INTO THE NEBULA

by Gene DeWeese

  “I hope, Captain Picard,” Khozak said immediately, “that you and Commander Riker will now reconsider the decision to not conduct a search of the areas in which these energy surges originate.”

  “We will discuss the matter when we bring the new laser unit down,” Riker said, glancing at Lieutenant Worf, who was standing in the door to the shuttlecraft. “As Zalkan suggested earlier, if these energy surges are associated with the Plague, they’ve been around for hundreds of years and are unlikely to stop overnight.”

  “Quite right,” Zalkan added quickly. “In any event, I have difficulty believing that these particular surges have any relationship to the Plague. As I have pointed out for years, its direct effects are less drastic at the surface than they are higher in the atmosphere and are very likely even weaker the farther beneath the surface you go.”

  “Which is unproven nonsense!” Khozak snapped, glaring at the scientist.

  “Unproven only because you have refused to give the necessary priority to the research necessary to prove it! If you were not so obsessed with controlling every aspect of—”

  “Think of the search, then, Zalkan,” Picard broke in, “as part of that research. Unless, of course,” he added after an almost imperceptible sideward glance at Troi, “you know of some reasons that such a search would be inadvisable or even dangerous.”

  Zalkan opened his mouth as if to reply but halted himself abruptly. After a second, he shook his head. “No, I know of nothing. Waste your time if you wish.”

  With that, he turned and climbed past Worf into the waiting shuttlecraft, leaving Khozak to glare at his back while Denbahr hurried in after him.

  “Conclusions?” Picard looked around at the group, gathered in the same conference room, joined this time by Guinan, whose latest peculiar garb didn’t look quite as out of place as it seemed it should. “Guinan, you said you observed him for a time in Ten-Forward.”

  “I always observe my customers, Captain,” she said with a toothy smile, “particularly those who ask as many questions as your friend Khozak did.”

  “And you learned what from these observations?”

  “Little more than the counselor has already told you, I’m sure. He was very curious and probably believed very little of what he was told.”

  “If he was questioning you, I wouldn’t blame him,” Riker said with a grin.

  “Now, now, Commander. It’s not my fault that the truth is usually more complex than you’d like.”

  “Your truth, at any rate. What sort of questions did he ask you?”

  “Pretty much the same as he asked everyone else. What world was I from.” She shrugged as she favored Riker with another smile. “Where was it. What did I know about the Federation. Had my world been forced to join. What was the Enterprise doing in this part of space. And he tried to avoid officers. He even asked me if there were any civilians he could talk to other than myself, although I can’t imagine why he thought I might be a civilian.”

  Riker nodded. “Just what I would do if I were in a strange place and didn’t know who to trust—avoid people in authority. They always have the most reason to be . . . less than completely truthful. Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course, Number One,” Picard said dryly as he turned to Troi. “Counselor, you accompanied them to the shuttlebay. Was President Khozak any more trusting toward us than when he arrived?”

  “Only slightly, Captain, and most of the gain was lost when Will refused to consider an immediate search for the source of the energy surges.”

  “And the scientist Zalkan?”

  “He still believes we are who we say we are, but he’s terrified of telling us whatever it is he’s holding back.”

  “Were you able to learn anything about what that might be?”

  “Nothing substantial, Captain. However, I’m certain it has something to do with the ships and, now, with the energy surges we detected on the planet.”

  Picard nodded. “I noticed his reaction when I told them of the second pair of surges. Does he fear them as well as the ships?”

  “I don’t know, Captain. I don’t even know that he fears the ships themselves. All I know is that he is very fearful of something, and that fear was triggered or made worse whenever either the ships or the energy surges were mentioned. However, there was an anger sometimes associated with the ships but not with the planetary surges. Also, as I have noted before, I do not believe the fear is for himself personally.”

  “For what, then? All of Krantin?”

  “Again, I do not know, but it is almost certainly not for himself. For one thing, based on his reaction to the results of Dr. Crusher’s examination of him, I suspect he has resigned himself to dying.”

  “Is there anything you can do for him?” Picard asked, turning toward Dr. Crusher.

  “Perhaps, but without further tests, I have no way of knowing, and I doubt that he will consent to that.”

  “And, Counselor, you said you suspect that he knows more about his own illness than he is saying?”

  “I am almost positive, Captain. But he flatly denied knowing anything about it when Dr. Crusher questioned him.”

  “The same way,” Riker said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, “that he flatly denied knowing anything about the disappearing ships and those planetary energy surges. Could there be a connection between the lies?”

  There was silence for a moment before Data spoke. “It is possible, Commander. If we assume that the disappearances are the result of the ships being transported somewhere, and if we additionally assume that he is not only familiar with the ships but has actually been aboard one when it was transported, then his ‘illness’ could be the result. All our sensor readings indicated that the associated transporter-like energies did not have full quantum-level resolution and therefore could damage living matter during the transport process.”

  Crusher’s eyes widened, but then she nodded. “You’re right, of course, Data. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.” She turned toward Picard. “Remember the rebels on Rutia Four, Jean-Luc—the device they used to kidnap us was a result of some form of transporter technology, and it caused irreversible damage to anyone using it often enough.”

  Picard grimaced as he suddenly realized why the images of the disappearing ships had seemed so elusively familiar to him. “I remember,” he said, not elaborating. “But the problem there was not the resolution level, was it? Mr. Data?”

  “It was not the primary problem, Captain, so far as we determined at the time. However, we did not analyze the resolution level once we discovered that the process was based on the Elway theorem. We assumed, as did the rebels, that the dimensional shifting involved in the process was the cause of the damage.”

  Dr. Crusher nodded. “And the damage to Zalkan, if that’s what it is, is different. On Rutia Four, the damage was primarily to the DNA, and the pattern was identifiable. In Zalkan, the DNA may be damaged, but I haven’t been able to detect it as yet. Instead, there appears to be simply a lowering of the efficiency of virtually every biological process at every level.”

  “As if,” Riker said, “he had been transported and rematerialized, but not with full quantum-level resolution. As if he were alive but not quite as alive as he was before.”

  Crusher smiled faintly. “It’s as good a way for a layman to look at it as any, Commander—as long as the layman doesn’t try to develop a treatment based on the analogy.” She sobered. “In any event, I’ve already fed the results of the blood and tissue analysis into the computer and initiated a search for possible remedies. Preliminary results, however, are not encouraging.”

  She glanced around the conference table. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with CZ-fourteen.”

  Riker frowned. “That isn’t still around, is it?”

  “There are rumors that the Ferengi picked up the formula for either that or one of the other illicit descendants of cordrazine,” Picard said, “but there is no proof as yet.”
/>
  Crusher nodded. “No proof that the Ferengi were involved, but traces were positively identified in three would-be entrants in the Josarian games last year.”

  “I hope, Doctor,” Picard said, “that you’re not going to tell us that CZ-fourteen is what the computer sees as an antidote for Zalkan’s condition.”

  “It is one of the strongest metabolic enhancers known, Captain, and the computer noted that it would be especially effective with the Krantinese metabolism.”

  “It is also often fatal in a matter of hours, Doctor.”

  “Exactly, Jean-Luc. As I said, it is not encouraging.”

  Picard nodded grimly. “As you said. Let me know if the computer comes up with anything more useful.”

  “Captain,” Data spoke up, “your Rutian experience may have provided us with another clue. There could be a form of dimensional shifting involved here as well. However, instead of returning to this dimension, it is possible that the ships remain in that other dimension.”

  “An alternate universe, Mr. Data?” Picard frowned.

  “The existence of such alternate realities has been proven many times, Captain.”

  “I fully realize that, Mr. Data. The Enterprise has been involved in such ‘proof’ more often than I like to remember. I was merely hoping that we were not involved once more.”

  “It would certainly explain why there were no indications of either a matter stream or a confinement field,” Riker said. “And no traces of subspace energy.”

  “Captain,” Ensign Thompson’s voice emerged abruptly from Picard’s comm unit, “Lieutenant Worf is reporting from the shuttlecraft.”

  “Patch him through, Ensign.”

  A moment later, Worf’s voice replaced Ensign Thompson’s. “Captain, there has been another pair of energy surges.”

  “Were you able to pinpoint the location of either?”

  “To some extent, Captain. As instructed, I have been patrolling the area indicated by the surges nearer the city since delivering Khozak and the others. The second in this pair was, like the others, far to the south, but the first was almost directly beneath the shuttlecraft. It definitely originated deep underground, at least a kilometer, and in the same general area as the earlier surges.”

  “A cavern of some kind?”

  “Possibly, sir. The shuttlecraft’s sensors are not reliable at that depth, but they do indicate an extensive network of tunnels and shafts at levels closer to the surface.”

  “Are there any life-forms in the tunnels?”

  “None in the levels accessible to the sensors, sir. At the level of the surge, it is impossible to tell.”

  “Very well. Good work, Lieutenant. Continue where you are for the time being. Keep watch for life-forms at any level.”

  When Picard signed off, Koralus spoke up. “Captain Picard, I may have knowledge of the tunnels that your lieutenant detected.”

  All eyes turned to Koralus. “Enlighten us, then,” Riker said.

  “They are abandoned mines. Over a hundred years ago—no, over two hundred years ago—that was the richest mining area in all of Krantin. Dozens of different minerals, from lead and iron to uranium, were found and extracted in great quantities. Those mines, in fact, were in part responsible for Jalkor becoming the largest and most powerful city on Krantin. The mining went on for at least fifty years, until the entire area, hundreds of square kilometers, was a honeycomb of tunnels more than a kilometer deep.”

  He paused, shaking his head. “Of course, I have no idea what has been done with them in the last hundred years, but Jalkor’s records computer would certainly have the information. If anyone has bothered to keep it up to date.”

  Picard glanced at Troi, who nodded affirmatively. He was telling the truth.

  “Very well,” Picard said, standing, “we will contact President Khozak and see if he can—or will—fill in the blanks for us when you take the laser unit down tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eight

  “THANK YOU FOR COMING, COUNSELOR,” Data said as the door to his quarters hissed shut behind Troi. “I realize you are accustomed to dealing with more highly sentient beings than Spot, but—”

  “That’s perfectly all right, Data,” she said with a smile. “I’m responsible for the emotional well-being of all the crew, and a pet, once it is adopted by a crew member, is one aspect of that well-being.” She paused and looked around. “Where is she?”

  “Under the bed. She was there when I returned and has refused to come out, even for food.”

  “Perhaps it is something physical, Data. When cats are ill, they tend to keep to themselves.”

  “I understand that, Counselor, but I do not believe that is the case with Spot. Dr. Crusher says she is in perfect health, except for a nascent furball. Also, I spoke with Ensign Thompson, who has Spot’s broth er, Fido, and he indicated that Fido has been similarly uneasy the last few hours.”

  Deanna smiled faintly. “I see. Well, perhaps I should examine the patient. Can you coax her out, or must I crawl under with her?”

  Data seemed to consider for a moment. “I will get her out,” he said, dropping to his knees next to the bed. “Your movements would be quite restricted, and that might not be entirely safe, considering Spot’s present mood.”

  Dropping flat on his stomach, Data looked under the bed. “Counselor, if you could watch the other side of the bed while I approach her from this side . . .”

  “Of course, Data.” Dropping to her knees and leaning down, Deanna could see Spot near the head of the bed, watching Data apprehensively. As Data made what passed for soothing noises and reached under the bed, the cat pulled back for a moment, then streaked out under the foot of the bed, raced across the room, and disappeared over the back of the couch.

  “I believe I have her now,” Data said, standing effortlessly and crossing to the couch. Kneeling on the couch, he leaned over its back and darted his right hand down into the triangular area behind it. A moment later, he brought the squirming animal into view, placed it on the couch and, still restraining it gently, sat down next to it. It wasn’t hissing, but its ears were laid back, its tail lashing.

  “Spot, you are behaving quite badly,” he said, scratching the top of the cat’s head between its ears, which seemed to calm it slightly. “Counselor Troi is only here to help you.”

  Smiling at Data’s so-human interaction with the cat, Deanna sat down on the other side of Spot. Cautiously, she extended her right hand, holding the fingers directly in front of the cat’s muzzle. Just as cautiously, the cat stretched forward slightly and sniffed at the fingers.

  After a minute, the tail slowed its lashing and the ears were at least partially raised. Finally, it rubbed the side of its mouth against the tips of Deanna’s fingers.

  “That is quite impressive, Counselor,” Data said. “This is the calmest she has been for quite some time.”

  “It’s nothing, Data, just a small amount of empathic feedback. I wasn’t certain it would work with a non-Betazoid animal, least of all a cat.”

  “I see. But I am not surprised that it worked, Counselor. There is much anecdotal evidence regarding the ability of cats to sense emotions in humans, though I must admit there is considerable evidence as well that the ability is due to their keen sense of smell.”

  Deanna laughed. “Are you implying that I smell calm to Spot?”

  “It is possible, Counselor. The fact that I do not possess the same scents as humans may in fact explain a part of Spot’s uneasiness. While Ensign Thompson has noticed similar behavior in Fido, he has been able to calm him while I have been unable to do the same with Spot.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, Data. You might want to test your hypothesis by having Ensign Thompson—”

  Without warning, Spot tensed, and Troi was shaken by the sudden, sourceless fear that radiated from the animal. An instant later, the hair along the cat’s spine bristled and her mouth opened in a teeth-baring hiss as she ducked her head and, half turning on her back, lashed
out with her claws. Only Data’s lightning-fast reaction kept the claws from raking Deanna’s unprotected hand.

  A moment later, the hiss turned to a yowl, and Data held the struggling animal only for the fraction of a second it took Deanna to pull away and stand up. The instant he released the cat, it streaked back under the bed.

  “Something terrified her,” Troi said, her eyes wide. “I could feel the fear.”

  “It would be interesting to learn if Fido or any of the other cats on board the Enterprise—”

  “Commander Data, Counselor Troi,” Picard’s voice erupted from their comm units simultaneously, “to the bridge. There has been another surge of energy, the most powerful one yet.”

  “On our way, Captain,” Data answered for them both. At the door, he paused. “Computer,” he said, darting a look toward the bed that Spot still crouched under, “initiate constant visual and audio scan of these quarters. Retain all records until further notice.”

  Picard’s eyes remained fixed on the viewscreen as Troi took her position on his left and Data slid smoothly into the ops station seat. Koralus was again in Riker’s seat, while the commander stood to one side. Ensign Thompson, short and bearded and constantly on a diet, was at the tactical station in Worf’s place. On the screen, Krantin had been replaced by the flare of the shields as the Enterprise moved at quarter impulse in the general direction of the source of the latest energy surge.

  Barely a minute had gone by when Data reported an object almost dead ahead, moving toward the Enterprise at a similar velocity. “It would appear,” Data said, “that the surge was not more powerful than the earlier ones, only closer. It may even have been in high orbit around the planet.”

  “Mr. Worf,” Riker said, “was there another energy surge beneath the surface of the planet?”

  “No, sir,” Worf’s voice came back a second later. “There has been no detectable activity since my last report.”