“Then we are in very serious trouble, Mr. Data.” Picard frowned. The idea of a Changeling aboard his ship, threatening his crew, was unthinkable. Yet, he could find no other explanation.
“I suggest calling an intruder alert.”
Picard shook his head. “No. That would alert the Changeling and send it to ground. It would be wiser to act quietly. We are in a unique situation here. If you are correct, the Changeling is contained on the Enterprise, and so long as we remain in the nebula, it cannot endanger the ship without placing itself in mortal peril.” He considered for a moment. “Computer, can you locate the eight new crew members that beamed aboard earlier today?”
“Affirmative,” the computer replied. “All eight are in stellar cartography.”
“Excellent. They must still be with Mr. Hawk. Mr. Data, program holodeck three for—let’s see—a historical overview of the various ships named Enterprise. There’s probably something existing in the library that you can use. The exact subject matter isn’t so important as the length. We need to keep our new transfers busy for at least an hour or two while we work on our strategy.”
Data pulled up a holodeck interface on his console and prepared the program. “Done,” he said.
Picard tapped his communicator. “Picard to Hawk.”
“Hawk here, Captain.”
“Mr. Hawk, I think it is very important that our new crew members appreciate the legacy of the Enterprise, and I’ve had a holodeck presentation on the subject prepared. Please conclude your tour at holodeck three. The presentation will be loaded and waiting for them.”
“Yes, sir.” Hawk sounded slightly puzzled.
Picard considered the situation for a moment. “All except Lieutenant Addison. I’d like our new security chief to meet the senior staff as soon as possible. Mr. Data and I will wait for her at the holodeck and escort her to the bridge. Picard out.” He tapped his combadge, severing the connection with Hawk.
“Data, program a computer trace on the eight crew members. If any of them leaves the group before they reach the holodeck, we should be notified immediately.”
“Already done, Captain.”
Picard turned and headed for the door. “You’re with me. We’ll take care of the rest on our way to the holodeck.”
Hawk decided to make the holodeck itself the end of the tour. Anticlimactic though it was in comparison to the rest of the ship, it seemed the easiest way to comply with Picard’s puzzling order.
“You’ve all seen holodecks countless times before, but the Enterprise-E’s represent the most realistic simulations yet available. For example, at it highest realism setting, almost every object that a holodeck user might touch or hold, be it a book, or a wall, or a weapon, is actually replicated in complete detail, on the fly, rather than being simulated with holograms and force fields.
“For instance, if you were to see a sword on a table across the room, you’d be looking at a hologram. Walk toward the table, and the table and the sword will be seamlessly replicated before you arrive. Pick up the sword and it will be completely real and solid in your hand. Walk away from the table, and it will dematerialize and again be replaced by a hologram.” All this was exciting from an engineering standpoint, but hardly the big finish he wanted for his tour. Still, he pressed on.
“Of course, if you were to swing the sword at another user, safety protocols would cause the blade to be immediately dematerialized and replaced with a hologram. And if you wish to participate in a subjective-mode program, you don’t even need to put on a costume before your arrival. The holodeck can replicate one for you directly.” Stunning, Hawk. You’re putting them to sleep. You sound like a Ferengi holosuite salesman.
Thankfully, at that moment Picard and Data appeared around the corner. Hawk turned to them gratefully. “Captain, we were just concluding the tour.”
“Excellent, Mr. Hawk. Now, if our new crew members will proceed into the holodeck for the historical presentation, you and Lieutenant Addison can accompany us to the bridge.”
The seven crew members entered the holodeck, glancing back over their shoulders at Addison. Hawk thought he detected a trace of envy in the glances they threw at her, and he felt a moment of sympathy for them.
As they entered, Data selected the program from the console just outside and initiated it. Then Hawk noticed him do something very curious. Data continuted tapping on the console long enough to program a security lock on the door. It could be opened only from outside, and only with command authorization. Hawk wondered if Addison had noticed, but her attention again seemed to be focused on Picard.
The four of them strolled down the corridor to the turbolift. When the doors opened, they found not an empty car, but Dr. Crusher flanked by two security officers armed with phaser rifles.
Two more armed security guards appeared from a cross-corridor behind them. Hawk realized he was in the middle of some kind of ambush. “Captain?”
Picard and Data stepped back behind the security officers. “Lieutenant Hawk, Lieutenant Addison, I’m afraid we will need to screen a sample of your blood.”
Linda looked as surprised as Hawk felt. “I was just screened a few hours ago, Captain. You were there.”
“Explanations will be made in due time, Lieutenant. Please give Dr. Crusher your arm.”
Confused, Hawk stepped up and presented his arm. There was a tiny sting as the hypo was pressed against his shoulder and a small sample of blood appeared in the clear vial attached to its top. Crusher popped off the vial, shook it, and held it up for examination.
“It hasn’t changed,” she announced. “Lieutenant Addison.”
Addison, a puzzled frown on her face, extended her arm. Crusher attached a new vial to her hypo and took the sample. Around them, the security officers seemed to tense, their weapons ready.
Crusher held up the vial. “Still blood,” she said.
Addison looked vindicated. “As the new security chief, Captain, I appreciate your diligence, but as I said I was just—”
Picard held up his hand to silence her. He watched as Dr. Crusher snapped the two vials into the top of her medical tricorder. She tapped the tricorder’s keypad. “I’m comparing the DNA in the samples to your DNA patterns as recorded at Starfleet Medical when you entered the Academy—and in Linda’s case, from when she served on the Enterprise-D.” There was a delay, and the tricorder chirped. “Mr. Hawk, your DNA checks out.” She continued to study the readouts.
Another chirp. She raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Picard.
The security officers seemed to be holding their breath.
“The DNA is a match.”
Picard gave a little sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for this, Lieutenant, but we have reason to believe that one of the people who beamed aboard with you is a Changeling spy, and that they may have destroyed the Samson through sabotage.”
Addison blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Thus,” said Data, “the subterfuge.”
“We have every reason,” said Picard, “to suppose that the Changeling is currently contained on the holodeck, but we can afford to take nothing for granted. We’re not sure we really understand all the capabilities of Changelings, nor are we even sure that there is only one aboard. I’ve called a meeting of the senior staff, at which time all of us will undergo the DNA screening. Once we’ve established a trusted circle, we can plan our next move.”
“What,” asked Linda, “do you hope to accomplish through all of this, Captain?”
“First and foremost to secure the safety of the Enterprise. But it is my hope that we can also do something that has never before been accomplished, something that could help change the course of the war to come. I want to capture one of the Founders of the Dominion alive.”
CHAPTER
5
Hawk walked with Picard, Data, Crusher, and Addison to the bridge. On the way, Data explained how they’d learned about the Changeling on the Samson, and their reasoning about how it had com
e aboard the Enterprise.
“It’s amazing,” said Linda, “that a shape-shifter was standing right next to me, and I had no idea. They’re evidently just as convincing as Starfleet Intelligence told us.”
Amazing indeed.
Hawk found himself suffering from a kind of mental whiplash. Just as Picard had arrived, he had been developing his own suspicions that “Linda” was not what she seemed. But having seen her pass the enhanced blood screening, his whole line of reasoning had run full-speed into a wall.
Indeed, his suspicions were grounded on only a few quirks of behavior, like his old friend’s sudden interest in ship design and engineering.
Mostly, it was based on the fact that she seemed to have been flirting with him—with an old friend she well knew (should know!) to be gay.
Even that last one wasn’t absolutely damning. Perhaps it had been a joke. Perhaps he’d misread her intention, though he didn’t think so.
Or perhaps Linda had made a pass at him. It wouldn’t have been the first time a woman had made overtures to him. Hawk had no false modesty about his looks. His piercing blue eyes and chiseled features were part of a clean-cut visage that many humans, both men and women, found attractive.
And the fact that the women should have known better, well, it didn’t always keep them from trying.
They reached the bridge and found Riker, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant Commander La Forge waiting. “Mr. Hawk, you have the bridge,” Picard said.
Hawk watched as they all filed into the observation lounge and the doors closed behind them.
She passed the blood screening, he thought as he sat in the command chair. Why can’t you let it go?
Because, he realized, his deepest instincts told him something was wrong. When piloting the ship, he’d learned from hard experience that it was necessary to separate instinct from appearance. There were circumstances when human senses, the viewscreen, even the ship’s instruments could be wrong. Always, for him, there was an inner voice that helped him separate the real data from distractions, misinformation, and noise.
When he was sitting at the conn, he always trusted that voice. Now he was second-guessing it, perhaps in part because he wanted it to be wrong. If the “Linda” here was in fact a Changeling spy, the best he could hope for was that the real Linda Addison was a prisoner of the Dominion. It was far more likely that she was simply dead.
This “Linda” was very good. She looked right. She talked right. She moved right. She seemed to know almost every detail of Linda’s life. But a spy would likely have studied such details from Starfleet records, and would have access to her personal logs, files, and diaries, as well. With time and determination, Hawk had no doubt that he could trick a Changeling spy into an unambiguous mistake, but time was something he didn’t have.
He stared at the observation lounge doors helplessly. He still had no more than a suspicion, but if it was valid, the ship’s officers were alone in a room with a murderous enemy.
All the senior officers he could have approached about the matter, the people with the authority to do something about it, were already in that room, and he couldn’t charge in without alerting the Changeling. There were ways he might slip a message in to the captain, but it wasn’t simply a matter of telling him. He would have to be convinced, and Hawk wasn’t that certain himself. All the other options he could think of would either take too long or had other drawbacks.
What he needed was conclusive proof. His plan to contact Vulcan might turn up something, but that would take too long as well.
There was one other possibility, much closer at hand.
Looking around, he saw that the senior person on the bridge was Lieutenant Berardi at ops. “Adriana, I’m not feeling well. I think the replicator’s steamed asna needs work. Can you take the bridge while I run to sickbay?”
Berardi got up from ops, saying, “Sure, but you owe me one.”
Nodding, Hawk headed for the turbolift, refusing to consider the ramifications of what he was planning.
“Deck eight, section four,” he said after the door closed and before he changed his mind.
Thanks to his orientation assignment, he’d earlier seen the cabin numbers assigned to the new arrivals. He knew the location of Linda’s cabin, and knew that her personnel file had been logged into the computer. That file would include certain personal preferences and configuration files, which followed a Starfleet officer from assignment to assignment, ship to ship.
Most of these files would concern such mundane things as the temperature she preferred in the shower, or what sort of music or audio she preferred to be associated with the wake-up alarm.
But they also would include an override file for the door lock.
At the Academy, Hawk and Linda had shared an interest in nineteenth-century American literature, and Linda had a small collection of books that had been handed down through her family. She had allowed Hawk to borrow them, and had given him an override code so he could return or take them at his leisure. It was just possible she had never deleted the code from her file. Of course, it was just as likely that she had, and he’d have to think of some other way into her quarters.
Worry about that later.
He stepped from the lift and trotted down the hall to her quarters. “Computer, override code Poe Alpha Nevermore.”
The computer seemed to take forever. “Override authorized.”
With a feeling of both satisfaction and dread, he watched the door whoosh open. He was about to commit the ultimate act of betrayal, to violate the trust placed in him by someone he cared about. If he was wrong, their friendship would be damaged beyond repair.
So he needed to be right, much as he didn’t want to be.
Stepping inside carefully, he wished he had a phaser. There was no certainty that only one Changeling had come aboard, or that if there were others, they were still safely isolated on the holodeck.
Addison’s bags were lined up neatly on her bunk. He noted that nothing appeared to have been opened or unpacked, which was not typical of Addison at all. She’d always been just a little sloppy in her quarters, and quick to make a new place feel like home. He checked the top dresser drawer, but it was empty, and the others were probably empty too. Unless something had been hidden in the room, anything of significance was still in her bags.
He snapped open a red, cylindrical valise. The off-duty clothing inside was the sort of thing Linda would have picked, natural fibers from multiple worlds, hand-dyed fabrics, and simple, rugged outdoor clothing made faded, soft, and comfortable through long wear and many washings.
Digging deeper, he found things that screamed “Linda,” and even items he recognized: a star shell she’d brought back from a vacation on Risa, a holoframe with a picture of her parents, and—his hand trembled slightly as he held it—her beloved leatherbound copy of collected Edgar Allan Poe stories.
Guilt washed over him as he violated her personal belongings, but it had to be done, and the idea of a Changeling having these things, touching these things, made him quietly furious. He lifted a Bajorian wool sweater, and a silver metal box, no larger than his hand, tumbled out.
It was strangely cold to the touch, and he noticed a miniature control panel on one end. A stasis box.
He’d seen the Ferengi use stasis boxes to transport live tube-grubs and other small, perishable items. It took him a minute to deactivate it and figure out how to slide back the lid. Something rattled inside as he did—the delicate clinking of glass tapping against glass. Three vials of a dark liquid rolled around inside a box big enough for at least ten. He picked one of them up, and the red color was immediately apparent. A chill came over him. He said it out loud, to prove to himself that it wasn’t a dream. Wasn’t a nightmare.
“Blood.”
Hawk sat on the bunk beside Linda’s bags. No, not Linda’s. These belonged to someone, something, else. Something that threatened the ship and everyone on it. Something that was, at that moment, in the observ
ation with the entire senior command staff.
He forced away the anger and grief. There would be time for that later. For now, he had to get a warning to the captain. He reached for his padd and swiftly entered a text message for Picard, emergency priority.
CHAPTER
6
“Lieutenant Addison,” said Picard from his seat at the head of the observation lounge table, “it appears that we will be needing your services immediately.”
She smiled slightly. “I’ll do my best, Captain. If I may make a few suggestions?”
“Of course.”
She looked around the table at the rest of the senior staff. “To avoid alerting any other Changelings that might be on board the ship and sending them to ground, I don’t recommend alerting the entire crew. Instead, the information should be spread down through the ranks, one person at a time, and only after careful screening to be sure the person being told is in fact not a Changeling. This will be difficult to do without creating suspicion, but I have some ideas. Senior officers should never travel alone. It should be possible to do this in a way that isn’t too conspicuous.”
Picard nodded. “Make it so, Lieutenant. We also need a way of dealing with the transfer crew in the holodeck. If one or more Changelings are in there, we need to identify and contain them without putting the others in danger, or allowing them to be used as hostages.”
“Captain,” said Data, “I have already modified the holodeck program to isolate the individual occupants within discrete force fields. I have done this in a way that will not be obvious from within the holodeck, at least until the program ends. This will happen in fifteen minutes and thirty-two-point-seven seconds, unless I take action to extend it.”
“No,” said Picard, “let it end, but keep them contained within the force fields. The Changeling or Changelings may be tricked into exposing themselves. Failing that, we will need to screen each of the officers in turn. Dr. Crusher, Counselor Troi, you will conduct the screenings. Lieutenant Addison will provide whatever security backup is required.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation™: Slings and Arrows Book 1: A Sea of Troubles Page 4