by David Mack
His prompting drew an anxious shrug from La Forge. “For one thing, the fact that it worked at all is remarkable. But now that we know the Breen controlled these bodies accurately enough across interstellar distances to use them for intelligence work means we need to consider this a viable alternative to imbuing android bodies with sentient minds.” The prospect clearly excited him. “I mean, think of it, Captain: Instead of risking the lives of away team personnel, or even starship crews, we could build a legion of these bodies and then train personnel to drive them from safe locations. Instead of creating androids to use as slaves, we could build remote-controlled cybernetic avatars with abilities beyond anything an organic body could stand. Used responsibly, this kind of technology could totally change the future of space exploration.”
“An intriguing idea,” Picard admitted. “But . . . what if it were used irresponsibly?”
Confusion wrinkled La Forge’s brow. “I—that is . . . What do you mean?”
La Forge’s baffled reaction told Picard his chief engineer hadn’t even stopped to consider all the ways technology such as what they’d found could be abused. “In theory, Geordi . . . could this technology be used to intercept and spy on private Tholian thoughtwave transmissions?”
Horrified comprehension erased La Forge’s jubilant mood. “Yeah. I guess it could.”
“And if it can be used to intercept thoughtwaves, can it be used to block them?”
The engineer’s stare of shock became one of dismay. “Theoretically . . . yes.”
Picard looked around at the cargo bay full of confiscated enemy materiel. “Then these are no mere spoils of war, Geordi. In unscrupulous hands, this equipment could be used to cripple the entire Tholian race, to paralyze every last one of its members, across the galaxy.”
“In theory, maybe,” La Forge said, “but Starfleet wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Wouldn’t they? Before the Ba’ku incident, or the Tezwa affair, I might have agreed with you. But now . . . I’m not so sure.” A frown hardened his features. “Never underestimate the influence of fear, Geordi. At times like this, when our way of life is challenged, there will always be those who are ready to sacrifice our principles to feed the bonfire of security.”
“Using this as a weapon against the Tholians would be a serious mistake.”
“I agree. Not only would it be an act of war—it would be a war crime. And that’s exactly what I think the Breen are hoping we’ll do with this scientific marvel they’ve abandoned. They want us to give in to fear, to temptation. To do what they would do in our place.”
La Forge nodded. “You think they left it as a trap.”
“I do. But it’s more than that. I agree with Worf’s original theory: it’s also a distraction. Something meant to divert us now, and later lure us into the arms of strife.” He grimaced. “Just the sort of cruel cunning I’ve come to expect of the Breen.”
A moment of dark reflection gave La Forge pause. “A distraction from what?” It was clear the question gnawed at him. “If the real threat, or the real objective, is somewhere else, where is it? And what would be worth giving up all of this?”
“Yes,” Picard said, his voice muted to a whisper by a sudden insight. “That is the real question, isn’t it? There’s no point trying to guess what the Breen are distracting us from. The possibilities are too numerous to ever be narrowed down. But the where—that might be a question we can answer. If we assume the summit on Orion was part of that diversion, and this discovery was a continuation of it . . .” His memory flashed upon the star map Data had found on Pyrithia IV, that had revealed all the worlds on which the Breen’s remote-controlled androids had been detected—and then to another star map he had seen recently.
A surge of intuition energized him. “Mister La Forge, you’re with me.” He turned, threaded his way back through the subdivided cargo bay, and tapped his combadge. “Picard to Commander Worf.”
“Worf here.”
“Number One, meet me and Commander La Forge in the observation lounge. And bring Lieutenant Šmrhová.”
26
The door connecting the observation lounge to the bridge sighed open. Worf and Šmrhová turned to see Picard stride in, with La Forge right behind him. Before the captain reached his chair, he was issuing orders. “Lieutenant, call up the star map showing the locations of the android avatars.” Šmrhová moved to the control panel for the master systems display, and Picard continued. “Number One, I believe your theory about the attacks on Orion is entirely correct: we are being manipulated, and it’s time we learned to what end.”
Picard and La Forge sat down, so Worf did the same. On the other side of the table, Šmrhová stood to one side of the MSD as the star chart the captain had requested appeared on its center screen. Picard fixed his steely glare upon the display. “Lieutenant, what strategic assets might the Breen have been targeting on the worlds where we’ve detected androids?”
Šmrhová shook her head. “None that we can determine, sir. They’re a mix of colonies and homeworlds. None of them have starbases or industries vital to Federation interests. A few have agricultural resources that are locally important, but nothing worth this kind of effort.”
Picard used the tabletop’s interface to highlight the Pyrithia system on the viewscreen. “This is where we found what appears to be a Breen base that controlled the androids hidden on worlds throughout this sector. Do any of you notice anything odd about the Pyrithia system?”
His question was met by consternated silence. Then Šmrhová blinked at the star map, as if she had just then seen it clearly for the first time. “It’s a Federation planet.”
“A Federation possession,” Picard said, gently correcting her. “A fact whose significance was lost on me when Mister Data first pointed it out.” He looked at La Forge. “What appears to be that base’s operational range for controlling the androids?”
La Forge studied the map, his brow knit with thought. “At least fifty light-years. But based on what I’ve seen so far, I’d say it could reach a lot farther.”
The captain nodded and turned his piercing gaze upon Worf. “What else is within fifty light-years of every system with an android presence, Number One?”
Worf stared at the chart. In his imagination, he envisioned a circle around Pyrithia IV to encompass its transmission range, then he moved that circle to see how far he could shift it and still keep all the affected systems inside its area of effect. “The Fesarian Federation . . . the Ferengi Alliance . . . the Tzekethi Coalition and the Cardassian Union.” Only as he brought his gaze back around to close the circle did he notice a small spur of foreign territory jutting into a nearby sector at the farthest edge of the transmission range. “The Breen Confederacy.”
“That raises another interesting question,” Picard said. “If the value of this technology is that it permits one to infiltrate hostile territory from the safety of one’s own space, why did the Breen place their control center nearly forty light-years beyond their own border?”
Šmrhová squinted at the map. “If its range is only fifty light-years, they might have needed to place it that far forward in order to operate inside the Orion Colonies.”
“I considered that.” Picard frowned. “But then why not prevail upon their allies, the Tzenkethi? They could have placed their control center inside the Coalition’s territory, beyond our reach. They would have been free to strike with impunity as far away as Earth itself.”
The security chief thought for a moment, then her aspect became as grim as the captain’s. “If the base had been inside Breen or Tzenkethi space, we wouldn’t have been able to neutralize it without committing an act of war. . . . They wanted us to find it.”
“More to the point,” Picard replied, “they wanted us to find the androids lurking on our worlds—something we couldn’t have done without first discovering the base on Pyrithia IV.”
La Forge shook his head. “It still doesn’t make sense. Why would the
y want us to find them? What do they gain by burning one of their own intelligence operations?”
The captain looked again at Worf. “Number One?”
Sensing that he was being tested, Worf focused his mind on the question and stared at the star chart on the viewscreen. “The architects of this scheme were not concerned about the loss of the androids, or their control apparatus. What mattered to them was how we would react to their discovery.” He keyed commands into his tabletop interface and augmented the chart on the screen with a new subset of tactical data. “After we located the android infiltrators, Starfleet and Federation Security ordered all available ships and personnel redeployed to capture them. I have updated the star map with a detailed projection of that redeployment’s final configuration.”
At first, the overlay of new information looked like a chaotic jumble. Then Worf shifted the perspective of the star chart—transitioning from a two-dimensional, top-down view to a dynamic, three-dimensional computer-enhanced animation. The static map took on the quality of a starfield drifting across the main viewscreen of a starship at warp speed—and within moments, the pattern of ship movements in reaction to the alert became clear.
La Forge was aghast. “Is that what it looks like?”
“It is,” Worf said. “A tunnel-like region of space, nearly twenty light-years across and fifty-five light-years long—completely empty of patrols by Starfleet or Federation Security. This gap in the Federation’s defenses will occur starting in approximately four hours, and it will remain in effect for forty-one hours afterward.”
Šmrhová struck a dubious note. “But what’s the point of it? There aren’t any strategically valuable systems in that area, and with a window that brief, the Breen can’t hope to push more than thirty-five to forty light-years into Federation space before we intercept them.”
Picard shot a look at Worf, who had already intuited the captain’s thinking. Then the captain shifted his gaze toward Šmrhová. “What if the purpose of this diversion is not to move something into our territory,” he chided her, “but to smuggle something out?”
Entertaining that suggestion, La Forge and Šmrhová regarded the star chart with new urgency and intensity. The engineer nodded. “That’s exactly the corridor you’d need to sneak something out of Federation space—and into the Breen Confederacy.”
The security chief pressed her index finger to the viewscreen. “And look what lies at the end of our side of that corridor.” She turned her head toward Picard. “The Tirana system. Where the Federation Security vessel Sirriam went missing.”
Worf’s blood ran hot with anger at the realization he and the Enterprise had been so close to the enemy’s scheme days earlier, only to have been deceived. “That cannot be a coincidence.” He looked at Picard. “Whatever the Breen are up to, Captain, I think the answer is there.”
With a grim nod of concurrence, Picard stood from his chair. “Agreed. Lieutenant, contact Starfleet Command and warn them to restore patrols of the Breen border. Number One, take us to the Tirana system—maximum warp.”
27
“And in a flash of white light,” La Forge said with a dramatic flourish, “they were gone.” Though the Enterprise was hurtling toward what threatened to be a hostile encounter with the Breen in the Tirana system, he had freed up an hour of his time to assist Data with his fine-grade cosmetic repairs, now that they had access to Data’s vessel, the Archeus. Its claustrophobic interiors, however, felt to La Forge more like a glorified cluster of closets than a starship.
Perched on a stool in a narrow lab, Data kept his head still as he spoke. “The Caeliar sound like a remarkable species. I regret that I missed the opportunity to meet them. As a fully synthetic being myself, I would have found such an interaction . . . intriguing.”
“Yeah, they were interesting—I’ll give them that much. But according to Counselor Troi, they were also kind of a pain in the ass.” To pass the time while he worked, La Forge had regaled his old friend with tales of the Enterprise crew’s exploits during the years between Data’s demise and his return. Out of necessity, they had spent most of that time discussing the fate of the Federation’s since-vanquished mortal enemy. “Anyway, after the Caeliar ‘assimilated’ the Borg, they all just up and vanished. Most of the Borg technology that was left behind turned to dust, but I guess the parts that weren’t linked to the Collective, like the factory on Mangala, are still lying around.” He switched off the dermal fuser and checked his handiwork underneath the hairline on the nape of Data’s neck. “Good as new. What’s next?”
“We need to recalibrate the chromatic-control circuits in my eyes. They were damaged when an explosion inside the bank briefly overloaded my visual receptors.” He selected a pen-shaped ocular recalibrator from the worktable and mustered a genial smile as he handed it to La Forge. “I could do it myself, but it will be easier with your help.”
Envy was not an emotion that often afflicted La Forge, but he suffered pangs of covetous admiration for Data’s unique assortment of high-tech cybernetic implements. “That’s kind of you to say.” He took the tool from Data; it seemed to have no moving parts. “What do I do with it?”
Data pointed at one end of the device. “Aim its emitter crystal directly into the pupil of one of my eyes. Then apply gentle pressure to its sides. It will emit a series of photonic pulses that my eyes will use to restore their constituent circuits and relays to their default settings.”
“You’re the boss.” He did as his friend had instructed, and a bright green ray shot from the device, bathing Data’s left eye in viridescent light. Minuscule details, such as the capillaries in the whites of Data’s eyes, continued to fascinate La Forge. A prismatic swirl within Data’s iris quickly turned a radiant hue of emerald.
Data blinked his left eyelid a few times, and La Forge eased his grip on the device, terminating the beam. “Excellent,” the android said. “Now my right eye.”
La Forge resumed work, admiring the simplicity of the maintenance kit designed and built by Data’s creator, Noonien Soong. “If only fixing the warp drive were this easy, I might have time for a hobby.” Data’s iris flashed green, and he put down the ocular recalibrator.
“As I understand it, your off-duty hours are mostly spoken-for these days.” Data smiled at La Forge’s surprised double take. “Doctor Crusher told me about your budding romance with Doctor Harstad. She seems very nice, Geordi. I am happy for you.”
La Forge laughed. “It didn’t take you long to get caught up on ship’s gossip, did it?”
Data shrugged. “It looks large from the outside, but the Enterprise is a very small place.”
“So it is.” He looked over his shoulder to check the chrono on the bulkhead. “I wish we had more time. Now that you’re back, I’d love to set up a poker game.”
A wistful nod conveyed Data’s fondness for the senior officers’ weekly game of Dealer’s Choice. “That would be fun. Who has filled the seats left by Captain Riker and Counselor Troi?”
The question struck an unexpected chord of sorrow in La Forge. “Lately, it was Choudhury, Elfiki, and Chen. But after Jas . . .” He found it too difficult to say, after Jas was killed, so he skipped over it. “Well, we just kind of forgot about the game.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
La Forge looked up and saw genuine sympathy in Data’s eyes. He found it reassuring that his friend seemed to have finally integrated human emotions into his life to the point that they now seemed effortless and natural. “I’ve missed having you around, Data. And not just for poker. Day-to-day life around here just hasn’t been the same without you.” He sat down on a stool opposite Data’s. “I mean . . . I’ve found a way to get by; life goes on. But after you”—he decided not to hide behind a gentle euphemism—“died . . . there were so many moments when I found myself thinking, ‘If only Data were here. He would have loved this.’”
Data nodded. “I understand.” He furrowed his brow. “Since my return, I have had to r
ely on the memories I inherited from my father to bridge the temporal gap in my consciousness. On occasion, it has been easy to lose track of my place in time, to forget that years elapsed in my absence.” A goofy smile brightened his youthful face. “On the other hand, it has also been a blessing. Because it often seems to me as if no time has passed between my download into B-4 and my reincarnation inside this body, I have had no time to ‘miss’ anyone.”
His admission made La Forge laugh, not out of mockery but out of true joy. “That’s what I love about you, Data: Only you could find the silver lining to being dead.”
28
The Enterprise was at Red Alert as it dropped from warp speed to sublight, and Picard channeled his anxiety into a clenched fist as the airless, reddish-brown orb of Tirana III took shape on the main viewscreen. He looked at Šmrhová. “Tactical. Report.”
Her attention alternated between her console and the main viewscreen. “We’re picking up energy readings from the surface. Whatever’s causing it, it’s big.”
Something—be it instinct, intuition, or common sense—told Picard this was what he had come to find. “Lock all sensors onto that reading. I want to know what we’re dealing with.”
“Aye, sir,” the security chief said as she kept working.
Next to Picard, Worf seemed ready to leap from his chair. It was obvious he would rather be on his feet, but since Picard was seated, so was he. “Helm,” he said, “time to orbit.”
Faur answered over her shoulder, “Twenty seconds.” On the viewscreen, Tirana III had expanded so that only half of its northern hemisphere was visible.
Low murmurings from the aft stations snared Picard’s attention, and he swiveled his chair so he could see Lieutenants Chen and Elfiki working together at the master systems display, which they had reconfigured as an all-purpose sensor analysis station. The two women conferred in excited whispers as they tapped commands into their respective panels. When they noticed that they had Picard’s attention, it was the half-Vulcan contact specialist who turned to report. “Sir, we’ve identified the source of the energy signals on the surface.” She relayed a set of schematics and technical information to the main viewscreen, where it appeared on the left side of a split screen. “It’s a Mardiff-class mining vessel, the S.S. Basirico, out of Ramatis.”