhaps most critical, a virus has attacked our computer and is taking over the ship. Even our main core is at risk. The virus seems to be compounded from an alien program and a program written at the request of Ensign Crusher. It was designed to generate warlike aliens on the holodeck and now seems to be doing that job inside our main computer.
“Second, the Enterprise is traveling at warp eight back to Tantamon Four and will arrive there soon. Our warp engines are not engaged. At the same time we are receiving a signal from Tantamon Four that could be coming only from the d’Ort’d ship.
“Third, crew members and civilians are in some kind of trance. An unmapped part of their brains, the Martinez node, is showing unusual activity. Were it not for the fact that this unusual activity seems to have a bearing on our uncontrolled warp, I would say that the rest our sleeping shipmates are getting is the least of our problems. Dr. Crusher?”
“It’s true, the sleepers don’t seem to be in any danger.”
“Very well. Mr. La Forge? Mr. Data?”
Data nodded at La Forge, who stood up and began to explain things. He said, “The combined Boogeymen-d’Ort’d program is unlike anything either Data or I have ever seen. Unfortunately, it is also unlike anything our maintenance programs have seen. That’s the reason the virus program is still in the computer and able to get comfy.”
Data said, “Analysis of the contagion pattern makes it eighty-five percent certain that the d’Ort’d virus program entered Enterprise systems through the terminal in the exobiology lab on deck five.”
“The d’Ort’d set out to destroy us,” Riker said.
Shubunkin said, “I am sorry to disagree with you, Commander. But I have read Professor Baldwin’s extracts and summaries of his work on the teardrop, and I find no evidence of hostile or belligerent tendencies among the d’Ort’d.”
“Could they have been hiding their hostile or belligerent tendencies?” Riker said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Possible, but unlikely. It is not consistent with the pattern we have observed among races in our galaxy.”
Riker did not appear to be convinced, but he let the matter go.
“Then Baldwin must be responsible,” Picard said. He had hoped to find clues to the contrary, but evidently it was not to be.
“Indeed, sir,” Data said.
La Forge said, “We have no idea whether the contagion was installed intentionally or not.”
Riker said, “At the moment I don’t think that’s our most urgent question.”
“Indeed not,” said Data. “But to continue. Mr. La Forge has spent some time telling me about Professor Baldwin, whom I forgot after plugging into the main computer manifested on the holodeck. Mr. La Forge and I have determined that my forgetting was no fluk
e. The alien virus was modified to wipe any mention of Professor Baldwin from Federation computer records.”
Picard said, “Can you flush the Boogeymen-d’Ort’d program from our computer?”
La Forge looked embarrassed. He sat down and said, “Not at the moment, sir.”
“I trust you will continue your best efforts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commander Riker, inform Starfleet of our problem and suggest any ships that may come in contact with a d’Ort’d teardrop proceed with great caution.”
Data said, “I am afraid, sir, that that is not advisable.”
“Why not?” said Riker.
“Anything we broadcast will contain the Boogeymen-d’Ort’d virus. With our first communication, we would doom the Federation.”
After a moment of horrified silence, Picard said, “Thank you, Mr. Data. Belay that order, Number One. Let us continue.”
Shubunkin said, “If I may?”
“Please,” Picard said.
Shubunkin nodded and said, “The sensor readings we took on our first meeting with the teardrop indicated that the d’Ort’d were really two separate races. One was almost human, and the other was so unusual as to be incomprehensible. I would like to propose a theory now that, though strange, fits all the facts as we know them. Please consider it before you reject it.”
“Go ahead,” said Riker.
“I would like to suggest that the humanoids we observed with our sensors are not the crew of the ship but part of the ship itself.”
“How do you mean?” said Dr. Crusher.
“I would like to suggest that the humanoids are used as pushers, to push the teardrop ship into warp.” Shubunkin was embarrassed. “Professor Baldwin was correct when he insisted that the d’Ort’d think of the humanoids the same way they think of their tools. Well, that’s the reason why.”
No one liked the idea very much. It made Picard uncomfortable to think of people being used as tools, no more important than wrenches or dilithium crystals. It was even worse than thinking of Data as just a machine. But the captain could concoct no argument against Shubunkin’s theory. No one else spoke up, either. Picard said, “Is it possible, Doctor? Could stimulating the Martinez nodes push a ship into warp?”