by Generations
A hand reached out and grasped his. Faint laughter, and then a familiar voice, very nearby: "Looking for something, Mr. La Forge?" Geordi drew back. The voice was Soran's, the scientist from the observatory. He remembered now: Soran had struck him--and apparently kidnapped him. But why... ?
"A remarkable piece of equipment," Soran continued in a cheerful, conversational tone. "But a little inelegant, wouldn't you say?" Geordi did not reply.
"Have you ever considered a prosthesis that would make you look a little more... normal?" The words angered him. Easy, he told himself. He~ doing it on purpose. Don't let it get to you....But he could not resist countering, "What's normal?" "Normal," Soran said smoothly, "is what everyone else is--and what you are not." Geordi tried to keep the heat from his own voice, and failed. "What do you want?" A long pause. And then Soran said, "As you may or may not be aware, I am an El Aurian. Some people call us a race of listeners. We listen." He hesitated. "Right now, Mr. La Forge, you have my undivided attention. I want to listen to everything you know about trilithium... and me." It made no sense; he knew little about either subject.
But he saw no reason not to comply. He thought for a moment, then replied, "Trilithium is an experimental compound developed by the Romulans. I think it's a derivative of--"
He stopped at a sharp thrill of pain near his chest, and raised his hand to the spot. Almost as quickly, the sensation disappeared; but Soran had never touched him.
"I don't want a science lecture," Soran said coldly.
"You were on that observatory looking for trilithium.
Why?" Geordi sighed. This wasn't going to be much fun; he clearly knew a lot less than Soran thought he did. "I was ordered to by the captain." "Let's try to move beyond the usual prisoner- interrogator banter, shall we? You have information, and I need it." Soran paused. "Did the captain explain his orders to you? Did he say why you were searching for trilithium?" Geordi shook his head. "No." Another long pause. "What about... Guinan? What has she told you about me?" "Guinan?" He blinked in surprise. "I don't know what you're talking about." Soran's tone hardened. "My instincts tell me you're lying. And I know that can't be easy for you... I can see you have a good heart." He gave a soft, ironic chuckle.
Geordi tilted his head, puzzled at the sudden sound of ticking--like the sound of an antique Earth timepiece.
He forgot the sound as a spasm of pain gripped the center of his chest. A heart attack, Geordi thought, clutching his chest. He~ somehow induced a heart attack....He bowed his head at the agony, unable even to breathe.
And then the pain eased again. He drew in a great, gasping breath and began to pant.
"Oh," Soran said cavalierly. "I forgot to tell you.
While you were unconscious, I injected a nanoprobe into your bloodstream. It's been navigating your cardiovas- cular system... and right now I've attached it to your left ventricle." Geordi could hear the smile in the man's voice. "A little trick I learned from the Borg." "Yeah," Geordi gasped with irony. "They're full of great ideas.... " All playfulness left the scientist's tone; with cold matter-of-factness he said, "I just stopped your heart for five seconds. It felt like an eternity, didn't it? Did you know that you can stop the human heart for up to six minutes before the onset of brain damage?" He let the hatred he felt show on his features.
"No... I didn't know that...." "We learn something new about ourselves every day," Soran said. "Now. Maybe I didn't make myself clear. It is very important that you tell me exactly what Captain Picard knows." "I told you everything," Geordi told the darkness.
"You might as well kill me right now." Silence. And then he heard something entirely unex- pected in the scientist's tone: genuine compassion. "I'm not a killer, Mr. La Forge," Soran said, with such honesty, such quiet shame, that Geordi believed him, and no longer feared for his life. The E1 Aurian sighed, and in that sound Geordi heard such unhappiness, such reluctance, such infinite weariness that, had he not known what Soran was capable of, he might almost have pitied him.
Abruptly, Soran's tone hardened once more. "Let's try thirty seconds."
Geordi heard the muted sound of fingertips pressing controls. And then he bowed his head and groaned as the chest-crushing pain seized him once more, with such mind-blotting intensity that he was aware of nothing else... except the soft, steady ticking of a timepiece.
NINE
Other than the holodeck, one of Picard's favorite places aboard the Enterprise was stellar cartography. With the holographic map activated, standing on the stellar car- tography deck was like lying in a country field staring up at the night sky--or better, like hanging suspended in space; one need only lean forward to touch the nearest star.
At the moment, the holographic map wasn't activated; Picard stood, surrounded by computers, sensors, track- ing devices designed to monitor the ship's precise posi- tion in space. Beside him, Data sat at a console, awaiting a readout. Picard gazed at the nearby bank of viewscreens, which displayed diagrams of an angry streak of ultraviolet lightning--the energy ribbon--at various times and locations.
He had used the mystery of Soran and the ribbon to focus, to extricate himself from grief. His initial fury and frustration had ebbed. There was nothing he could do to help Robert and Ren6; but there was much he could do to help Geordi La Forge... and to stop whatever harm Soran planned.
Data leaned forward as the readout appeared on his screen; Picard caught the movement in his peripheral vision and turned, expectant. He was still unaccustomed to seeing the android under the sway of emotion; Data's depression showed in the slump of his shoulders, the barely perceptible downward curve of his lips.
"According to our information," Data said listlessly, "the ribbon is a conflux of temporal energy which travels through our galaxy every thirty-nine point one years." He paused and frowned, apparently having lost his place. "It will pass through this sector in approxi- mately... forty-two hours." Picard moved away and began to pace, hoping the movement might keep his weary mind and body alert; he had slept little since Marie's message. "Then Guinan was right.... She said Soran was trying to get back to the ribbon. If that's true, then there must be some connection with the Amargosa star." He turned on his heel and faced Data. "Give me a list of anything which has been affected by the star's destruction, no matter how insignificant." The android did not respond, but merely stared unblinking at the glowing screen with a disconsolate expression.
"Data," Picard snapped.
Data straightened at once; Picard fancied he caught a fleeting look of embarrassment on the android's face.
"Sorry, sir." He pressed several controls on the console, then looked back at the captain. "It will take the computer a few moments to compile the information." Picard folded his arms to wait. As he watched, Data released a deep, sorrowful sigh, then leaned forward and
put his head in his hands. Perplexed, the captain stepped forward and put a hand on the android's shoulder.
"Data... are you all right?" "No, sir." Data raised his head, revealing a tortured expression. "I am finding it difficult to concentrate. I believe I am overwhelmed with feelings of... remorse and regret concerning my actions on the observatory." "What do you mean?" Picard asked gently. Neither Riker nor Worf had reported that Data had committed any unusual action.
Data sighed again. "I wanted to save Geordi... I tried. But I experienced something I did not expect." He gazed up at the captain with unmasked shame. "Fear. I was afraid, sir." Picard opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again when the computer signaled. Data turned once more to his console and began to read glumly.
"According to our current information, the destruc- tion of the Amargosa star has had the following effects in this sector: Gamma emissions have increased by point- zero-five percent; the Starship Bozeman was forced to make a course correction; a research project on Gorik Four was halted due to increased neutrino particles; ambient magnetic fields have decreased by--" "Wait," Picard interrupted. "The Bozeman. Why did it change course?" "The destruction of the
Amargosa star has altered the gravitational forces throughout the sector," Data said.
"Any ships passing through this region will have to make a minor course correction." "A minor course correction..." Picard frowned as he contemplated the fact. Instinct said there was something here, some key that remained as yet elusive. He turned and headed toward the large holomap control ~console behind them. "Where is the ribbon now?" Data rose and followed him to the console, then pressed a few controls. Within seconds, the room around them dissolved, replaced by a huge, twinkling map of the galaxy. Data pointed toward a red, glowing dot. "This is its current position." Picard leaned forward, transfixed. "Can you project its course?" Data began to respond, then hesitated; his expression suddenly crumpled with despair. "Sir... I--I cannot continue with this investigation." Picard stared at him in bewilderment.
Data lowered his head in shame. "I wish to be deactivated until Dr. Crusher can remove the emotion chip." "Are you having some kind of malfunction?" The android shook his head. "No, sir. I simply do not have the ability to control these emotions." "Data..." Picard drew a breath. Watching the android's turmoil was like gazing inward. "I have noth- ing but sympathy for what you're going through. But I need your full attention on the task at--" Data wheeled on him angrily. "You do not under- stand, sir. I no longer want these feelings. Deactivating me is the only viable solution." "Data," Picard said sternly, feeling oddly that he was speaking as much to himself, "part of having emotions is learning how to integrate them into your life. How to deal with them, no matter what the circumstance." "But, sir--" Picard straightened to his full height and summoned his most authoritarian tone. "And I will not allow you to be deactivated. You are an officer aboard this ship and right now you have a duty to perform." He paused, and when no further protest was forthcoming, added: "That's an order, Commander." As he spoke, Data's expression slowly metamor- phosed from one of despair to one of stoic resolve. "Yes, sir," he said softly. "I will try." Picard put a reassuring hand on the android's shoul- der and did not quite smile. "Courage can be an emotion, too, Data." His tone grew brisk. "Now... can you project the course of the ribbon?" Data squared his shoulders in such an overt display of determination that Picard struggled not to smile as the android worked the console. As Picard watched, a glowing red line appeared in the starry display, forming an arc between suns. He stepped closer, his pulse quick- ening. Yes, the answer was here.... He turned back toward Data. "Where was the Amargosa star?" In reply, Data pressed a control; a twinkling star appeared close to the red line.
"Now..." Picard mused. "You said when the Amargosa star was destroyed, it altered the gravitational forces in this sector. Did the computer take that into account when it projected the ribbon's course?" Surprise spread over Data's features as he considered this. "No, sir. I will make the appropriate adjustments." He did so, and the single twinkling star before Picard's eyes darkened, blinked, then altogether disappeared. As it did, the glowing red line shifted to the right-- changing course.
Picard glanced up, his weariness replaced by the exhilaration of discovery. "That's what Soran's doing-- he's changing the ribbon's course. But why? Why try to ! alter its path? Why not simply fly into it with a ship?" "Our records show that every ship which has ap- proached the ribbon has either been destroyed or severe- ly damaged," Data offered.
"He can't go to the ribbon," Picard said, with a sudden flash of insight. "So he's trying to make the ribbon come to him." He turned to the android. "Data, is it going to pass near any M-class planets?" Data consulted the computer once more, then looked up. "Yes, sir. There are two in the Veridian system." He touched more controls, enlarging the display of the Veridian star to reveal the four planets orbiting it.
Picard studied the red line marking the ribbon's path, which passed very close to the third planet. He pointed.
"It's very close to Veridian Three... but not close enough." He frowned, troubled, and gazed back at the Veridian sun. As he stared, an unbidden memory rose: the image of the fiery, dying Amargosa star, and in his mind's eye, he saw it in the healthy sun's place. A horrid revelation seized him. "Data," he said urgently, "what would happen to the ribbon's path if he destroyed the Veridian star itself?" He knew, with unshakable conviction, exactly what would occur, even before Data worked the console controls and the display shifted once more. Before Picard's eyes, the Veridian sun dimmed, blinked into darkness. The red line indicating the ribbon's course shifted--so that it precisely intersected the third planet.
"That's where he's going," Picard said.
After a beat's silence, Data added softly, "It should be noted, sir, that the collapse of the Veridian star would
produce a shock wave similar to the one we observed at Amargosa." Picard faced him with a grim expression. "And de- stroy every planet in the system." The android checked his console readout, then eyed the display with unmasked dismay. "Veridian Three is uninhabited--but Veridian Four supports a pre-indus- trial humanoid society." Picard turned back to stare at the display, and the slowly revolving fourth planet. "Population?" Data's tone was hushed with dread. "Approximately two hundred thirty million." For an instant--no more--Picard gazed at the image of Veridian IV and tried to understand what could drive a man to destroy a world.
If you go into that nexus, you're not going to care about $oran or the Enterprise or me. All you're going to care about is how it feels to be there. And you're never going to come back.
Picard touched his comm badge. "Picard to bridge." "Worf here." "Set a course for the Veridian system, maximum warp." He was already in motion as he spoke, headed for the bridge with renewed determination--and gratitude, to see Data beside him, moving with the same sense of urgent purposefulness.
On the rumbling Bird-of-Prey, Soran paused in the corridor to squint in the dimness at the face of his open pocket watch. What he saw there evoked a smile and a thrill of heart-pounding exhilaration; they should be no more than a minute now from Veridian III. Soon he would be with Leandra and the children, far away from this accursed universe where they were dead and he was trapped aboard this stinking scow of a Klingon ship.
Mr. La Forge had been of no great use. After enduring speechless agony for several seconds, he had provided no further revelations, except to confirm Soran's suspicion that the Enterprise captain was investigating certain pieces of the puzzle that could lead him to Veridian.
Picard unsettled Soran; the captain might have been easily swayed while under the influence of fresh grief-- but he was also extremely intelligent. Once that grief faded, there was a great danger that Picard would recover and apply that intelligence to learn where Soran had gone.
But he had only a minute. Soran smiled again at the thought, but the smile was not entirely untroubled.
Torturing La Forge had proved more... unpleasant than Soran had anticipated. In fact, it had turned his stomach to think he had become like the Borg.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I was kind--I let La Forge live, which is more than this universe of time and death will do for him. We're all doomed here, all walking corpses.
He had restarted La Forge's heart after fifteen sec- onds, unable to watch the man's suffering. On his home planet, he had been a gentle man, a kind man, with no stomach for cruelty... certainly not murder.
The sacrifice of Veridian IV is necessary. Necessary.
It~ the only way to return home.
Yet the thought of it haunted his nights.
He would do it, though. He would not falter as he had with La Forge, because what happened on Veridian IV would be distant, bloodless; he would not have to witness it, would already be in the nexus by then.
And, perhaps... unlikely, but just perhaps there might be some lucky few caught in the reverberations from the energy ribbon who would be transported to the nexus. Their bodies would perish in this universe, but their echoes would live eternally. He was doing those possible few a favor.
Nothing--guilt, outsiders, Klingons--nothing could be permitted to deter him
now.
He repocketed the watch and stepped from the corri- dor onto the bridge, where the two sisters sat, gruesome leather-and-metal mirror images, at command. Lursa, the elder, husky-throated one, the one who seemed most often to have the last word, swiveled to face him. "Did you get anything from the human?" "No," Soran said, with an inward smile. "His heart just wasn't in it." One of the huge male helmsmen glanced over his shoulder at his mistress. "We have entered orbit of Veridian Three." Soran glanced at the looming planet on the viewscreen with a rush of anticipation that turned his skin to gooseflesh, then turned quickly to Lursa. "Prepare to transport me to the surface." "Wait!" B'Etor rose, distrustful and swaggering, from her chair. "When do we get our payment?" He gazed on her, struggling to mask his hatred. He despised having to deal with such small-minded, power- hungry creatures, who would no doubt make a pitiful mess of the galaxy once he had gone.
No matter. This universe and its concerns were fast fading from his consciousness as he focused on the joy to come. These grotesque parodies of womanhood, this ship, this situation possessed no more reality than a painful dream from which he would soon wake. Lursa and B'Etor were shadows, phantoms who had sprung from the void and would soon vanish into it.