[Star Trek TNG] - Double Helix Omnibus

by Peter David

  Geordi focused on his own work instead. First things first…. He manually logged into the spaceport’s computer system, then ran a quick search through the list of ships that had departed from the Archo City Spaceport in the last thirty days. One hundred and seventy-four in all, he counted, according to official records. He matched ships to ID codes and came up with a mix of 62 freighters and 112 passenger ships. A quick cross-check with the Enterprise’s records showed all the freighters had already been contacted and were supposedly en route back to Archaria III. Simple enough. The Federation moved quickly when a plague threatened.

  Several of the freighters had already landed at the Archo City spaceport. He chuckled a bit to himself when he checked their status: it seemed their crews refused to disembark. They preferred the sealed environment of a starship to the open—and possibly plague-infected—air of the planet.

  Call it self-imposed quarantine, he thought. Even so, it wouldn’t be good enough for Starfleet. The crews of those freighters wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, not until someone found a cure.

  He moved on to the passenger ships. All ran commercially between Archaria III and a dozen nearby systems. And, as expected, all 112 had already been turned back to port here. Sixty-two had already landed again, and of those it appeared that most had also chosen to keep their hatches sealed. More quarantines. And good luck to them.

  All right, the official ships were accounted for. Now came the fun part.

  “Computer,” he said. “Access service records at Archo City Spaceport.”

  “Accessing,” the computer said. “Ready.”

  “How many starships have been serviced for departure at the Archo City spaceport within the last thirty days?”

  “Two hundred and sixty-three,” the computer replied.

  He gave a low whistle. So many? He now had eighty-nine starships unaccounted for. Obviously quite a few must never have left the spaceport—once the quarantine order came down, they would have been stuck in their berths.

  “List all the starships alphabetically and state their present location.”

  “The Alpha Queen, en route back to Archaria III. The Aspen, parked in Berth 669-B. The Belgrade, parked in Berth 205-A. The Brillman’s Dream, en route back to Archaria III—”

  The computer droned on through the names. Geordi listened with interest until they reached Zythal’s Revenge, a Klingon freighter.

  “End of list,” the computer reported.

  Geordi frowned. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And yet, one ship had to be missing, if the captain’s theory were right. And I know it is, he thought.

  Where would you hide a starship? Out in the open. You just change the computer records. If the Archo City spaceport’s records listed a ship as parked in its berth, the spaceport computer would perpetuate the lie when accessed by the Enterprise’s computer. It was a simple rule as old as computer programming itself, best known as GIGO: garbage in/garbage out. If you fed a computer faulty information, you got faulty information out.

  Well, you might fool a computer, but you couldn’t fool a security camera. At least not as easily.

  “Computer,” he said. “Access security cameras at the Archo City Spaceport. List all ships presently berthed there, and show me a current security camera image of each one. Begin alphabetically.”

  “The Aspen, parked in Berth 669-B. The Belgrade, parked in Berth 205-A—”

  Within sixty seconds, he found the missing starship: a small five-passenger planet-hopper called the Event Horizon had vanished from its berth without tipping off the spaceport computers. His smile grew to a wide grin.

  “Got you!” he said.

  “Sir?” called one of the ensigns.

  “Nothing.” He cleared his throat and tried to sound officious. “Carry on.”

  The Event Horizon was originally a Vulcan vessel, he saw: a tiny T’Poy-class starship, capable of warp 2. The Enterprise’s computer had a schematic of that model on file, so he accessed it and looked it over quickly to refresh his memory: yes, warp capabilities…five passengers…slow but reliable. It would be perfect for sneaking off-world.

  He could think of half a dozen ways to get such a small starship off-planet without leaving a record or setting off the spaceport’s alarm systems. Methods ranged from the heavy-handed (bribing a clerk at the spaceport to make fraudulent file entries) to the daring (chasing a larger ship as it lifted off, and hiding in the shadow of its propulsion wake).

  The most likely seemed bribery…even though it left one or more witnesses in place. After all, what starship pilot would risk colliding with a larger vessel when a simple bribe or two would do the trick?

  Still, he had a little more work to do, just to make sure he had the right vessel. He hadn’t yet established a link from the Event Horizon to Governor Sekk.

  “Computer,” he said, “where and to whom is the Event Horizon registered?”

  “Accessing. The Event Horizon is registered on Parvo IV to the Clayton-Dvorak Consortium.”

  Who? Geordi scratched his chin in puzzlement. The Clayton-Dvorak Consortium? Must be a farmers’ combine or some sort. Which meant Governor Sekk’s family had hitched a ride with friends…or the Consortium might be a front of some kind for the governor….

  “Locate the offices of the Clayton-Dvorak Consortium,” he told the computer.

  “Records indicate that the Clayton-Dvorak Consortium is no longer in business on Archaria III.”

  “Then where are they?”

  “No information is available.”

  Could he have made a mistake? He stared at the empty berth where the Event Horizon should have been. Starships don’t just vanish.

  Even though Vulcans weren’t known for building flashy starships, he knew they produced this particular model for export. It could be outfitted so opulently that a Roman emperor would have felt at home inside. It would have been perfect for a governor. No, Sekk wasn’t off the hook yet.

  Hmm. I’ll come back to it. Geordi copied the information on the Event Horizon to a separate file. Maybe inspiration would strike after he finished looking through the rest of the records. First things first.

  “Proceed with the display,” he said. “Show me the next ship that’s supposed to be in its berth.”

  And ten seconds later, he had his second match: the Falcon’s Talon, a Klingon freighter that was supposed to be picking up five hundred metric tons of grain. And twenty seconds after that, the Halibut turned up gone. Followed shortly by its sister ship, the Hemlock, then the Langley, the Middlemarch, the Nesfa, the Prushnikov, and ten more. Geordi logged their absences with growing disbelief. All told, sixteen ships had disappeared from their berths in the spaceport without leaving any records of their departure.

  Captain Picard is not going to be happy, he thought. At least, not with the governor or the spaceport’s security officers.

  He began checking ship’s registries. As the captain had anticipated, one had been registered in the name of Armand Sekk, the planetary governor: the Nesfa.

  “Computer,” Geordi said, “locate Captain Picard.”

  “Captain Picard is in his ready room.”

  Geordi loaded the information on the missing ships into a data padd, then rose and hurried toward the turbolift. He had quite a report to make…and unless he’d missed his guess, the fireworks were just about to begin.

  Chapter Five

  DR. CRUSHER RAISED her medical tricorder and took a quick scan of the vials of contaminated blood: yes, her plague specimens had arrived intact; that overeager transporter chief hadn’t run them through the biofilter after all.

  According to the readings, nothing—literal vacuum—now surrounded the rack within the containment field. Not a single stray oxygen or hydrogen atom, let alone any virulent microbes, existed outside of the vials. She planned on there being no chance of the virus being let loose on the Enterprise.

  “Computer, shut down forcefield,” she said. It collapsed with the inevitable sharp snap
of air rushing in to fill a suddenly exposed void. “Activate the microscanner.”

  “Microscanner ready.”

  Dr. Crusher picked up the first vial and swirled it slowly. Inside, the tainted blood looked just the same as any other human’s. If only it were so simple, she thought with a sigh. If only we could see the virus with our naked eyes, it would be so much easier to defend against it.

  She slipped the vial into the microscanner. The machine made the faintest of whirring sounds as—all within its self-contained unit—it unsealed the vial, loaded a sample, and initialized its diagnostic computer.

  “Show display.”

  “Display activated.”

  A holographic image of the sample appeared in front of her: a three-dimensional pink field swarming with microscopic activity. Normal red and white blood cells swirled in and out of view, followed by oddly shaped T-cells, Y-cells, J-cells, and all the other components of a half-human, half-Peladian blood sample. Fortunately, Dr. Tang’s notes had prepared her as to what she would find in a “normal” mixer’s blood.

  There! she spotted the invading virus…an almost triangular gray puff, with dozens of tiny tendrils radiating from its core. It really did look like the Rhulian flu, she thought.

  The microscanner focused in on it at once, expanding until the virus took up the whole projection.

  “Virus found.”

  “Begin comprehensive analysis of virus sample,” she said. “Start with TXA sequencing and protein strand breakdown. I want a level-one analysis.”

  The computer responded: “A level-one analysis will take approximately fifty-two minutes.”

  “Proceed. Display tests as they are completed.”

  “Working.”

  The image of the virus split down the middle as the microscanner began to take it apart protein strand by protein strand. Of course Dr. Tang had already run this test, but true research always began with an independent analysis.

  Dr. Crusher watched the microscanner work for a moment, then stood and stretched. This is going to be a two-cup job, she thought. She headed for the replicator unit and the tea Jean-Luc Picard had recently introduced her to, Double Bergamot Earl Grey.

  Captain Jean-Luc Picard kept his face neutral while Lieutenant La Forge made his report. Inside, though, he seethed with anger. Sixteen missing ships! This is an outrage—how could Sekk possibly think he could get away with it?

  It certainly warranted an immediate call to the governor…and the immediate dispatch of alerts to every planet and starship in the sector. Those ships would be sent back to Archaria III on the double, and under armed escort, or they would face the consequences of defying Federation law.

  “Very good, Mr. La Forge,” he said. “Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir.” La Forge handed him the data padd, and Picard glanced over the names of the ships once more. Sixteen! He couldn’t believe it.

  After downloading the information into his private log, he handed the data padd back. “Post an immediate alert to all ships, planets, and starbases in the sector. Anyone spotting one of these ships is to report it at once—and avoid making direct contact. The nearest Federation ship will provide armed escort back here. If they ran once, we don’t want to risk them running again.”

  “Understood, sir.” La Forge turned smartly and hurried from the ready room.

  Picard leaned back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands for a second. He had no choice but to make a second call to the governor, and he looked forward to this one even less than the first. For a second he wished for the authority to remove Sekk from his elected job, but then he thought better of it. He didn’t want to bog himself down with the onerous administrative chores of running a planet if he could possibly avoid it. Bad as he might be, Sekk at least understood the job.

  “Computer,” he said. “Get me Governor Sekk.”

  The computer bleeped, and a second later an even more harried-looking Governor Sekk appeared on the smaller monitor on the captain’s desk.

  Sekk gave a cursory nod, then asked, “What is the problem, Captain—this really isn’t a good time. I am in the middle of a dozen crises here—”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to make time, Governor. Have you ever heard of a ship called—” he consulted the list. “The Nesfa?”

  Sekk paled suddenly. He turned and bellowed, “Clear the room!” to his assistants. “I need to talk to Captain Picard alone! Out! All of you!”

  They scrambled for the doors. The moment he was alone, Sekk turned back to the comm. Picard saw new lines of worry crease the man’s face.

  “If I claimed I hadn’t heard of the Nesfa, it would be a lie. You know that. Let’s not play games, Captain. You caught me; I confess. I need to know—is there something wrong with the Nesfa? It hasn’t…met with an accident, has it?”

  “Not that I know of, Governor. But I think it’s time you told me the whole truth about what’s going on here. I don’t like being lied to—even if it’s a lie of omission!”

  Sekk sucked in a deep breath. “My wife and children are on board the Nesfa. My eldest son, Derek, took everyone off-planet the day the hospital reported the first plague cases. I wanted them safe. Is that a crime?”

  “No, Governor. It’s perfectly natural. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to bring them back. This system is now under quarantine…and that applies to everyone, even your family.”

  “But you don’t understand…my wife, Mira…she’s half Peladian. If she comes back here, it’s a death sentence for her. And for our four innocent children, Derek, Robin, Eric, and Denny. Denny is only two, Captain. Bringing any of them back is nothing short of murder.”

  Picard swallowed. “Decisions like this one are never easy. But I can’t make exceptions, even for you.”

  “I realize that, Captain. But you don’t have to, at least not in this case. You see, they are still technically on Archaria III.”

  “Enough games, Governor. I need to know where they are. Exactly where.”

  Still Sekk hesitated. “You understand, of course, that I had to weigh my duties carefully. And this time I’m afraid my family won.”

  Picard frowned. Sekk certainly wasn’t making this easy. “How do you know your family wasn’t exposed to the plague?” he asked. “How do you know they aren’t passing it on to others right now?”

  “They left thirty-two days ago—on the day the first victims began flooding our hospitals, as I told you. Since the first symptoms appear within a few hours of exposure, and I talked to them not ten days ago, I know they’re well.” Sekk swallowed. “At least, I think so. I just haven’t been able to raise them on the comm since then.”

  “Where are they?” he asked again.

  “On Delos—our smallest moon. There’s a research base there. It’s been deserted for years. I don’t think many people know about it any more…but the equipment is still functioning.” He twisted his hands together. “I thought they would be safe there, Captain. And technically they haven’t left Archaria III.”

  Picard frowned. A game of semantics…but true, in a manner of speaking. Starfleet classified moons as part of the planets they orbited.

  “Governor…far be it from me to doubt your word, but I’m going to have to check your story. If your family is there, then we will be glad to render whatever assistance they may need, from repairing their comm systems to an emergency evacuation to the Enterprise. However, if they are not there…” He left the threat hanging.

  “Understood, Captain. And if there is something wrong, I need to know immediately. I…I almost told you about them earlier. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hope you understand.”

  All too well. You didn’t want to jeopardize your own position. Never mind that your family could be dead or dying and you wouldn’t know about it.

  Picard said: “I will keep you up to date. Next, I need you to look over this list of ships. What can you tell me about them?”

  Picard transferred the whole list
of missing ships to the comm unit. He knew Sekk would be seeing it on his end of the channel.

  The governor read it over slowly, then shook his head. “I don’t understand. What about them?”

  “They are missing. Like the Nesfa, they have disappeared from their berths at your spaceport seemingly without a trace. I need to know what happened to them. Where did they go, Governor? How big is your family?”

  Sekk bristled a little at that jab. “I don’t know anything about these ships. But I will find out.” From his tone and expression, Picard actually believed him this time. His security system has as many holes as a sieve.

  He asked, “Is two hours sufficient time?”

  “It should be.” Sekk paused and licked his lips. “Captain…let me thank you in advance for not mentioning how my family left the planet to anyone else here. The situation is…delicate right now. Such news might well tip the scales toward the Purity League and chaos.”

  “I won’t lie about it, Governor, and all the details will be in my report to Starfleet. But I have no intention of making any public proclamations, if that’s any reassurance.”

  The new look on Sekk’s face spoke more clearly than words: the governor was hardly satisfied. Even with the information buried in an official Starfleet report, dozens of eyes would see it on Archaria III. And some of those eyes undoubtedly would belong to the governor’s political enemies, Picard knew.

  I know how to play this game, too, Picard thought with a twinge of self-satisfaction. You won’t pull the wool over my eyes a second time and get away with it, Governor.

  “Thank you,” Sekk finally said, sounding strangled.

  “You’re welcome, of course.” Picard gave him the same warm smile he normally reserved for unsavory diplomatic functions. “Picard out.”

  The screen went blank. Taking a deep breath and dropping his phony expression, Picard rose and strode out onto the bridge again. The low rumble of the engines and the beeps and whirs of the controls proved a tonic for his nerves, and he let out his breath with a sigh, starting to relax again. La Forge had reclaimed the navigator’s station and Riker had vanished…probably finalizing preparations for his away mission. Like clockwork, he thought. The mechanism of the ship continued to run without him.