by Dayton Ward
The Bajoran nodded. “Aye, sir.” She tapped commands into her padd as she returned to her station, leaving Kalsha alone in the center of engineering.
He stared at the enticing target that was the warp core, listening as he did so to the flurry of activity taking place around him. With other duties occupying most of the other engineers, it was feasible for him to commit a single act of sabotage that would solve all of his problems. It would not be easy, of course. Circumventing the antimatter containment system’s multiple backup and protective safeguard processes would take time, but Kalsha was sure he could do it, and in such a manner that no one would be able to react in time to stop it.
While it was true that the Enterprise was needed for the next phase of the larger mission, there was a definite risk in attempting to make use of the ship and its vast resources without the knowledge of its crew, and it was well within Kalsha’s purview to destroy the vessel before that time if he felt it necessary.
Naturally, blowing up the ship would likely require him to sacrifice himself, as well, but that also was not a troubling proposition for him. While he was not reckless or prone to rash action, Kalsha had long ago accepted that he might die while on assignment. It was simply another aspect of his chosen profession to be acknowledged as eventual fact, rarely dwelled upon and never feared.
Murder this vessel’s entire crew? Along with any Dokaalan they might have rescued? No matter the possible gain, causing so many deaths was incomprehensible to Kalsha while other options remained to complete his assignment.
“Lieutenant Diix?” Ensign Veldon called out to him from across the room, returning his attention to the situation at hand. “Commander Riker is requesting a status report.”
Kalsha nodded. “Very well,” he said, returning to the persona of the Andorian engineer. “I will see to it.” As he moved to the master situation monitor to compose the report, he caught site of Data’s immobile form, still housed in his diagnostic alcove. He still needed to find a way to permanently incapacitate the android so that the plan could proceed forward, but there was nothing to be done about that for now.
Patience, he reminded himself. His chance would come soon enough. Of that he was certain.
Chapter Six
“THE KEUKA HAS JUST LANDED in the aft shuttlebay, Captain,” Riker said as Picard exited his ready room and stepped onto the bridge. “They managed to rescue three more, but all are in critical condition. Dr. Crusher promises a full report as soon as possible.”
Picard took the proffered padd from his first officer as he moved to his command chair, reviewing the status report it contained as he took his seat. He knew that the Keuka, along with two other shuttles, had been sent to one of the last areas of Mining Station Twelve where life signs had been detected. While hoping the report would contain better news, the captain already had resigned himself to the fact that the Enterprise’s rescue efforts were nearly done here, and that the results of their work were less than uplifting.
Studying the computer terminal next to his own chair, Riker said, “If Dr. Crusher pulls these last three through, we’ll have rescued a total of one hundred and four from the outpost.” Shaking his head, he added, “Most of those who survived the explosion were trapped in areas where life-support and environmental control were cut off. They never stood a chance.”
Listening to the commander’s report, Picard let his eyes linger on the scene of destruction playing out on the main viewscreen. With the Enterprise no longer tethered to it by tractor beams or emergency umbilical conduits, empty space had reclaimed its dominion over the large, rough-hewn asteroid and the devastated mining station it harbored. Home to more than eight hundred Dokaalan mere hours before, the mining outpost was now little more than a lifeless hulk.
Those who had perished in the initial explosion were the fortunate ones, the captain decided. Better to have died instantly than suffer the aftermath, huddling in the dark as the air and the heat were slowly, inexorably drained away from the remnants of the colony.
“One hundred four,” he said after a moment, his voice barely a whisper as he lightly tapped the back of the padd against his open palm. “Damn.”
“Considering the damage and the conditions the survivors faced,” Riker said, “we were fortunate to save that many. I suppose that’s something.”
“Is it?” Though he did not raise his voice, Picard knew his response was sharper than he intended even as the words left his mouth. Pausing a moment to collect himself, he said, “I’m sorry, Number One. That wasn’t an indictment of the crew’s efforts, or yours.”
Nodding, Riker replied, “I know, sir. If it helps, I’m feeling the same frustration.”
“My frustration,” the captain said, “is stemming from a growing concern that these incidents are not accidents. Once, perhaps, but twice? I think not.”
“Do you think we should inform Minister Hjatyn of our progress?” Riker asked.
Picard frowned as he considered the question, tugging on the lower edge of his uniform tunic as he did so. After a moment he said, “Not just yet. I want to give Lieutenant Vale and her team a chance to see what they can find over there.” Looking over to the junior security officer currently staffing the tactical station, he said, “Ensign Forst, let’s see what your boss has to say, shall we?”
“Aye, sir,” Forst said as he entered the proper commands to his console. “Channel open, Captain.”
“Vale here,” came the voice of the Enterprise’s security chief a moment later. Much to Picard’s irritation, the communications channel still harbored noticeable background static as the effects of the asteroid’s radiation field continued to vex the ship’s sensor arrays and subspace receivers. The lieutenant’s words managed to cut through the interference. “We’re still making our way through the colony’s main power center, sir. There’s really not much here to check, though.”
“I understand, Lieutenant,” Picard replied. “Have you been able to find anything at all?”
Vale replied, “Nothing yet, Captain. We’re still trying to get into the area of the outpost hit hardest by the explosion.” The security chief had led twenty of her people down to the outpost, investigating the interior of the ruined facility in the hope of finding any remaining stragglers who might still be alive as well as beginning her preliminary investigation into possible causes for the explosion. “Just one second, sir,” she said a moment later. “I’ll let you see for yourself.”
A moment later, the image on the main viewer shifted from that of the destroyed mining colony to what Picard barely recognized as a ruined corridor, the transmission originating from Vale’s helmet transceiver. The only source of illumination was a beam of light stabbing through the surrounding darkness, generated by the security chief’s exterior helmet lamp.
The beam bounced and bobbled as Vale moved forward, scanning back and forth to reveal debris littering the passageway. Watching the transmission, Picard gave silent thanks that the corridor seemed to be free of bodies. In the near darkness, he saw an opening in the bulkhead in front of the lieutenant. The large metal hatch that had once sealed the portal now hung by a single hinge, partially blocking entry into the next chamber.
“If our information is accurate,” Vale said, “this hatch leads to a service elevator that descends to the outpost’s fuel storage depot. According to our initial scans, the explosion likely originated there.”
“Be careful, Lieutenant,” Picard cautioned, out of habit as much as a genuine concern for the away team’s safety. The security chief was not prone to taking fool-hardy risks with herself or her people, but she was operating under less than ideal circumstances on this occasion. “We can’t yank you back if things go wrong.”
“Understood, sir,” Vale said as she stepped up to the hatch. “Careful is my middle name.”
“I don’t remember seeing that in her record,” Riker said, a small smile playing at his lips as he attempted to lighten the somber mood enshrouding the bridge.
Picard watched as two members of Vale’s away team, dressed as she was in environmental suits, moved into the range of her visual feed. One of the security officers grasped at the handle of the twisted, blown-out hatch and appeared to tug without budging the sizable metal door. The second crewman then joined in the effort but to no avail.
“It’s warped and jammed into the doorframe, Lieutenant,” one of them said.
“Stand back,” Vale said in reply. A few seconds later, an orange phaser beam struck the hatch, engulfing it in a bright aura of energy that momentarily overloaded the feed from her helmet transceiver. When the interference cleared, Picard could see that the mangled hatch was gone. “We’re proceeding down to the next level, Captain. I figure we’ll need at least an hour to get to the fuel depot and conduct a decent tricorder sweep.”
“Proceed at your discretion, Lieutenant,” Picard replied. “Keep us informed of your progress.”
“Aye, sir,” the security chief said. “Vale out.”
As the connection severed and the image of the mining outpost returned to the main viewer, Riker shook his head. “You think they’ll find anything?”
Shrugging, the captain replied, “I honestly don’t know what to think.” As he spoke the words, he realized he was hoping Vale would not find evidence that the explosion that had destroyed the mining outpost was the result of an intentional act. Given all that had already happened since the Enterprise’s arrival in the Dokaalan system, the prospect of having to search for one or more saboteurs was one that filled Picard’s heart with dread.
“Engineering to bridge.”
The urgency of the voice startled the captain for a brief moment. Looking up to activate the bridge’s intercom system, he called out, “Picard here. Go ahead.” As he did so, he looked to Riker, the knit of his brow conveying the obvious question.
The first officer was already consulting his own console and shaking his head. “No alerts or warnings.”
“This is Lieutenant Diix, sir,” the disembodied voice said. “Commander Riker left orders to report if there was any change in Commander Data’s condition.”
His eyes widening in surprise and even a brief glimmer of hope, Picard replied, “Has he reactivated himself?”
“Not exactly, sir,” the lieutenant said. “It appears that he is attempting to do so, however.” There was no mistaking the nervousness in the young officer’s voice. No doubt Diix’s anxiety existed on several levels, not the least of which was, in all likelihood, communicating directly to the ship’s captain. “It is possible that this is but the first step in a long process. I will continue to monitor the situation and contact you accordingly, sir.”
“No,” the captain countered. If Data was returning to any sort of useful functionality, Picard wanted to be there in the event the android was able to shed some light on what had happened to him. “We’re on our way there now.”
“Sir,” Diix said, “there is no way to tell how long this might take. If there is another change I can…”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Picard said, cutting off the engineer’s response, “but I prefer to see this for myself.”
The omnipresent hum of the warp core greeted Picard and Riker as they entered the engineering section. At first glance, the captain thought the massive chamber to be populated with but a skeleton crew. Only a few of the workstations–those that he recognized as overseeing the ship’s most critical systems—were attended, but even the engineers at those consoles seemed to be dividing their attention between their work and looking over their shoulders toward the rear of the room.
“Must be a party,” Riker said, unable to suppress a tired grin.
“Indeed,” Picard replied as he inspected the various display monitors and status panels with a practiced eye. From what he could see, all shipboard systems were operating normally, or as normally as could be expected given the hampering effects of the Dokaalan asteroid field.
Continuing on past the main engineering floor, Picard and Riker found the rest of the engineering staff gathered around the alcove still housing Data’s immobile form. One of the junior officers, Ensign Veldon, was the first to notice their arrival.
“Captain Picard,” she said as her companions immediately turned at his approach. She indicated Data with a nod. “There has been no change since our last report, sir.”
Stepping toward the diagnostic alcove as the engineers made a path for him and Riker, Picard realized he was looking at Data for the first time since his mysterious shutdown hours earlier. The multiple demands brought about by the rescue operation had dominated the captain’s attention since then, but that did not stop him from feeling a pang of guilt over not having gotten down here to see his friend before now.
Studying the android, who stood motionless in the alcove and with a length of optical cabling connecting a diagnostic monitor to a connector port normally concealed by the hair on the left side of his head, Picard was reminded that only in this state did Data actually appear to be anything other than a living being.
He had seen the android deactivated or incapacitated several times, most of them against Data’s own volition, and on each of those occasions the captain had found himself wondering if his friend might, upon reactivation, lose some part of himself, some intangible quality that went into making him the genuinely unique individual that he was. On an intellectual level, Picard knew that such worries were unnecessary. There could be no arguing the nature of Data’s artificial construction or of the vast storehouse of information that prevented him from forgetting any fact to which he was exposed.
Still, the captain had always believed there was more to Data than tripolymer alloys, positronic relays, and extensive software processes working in concert to merely mimic a humanoid life-form. He had never required proof to support that position, even when it was provided in the form of a historic legal precedent handed down by Starfleet’s Judge Advocate General more than a decade ago. That had only served to inform everyone else as to what Picard and the Enterprise crew had already known: Lieutenant Commander Data truly was more than the sum of his parts.
“Lieutenant Diix,” Riker said, indicating the Andorian who was still in charge of the engineering section until Geordi La Forge returned. “What have you got?”
Moving closer to Picard and the first officer, Diix replied, “Commander Data reactivated himself almost five minutes ago, sir. He was functional for only a few moments before going inert again, but the cycle has repeated itself four times since I contacted you.”
“Has he said anything yet?” Picard asked.
Diix shook his head. “He has spoken, sir, but nothing intelligible. Much of it sounded as though he was talking at a greatly accelerated rate. From what I have learned by reviewing Commander La Forge’s maintenance logs, my best guess is that Mr. Data is running a series of startup diagnostics before bringing himself fully back online.”
“Have you found anything to explain what happened to him?” Riker asked.
“Not yet, sir,” the Andorian said. “We do know that the positronic pathways which form his neural net have suffered a massive cascading failure. According to his own diagnostics, he has spent a large portion of the past several hours reconstructing those pathways and isolating those that are not immediately reparable. A complete reconstruction of his neural net will be necessary at some point, but it is our assessment that such action should wait until Commander La Forge’s return, sir. Mr. Data con-curs, but he is continuing to do what he can in order to return to some form of functionality as quickly as possible.”
“Some form of functionality?” Picard echoed. “Are you saying that his performance will be compromised?” The words were difficult to force out of his mouth, he realized, as he began to imagine the true extent of Data’s “injury.” It seemed that the damage the android had suffered was even worse than that inflicted upon him during the Enterprise’s first encounter with the demon ship. The problems Data had encountered then seemed to pale in co
mparison to what Data was dealing with now.
Nodding, Diix replied, “Almost certainly, sir. Based on our own diagnostic scans, he will be unable to move under his own power, with command of his motor skills significantly degraded. He will still be able to communicate, but he will have to remain here until repairs are completed.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” another engineer, Ensign Leisner, said. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. A lot of it is simply us waiting for Commander La Forge and Lieutenant Taurik to get back. They’re the ones who do most of Data’s maintenance work, and I’d be lying if I said the rest of us weren’t a little nervous. We don’t want to hurt him.” As if realizing that his comment did not sound right, the ensign immediately appended, “Well, not hurt…sir, you know what I mean.”
Picard considered the younger man’s words, appreciating his honesty. He was fully aware that Commander La Forge was very protective when it came to the responsibility of looking after his friend, but that did nothing for him now. With the chief engineer off the ship, Data was essentially on his own to repair himself, and by his own admission those efforts would not be enough.
Another thing about Leisner the captain had noted was that the ensign seemed almost surprised by Diix’s pronouncement of Data’s condition. Was there some sort of disagreement over the android’s diagnosis among the engineering staff? Picard supposed that too might be caused by their anxiety over figuring out how best to work this particular problem.
Before he could make mention of his observations, Picard’s attention was drawn to sounds coming from behind Diix and Leisner. “What is that?” he asked as everyone turned toward the diagnostic alcove in time to see that Data had opened his eyes and was staring at them intently.
“Data?” Riker asked, moving closer. The android’s head turned in response to the first officer and he blinked rapidly for several seconds. His left cheek twitched and Picard saw the corners of his mouth moving as if trying to form words.