Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow

by Dayton Ward

  “You’re getting pretty good at that, Commander,” said Lieutenant Cruzen from where she stood at the rear of the group, positioned so that she could keep watch down the length of corridor they had already traversed.

  The hatch opened, receding into the door’s frame until it was flush with surrounding bulkheads before sliding upward and out of sight. Beyond was a room perhaps thirty meters deep and half as wide, a guess La Forge confirmed with a quick scan of his tricorder. Like the corridor, the room was adorned with more of the lighting strips, running the length of the walls as well as across the ceiling. One bulkhead was crowded with control stations similar to those the team already had encountered, but the chamber’s most striking feature was the eight cylindrical objects, each nestled within a frame secured to the deck plating.

  “Oh, wow,” said the engineer. “Look at this.” He was about to enter the room when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. It was Worf, who said nothing as he moved around La Forge, phaser held out before him, and stepped through the doorway. After taking a few seconds to examine the room’s interior, the Klingon gestured with his free hand.

  “All clear.”

  La Forge led the rest of the team into the room, and Konya and Cruzen took up positions just inside the door, leaving the others to spread out and examine the consoles and, of course, the eight tubes. Each of the cylinders was composed of a transparent material, and as he inspected the closest specimen, La Forge saw that its interior was coated by a thick layering of frost. The frames in which the cylinders rested featured their own control panels and arrays of status monitors, with indicators flashing in rhythmic sequences while the occasional stream of data in the now familiar yet still unreadable alien text scrolled across compact screens. Even through his helmet, he heard the steady hum of equipment stored within the frame and likely the undersides of the cylinders, as well.

  “Definitely a form of cryogenic suspension,” said Elfiki as she stepped closer to examine one of the cylinders. “These don’t look too different from the sort of suspended animation capsules that were developed on Earth in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, like those used in the first pre-warp sleeper ships.”

  “Their reliability was about the same as these, too,” Chen said. She was standing between a pair of the tubes, and La Forge saw that those two cylinders, like four of the remaining six, were dark and lacked the frost permeating the interior of their companions.

  “Left to the mercy of a machine,” Worf said, disapproval evident in his voice. “A deplorable way to die.”

  Still standing with Cruzen near the door, Konya said, “Damned right.”

  La Forge stepped closer to one of the active units, and through the layer of ice crystals on the inside of the otherwise transparent shell, his ocular implants allowed him to see the humanoid figure encased within. Unclothed, the hibernating subject had no visible body hair, and its smooth skull was larger than that of a normal human, with an elongated crown. Its eyes were closed, flanking a shallow crease with a single opening that suggested a nasal passage. He noted the ridges on the sides of its head that covered small openings he took to be auditory organs. Prominent ridges connecting its neck to its torso reminded La Forge of Cardassian physiology, though in this case the alien’s skin was smooth, sporting a pigmentation that suggested wine, or perhaps lavender, and its musculature was on par with a human male in prime physical condition. Several dark patches were affixed to the subject’s skin and La Forge saw that they each contained some form of compact circuitry or technology.

  “They all have small sensors attached at various points to their bodies,” Elfiki said. “Some sort of biomed tech, I’m guessing.”

  La Forge nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “From what I can tell,” the science officer continued, “we have one male and one female. I don’t know about the . . . the six who didn’t make it. As for the two survivors, their life readings are very low, likely owing to the cryogenic process, but without a basis for comparison I have no way to know what’s ‘normal’ for these people.”

  Chen asked, “Can they be revived?”

  “That may not be prudent,” Worf warned. “We know nothing about them. Bringing them out of hibernation could be a risk.”

  Nodding, La Forge replied, “Plus, we don’t know anything about their physiology or environmental needs.”

  “Their atmosphere looks to be compatible with ours,” Elfiki said, “but there are other considerations. Hopefully we can gain access to any relevant medical information, and see where that takes us. If our scans are right and they’ve been in hibernation for over a hundred years, we don’t know what kind of debilitating effect the process has had on their bodies.” She held up her tricorder. “My scans show no significant atrophy of muscles, bone, or tissue, but they may still be too weak to walk or even sit up once they’re revived.”

  La Forge gestured to the closest of the cylinders. “We don’t even know how to bring them out of hibernation, anyway, but the process has to be accessible via their ship’s computer. Something had to be programmed to wake up these people at some point.”

  “Number One,” said Captain Picard over the comm frequency, “I’ve already alerted Doctor Crusher that her services will be needed over there. She’s assembling a medical team to accompany her, and we’ll be dispatching another shuttlecraft in short order. Notify Lieutenant Šmrhová if you have any other personnel or equipment needs.”

  Worf replied, “Aye, sir. I would like to continue our investigation. We still have not reached anything resembling a bridge or engineering.”

  “Or any of the systems overseeing the giant cannon,” added La Forge, “but from what I’ve seen so far, there’s definitely enough to keep us busy for quite a while.” He glanced down at the transparent cylinder and its slumbering occupant. “Hopefully, these guys can help us fill in the blanks.”

  And let’s hope we don’t hate what they tell us.

  7

  Stepping through the doors leading to the Enterprise’s childcare center, Picard found it odd that he might consider this room to be more relaxing than the bridge. However, it was precisely that feeling which came over him as he stood near the door and took in the scene around him.

  “Captain,” said Hailan Casmir, the center’s primary supervisor, as he rose from the chair behind his desk to greet Picard with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, sir.” An Argelian, Casmir never seemed to lack for an upbeat attitude and even good humor. Picard had enjoyed his company from the first time they had met, when Casmir’s wife, Lieutenant Taro Trinell, came aboard the Enterprise as a new member of the engineering department. A civilian, he wore a loose-fitting, cobalt blue tunic over dark gray pants. His blond hair was long and fell to his shoulders, and he favored a trimmed beard that reminded Picard of his friend and former first officer, William Riker.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Hailan,” Picard said.

  “I understand things are getting interesting aboard that ship over there.”

  Picard nodded. “Indeed. We’re only just scratching the surface, it seems.” It did not surprise him that news about the away team’s progress aboard the mysterious alien vessel already was spreading through the ship. After weeks of uneventful travel just to get to the Odyssean Pass, any break in the routine was going to attract everyone’s attention. “While I can do without the firefights,” Casmir said, “it’s times like these that I wish I was a member of the crew so that I could go and have a look around for myself.”

  “Perhaps we can arrange an internship of sorts.” Picard offered a small, sly grin. “I’m sure Mister Worf can find a suitable place for a man of your many talents. For the moment, though, we need you here.”

  He divided his attention between Casmir and the handful of children who were visible in the center’s main room. The oldest looked to be about the same age as his own
son, with the others perhaps younger by a year or so at most. None of the three infants belonging to members of his crew was present, and Picard knew that any of the babies placed in the center’s charge would be sequestered in a separate room with their own caregiver. Of the children Picard could see, they appeared occupied with books, games, padds, or other activities that—for the moment, at least—had harnessed their attention. For however long it lasted, the childcare center was an oasis of peace and quiet.

  “How did they react to our earlier bit of trouble?” he asked.

  “Surprisingly well, actually,” replied the Argelian. “Children are amazingly resilient, Captain. We as adults and parents tend to be too zealous to protect them, and we often underestimate their ability to respond and adapt to new situations, even those that might be stressful or frightening. They were alarmed for a few moments, of course, but as you can see they’ve returned to their normal routine. We can learn a lot from our children, you know.”

  “I do, indeed,” Picard said. With a small sigh, he shook his head. “I don’t know how you manage to do it.”

  Casmir asked, “Do what?” Noting where the captain was looking, the Argelian added, “Years of practice, Captain. Argelians often tend toward large families, and I was one of the older children in my family. I learned at an early age how to help my parents look after my younger siblings.” He gestured toward the kids he now oversaw. “Compared to my brothers and sisters, these children are . . . what do humans call them? Angels.”

  The remark drew a light chuckle from Picard. “Regardless, you’ve done a remarkable job here, for which I’m grateful.” Recalling something he had read in one of the department reports routed to him by Commander Worf, he said, “I saw your request to schedule more holodeck time for the children.”

  “Yes,” Casmir said. “I’ve been working with some of the science departments to expand the curriculum in geology, astronomy, stellar cartography, and so on. We can simulate different planetary environments, and program virtual tours of star systems and other spatial phenomena.”

  “I’ve already asked Commander Worf to look into it,” Picard said, “but I’m sure we can make arrangements. René in particular might enjoy the astronomy material.” The captain had been intrigued by the proposal from the first time he had read Casmir’s report. He remembered the countless nights he had spent sitting under one of the trees on the family vineyards in France, staring up at the night sky for hours, making do with a telescope and his own eyes as he imagined traveling among the stars. Holodeck technology could be brought to bear to provide his son and the other Enterprise children with all manner of breathtaking interactive simulations that would rival even his own fevered childhood imagination. “And if you decide to add any courses on archeology,” Picard added, “I might be interested in participating with him, as well.”

  Smiling, the Argelian nodded. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been considering such a course, and you were the first person I thought of. I’m well aware of your fondness for the subject. Perhaps you might consider offering the children your own insights?”

  “Me? Teach the children?” Picard asked.

  Casmir’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a natural mentor, Captain. They look up to you. Having you along for one of their classes would be a tremendous treat for them.”

  “Doctor Crusher put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny your wife’s complicity in this scheme, sir.”

  Laughing again, Picard nodded in approval. “Well played. I’ll consider your suggestion.” He paused before adding in a lower voice, “Perhaps I may even enjoy myself.”

  I can hear Marie laughing from here.

  What would his sister-in-law, widow of his deceased older brother, Robert, and mother of his own beloved late nephew, young René, say about him now? Upon hearing that he, of all people, would soon have a son of his own, Marie Picard had repeatedly assured him that he would make a wonderful father. She cited as her evidence his interactions with her son and how the two had bonded over their mutual love of space, the questions it posed, and the answers which could only be found among the stars. Picard had mourned the passing of his brother, who had died in a fire nearly fifteen years earlier at the family home on Earth, but he had been devastated upon hearing that dear René also had been lost.

  Their deaths had weighed on him for years afterward, and he often wondered if his desire to honor their memory by giving their names to his and Beverly’s son had been motivated by guilt at what he had missed by not spending more time with them. At first he had avoided home due to his strained relationship with Robert, but even after the two had closed the gulf separating them, duty continued to keep Picard away from Earth for long periods—or had it? Looking back on the missions given to him during his final years in command of the Enterprise-D, he had wondered if his presence really had been required for every assignment. No small number of those tasks could have been handled with ease by Will Riker, who by that point had more than proven himself to be a highly capable starship commander. Should Picard have left his ship in Riker’s hands more often, knowing that he could trust his first officer to mind the store and allow him increased opportunities to visit his family?

  Stop it, he scolded himself. You can’t change the past.

  He looked around the room once more. “Has Doctor Crusher come to visit René?”

  Casmir nodded toward one of the center’s satellite rooms. “She’s with him now, in the computer lab. I understand she’s heading over to the alien ship.”

  “Yes,” Picard replied. “The vessel’s crew is in a state of cryogenic hibernation, and the onboard computer seems to be having difficulty awakening them. Hopefully, Doctor Crusher and her team can assist in that endeavor.”

  “I wish them luck, Captain.” Casmir looked like he might be about to say something else, but a beep from his desktop computer terminal caught his attention. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

  “By all means. Thank you, Hailan.” As the supervisor returned to his desk, Picard stepped toward the center’s computer learning lab. Six workstations were arrayed around the room, each featuring a computer terminal. None of the stations were in use, though inside he did find Beverly Crusher and their son, René Jacques Robert Francois Picard. She was sitting in one of the chairs, and René stood next to her, his expression one of confusion and concern.

  “It’s just for a little while,” Beverly was saying, holding the boy’s hand. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  René, his eyes wide and moist, replied, “But you were gone so long before.” Picard noted how his lower lip trembled, but otherwise the boy was doing a commendable job maintaining his composure.

  “That was different,” Beverly said, only then realizing that Picard had entered the room. She smiled at his arrival. Upon noticing his father, René stood a bit straighter, though he still appeared sullen.

  “Hello, Papa,” he said, accenting the second syllable as he had done since first learning to speak the word. No matter the stresses of the day, hearing his son call him by that name never failed to make Picard smile.

  “You look sad,” he said, dropping to one knee so that his face was closer to René’s. “What’s the matter?”

  “Mommy’s leaving again.”

  Despite the boy’s demonstrated intelligence and maturity, Picard had to remind himself that he still was only four years old and tended to see the world around him not in degrees but rather absolutes. His mother was here, and soon she would be gone. René understood at a rudimentary level the concept of time and measuring its passage, though he, like most other children, tended to view it more often in terms of “now” and “forever.”

  “Not for long, though,” Picard said. This would—if all went according to plan—be little more than a routine excursion, and not at all like the separation René and he had endured while Beverly had served
as the interim chief medical officer at Deep Space 9, an assignment preceded by the mission she had undertaken to a distant world which once had been the home to several slave labor camps during the Cardassian Occupation of Bajor. Her journey to that planet, Jevalan, had been part of the larger effort to expose the truth behind the assassination of President Bacco and the role her replacement, Ishan Anjar, had played in the commission of that heinous act. For young René, the separation from his mother—the longest they had been apart since his birth—had been difficult, though the frequent conversations over subspace had helped to alleviate his missing her.

  They helped me, as well.

  Returning his gaze to her, René gripped his mother’s hand in both of his. “Can I go with you?”

  “I wish you could,” Beverly said, “but I’ll just be working the whole time, and it wouldn’t be any fun.”

  “If it’s not fun, then why are you going?”

  Picard resisted the urge to laugh. “That’s a fair question. I think what your mother means is that while it might be fun for grown-ups, it would probably be boring for children.”

  “Do you want to know a secret?” Beverly asked, reaching with her free hand to sweep back a lock of René’s auburn hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Your father can’t come with me, either, even though he wants to and thinks it would be fun.”

  Nodding, Picard added, “She’s right, you know.” In some ways, exploring the alien vessel would be fun; an exhilarating experience such as those that fueled the imaginations of children, Academy cadets, and seasoned officers alike. “I have to stay here and work. Maybe you could keep me company?”