Takedown

by John Jackson Miller

  “Well done, Ensign.”

  La Forge was still staring at the chair. “Barclay’s chair was generated by the holodeck. Why not this?”

  “BARCLAY HAD NO REASON TO EXPECT A POWER INTERRUPTION. I NEEDED TO BE CERTAIN I’D MAINTAIN CONTROL, EVEN IF THE HOLODECK WERE MOMENTARILY DISABLED. I BROUGHT THE NECESSARY MATERIALS TO THE ROOM WHILE I WAS STILL MOBILE.”

  Dax frowned. “You mean the materials Leishman mentioned. The ones you requisitioned.”

  “CORRECT. THE HOLODECK HELPED IN THE ASSEMBLY.”

  “Wait.” Riordan stared. “You mean outside that chair, his control of the ship is cut?”

  “That’s right,” Picard said. The words were barely out of his mouth when the frizzy-haired youth started moving purposefully toward the admiral. “Ensign, wait!”

  Before Picard and Dax could grab Riordan, a flash of light indicated a holographic creation in the space before Riker. A massive furry beast materialized, baring its fangs and growling at the engineer.

  “Yahh!” Riordan dove behind his captain. “What is that?” he asked, repeating her words from earlier.

  “That would be a bear,” Dax said, frozen.

  The creature let loose with a monstrous roar, and Riordan stumbled over his own legs heading for the far side of the room.

  Picard looked back, befuddled. “Ensign, it’s a hologram.”

  Riordan looked out from behind Dax. “He’s running the ship, Captain. It’s a safe bet he’s killed the safety protocols!”

  “NO HARM WILL COME TO YOU,” Riker said. “IF YOU KEEP YOUR DISTANCE.”

  “Some days you get the bear . . .” Picard thought, remembering a line Riker had used before. “I think, Mr. Riordan, we had better leave things as they are.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The bear sniffed at the air and turned. It wandered to the side of the room. Riordan emerged, tentatively. “What’s that thing again?”

  “URSOS ARCTOS CALIFORNICUS,” Riker said. “THE CALIFORNIA GRIZZLY.”

  “I sure didn’t see any of those at the Academy.”

  “THEY’RE EXTINCT. AS I WOULD BE, IF I ALLOWED YOU TO DETACH ME FROM THE INTERLINK. IT’S JUST LIKE HOW IT WAS WITH BARCLAY. IF YOU REMOVE ME FROM THE INTERFACE WITH AVENTINE, I WILL DIE.”

  Picard recalled that too much of Barclay’s persona had migrated into Enterprise’s data storage. It had taken the Cytherians themselves to safely disengage Barclay from the interlink. “You’re regaining control of the ship’s systems. Is it useless for us to try to prevent that?”

  “IT IS,” Riker said. “I HAVE DISCOVERED MORE WAYS TO ROUTE COMMANDS THAN THE SHIPWRIGHTS EVER IMAGINED POSSIBLE. AND DON’T THINK THAT WORF CAN STOP ME FROM LEAVING. I’VE CONSIDERED SEVENTEEN DIFFERENT MEANS OF ESCAPING ENTERPRISE’S TRACTOR BEAM.”

  Picard became cross. “If you can escape, why haven’t you?”

  “BECAUSE I’M AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. AVENTINE IS FASTER THAN THE CYTHERIANS ACCOUNTED FOR. PERHAPS THEY DIDN’T KNOW WE HAD DEVELOPED SLIPSTREAM TECHNOLOGY. I ALSO DON’T THINK THEY KNEW ADELPHOUS WAS OFFLINE—THEIR LAST CONTACT WITH US WAS BEFORE THE LAST BORG INVASION. BUT I WAS ORDERED TO FIRE ON IT—AND TO SEE THAT IT WAS DISABLED. I HAVE FIRED. IT IS DISABLED. AND WHEN I AM DUE TO GO, I WILL GO.”

  “So you have been compelled to do these things. Do you know why?”

  There was a long pause—which, Picard imagined, must be an eternity for one of Riker’s accelerated intelligence. “I DON’T KNOW,” came the response.

  Picard paced around the room, only momentarily noticing the bear gnawing on a Betazoid tapestry. “You have an amazing tactical mind, Will—even without all the enhancements. They’ve been sending all of you to destroy these installations. You must have some sense of their intentions?”

  “THERE IS SIMPLY A GREAT NEED TO DO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE. THAT IS ALL.”

  “Could this . . . could this be benevolent?” Picard stopped and thought for a moment. “We parted in friendship with the Cytherians. Could they be aware of some threat—perhaps coming from beyond the center of the galaxy—that might take advantage of our communications systems?”

  “IT’S POSSIBLE.”

  The notion chilled Picard. The Borg who destroyed Adelphous had erupted into Federation space from a location in the Azure Nebula, not far away. A network of subspace tunnels terminated there, allowing their entry into the region. “All of this chaos could somehow be a preventative measure.”

  “THAT IS WHAT I HAVE CHOSEN TO BELIEVE,” Riker said. “ ‘BETTER A CITY RUINED THAN A CITY LOST.’ ”

  Picard’s eyes lit with recognition. “Lorenzo de’ Medici.”

  “COSIMO, HIS GRANDFATHER.”

  The captain shrugged, a little amused by the correction. “Who am I to argue with the central computer?”

  The lighter moment wasn’t felt on the other side of the room. Since the bear ambled off, Dax hadn’t stopped glaring at the man who’d taken over her ship. Losing control of a ship, Picard knew very well, was a hard thing for a captain. “You said they might be trying to help us,” Dax said sharply. “But their intent could also be hostile. Isn’t that right?”

  “IT’S POSSIBLE.”

  “They could be planning to bring us brand new arrays for all we know,” La Forge said. “They were a tough bunch to read.”

  Dax shook her head, disgusted. “This isn’t benevolent.” She stepped up to confront Riker, disregarding the growl of the suddenly interested bear. “You haven’t been benevolent. You stole my ship. Made me and my crew pawns in your game!”

  “IT’S NOT MY GAME.” The figure in the chair remained motionless. “I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU MUST FEEL. THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY.”

  “No other way than to lie to us?” She turned to face Picard. “He wasn’t in that chair in the beginning. He told us there was a hostile program called Takedown that was going to attack communications systems. But he really wanted us to attack them.”

  “THE CYTHERIANS REQUIRED QUICK ACTION, BEFORE I COULD ASSEMBLE THE MATERIALS I’D REQUISITIONED. I IMPROVISED.”

  Picard put up his hand. “I understand your anger. I felt it too, in your place. But when our crewman was touched by the Cytherians, they controlled his actions before he built his interlink chair.”

  Dax smoldered. “Barclay didn’t cause an interstellar incident.” Her eyes narrowed. “You made fools out of all of us—Admiral.”

  Riordan returned to her side, fingering his combadge. “He did choose some neat music.”

  Dax didn’t look at him. “Ensign, shut up.”

  “Shutting up, sir.”

  “I DID THINK ABOUT YOU AND YOUR CREW, DAX. I DID EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO LIMIT HARM. I HAVEN’T KILLED ANYONE,” Riker said. After a long pause, he added: “HAVE I?”

  Dax looked to Picard. “Not that we know of,” he said. “But much depends on where you are going from here. Is it another communications target?”

  A pause. “NO. I WAS ASSIGNED SIX OBJECTIVES, JUST AS THE OTHERS. THOSE OBJECTIVES ARE ACHIEVED. NOW I AM ASSIGNED TO MEET THE OTHER SEVEN RENEGADE VESSELS AT A PRE-ESTABLISHED RENDEZVOUS.”

  Picard was surprised to learn this much. “You are able to tell me this?”

  “YOUR KNOWLEDGE IS IRRELEVANT. YOU CANNOT BEAT AVENTINE THERE—THE SLIPSTREAM DRIVE IS FUNCTIONING PERFECTLY—AND COMMUNICATIONS IN THIS SECTOR HAVE BEEN DEGRADED PAST THE POINT WHERE YOU CAN ALERT ANYONE.”

  Dax looked between Picard and Riker, alarmed. “There are eight hijacked ships? You’re gathering for a mass attack?”

  “I DON’T THINK SO—BUT I DON’T KNOW. THE CYTHERIANS IMPLANTED DESTINATIONS IN MY MIND BACK AT THE FAR EMBASSY. SOMETIMES WHEN I ARRIVE AT ONE LOCATION, THE NEXT OBJECTIVE IS REVEALED TO ME.”

  “You said you were ahead of schedule,” Picard said. “If Aventine waited here until the last moment to leave, could Enterprise reach there at the same time if it departed now?”

  “IF I TOLD YOU WHERE IT WAS, YES. BUT I WON’T. I HAVEN’T TRIED TO DESTROY ENTERPRISE—ONLY TO REACH MY TARGETS. BU
T I CAN’T GUARANTEE THE OTHERS TRANSFORMED BY THE CYTHERIANS WOULD STAY THEIR HANDS.”

  “We could not survive the onslaught of all of them.”

  “YOU COULDN’T SURVIVE ONE OF US. I’M THE LAST TO DENIGRATE STARFLEET, CAPTAIN, OR YOUR SKILLS. BUT THE WAY WE ARE NOW, EVEN DAIMON IGEL IN HIS FERENGI MARAUDER COULD TAKE YOU OUT AT ANY TIME.”

  As could you, Picard thought. It was nice of the transformed Riker not to say it.

  Then he thought of something else. He walked up to Riker. “Why are you still here?”

  Silence.

  “You could leave at any moment; you’ve said so. You have a destination. If the slipstream drive is functioning perfectly, why are you still here?” Picard looked over at La Forge, who was studying the interlink chair from a respectful distance. “And how was it that you didn’t know the slipstream drive would fail on the way from the No’Var Outpost? You seem to know everything. How did you not know?”

  Behind Picard, Dax spoke up. “He did know.”

  Picard glanced back to the Trill captain. Her indignation past, Dax looked down at the deck, piecing things together in her mind. “He overtaxed the drive so it would fail, but not so badly that it would violate his obligation to the Cytherians. He did it so you could catch up.” She looked up at Picard. “He’s still here because you are.”

  Picard had suspected it—but he was still missing something. His eyes turned on Riker. “Is that it? What do you want me to do, if you won’t let me stop what’s going to happen?”

  Riker said nothing. But across the room, the bear gave a curious growl—and disappeared.

  It hit Picard. “You brought me here to kill you.”

  Riker’s voice returned to the room. “YOU KNOW THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO STOP MY ROLE IN THIS.”

  “What? Remove you from the machine?” Picard looked around the room. “You have all the defenses the holodeck can generate. You would prevent that.”

  “I WOULD BE FORCED TO TRY,” Riker said.

  Picard blinked. “But you would not be forced to succeed. Is that it?”

  “BETWEEN YOUR CREW AND DAX’S, YOU WOULD FIND A WAY. YOU ALWAYS DO.” A beat. “I TRUST YOU IN THIS.”

  Picard half-grinned and shook his head. “No, no. This is absurd. You’re telling me that the only way to stop this madness is to kill you—and that you will help us do that?” He shook his head. “Giving up is not the Will Riker I know.”

  “I’M NOT THE WILL RIKER YOU KNOW.”

  “Ludicrous. We will find another way.”

  “I HAVE TWELVE MORE HOURS HERE,” Riker said. “THEN AVENTINE LEAVES, WITH YOU ABOARD OR NOT.”

  Picard looked to the others. “Then we most certainly should get to it.”

  Thirty-five

  There was nothing at all wrong with food from a starship replicator, but Picard had rarely seen people lining up for it before. That was the situation he found in the forward mess hall aboard Aventine.

  After an hour, when it had become clear that Riker wasn’t about to engage the warp drive, Enterprise had released its tractor beam. The two vessels sat parked, side-by-side, orbiting the defunct array as a steady stream of personnel went back and forth between the vessels. Dax had taken the opportunity to get her exhausted crew fed real food, not MREs. Even though Riker had released his hold on the food replicators, she’d needed to send some people to Enterprise to get them fed immediately.

  It had been engineers and scientists traveling the other direction to Aventine, assisting that vessel’s specialists in studying how Riker was connected to the ship. La Forge had only been off holodeck one but a few minutes during the entire time. Walking through the mess hall with his tray, Picard caught the engineer during one of those times. The Enterprise chief engineer was stopped at a table where Dax, Šmrhová, Dygan, and Worf were sitting.

  “Any change?” Picard asked.

  “No, sir,” La Forge said. “We’ve spent most of our time trying to figure out why the interlink works at all. We didn’t exactly have time to study what Barclay designed.”

  Picard nodded. The device had vanished after the Cytherians had freed Barclay, and the record of its manufacture had vanished from Enterprise-D’s holodeck logs. “He’s letting you get close enough to study it?”

  “We have to sort of play-act it,” La Forge said. “If we do anything that directly jeopardizes the interlink, Riker beams the person out of the room. I don’t think it’s even intentional on his part; it’s an autonomic response, like swatting away a gnat.”

  “I guess we’re lucky he’s not beaming people into space,” Dax offered.

  Picard shook his head. “He doesn’t think they’re gnats. There must be some moral dimension, even to the things he can’t control.”

  Dax appeared to mull that over. Picard racked his brain for something else to suggest to La Forge, but came up with nothing. The only thing they’d flatly decided against was having Dr. Tarses mind-meld with the admiral. It was far too risky.

  “I’d better get back to it,” La Forge said. “We’re running out of time.” He departed, and Šmrhová rose to follow.

  Dax offered Picard the now-empty seat beside her, across the table from Dygan and Worf. Picard’s first officer and his investigators had beamed across to get full statements from Aventine’s senior officers, in the hopes of learning something more about the plot. Picard was surprised to see glasses and condiment jars arranged upside-down on the table, in a circular fashion.

  “Glinn Dygan is playing with his food,” Worf growled.

  Picard watched the Cardassian moving them around with care. “I was going to congratulate Commander Worf and Captain Dax on their gambit with the tractor beam—but you’ve struck me curious, Mister Dygan.”

  Dygan looked up. “Sorry, Captain. It’s just . . . being away from my evidence room, I got to thinking about the bigger picture in all this.”

  “Explain.”

  “It has to do with the specific powers that were brought to the Summit of Eight. Most of the affected powers are in a large area straddling the border between the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.” Dygan gestured to the containers. “It oversimplifies things to say this, but if you were to draw a circle around a region of space, all eight of these powers would be sitting on the perimeter—Khitomer allies alternating with the Typhon Pact.”

  Picard looked at the circle, where drinking vessels alternated with condiment jars, and thought about the galactic map. Going clockwise on the Beta Quadrant side of the circle, Romulan space buffered the Klingon Empire, with the Gorn Hegemony farther down the line. Then Federation space, as the arc crossed into the Alpha Quadrant. Tholian, Cardassian, Tzenkethi, and Ferengi territory followed next. Much of the space inscribed by the very rough circle belonged to the Federation. But there were also plenty of neighbors in between, powers that did not attend the Summit of Eight: the Talarians, the Kinshaya, and others, all of which had seen their local communications assets attacked.

  “We now know from Admiral Riker that the attendees at the Far Embassy function were transformed there,” Dygan continued. “We also know from Titan that the invitations weren’t really from the alleged senders. I suspect this Far Embassy was created by the Cytherians, just like the probe it sent to the Argus Array years ago—and that it was the Embassy that sent the invitations.”

  Picard nodded. “The Cytherians learned something of the political map and the players here during our visit with them. That might also account for the selection of the attendees. The Breen were not invited, because we knew less about the Breen. But they could be targeted as a secondary power.”

  Dygan shook his head. “I’m just still trying to work out the motive.” He clasped his hands together and lowered his head close to the table, staring at the containers before him.

  Worf looked distressed. “I believe I know.”

  “What is it, Number One?” Picard asked.

  The Enterprise first officer steeled himself, appearing as if he were about to broach a distasteful
topic. “Some Klingons of old used to make sport by placing jackal mastiffs along the edges of a circular arena. Targs placed in the center of the ring would have their shoulders cut, to drive the predators into a blood rage. The mastiffs would be released—and invariably, they would kill not just the targs, but each other.”

  “Gruesome,” Picard observed.

  “It was. It was banned, for the dishonor it does the animals.” He pointed to the pieces Dygan had arranged on the table. “I believe that is exactly what has happened here. The Cytherians are trying to start a war that will debilitate everyone in the region.”

  “I have a hard time believing it. The Cytherians we met were peaceful. Certainly the one who sent for us.” Picard remembered the giant white-haired head that first appeared to them on Enterprise’s bridge. “What did that fellow call himself?”

  “Caster,” Worf said. “He did appear peaceful, but we did not meet all the Cytherians.”

  We might have, and we might not have, Picard thought. He had never been certain during that visit whether Caster was a single entity or an agency representing many intelligences—or if that was even his real form. But nothing about that visit had been anything but pleasurable.

  The men fell silent. Dax spoke up. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what La Forge said about Admiral Riker not harming the people trying to stop him.” She opened her hands, palms upward. “Aventine hasn’t suffered a single casualty during this whole incident. Not one.”

  Picard nodded.

  “And in combat with other starships, he’s been using the phaser instead of torpedoes,” Dax said. “The phasers are a more surgical weapon, more precise in how and where they deal their damage.”

  Worf asked the Aventine captain, “You believe that even though he has no choice in whether he attacks, he has some choice in how?”

  “The evidence supports it,” the Trill said. “He’s given us just enough control of our systems back that I was able to review some of our records—including the ones for phaser usage. If he hasn’t altered those records—and I can’t imagine why he would—he hasn’t fired with full power every time. He’s been judicious, sparing. Doing just as much damage as he needs, trying to limit collateral harm.”