The smoke slid past him on either side. Not yet, he told himself.
A crimson beam incinerated the fabric that covered his right shoulder, barely missing the soft artificial flesh beneath it. Not yet, he repeated silently.
A spot on the deck beside his foot was turned into a black, oozing wound. Not yet, he resolved, clenching his teeth.
And then, when it seemed he had no choice but to plunge headlong through the intersection and the trap that awaited him on the other side, the android planted his left foot and veered off sharply to the right.
He couldn’t have waited any longer, he thought, as he and his companion whirled and came to a halt. But would it be enough? Would his scheme produce the desired results?
Data got his answer a fraction of a second later as the intruder went careening through the intersection at full speed … and ran straight into the gravity trap.
For a moment all was silent in the corridor except for Sinna’s ragged breathing. Steeling himself, the android edged his way to the corner of the bulkhead and craned his neck, to peer around it.
To his surprise, he found the intruder staring right at him, its weapon arm raised in his direction. Only then did it occur to Data that he may have miscalculated. Though the same sort of gravity trap had been effective against the five other invaders, this more powerful, more lethal version of the construct might have been able to shrug off the trap’s effects.
Data could almost see the stab of crimson energy that would spell his doom. But it never came.
Instead, the construct toppled forward at the waist, finally falling victim to the android’s snare. And once it was bent over like that," there was no chance of its getting up.
“It worked,” said a voice from behind Data. He turned his head and saw that Sinna had come up behind him. “You did it,” she said, chuckling. “You immobilized every last one of them.”
“So it would appear,” the android agreed. At least for now, the constructs had been neutralized.
However, that didn’t mean that they were out of danger. Once the aliens saw that their invaders had failed, they might decide to attack the Yosemite in some other way.
“Computer,” said the android abruptly, “give me the bridge. Are you there, Lagon?”
It took only a moment for Lagon to respond. “Where else would I be?” asked the Yanna. “Are you all right?”
“We are fine,” Data assured him. “And you?”
“Fine as well.”
“No further threats from the alien ship?” asked the android.
“None,” replied Lagon.
“We were concerned,” said a new voice, which Data recognized as Odri1’s. “We were afraid the invaders might have gotten to you before they became incapacitated.”
“Incapacitated?” repeated Sinna, smiling playfully at Data.
“Yes,” replied Lagon. “At least, that’s what the computer tells us. Apparently, they ran into some trouble with the artificial gravity on the ship, though we’re still not quite certain how that occurred.” He paused. “Maybe if you run into one of them, you can shed some light on the situation.”
Sinna laughed softly. “Perhaps we can at that.”
CHAPTER
7
Data didn’t blame the Yann on the bridge for not believing him. He found it a little hard to believe himself.
“Are you sure?” asked Odril.
The android nodded. “Quite sure.”
“All six of them?” inquired Felai, looking skeptical.
“All six,” the android confirmed.
“But the computer told us they were immobilized by anomalies in the artificial gravity system.”
“They were,” replied Sinna. “But it was Data who created the anomalies in the system.”
“But how could he have done that?” pressed Lagon. “How could he have gotten access to it?”
“He gained access via the ship’s auxiliary control center,” Sinna explained.
Odril’s eyes opened wider with admiration. “The auxiliary control center,” he echoed. “Of course. I passed it just this morning. You know, you can be a useful being sometimes, Data.”
“Yes,” Felai chimed in. “When it comes to technical expertise, at any rate.”
The android didn’t take offense at the remark. Perhaps if he’d had emotions, he would have felt differently. But as it was, he saw Felai’s opinion as just that—an opinion—and left it at that.
Sinna, on the other hand, was not content to let the comment lie. “Data has helped us in other ways as well,” she reminded her fellow Yann. “Or have you all forgotten how he handled the aliens just a little while ago?”
Felai grunted. “He didn’t keep them from attacking us.”
“No,” conceded Odril, eyeing the android. “But he kept them from seeing how vulnerable we are. And in the end, that may turn out to be the key to our survival.”
“Odril’s right,” observed Lagon. “Besides, what have any of the rest of us accomplished? We couldn’t even locate those stupid hand phasers we were looking for.”
“The phaser supply cabinets were protected by security safeguards,” Felai pointed out.
“Data would have found a way to bypass them,” said Sinna.
The android was beginning to feel uncomfortable at being the center of a controversy. He told the Yann as much, but it didn’t seem to do any good. Whereas once they had all seemed of one mind, circumstances had forced them to take up their own, individual positions—at least for the moment.
The conversation would certainly have continued … except for a flashing light on the communications panel. Lagon scanned his monitors, then looked up at them.
“They’re hailing us,” he announced. His eyes met Data’s. “What should we do?”
The android took less than a second to make his decision—though he wished he could have made it with more confidence. “Answer them,” he said simply, placing himself in the captain’s seat once more.
Abruptly the scene on the viewscreen changed. Where it had earlier displayed an image of the alien ship, it now showed them the skeletal face of that ship’s commander. And if he was less than pleased before, he was positively grim now.
“As you can see,” the alien intoned, “we mean what we say. Rest assured, those robots were only a taste of what is in store for you—and a mild taste at that—unless you move off, as we have instructed.”
Unfortunately, Data could not have complied with the alien’s wishes even if he had wanted to. The Yosemite’s propulsion system was still useless. And as long as that was the case, neither he nor the Yann were going anywhere.
On the other hand, the ship’s phasers were back online. And by eluding the aliens’ robots, they had given the phaser batteries an opportunity to charge up. All he had to do was give the word and they could blast away at the other vessel.
“As before,” the alien warned, “you have five lunar millicycles. Be certain you make the correct choice, Captain Data. The lives of your crew will depend on it.”
Data was not surprised when the skeletal visage disappeared. At least that aspect of the commander’s behavior was becoming quite predictable to him.
A silence settled on the bridge. Data looked around and saw that his companions were all staring at him—perhaps because he was the one in the center seat.
“What are we going to do?” asked Odril. “We can’t just sit here and let them blast us to atoms.”
“We don’t have to,” Felai pointed out. “Not when we can blast them first. If our phasers are operational again, we can beat them to the punch.”
The android nodded. “I came to that conclusion more than a minute ago.”
“Then why didn’t you give the order?” Felai asked impatiently. “What are you waiting for?”
Data turned to the viewscreen. Why indeed? What was stopping him?
“Because,” he said at last, “there is something wrong here.”
Odril’s voice rose an octav
e. “Of course there’s something wrong. We’re in danger of being completely and utterly destroyed—unless we act first.”
The android shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “That is not what I mean. There is something wrong with this entire situation. Something that does not make sense.”
Sinna came over to stand at Data’s side. The android saw her out of the corner of his eye.
“Data … what is it?” she asked gently. “What are you thinking about?”
“Is it not strange,” he asked, “that the aliens chose to send robots aboard our ship, rather than engage in a more conventional form of attack? One might almost deduce that conventional weapons were not an option for them—even though their ship is clearly designed to carry such weapons.”
Sinna’s eyes narrowed as she pondered the question. “You’re right,” she told him. “That was a strange way to open hostilities. But if they’re not able to use their weapons—”
“Then why are they threatening to fire on us?” inquired Odril, finishing the question for her.
“Perhaps,” the android offered, “it is a bluff. A misdirection.”
“You mean they’re lying?" asked Lagon. “But for what purpose?”
If he were human, Data would have sighed. “I do not know,” he responded.
Still, there had to be an answer. Perhaps by analyzing what they knew about the aliens, they could reach it. Turning to the others, he said as much.
“What we know about them?” repeated Felai. “But … we know nothing at all.”
“No,” objected Sinna. “That’s not true. We know they need to eat and breathe as we do, because they have the same kind of facial features. And their level of technology is about the same as ours.”
“We also know they have transporters,” grumbled Odril, “or they couldn’t have beamed over those robots.” He glanced worriedly at the viewscreen. “But I don’t see how that knowledge is going to do us any good—particularly if we’re wrong about their weapons not working.”
Suddenly the android had an idea. “Our transporters are working, too,” he observed.
“For all the good it does us,” snorted Felai.
Sinna peered at Data. “I see what you’re getting at. In both cases, our transporter systems work. But, if your theory about their weapons not working is correct, then our conventional weapons don’t.”
The android nodded, grateful for her assistance. “It may be that we are all in…” He tried to think of the proper expression. “…the same boat,” he concluded at last.
“But we don’t know that their weapons aren’t working,” argued Odril. “You’re just guessing about that.”
“And besides,” added Lagon, “if they were in the same situation we are, their crew wouldn’t be on the bridge. It would be gone, as ours is.”
Data turned to look at him. “Perhaps their crew is gone,” he said.
Lagon’s brows met over the bridge of his nose. “But they can’t be,” he insisted. “We’ve seen them.”
“We have seen aliens,” the android corrected. “And we have come to the conclusion that they are in charge, because it seemed logical. However, they may not be the regular crew at all. They may be inexperienced personnel posing as the bridge crew.”
Sinna grunted softly. “A handful of frightened beginners in an all-but-disabled vessel, trying to give the appearance that they’ve got both a full crew and a fully functional ship. This is sounding more and more familiar.”
“There is something else,” Data declared. It had just occurred to him. “The aliens are not wearing anything resembling communications badges.”
“And what if they’re not?” asked Odril. “Maybe their race just doesn’t have a use for them.”
“But what if they do?” replied Sinna. “What if Data was right about our lack of comm badges having something to do with our being left alone?”
Felai looked at her. “So what you’re saying is the aliens’ lack of comm badges proves Data’s theory—and according to that theory, their lack of comm badges shows they’re helpless.”
Lagon shook his head. “This is all speculation. Speculation and guesswork.”
The Yann had a point, the android conceded. His entire theory was constructed on observations that had alternative explanations. Still, when lined up one after another, those observations seemed sufficient to give credence to his hypothesis.
“You are correct,” said Data. He began pacing the deck in front of the command center. “And yet, if we proceed with a phaser barrage, and the aliens are as helpless as I believe them to be—”
Odril cut him off. “We know the consequences. We’ll be destroying a vessel nearly as helpless as our own—not to mention the occupants of that vessel.”
“But if we don’t destroy them, and your theory is wrong…” said Felai. His voice trailed off in an eerie way. “To me, there is only one answer. We’ve got to hit them with every bit of force we can generate—and worry about the morality of it later.”
The android looked from Felai to Odril to Lagon. Perhaps they were right, he admitted inwardly. After all, their points were every bit as cogent as his. On top of that, they had instincts—and as an artificial being, he did not.
“Two minutes to go,” Odril called out. “We’re almost out of time.”
Perhaps the Yann were wiser than he was, Data told himself. Perhaps the correct choice was to preempt the aliens’ strike with one of their own.
“You’ve got to do something,” complained Lagon, glaring at the android. “You’ve got to defend us. And you’ve got to do it now!”
CHAPTER
8
“No.”
The word had come out of Data’s mouth before he had any idea he was going to utter it. In fact, he was as surprised as anyone on the bridge.
For a long, hollow moment he endured the open-mouthed scrutiny of the Yann and wondered what had possessed him to so categorically deny Lagon his request. Was this a part of his programming he had not been aware of until now? Or was he, in the very core of his being, simply that reluctant to injure an unarmed being?
To the android’s further surprise, Sinna agreed with him. “Data’s right,” she decided. “We can’t fire our phasers at people who may be helpless to defend themselves.”
“What are you saying?” asked Odril. “You’re one of us, Sinna. Surely, you must see the wisdom of—”
“What I see,” Sinna interjected, “is three scared Yann who can’t see past their own need to survive. I’m scared, too—but I believe in Data’s theory. And I won’t be part of any assault on the alien vessel.”
The android saw her turn to him then. There was a smile on her face—not a very confident smile, he thought, but a smile nonetheless.
If Sinna had faith in his observations—and she was an organic being, with instincts as strong as any of the others here—then maybe his decision was the right one after all.
“If you wish to fire on the aliens,” he told the other Yann, “you will have to do it without us.”
“But-” sputtered Lagon, “none of us knows how to fire the phasers.”
Data nodded sympathetically. “Yes,” he answered. “I know.”
“One more minute,” gulped Odril. His face was an open appeal. “Please … before it’s too late.”
But, true to his word, the android didn’t move. He simply watched the viewscreen, with Sinna at his side.
“Forty seconds,” came Odril’s reminder. “Thirty-five. Thirty.” His voice was drenched with despair, but he seemed to feel it was his duty to mark the passage of time for the others. “Twenty-five. Twenty.”
“Hail the alien vessel,” Data said suddenly.
The Yann all turned to look at him, including Sinna.
“It’s about time,” muttered Felai.
Sinna’s eyes narrowed. “I thought—”
But she never got a chance to finish her remark. It was interrupted by the appearance of the alien commander on the view
screen.
“Your time is almost up,” the alien reminded them. “If you intend to leave this sector, you must do so without delay.”
The android shook his head. “I only contacted you to say that we have not changed our minds. We intend to remain here. What is more, we will take no action to prevent your attack.”
The alien’s brows knit over his bony nose. “What?” he rasped.
“You heard me correctly,” Data confirmed. “We will neither move from our position nor employ defensive measures. If you have the ability to carry out your threat, feel free to do so.”
The alien’s eyes opened wide. He blinked—not once, but twice. “Are you insane?” he asked.
The android shrugged. “My internal diagnostics give no indication of any positronic malfunction,” he replied honestly. “Why do you ask?”
The alien seemed on the verge of answering the question, then stopped himself. “It is not important,” he said. “All that matters is your defiance of our mandate. Since you refuse to leave, you give me no choice … but to blast you and your ship to atoms.”
He waited then, as if expecting a more reasonable response. And if it were up to Odril, Lagon, or Felai, there no doubt would have been. But the Yann kept their silence.
Despite their frustration, they must have known it would do them no good to beg for mercy. If they were going to die, it seemed, they were going to do it with a little dignity.
Now, thought Data, the only question was … had he interpreted the facts of the situation correctly? Or had he doomed them all to certain destruction?
“Five,” whispered Odril. “Four. Three. Two.” He shivered and looked at the viewscreen.
“One.”
Looking away from them, the alien commander gestured to one of his bridge officers. “Activate the weapons array, Thibra. Full power.”
“Full power,” echoed the officer, acknowledging the order with a nod for good measure. Lowering her gaze to a particular spot on her control panel, she raised her hand. Then, slowly and deliberately, she brought it down on an oval padd.
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #6: Mystery of the Missing Crew Page 6