Star Trek - TNG - Vendetta
Page 24
"Yeah." She paused. "Let's hope
Picard doesn't have to deal with the alternative.
Bridge out."
She returned to her command chair and stared out at
the stars hanging in front of them. She felt
woefully insignificant.
"Be careful, Picard," she said.
"Captain," Worf began, and then paused,
rechecking the sensors on his tactical board as
if he couldn't quite believe it. "I believe
we've found the planet-killer."
"Confirmed," said Data. "It is
progressing along the same heading as before, moving
at warp three."
"A relatively leisurely pace,"
Picard observed. "Increase speed to warp six,
and let us hope she doesn't decide to make a
race of it."
The Enterprise shot forward, and within moments the
last artifact of a long-gone race was looming on
their screen.
There was a deathly silence in the bridge as they
took in the scope of it. Then, his voice barely
rising above the hush, Picard said, "Sensor
readings?"
"Neutronium hull makes readings of the
internal workings difficult to ascertain," said
Worf. "Emissions would indicate a form of
conversion engine, somewhat unlike any known to our
technology."
"I am also detecting fluctuation rates in
their warp drive field that are at variance with the
standard vibrations that our own technology
provides," said Data. "In fact, it would
seem closer to the vibrations given off by the
propulsion of a Borg ship."
"You're saying that the Borg derived their
propulsion technology from the race that built that
... thing?" asked Picard, pointing at the
screen.
"I'm stating only that there is a
similarity," Data said. "The Borg are known
to assimilate the usable material and technology
of whatever they conquer. It is possible that if they
discovered Warp technology that was superior to their
own, they would quite naturally incorporate it into their
own structure."
"But the Borg don't consume planets,"
pointed out Riker. "Planetary mass is what
fuels our friend out there."
"True, considering the speeds we've seen the
Borg travel, they clearly have some sort of
nearly unlimited power base."
Troi was staring at the planet-destroyer with
amazement and shaking her head. "Incredible," she
whispered.
Picard and Riker turned towards her.
"Counselor--?"
"It's ..." She was clearly overwhelmed,
trying to find the words. "What I'm picking up from
that vessel, Captain, it's ..."
"Is it alive?"
"Captain," and she looked at him with eyes that
had a hopeless look to them, "it's powered
by emotion."
"I must disagree," said Data. "It is
clear that the consumption of planets ..."
"I'm not talking about the physical fuel,"
she said. "The device has ... has an
emotional drive to it. I've never encountered
anything like it."
"Is it like the Tin Man?"
"No. No, Tin Man was alive. Tin
Man was a biological entity that needed a
heart. That thing out there, that is a mechanical
construct. But it's constructed with a technology that
gives it some sort of an empathic link with
..."
"With what?" Picard was starting to feel
frustrated. It was like pulling teeth.
She shook her head. "I don't know. There's
so much, so many voices. I can't begin
to describe it. But I definitely had a sense
of it. It called out to me, Captain, in my
sleep. I remember the vague outlines, if not
the details. And that is most definitely what
presented itself."
"Enough speculation," said Picard.
"Frequencies."
"Open," said Worf.
"Attention alien vessel," he said.
"This is Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation
starship Enterprise. Identify yourself."
There was no immediate response, and then Data
said, "The vessel is slowing, Captain. Warp
two ... warp one ... dropping out of warp
space."
"Bring us alongside," said Picard, slowly
rising from his chair. He couldn't remove his eyes
from the image on the screen. It was a floating
engine of destruction, bristling with more power and speed
than anything he'd ever seen or even
contemplated. The intellect and technology that
had been able to build such a thing was truly
remarkable.
Suddenly the lights began to flicker, and all
over, the bridge panels started activating. The
crew looked around in confusion as Worf said,
"Captain, we are being scanned."
"Shields up," said Picard.
"Our shields are not stopping the probe,
Captain," Data reported after a moment. "It
appears to be doing no harm to our systems."
"Don't do anything," said Picard. "Let
them probe us," as if we have a choice, his
mind added darkly. "Let them know that we have nothing
to hide."
And then Troi cried out.
In the Ten-Forward lounge, Guinan was staring out
the viewing port at the massive vessel that
hung stopped in space before them.
"Incredible," she whispered. "Oh, sister ...
what have you done?"
And then she felt it, felt the minds reaching out.
She staggered back, banging into a table and using it
to steady herself. She ignored the sharp pain in her
leg that had been created by the impact, turned, and
ran for the door of Ten-Forward.
Riker was immediately at Troi's side as she
started to slide out of her chair, her eyes rolling
up into the back of her head. "Deanna!" shouted
Riker.
Picard immediately called out, "Bridge
to sickbay! Doctor Crusher, Counselor
Troi is having some sort of seizure!"
"No."
It was Deanna who had spoken. Just like that, the
convulsions, the screaming, all of the consternation was
gone. Instead, she was smiling with infinite
calm, her dark eyes glittering. She looked
at Picard with an emotion bordering on joy.
"So ... it is you."
"What?" Picard looked at Riker in
confusion, and the first officer didn't seem to understand the
situation any more than Picard did. "Yes,
it's me, Counselor. Deanna, what's
wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong."
From sickbay, Beverly Crusher's worried
voice called out over the still-open channel,
"What's happening up there? Should I come up
there--"
"Oh, no," said Deanna, pulling herself to her
feet. "Everything will be just fine."
"Stand by, Doctor," said Picard.
"You're just keeping the poor woman on alert
for no reason," said Deanna.
And that's when Riker noticed i
t. "Your
voice. Your accent is different. Deanna,
what's happened?"
"That voice," said Picard in disbelief.
"Yes, I know that voice, that's ..."
She turned towards Picard. "Do you understand
now, Picard? It was important to me that you be the
first to know."
Picard staggered back, holding onto the arm of
his command chair as if deriving strength from it. For just
a moment his mouth moved and he looked utterly
helpless, confronted by someone before whom he felt
vulnerable. But it was for the briefest of moments, so
brief that his crew didn't even notice, for
all their attention was on Troi. Or whatever
Troi had become.
She was standing with her shoulders squared back, her
chin upturned. There was a faint expression of
bemusement on her face.
"Oh, don't worry, Picard," she said.
"I shan't stay long. But after all you have done for
me, after the simple clarity of your thought served
to point the way, I merely wished to thank you."
And she drew Picard's face to hers and
kissed him.
For just a second he almost responded, and then
he took her firmly by the shoulders and held her
at arm's length. "You are doing this without the
permission of my counselor. You cannot usurp her
body. Whoever you are ..."
"You know who I am," she said with raised
eyebrows. "But as you wish, Picard.
It is probably better this way. The mind of this
one is not especially powerful. If I were a part
of her overlong, I could destroy it. That will serve
no purpose. So I release her to you."
As if a string had been cut, Deanna
suddenly started to slump forward. Picard caught
her with one arm and looked around, as if searching the
air for the whereabouts of the being that had come and gone so
quickly. Troi looked around in confusion.
The turbolift slid open, and Guinan
stepped out onto the bridge. Somehow, considering the
events of the past few minutes, the unusualness of
her appearance on the bridge seemed to fit right
in.
She stood by the turbolift, her hands resting
lightly on the curved railing that separated the
aft stations from the command area. She spoke one word,
in a voice far more severe than any they had ever
heard. And the word was a name "Delcara."
The air in front of the viewscreen seemed
to shimmer for just a moment, and then she appeared.
Not immediately--slowly, like a Cheshire cat in
reverse. First her face was hanging there, only the
faintest of outlines visible. Then her body
began to waver into existence. At first she seemed
nude, but then undulating folds of cloth
materialized around her. Her hair billowed in
all directions, looking for all the world like a vast
starfield.
She was just as Picard had remembered her.
Within seconds she stood before them, a flickering
vision. Everyone on the bridge was affected,
held breathless and motionless by the wonder of the
female before them.
Almost everyone.
"Security alert," called Worf.
"Intruder on the bridge!"
"No, it's all right," said Picard.
"Captain, there's a--"
"No," said Picard slowly. Despite all
the emotions running through him, despite the fact that
deep within him was a confused Starfleet cadet who
had been confronted years ago by a woman beyond
imagining, there was no room here for indulgences.
He could not allow himself to be distracted by his own
turmoil or the stark beauty of the woman from his
past. He forced his mind to act in its familiar
patterns. Taking a deep breath, he said,
"No, there's not. There's no shadow."
They looked and saw that he was
correct. The being in front of them cast no
shadow at all.
"She's a hologram," said Riker, understanding.
Slowly Guinan approached her, her eyes
never wavering. Delcara smiled ethereally.
"Guinan," she said. "You look well."
"And you too," said Guinan carefully. "What
are you doing here?"
"Conversing with your captain. He wished to speak
with me, and I have obliged him. I owe him that
much."
"I wish to talk with you privately," said
Picard. "You, myself, and Guinan."
"Captain, I would not advise that," Worf
spoke up, and Riker added, "Nor I."
But Picard fired a look at them that spoke
volumes and said, "That is my decision, Number
One."
In truth, he wasn't sure why he was making
it. Perhaps because she represented an incarnation of
something that was, quite simply, too personal for him
to expose to his officers. Or perhaps it was something
else. Perhaps ...
Perhaps he didn't want to share her.
He glanced at Troi, who had managed
to regain her equilibrium and who--in very broad
strokes--had been filled in by Riker as to what
had happened to her. Troi looked at him with
eyes that were filled with understanding. Somehow he
considered that very important to him.
"Yes, sir," was all Riker said. Worf
said nothing, but merely glowered, the way he did
habitually when someone did other than what Worf
suggested.
He gestured. "My ready room is this
way."
She nodded and walked towards it in a manner that
seemed more gliding than anything else. Picard was
momentarily startled when the door did not slide
open for her, and it looked as if she would bump right
into it. Then, of course, he understood, as
Delcara passed through it like a ghost.
He turned to Guinan and said, "This should prove
to be very, very ... interesting."
"Not the word I would have chosen, but it'll do," she
said.
Chapter Fourteen
The doors of the ready room slid shut behind them
and Picard turned to face the woman from his past.
"All right," he said, "How? How did you do it?
And why?"
"To what are you referring?" asked Delcara.
"All of it. The Academy. This ship. All
of it."
She looked from Picard to Guinan and back, and
then walked through Picard's desk to stand on the other
side.
"All right," she said softly. "Guinan has
told you much, I'm sure. Here is the rest of the
telling, then.
"I was drawn to you," she said, "in a way that
I cannot describe to you. I felt ... a sense
of you. A sense that you were out there, in the galaxy for
me." She smiled that wonderful smile.
"Humans believe that throughout the galaxy, there is
always someone for everyone. That no one need really be
alone, and it is just a matter of finding the right
person. For some of us that cosmic balancing is more
than jus
t a theory. It is a palpable thing that
shapes and directs our lives."
He shook his head. "I don't know what
you're talking about."
"I do," said Guinan. "My people have a general
--sense, if you will--of the space-time continuum.
An operational instinct, more than anything else.
It's an acquired trait, a training of the mind,
really. The galaxy is always whispering. We just
learned to listen better than others. It's a
technique that Delcara was taught ... that anyone
can learn, really, when they're ready. You're
over-romanticizing it somewhat, bond sister."
She turned away from him to gaze out his window,
at the ship that contained her physical body. If
she had heard Guinan's words at all, she
gave no sign. "There is something about me," she
says. "Somehow, I am linked with the soulless
ones."
"The Borg," said Picard.
She shrugged. "If that is what they are calling
themselves now. I sense they have had many names in their
time. And somehow I am drawn to those who are
destined to suffer at the hands of the Borg. It took
me much of my lifetime to realize that. Wherever I
go ... they follow."
"Delcara, that's ridiculous,"
Guinan spoke up for the first time. She walked
around the desk to face the hologram. "You act as
if you yourself are to blame for what happened."
Delcara did not even look at her.
"Everything I touch, dies," she said. It was not
said in self-pity, but as if stating obvious
fact. Her hand reached out and skimmed the top of the
desk, passing through. "Now I am safe. Now the
galaxy is safe from the Borg, and when I am
through, the Borg will be no more."
"You say you were drawn to me," said Picard.
"Even if I were to accept that ... what happened
that day? That night? Why could no one else see
you? I thought I was losing my mind ... Was that a
hologram?"
"No. I possessed no holograph
technology back then. No one else saw me
because I wished it so. Guinan has told you of my
power. Of my command of the mind. I am perfectly
capable of instructing the mind to pay no attention
to that which it perceives. You saw me, however, because," and
again she smiled that luminous smile, the edges of
her eyes crinkling ever so slightly, "because to deceive
the mind in such a way is, in a manner of
speaking, to lie. I had no desire to lie to you."
"And that night?"
"Let us say that I appealed to the aspects of