by Mel Gilden
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but given the evidence—the timing of the fainting and the boost into warp, the high activity of the Martinez nodes—it seems likely. On the other hand, we’re on dangerous ground here. Could you look at a human foot and predict ballroom dancing?”
There were guffaws all around the table, in which Shubunkin did not join.
Riker said, “If Lieutenant Shubunkin’s theory is correct, it would explain the signal from Tantamon Four. Maybe its purpose is to stimulate people with high telepathic indexes into becoming pushers and to guide them back to the planet.”
La Forge said, “What I want to know is how a signal coming all the way from Tantamon Four can cause an effect of that magnitude.”
Everyone looked at Dr. Crusher, and she shifted in her chair. “I have a theory almost as strange as Shubunkin’s.”
“This seems to be the day for it,” La Forge said.
Dr. Crusher plunged ahead. “We know from sensor scans that the creatures the d’Ort’d use to push their ships are within two points of being human. Maybe we and they come from the same stock. Maybe the Martinez node has been a hair trigger waiting millennia for something that would set it off, something like the signal coming from the teardrop on Tantamon Four. The effect of the signal is actually very small, like the pebble that starts the avalanche.”
“You mean,” said Riker, “the signal set off a reflex?”
Not very happily, Dr. Crusher nodded.
After a moment of silence, Picard swallowed and said, “What you suggest will cause historical and philosophical earthquakes all through the Federation.”
Dr. Crusher shrugged and said, “It fits the facts as we know them. I, for one, would be delighted to hear a less bizarre theory.”
“We will work on a new theory when we have the time,” Picard said. He turned to Shubunkin. “There are no humanoids aboard the teardrop on Tantamon Four?”
“That is right,” said Shubunkin. “None of the other creatures, either, if Professor Baldwin is correct.”
“Then who is sending the signal?” Data said.
“It could be automated,” said La Forge.
Riker shook his head. “But why send the signal now?”
“Because,” said Picard, “now the ship has found new pushers.”
It took a moment for Picard’s statement to sink in, and then Dr. Crusher said, “You mean the teardrop plans to re-man itself with members of the Enterprise’s crew? Members selected because of their aptitude to be pushers?”
Everyone looked at Shubunkin. He waited, milking the momemt for its drama. And then he said, “I believe Dr. Crusher has, as you say, hit the screw on the head.”
“But how did the d’Ort’d know when to start signaling?” Riker asked.
Dr. Crusher said, “Maybe Baldwin acted as an antenna for their sensors—they must have them even if the sensors are not like ours. The d’Ort’d knew the Enterprise was loaded with potential pushers.”
“Another bizarre theory,” Shubunkin said.
“I’ll be damned,” said Picard. He slapped the arms of his chair and stood up. “Very well,” he said. “Mr. La Forge and Mr. Data, continue your analysis of the Boogeymen-d’Ort’d virus. Draft Ensign Crusher if you believe he would be of use to you. I do not think I need to remind you that time is very much of the essence.”
“Yes, sir,” La Forge said. He and Data hurried out.
“Dr. Crusher, find a way to deactivate the Martinez node without killing the subject.”
“Aye, Captain.” Dr. Crusher was on her way to the door when Picard heard the comlink twinkle. Everyone stopped and waited.
“Bridge to Captain Picard,” Wesley said.
“Here, Mr. Crusher.”
“Enterprise has dropped out of warp a hundred thousand klicks off Tantamon Four.”
The twinkle came again. “Sickbay to Dr. Crusher.” It was a male voice Picard did not know.
Dr. Crusher looked at Picard wonderingly and said, “Go ahead, Birnberg.”
“Doctor, the sleepers are awakening.”
“And demanding breakfast, no doubt,” Riker said.
“Why, yes, sir.”
“Feed them,” said Dr. Crusher. “Give them anything they want that the food slots are willing to produce. But don’t let them fall back asleep. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Captain?” Wesley said.
“Patience, Mr. Crusher. Doctor, it is still important for you to find a way to neutralize the Martinez node. We don’t want to be at the mercy of the d’Ort’d.”
“Aye, sir.”
Even before she was gone, Picard said, “Mr. Crusher?”
“Here, sir.”
“Make standard orbit around Tantamon Four. The answers to all our questions may be here.”
Riker said, “Mr. Worf.”
“Here, sir.”
“Put guards at all transporters and shuttle bays. We don’t want anyone leaving the ship on a d’Ort’d whim.”
“Aye, sir. Bridge out.”
“What should I do?” Shubunkin said.
“Come with me,” Picard said. “We’re going to sickbay.”
Chapter Twelve
GETTING TO SICKBAY was an adventure. First the turbolift went very fast. Then it went very slowly. Then it rattled along, shaking from side to side like a car in an old-fashioned steam-powered train.
The turbolift stopped first at deck eleven, and a Boogeyman said, “All ashore that’s going ashore! We won!”
“Deck twelve,” Picard said in what he hoped was a convincing way. The doors closed, and the lift dropped a floor as if the cables had been cut. The turbolift had no cables, but that was what it felt like. The doors opened and then shut quickly, almost pinching Picard in half as he exited into the corridor.
Sickbay was nearly empty by the time he and Shubunkin got there. Dr. Crusher, Counselor Troi, and a few orderlies were moving among those still in bed, mostly children, giving comfort where they could. When Picard approached Troi, see was hugging a small blond girl, rocking with her, telling her that everything would be all right. Troi saw the captain and Shubunkin and said to the little girl, “There. You’ll be fine now. Why don’t you lie down until you feel ready to go home?”
The little girl sniffed and nodded and did as she was told.
Picard and Shubunkin spoke with Troi near an empty bed where they would be out of the way. “What’s wrong with them?” Picard said, a little more gruffly than he had planned.
“Nothing, physically, as far as Dr. Crusher can determine. But if this little girl’s dreams were anything like mine, she has a right to be frightened.”
“Tell me about the dreams,” Shubunkin said.
Troi looked off and frowned. She shook her head and said, “Very alien. Mostly swirling colors. The perspective seemed all wrong, somehow.”
“Wrong?” Shubunkin said.
“It would be like explaining sight to a blind person.” Troi almost smiled and then shook her head. “Part of the dream was a powerful longing for home.”
“Home?” said Picard. “Betazed?”
“Nothing so specific, Captain. But we all felt a definite desire to return to a place that is far away in time and space.”
Picard said, “Perhaps that’s why you and the others were pushing Enterprise at warp eight.”
“I thought that was just a rumor,” Troi said unhappily.
“It is all too real, I assure you. We need to know how it was done, not only because in itself it is a tremendous scientific discovery, but because we want to prevent the d’Ort’d from doing it to us again.”
Troi thought for a few moments, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Captain. It’s all very vague.”
“Try,” Picard said.
“Try,” Shubunkin said.
Troi sighed and said, “We changed the way we looked at the universe and imposed that new perspective on the ship.”
“Explain this new perspective,” Picard and Shubunkin sa
id together.
“I’m sorry,” Troi said, looking as if she meant it. “I cannot.” Her hands moved restlessly. “Details fade like a dream even while I try to remember.”
“Perhaps some of the others—” Picard said.
Dr. Crusher interrupted. “I’ve been asking every one of them I can catch.” Picard and Shubunkin turned to look at her. She said, “They don’t remember any more than Counselor Troi does, and many of them remember even less. Fortunately, the longing for home fades as quickly as the new perspective. Fortunately also”—she aimed her medical tricorder at Troi and when it warbled, she checked the reading—“the activity in everyone’s Martinez node is normal again, which is to say almost nonexistent.”
Picard said, “Can you keep it that way?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Crusher said, “but we’re working on it.” She looked somewhat doubtful.
“Very well, Doctor. Flank speed if you please. What do you make of all this, Lieutenant Shubunkin?”
“Nothing useful, Captain. But I am as new to d’Ort’d psychology and technology as you are. I can only hope that Baldwin’s infowafer holds some answers.”
“I believe you have just defined your mission, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” Shubunkin said and left sickbay at a nice clip.
“Speaking of which,” Picard said, “where is Professor Baldwin?”
“He said he was going to see you in your ready room.”
That surprised him. The last time he’d seen Baldwin, Picard had accused him of sabotaging the Enterprise. “Did he say why?”
“No. But he was most insistent.”
Picard touched a companel and said, “Professor Baldwin, this is Picard.”
The sound of Boogeymen singing the Hallelujah Chorus poured briefly from the companel. With disgust, Picard said, “Do all you can, Doctor,” and strode from sickbay.
As he walked along the corridor to the turbolift, the light bars began to blink. Boogeyman laughter rolled along the corridor like bowling balls, and the ship shuddered. Picard ran to a companel. On his way he moved through a very cold area no larger than a transporter plate. He stepped back into it briefly and saw his breath fog, curl, and dissipate. This was maddening.
He touched the companel and called, “La Forge? What’s going on down there?”
“Right offhand, sir, I’d say we have a bad case of Boogeymen.”
“Sir, this is Wesley. I think it’s going to get worse. I had Data design the Boogeymen to become more aggressive with time.”
“Is there no way to go around them?”
“That becomes more and more difficult as the contamination spreads,” La Forge said. “We don’t have many options left.”
“Make use of those we do have. Picard out.”
There was no point being angry at La Forge. He and Data and Wesley were doing the best they could, which, Picard knew, was the best that anyone could do. If only it hadn’t been for Baldwin and his damned compulsion to disappear. Baldwin was in his ready room. Maybe he had an answer. Picard kept moving.
Suddenly the corridor tilted sharply, rolling Picard head over heels back the way he had come. He banged into the wall at the T-intersection and tried to collect his wits. Ensign Perry was next to him, evidently trying to do the same thing. She was a tall, slim blonde with short hair and good cheekbones. Picard made sure that she was all right, and together they stared along the corridor at the turbolift at the other end, a direction that had suddenly become a steep upward grade.
“What’s going on, sir?” Perry said.
The Boogeymen were growing stronger; that was what was going on. But to explain the Boogeymen to Perry would take a while, and Picard did not feel he had the time to spare. He said, “We have a computer problem. Senior staff is working toward a solution at this moment.”
“Yes, sir.” Perry tried on a smile. It was becoming but not hopeful. She didn’t understand but was attempting to take Picard’s answer at face value. He took it at face value himself and hoped he was correct.
“Come along, Ensign. Perhaps the floor will level out farther on.” Picard helped her crawl up the floor. It was textured to give maximum traction when walking, but no one in Starfleet Engineering had guessed that anyone would ever need to climb it. They rested opposite sickbay, sitting against the corridor wall and catching their breath.
Inside sickbay, Dr. Crusher was walking around normally. When she saw them, she came to the doorway and said, “Boogeymen?”
“Yes,” said Picard. “We can no longer make assumptions about the operation of the ship. Stay in sickbay unless you must make an emergency call, and pray that the Boogeymen leave you alone.”
“Yes, sir. Can I help you or Ensign Perry in any way?”
Ensign Perry swallowed and attempted a game smile. She said, “I’ll be fine.”
“We will all be fine,” Picard said with more conviction than he felt.
Picard and Perry continued their climb. When they were not far past sickbay the gravity tilted again, and threw them at the turbolift. The doors opened, and the two of them fetched up inside. The doors closed before they could get to their feet, and the car began to move.
“We win,” a Boogeyman said. “Shuttle bay two. Shuttle bay three.”
“Where are we going, sir?”
“Computer,” Picard called, “bridge.”
“The bridge is ours. We win!”
Picard smiled confidently into Perry’s terrified face, hoping it would give her comfort, but the truth was, he did not feel confident. Without the main core, functions that normally were automatic would take many crew-hours to monitor, calculate, and adjust. Just watching over life support would be a full-time job. Even Data would need many hours to calculate course and speed to the nearest starbase.
Picard thought of a useful analogy that was not encouraging. It was as if a human suddenly had to consciously, second by second, will every electrochemical reaction in his or her body or it would not happen. That person would certainly be dead in seconds. The situation aboard the Enterprise was not so dire as all that, but soon it would be and the Boogeymen would win in earnest.
The turbolift stopped, the door opened, and Picard was surprised to see they had actually come to the bridge. He leapt out and pulled Ensign Perry after him before the turbolift changed its mind and bore them away to some remote corner of the ship.
Worf was at his station, and Riker sat in the center seat, though at this point, command consisted of watching the disasters pile up. Ensign Winston-Smyth was at Ops. Conn was unmanned.
Picard sat Ensign Perry in Troi’s seat and told her she would be safer staying on the bridge than attempting to go somewhere else. She nodded and glumly watched Tantamon IV on the main viewer.
Riker had already moved to his own seat. Picard sat down and said, “Status.”
Riker said, “Minor damage reports are coming in from all over the ship. Evidently ship’s environment is now under the Boogeymen’s control.”
“Ensign Perry and I experienced that firsthand. Anything else?”
As if in answer, the ship shuddered, and Picard saw a photon torpedo fly across the main screen. A few seconds later it exploded, briefly washing out the picture with bright light.
“What in hell?” Picard said.
Worf said, “Our photon torpedoes and phasers are firing at random.”
“Target?” Picard said.
“None,” said Worf.
“I suppose we must be grateful for that,” Picard said. A phaser beam momentarily poked and fizzed into the darkness and then stopped abruptly. No one bothered to mention it. Picard said, “Is Baldwin in my ready room?”
“Yes, sir,” said Riker. “He said you wanted to see him.” He gave Picard a look that was full of meaning.
“Right enough. Keep me posted.” He walked to the ready room doors, and they opened for him. They remained open after he walked through. Well, at least he would not have to suffer that new door announcement.
The ready room was dim, as if it were ship’s night. The stars out the window behind his desk looked unnaturally bright, though Picard was fairly certain the Boogeymen had not yet been able to tinker with them. Baldwin stood by the window looking out. Without turning around he said, “I thought I’d be safe on your ship, Jean-Luc. Then Mont attempted to kill me, and now the ship itself seems itchy to try.”
Picard said, “Has anyone told you about the ship going into warp without using the engines?”
“They did. I didn’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
Baldwin turned around. The enforced rest had done him no good. He looked thin and drawn even in the low light, which, Picard knew, generally flattered people. “Why do I get the feeling that you think I’m somehow responsible?”
“Sit down, Eric.”
Baldwin lit up that shy smile—one of the features, Picard suspected, that so endeared him to women—and came around the desk to sit down.
Picard settled behind his desk. He was glad to see that the fish in the tank on the other side of the room still appeared to be healthy. Its environment was controlled by the same systems that controlled life support on the rest of the ship. Picard suddenly thought of the canaries that used to be taken down into coal mines; because of their delicate constitutions they were the first to fall prey to poisonous gas. Seeing a bird fall gave the workers a good chance of getting out of the pit alive. Fancifully, Picard decided that as long as the fish was all right, the crew of the Enterprise still had the same chance as those miners.
Baldwin said, “Last time I was here, you accused me of installing a virus in your computer.”
“The evidence is overwhelming at this point, Eric.”
“Is it?” Baldwin was still trying to make light of the situation, but his voice shook.
“And the fact that in doing so you’ve broken any number of Federation laws is not important right now. What is important is for you to tell my chief engineer all you can about it.”
Baldwin was quickly losing his polish. Sounding a little shrill, he said, “What can that virus possibly have to do with—”
Picard interrupted. “Somehow your virus program is working in synergy with a program designed to create aggressive, warlike aliens on the holodeck. The resulting mess is destroying my ship.”