by Generations
"This emotion chip may be the only answer." Geordi leaned forward to dubiously study the chip, then sighed. At worst, it could cause some annoying complications, but no permanent damage. And what right did he have to deny his friend such an experience?
"All right... but at the first sign of trouble, I'm going to deactivate it. Agreed?" "Agreed." Data promptly sat down, offering himself as willing subject, while Geordi moved behind him and opened a panel on his cranium, revealing the blinking circuitry within.
"This won't take long..." Geordi said, finishing silently to himself, I just hope we don't both regret it....
At the same time that Geordi was performing surgery on his friend, Will Riker was standing in the captain's ready room, briefing Picard on what the away team had found at the Amargosa Observatory.
Picard's odd, distant demeanor hadn't eased. Riker wound up addressing the back of the captain's chair while Picard, hands steepled, gazed out his window at the stars.
"We found two dead Romulans aboard the station," Riker finished up. "We're analyzing their equipment to see if we can determine what ship they came from." Index fingers resting on his lips, Picard nodded ab- sently, then lowered his hands and asked, "There's still no indication of why they attacked the station?" His tone was one of great weariness, as though it required infinite effort for him to focus on the matter at hand.
"They practically tore the place apart," Riker said, mentally recoiling from the memories of charred bodies and the smell of death. "Accessed the central computer, turned the cargo bay inside out. They were obviously looking for something." "Hmmm..." Picard fell silent and stared out the window again, for so long that Riker began to shift his weight nervously. And then the captain said lifelessly, "Inform Starfleet Command. This could indicate a new Romulan threat in this sector." Riker did not try to keep the amazement from his voice. "You want me to contact Starfleet?" Picard straightened, swiveled a quarter-turn toward his second-in-command. "Is there a problem?" he asked softly.
"No, sir," Riker said. At least, not with me.... But something very serious was troubling the captain. What-
ever message he had received this morning from Earth had been devastating.
Picard continued wearily, "Thank you, Number One," and swung back toward the window.
Riker turned to go, then hesitated, awkward. "There is something else, Captain. One of the scientists... a Dr.
Soran... has insisted on speaking with you." Antici- pating a protest, he hurried apologetically: "I told him you were busy, sir, but he said it was absolutely impera- tive that he speak with you right away." But no protest came; no reaction, in fact, except for the captain's faint, toneless reply: "Understood. That will be all." He was clearly eager to be alone, but Riker decided against hiding his concern. Picard was a very private man, and Riker doubted his question would be answered--but he had to at least make the offer to help, to listen. "Sir," he asked gently, "... is there anything wrong?" "No." Picard's answer was soft, but it was a softness that covered steel. "Thank you." Riker paused a moment, then surrendered, and left his captain to his solitary grief.
With a distinct sense of unease, Geordi entered Ten- Forward, sticking close to Data's side. Maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn't shake the sense of impend- ing disaster, despite the fact that Data seemed to be quite relaxed and enjoying himself. So far, the chip seemed to be working perfectlymso well, in fact, that the android had insisted on going to Ten-Forward for a little test run.
Nevertheless, Geordi kept his gaze glued on Data, who was drinking in his surroundings with the wide-eyed delight of a child, gazing with hopeful interest at the bustling off-duty crowd, beaming faintly as someone at a crowded table guffawed at a joke. Even the android's movements seemed subtly altered--more graceful, more fluid, more... human.
The two stepped up to the bar. Almost immediately, Guinan approached, and set a flask on the counter with a determination that allowed no refusal.
Her lips curved slyly into an upward crescent. "You two just volunteered to be my first victims." She nodded at the crystal flask, which held a dark liquid aswirl with amber highlights. "This is a new concoction I picked up on Forcas Three. Trust me, you're going to love it." She set two glasses on the counter and poured; Geordi caught a whiff of potent spirits laced with something that smelled like broccoli crossed with eucalyptus. He strug- gled to keep his expression neutral, so as not to influence Data, who lifted his glass, sniffed the contents, then took a large swallow.
Geordi watched intently as Data frowned down at the glass in his hand. After several seconds, the engineer prompted, "Well... ?" The android glanced up, still faintly frowning, his expression one of puzzlement. "I believe the beverage has provoked an emotional response." "Really? What do you feel?" Data lowered the glass, clearly trying to turn his focus inward. "I..." He glanced up at Geordi with something very near dismay. "I am uncertain. I have little experi- ence with emotions. I am unable to articulate the sensation."
"Emotions?" Guinan leaned forward, elbows on the counter, to direct an amazed glance at Geordi.
The engineer cocked his head to one side in a gesture that was almost an affirmation, all the while managing to keep one eye focused on his charge. "I'll explain later.... " He watched as Data threw his head back and took another huge gulp--then set down the glass and curled his bottom lip in pure disgust.
Guinan turned to Geordi. "I think he hates it." "Yes!" Data leaned toward his friends, bright-eyed, near breathless with excitement. "That is it. I hate it!" The android's enthusiasm was infectious; despite his concern, Geordi felt a broad smile settle slowly over his own features. "Data... I think the chip is working." As he spoke, Data rapidly drained his glass, then broke into a huge, triumphant grin. "Yes. I hate this! It is revolting!" Guinan permitted the two men a moment more of celebration, then coyly lifted the flask, ready to pour again. "Another round?" she asked sweetly.
Aglow with happiness, Data held up his glass.
"Please."
At that moment, Tolian Soran also sat in Ten-Forward, but the crowd and his table's location blocked any view of the bar; instead, he stared out an observation window at the stars--thinking of one star in particular, the one named Amargosa. "Bitter," the name meant in some Terran language or other. The bitter star; oddly appro- priate, it seemed now.
Had he witnessed the exchange between the three friends, he would have sensed precisely what was occurring--but he would not have laughed, would not have wasted upon the incident even a faint smile. He smiled at little these days; amusement did not interest him.
Only one thing mattered: his return to Leandra. Not quite a century ago, he had used the Lakul to return to her for a radiant, wondrous moment, only to be snatched away again by the Enterprise-B. That other world where she waited seemed real; the rest was all illusion, an agonizing, decades-long detour too cruel to be accepted as reality.
Once more, he was on another damnable starship called the Enterprise; but this one would not steal him from Leandra. This Enterprise would return him to her... if he had to kill every person aboard it. It was, after all, not real.
Yet, real or not, in this universe, Soran knew he would have to use every bit of cunning here to return to the place he thought of as home. And the first step required manipulation of a certain starship captain.
He sat for a few moments more until he saw him: a uniformed man, lean and bald, with a lined, strongly sculpted face. Soran recognized him at once; the man's confident bearing marked him as captain of this vessel.
What was the name again? Something exotically Terran.
Picard. Jean-Luc Picard.
Picard made his way through the laughing crowd with single-minded intensity, and a closed expression that gave Soran pause, for it reminded him much of his own.
What was it the captain was feeling? Soran's eyelids fluttered as he relaxed, allowed himself to sense his prey.
Yes. Yes... Offense. We two have much in common,
Soran said sil
ently to the approaching human. You, like I, are offended by what you see here: people smiling, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves, oblivious to our suffering. Oblivious to pain, to the horror that this uni- verse truly is. But they will come to know; oh yes, they will all come to know death--their own, and those of the ones they love. No one escapes here.
But I will. By the gods, I will, and never return.
Picard arrived at the table at last, and, intent, un- flinching, unsmiling, gazed down at the El Aurian. "Dr.
Soran... ?" Soran looked up, his eyes, his gaze, his demeanor a stern mirror-image of the Starfleet officer's. "Yes, yes, Captain.... Thank you for coming." He extended his hand. Picard took it; firm grip, strong determination.
Not an easy man to manipulate--or to read, for that matter. But there was fresh pain here, and if Soran was patient, there would soon be details that would help persuade the captain.
Picard sat in the chair across from Soran, and waved away the waiter who had hurried up to take his order.
"Nothing for me." All brusqueness, he turned to Soran.
"I understand there's something urgent you need to discuss with me." "Yes." Soran fixed his gaze on the captain's dark eyes.
"I need to return to the observatory immediately. I must continue a critical experiment I was running on the Amargosa star." A flicker of irritation crossed Picard's features. Soran knew exactly how it must have sounded: the eccentric scientist consumed by his work, interrupting the captain at an inopportune moment. "Doctor," Picard said, with a hint of impatience, "we're still conducting an investi- gation into the attack. Once we've completed our work, we'll be happy to allow you and your fellow scientists back aboard the observatory. Until then--" Soran let some honest desperation slip into his tone.
"The timing is very important on my experiment. If it is not completed within the next twelve hours, years of research will be lost." And if he did not manage to convince the captain soon, it seemed their conversation would come to a premature conclusion, before Soran could find the key, the precise words needed. Oh yes, there was definitely something here. Horrible pain.
Agony. Grief.
But Picard was already moving to rise; with a curt, dismissive tone, he said, "We're doing the best we can.
Now, if you'll excuse me..." And there it was: the flames, two people screaming, dying in such abject misery that Soran drew in his breath, shuddered at the memory of his own long-ago pain. So... we have more in common than I thought, you and I.... And with desperation tempered by genu- ine empathy, he reached out and gently, firmly, grasped the captain's arm.
Picard wheeled, outraged--then was stunned to si- lence by the knowing intensity in Soran's eyes. Soran leaned forward until Picard's face filled his entire field of vision.
"They say time is the fire in which we burn," he said softly. "And right now, Captain, my time is running out." Yes. He had sensed rightly. There it was again: the flames, the screams, the horror. Picard dropped his gaze, unable to meet the other man's eyes.
Soran released his grip on the captain's arm. No need
now; his words held Picard more tightly than his hands ever could. His features softened with unfeigned sympa- thy as he looked deep into the Starfleet officer's eyes, thinking of the Borg's death rays dissecting a malachite planet. How many nights had he lain awake imagining that final horror for Leandra, Mara, Emo, as the fiery rays streaked down from the El Aurian heavens?
You see, I too know what it is to smell the flesh of my loved ones burning.
"We leave so many things unfinished in our lives," Soran continued. "I'm sure you can understand." Picard looked away and was silent for a long moment; when finally he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll see what I can do.... " Without a word, he turned on his heel and left before the El Aurian could reply. Soran watched with relief and triumph; he had won. He rose, then carefully pulled out the antique pocket watch Leandra had given him, a name-day present in recognition of his fascination with temporal physics. For a moment, he stared into its gilded, crystal-clad face and saw reflected there his own.
He had come to both treasure and despise Leandra's final gift to him--treasure it because it was all he had left of her, outside the nexus; despise it because it served as constant reminder of time's cruelty. In the end, time annihilated all; what was the brutally apt Terran meta- phor? Cronos, eating his children.
Time was his enemy, now; the only solution was to sidestep it altogether, in the nexus. And, cruelest joke of all, he had only twelve hours in which to do so.
Soran moved toward the exit--then froze at the sight of a familiar face across the room, behind the bar.
Guinan. She had been among the refugees on the
Lakul the day they had encountered the Enterprise-B ú.. and flirted with the nexusú And if she recognized Soran, she would at once sense his true intentions. and tell the captain.
Luckily she was distracted, smiling and talking with two crewmen; she had not seen him, and Soran was determined to leave before she sensed his presence. He wheeled about and, using the crowd as a shield, slipped out the far exit.
"So," Guinan said. She bent slightly to retrieve a dust-covered flagon from beneath the counter, then straightened and allowed herself a small smile at Data's comical expression, which managed to convey both disgust and delight. "Now that you've got hate covered, let's see if we can work on love. Aged Saurian brandy; not quite as old as I am, but a close second. Just a little taste, boys; this isn't synthehol, you know." Geordi had finally relaxed enough to smile and peer at the label. "That looks like the real thing, all right." He drew back slightly as Guinan blew off the dust and then began uncorking the bottle. "Data, you should test emo- tion chips more often. Looks like we're in for a treat." Grinning, the android proffered his empty glass; Guinan began to pour. At the same instant, Geordi's comm badge signaled; he set down his own glass and touched his insignia. "La Forge here." "Commander Worf here. Is Data with you?" "Yes." "Commander Riker requests both of you report to the transporter room immediately. I will meet you there.
Worf out." Geordi released a glum sigh. "C'mon, Data. Let's go."
Data set down his glass and frowned. "I believe I am having another emotional reaction." "It's called disappointment, Data." Guinan favored him with a grin as she recorked the brandy. "You'll get over it. Don't worry, this'11 still be here when you two get back." "Thanks, Guinan." Geordi waited for his now- despondent friend to rise; the two headed out into the corridor.
Guinan was watching them go when a dizzying flash of memory overtook her. Suddenly she was in the Enterprise-B sickbay almost a century before, in a twi- light world between reality and the nexus, looking up into the dark eyes of a man she later learned was Pavel Chekov and saying, He g gone to the other side. Your friend, Jim.
The ugliness of reality--her world, her family, her life destroyed in one brutal moment by the Borg--and the unspeakable beauty of the nexus had overwhelmed her then.
She tried to shake the memory off. She had not thought of the nexus--had not permitted herself to think of the nexus--for many years. But why... ?
Even before she could silently ask herself the question, she knew the answer: Someone was here. Someone who had been there that night; someone who had been to the nexus.
She whirled to face the precise spot in which she knew the person was standing.
No one. Empty carpet. Someone called her name; she gave her head a gentle shake, then turned, smiling, the memory once again submerged.
Moments earlier, in engineering, Will Riker stood beside Worf and stared at the diagram of sensor infor- mation on the monitor screen. On the console beside them, a Romulan tricorder lay attached to a diagnostic scanner.
Riker frowned at the screen and tried to make sense of the readout; he was having far better luck with it than he was in making sense out of the attack on Amargosa.
"One of the dead Romulans had a tricorder," Worf was explaining. "We analyzed its sensor logs and found the
y were scanning for signature particles of a com- pound called trilithium." Riker lifted an eyebrow. "Trilithium?" Worf gave a single, solemn nod. "An experimental compound the Romulans have been working on. In theory, a trilithium-based explosive would be thousands of times more powerful than an antimatter weapon. But they never found a way to stabilize it." Let's hope that's still true, Riker thought. Aloud he asked, "Why were they looking for it on a Federation observatory? It doesn't make any sense." Worf did not answer. Riker paused, still looking at the readout on the screen but seeing the dead on Amargosa.
The terrible destruction might not make any sense, but it had happened for a reason--a reason that perhaps the survivors knew, but weren't telling.
He released a silent sigh and glanced at the Klingon.
"Have Geordi and Data go over with the next away team. Tell them to scan the observatory for trilithium."
It was just as well they hadn't had time for that sip of Saurian brandy, Geordi decided, as he scanned the