Star Trek: The Next Generation™: Slings and Arrows

by Phaedra M. Weldon

  When they reached the end of the corridor, Lynch turned to the left and stopped.

  Daniels and Data paused beside him, their gazes riveted to the mangled bulkhead to their left.

  And the masculine human hand that protruded from the center of it all.

  My God.

  Data moved forward and gently placed his thumb and middle finger against the wrist. He paused and then looked back at Daniels. He gave a single head shake.

  Dead.

  “I am afraid it is Admiral Hahn.”

  “Picard to Data. Dr. Crusher’s treating the wounded. Commander Riker and his team are on their way to your location. Commander Snowden is accompanying them with two of his own security personnel. Any luck finding the admiral?”

  Daniels glanced at Data before he tapped his own combadge. “Daniels here, sir. Yes, sir, we’ve found the admiral. It looks as if he was caught in the blast.”

  He looked back at the debris, ducked his head beneath collapsed beams as he stepped gingerly over blasted and broken bits of plastic and circuitry. The door to the reactor room was two meters to his right, around the corner.

  Reaching into his bag, he retrieved his own tricorder and began scanning the structural damage to the hall where the admiral had perished. It was hard to make out the exact center of the blast, but from the scans on his tricorder, it looked as if the blast was at a safe distance from the reactor.

  Daniels frowned at the tricorder as the readouts blurred. He put his hand to the bridge of his nose. Blinking, he looked past the device to the floor. Just to the right he saw the edge of a padd, still activated.

  Closing the tricorder and dropping it into the bag, he grabbed hold of the closest dislodged girder and bent to retrieve the padd.

  Footsteps echoed around them. Lynch moved to stand in front of Daniels and Data, shielding them from anyone approaching. Daniels had his phaser out as well, the padd in his right hand.

  Riker appeared first, then the salt-and-pepper head of Commander Snowden. They were flanked by two of the starbase security members and three of Huff’s people.

  “It’s us.” Riker narrowed his eyes at Daniels. “Why aren’t you back on board the—”

  “Commander,” Data interrupted. He nodded to the body.

  Riker’s gaze moved to the debris and the protruding arm, as well as the red piping around the edge of the sleeve. His shoulders dropped, and Daniels was surprised at the intense emotion in the commander’s expression. He was obviously upset by the find, but his self-control returned as he turned a hardened look at Data, Daniels, and Lynch. “The explosion damaged several of the internal environmental systems on this deck and the one below. The starbase’s power couplings are fused on the upper decks.”

  “Meaning the shields protecting us could go at any minute,” Snowden interrupted. “We need to get back to a safer deck and beam out of here.”

  Riker turned an angry face toward him. “I’m not leaving the admiral’s body here to be blown out into space if those shields go. We’re going to carry him to a possible beam-out point.”

  “Commander.” Daniels reached inside his bag and pulled out an isolinear tag and held it up. “We can use one of these. The Enterprise has the beaming frequency and is standing by.”

  Riker gave him a grim nod. “Proceed.”

  One of the starbase security officers stepped forward and took one. He moved to the admiral and attached it to his sleeve. Data contacted Chief Mun Ying, and the admiral was beamed out.

  Daniels looked down at the padd in his hand. The readouts on it were garbled, and he thumbed a few of the lower controls. Nothing helped—it was as if the screen were reading two files at the same time.

  Either that, or his vision had blurred again. Daniels was acutely aware of a throbbing behind his eyes. He needed to get back to the ship.

  “Okay, people,” Riker said. “We need to be moving out of this area and up to deck twenty-six. There we can beam back to ops.”

  “Sir,” the security officer said as he stepped closer to Daniels. “Where did you get that?”

  There was something in the tone of the man’s voice that triggered several of Daniels’s internal warnings—it was a voice that spoke of possession and reclamation.

  The security officer reached out for the padd, but Daniels moved away. “It’s mine,” he lied, but he wasn’t sure why.

  But the lieutenant stepped even closer, and as he did the emergency lights revealed his face in full.

  Daniels froze.

  It was like looking at a ghost from his past. The face was that of a man he knew he’d never see again. As he stood rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with the officer’s, Daniels took in the man’s uniform. The gray turtleneck, smudged along one side. The scuffed jacket. The rip in the left sleeve.

  He looked at the officer’s face as he reached up to touch his own. Felt the slick perspiration from the heat generated by the blast, held in close confinement by the shields. He felt the heat intensely inside the thick, two-layered uniform.

  But this man—this ghost—wasn’t perspiring.

  And there wasn’t a speck of dust on his face. No dirt. No soot.

  After dropping the padd into his bag, Daniels had his phaser up and aimed at the man’s chest. “Stay right there—don’t come any closer.”

  “Mr. Daniels,” Riker said, his tone coarse. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “This man is a Changeling, sir,” Daniels said. “I know his face—he died on board the Odyssey. He’s wearing the face of Lieutenant Jonathan DeNoux.”

  “Put down that weapon, Mr. Daniels,” Snowden said. The panic evident earlier in his suggestion to flee was gone, replaced by irritation. “That’s Jonas Abidah, my chief of operations.”

  Daniels and the imposter stared at one another.

  “Mr. Daniels,” Riker said. “I order you to stand down. Snowden passed Mr. Abidah himself. I saw the blood screening.”

  “Screenings can be faked, sir,” Daniels said. His vision blurred for a second, and he couldn’t hear what Snowden was saying over the roar in his ears.

  “—obviously wounded and not in his right mind. Look,” Snowden said. “He’s shaking.”

  The commander was right. Daniels was shivering, and he knew it was shock. He’d seen it a hundred times himself in his career in security.

  “…calm down, sir,” Riker was saying. “Mr. Daniels—”

  The imposter’s body wavered in front of him.

  “…medical attention. We need to leave,” Snowden was saying.

  Daniels’s vision blurred again and the imposter’s features shifted. Bent. Changed.

  But so subtly. Daniels blinked. Abruptly the man’s face was different. Still the same mocha skin, dark eyes, dark hair. But his face wasn’t the same. The features had morphed into someone else.

  Daniels looked at Riker. “You saw that—he changed. You saw him change.”

  Riker held up his hand. “No, Mr. Daniels,” he said. “I didn’t see him change.”

  But he had changed.

  It had.

  Daniels’s vision blurred again, but this time he couldn’t clear it. His knees buckled as he lowered his hand and the phaser fell to the floor.

  CHAPTER

  6

  What Dreams May Come

  So far, everything had gone as planned. Even the admiral’s death could now be explained away easily enough.

  There were only two problems he could see.

  Taking a moment away from the chaos, he removed the small case, sat on the bed, and opened it.

  “Receiving,” came the voice as usual. It took longer this time. “Why have you risked contacting me now? You reported the Enterprise’s sensors are back online. They can detect this transmission if they look for it.”

  “Yes, sir, but I—”

  “Did the blast go off as planned?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “And the signature—was it placed exactly where it should be?”
r />   He bristled. He was good at his job, and he disliked being drilled. “Yes, sir. But there is a problem—possibly two. I was recognized.”

  There was a pause, as he expected. “Recognized?”

  “The bomb specialist—Pádraig Daniels—he recognized the face of Jonathan DeNoux. He pulled a phaser on me and accused me of being a Changeling in front of others.”

  “What did Picard say?”

  “He wasn’t there. But Commander Riker was. Luckily they didn’t believe him because he almost immediately passed out from a head wound.”

  Another pause. “That could be a blessing.”

  “He’s in sickbay on the Enterprise, along with the security team and Commander Riker. Snowden is, as well.” He paused. “I’ve also changed my appearance—subtly—so as not to arouse suspicion here on the station.”

  “Good. The average human won’t notice unless they compare images. I’ll make sure my contact at Planetary Operations disposes of the necessary records for me.”

  “Unless they demand a DNA screen.”

  “I’ll take care of that. And the other problem?”

  He paused. It might not actually be a problem. But it was better to let his contact know. “Sir, there was a padd near the body—still active.”

  “So? Those things would survive a Klingon blood feud.”

  “Hahn claimed he had everything he needed on a chip—but I haven’t found that chip.”

  “You think it’s in the padd?”

  “It’s possible. But the padd is with the specialist. I’m sure it hasn’t been examined yet.”

  “Get it back. We can’t afford to be discovered. Not now. Not when we’ve accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. Find it. And if he sees it, then he’s become a casualty of war.”

  “Sir?” He wasn’t happy about killing again. He’d killed too often since taking this mission. More than he bargained for. He believed in the cause, and he knew they were right in taking over Earth and her facilities.

  “Do you have a problem with carrying out orders?”

  “No, sir. It’s just that we need the specialist. I can’t kill him. He has to authenticate the bomb.”

  There was a pause. “That much is true. Then make sure the specialist finds what he needs to find and nothing more. Watch him.”

  End of transmission.

  He sat in his room, staring at the reflection of a face that wasn’t his, and began to wonder how far and how deep one had to dive before drowning.

  From somewhere in the dark there was a rhythmic cadence. A heartbeat that echoed inside his head.

  And Siobhan’s voice. “Open your eyes.”

  But he didn’t want to. He wanted to sleep. They were on their honeymoon. Why did he have to get up early?

  “Please, just open your eyes. Tell me your name.”

  He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were heavy. He heard a buzzing in his ears. He tried again and succeeded, only to close them again as bright light burst in and burned the back of his head.

  “That was good. Now try again and look at me.”

  That wasn’t Siobhan. That was Dr. Crusher.

  He blinked several times and looked up into her kind face. She smiled at him. “Tell me your full name.”

  “Pádraig…Bréanainn…Daniels…” He frowned. His head ached, but he wasn’t sure why he was flat on his back looking up at the ship’s CMO.

  “And my name?”

  “Dr. Crusher,” he said, and cleared his throat. “What happened with—”

  And then it all came back. Fast. The bomb. The Changeling. Riker’s irritation and ordering him to stand down.

  The explosion.

  He tried to sit up and realized he was beneath a diagnostic arm. Tilting his head to the right and looking up, he could just make out a clear, plastic hood over his forehead.

  “Easy.” Dr. Crusher touched a panel, and the arm retracted on both sides of the biobed, though she kept a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’ve suffered a concussion.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Niles is fine and I’ve already released her. Huff suffered a broken leg and a few internal injuries, but she’s on the mend.”

  Daniels waited until she’d pulled away the cradle over his forehead, then pushed himself into a sitting position. “Admiral Hahn—”

  Her expression changed, and he could see the sadness in her blue eyes. “I’m afraid he was DOA. I have his body in stasis.”

  “What did he die of?”

  “Multiple wounds covered his body, but, as I told the captain, cause of death was blunt-force trauma to his cranium. I suspect one of the falling girders is what caused it.”

  But Daniels didn’t think so. “I have to speak to the captain,” he said as he swung his feet around to get off the bed—and abruptly grabbed the edges of the biobed to support himself. The floor tilted and his stomach lurched into his throat. “Oh—wow—”

  “Uh-uh-uh,” Crusher said as Nurse Ogawa moved up beside her and the two of them steadied him. “I’m ordering bed rest for you for at least a day.”

  He smiled. “I feel like I did after that first night of my honeymoon.” He shook his head, blinking. “Siobhan wanted to try Romulan ale.”

  “I hear field medics use the stuff for disinfectant.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “I’ve also heard you can clean fuel injectors with it.” She pulled a tricorder from her lab coat pocket and pointed it at Daniels. “I’ve given you a mild painkiller for the headache. Trust me, when it wears off, you’ll want to be off your feet.”

  “I can’t—” Daniels put a hand to his forehead. The blood was gone, as was the cut, but the bruise beneath was still very much present. “I have to investigate the explosion.” He remembered something else and fixed his gaze to hers. “Did the hull collapse?”

  “It did not, Mr. Daniels.” Captain Picard neared the biobed. Daniels hadn’t heard the door to sickbay open. Had he been there all along? “Mr. La Forge was able to reroute power and keep the shield stable.” Picard looked at Crusher. “I need to speak to Mr. Daniels.”

  “He needs rest, Jean-Luc.” She gave him a stern but friendly glare before she and Ogawa moved away to tend other patients.

  “Sir, I—” Daniels began, already feeling the heat rise to his face as he remembered Riker’s obvious irritation with him. He was sure the commander had already given the captain an earful about his strange behavior, since it was obvious no one else had seen the imposter shift his features.

  But Picard held up his hand. “Who did you believe you saw?”

  “Jonathan DeNoux,” Daniels said, keeping his voice as low as Picard’s. “I worked with him on the Rigel III outpost.”

  “The factory explosion.”

  Daniels’s eyes widened. He was surprised the captain knew about that. “Yes, sir. He and I were able to piece together the bomb used and trace it back to its source. Later he was posted on board the Odyssey.” He swallowed. “I knew he was dead.”

  “And you believed you saw him when you looked at Mr. Abidah?”

  Daniels nodded. He narrowed his eyes as he recalled other things from that hazy moment. “I realize it was dark, but I noticed things about him that didn’t seem right. His uniform was in bad shape.” He looked at Picard and touched his own sleeve. “It was dirtied and torn.”

  “There was debris everywhere, Lieutenant.”

  “I know that, sir. But how is it his face was untouched? I mean, I noticed I was sweating with the heat. I could feel my uniform sticking to me. I touched the perspiration on my forehead. And I was bleeding. All of us were knocked about in some way. Commander Riker and Snowden as well.” Daniels shook his head. “But not this Abidah. His face was perfectly smooth. No perspiration, not a mark on his skin. His uniform looked as if he’d been through what we’d experienced, yet he didn’t look any the worse.”

  Picard narrowed his own eyes at Daniels. “You noticed all this—with a head wound?”

  Daniels blin
ked. He sat back. He wasn’t sure if it was skepticism or outright disbelief he’d heard in the captain’s voice. It hadn’t occurred to him that anything he’d seen could be attributed to the knock to his head. But from the look in the captain’s eyes, that was exactly what his superior had been thinking.

  Or suspected.

  “Sir—I—”

  “Lieutenant.” Picard almost smiled. “If you can notice all those things while suffering from a concussion, that’s extraordinary.” The captain’s expression darkened. “I need you to re-create the explosion on deck twenty-seven just as you did the one in Antwerp. Mr. La Forge had begun a sensor sweep of the base once we came out of warp, before we were fired on. He was able to get the external sensors back online before the explosion. I want you to go over that data and report to me anything suspicious. Mr. Travec is already at work. As soon as the blast area is secured, I want it examined. I want to know why Admiral Hahn was there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Picard moved to leave, then paused. He turned back with a grim expression. “As of an hour ago, President Jaresh-Inyo declared a state of emergency, and he’s ordered the Enterprise to remain at Starbase 375 in a defense posture. I’ll be coordinating with Lieutenant Huff on security strategies so we can implement any new security measures decided upon by Starfleet Command.” He put a hand on the biobed. “Commander Snowden and I are going on the assumption the bomb was placed there by a Changeling, and that Changeling is still on this station. There have been scattered reports of people seeing the same person simultaneously in two different locations.” He gave a short sigh. “But that doesn’t explain what it was you saw on deck twenty-seven.”

  “Sir—” Daniels swallowed. The daunting task before him of investigating the bomb unsettled him. His life until three weeks ago had seemed so sedate.

  Easy.

  Well, I wanted adventure. Siobhan always told me to watch out what I wished for.

  Picard looked at him.

  “Sir, might I suggest that as an added measure to the blood screenings, we test DNA as well? I read the reports on the Changeling who used vials of blood to get through screening.”