Part 10 (1/2)
He bowed his head, conceding the fact. ”What do you want?”
”I want you to come with us to the sh.e.l.l. Our Starfleet engineers want to know why darkmatter collection has increased sixteen-fold. They want to know why this is happening.”
Zuka Juno snorted derisively. ”They want to inspect our programming.”
”Well it's high time somebody did, isn't it?” snapped Pazlar.
The two Elaysians-one young, one old; one wearing a Starfleet combadge and the other a violet crystal-stared stubbornly at each other. Finally Zuka Juno lifted his hands in resignation. ”Do we have to go in that vehicle?”
”I've turned off the artificial gravity, and it will be fast.” She moved back to allow the engineer to enter before her. Barclay floated toward the rear of the craft, almost banging his head on a fire extinguisher in the process. Melora situated the distinguished Elaysian near the front of the craft, then she hovered over the pilot's seat, checking the readouts.
”Hi!” said Reg with false cheer. ”I'm Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.”
The Elaysian regarded him with pale eyes. ”Still planning on shooting us?”
”No,” he answered sheepishly. ”We don't have any weapons.”
Pazlar quickly shut the hatch. ”I'm sorry I had to lie back there, but this is important.”
Zuka Juno sighed heavily. ”Everything is important these days. There are crises everywhere, and n.o.body knows what to do. We are losing our homeworld to this foul growth! I don't really think inspecting a few lines of code will do much good.”
”We're just looking for some answers,” replied Melora. ”We're not alone in this-the Enterprise crew can help us, if we only let them.” She fired thrusters and slowly pulled away from the yellow cl.u.s.ter.
Barclay tried to sound nonchalant as he asked, ”Um, when was the last time you were on the sh.e.l.l?”
”We were all there, the senior engineers, for a personnel review,” answered the Elaysian. ”Halfway through, the deformed crystal was reported for the first time. There were suddenly problems everywhere, and we postponed our meeting to calm the populace. Why do you ask?”
”Oh, it's nothing, really,” answered Reg quickly. ”I was just curious about when the programming of the sh.e.l.l was last changed.”
The old Elaysian shook his head. ”The programming has not been changed substantially since before I was born. We don't have any reason to change it.”
”What about now?”
”I'm going with you, aren't I?” muttered Zuka Juno, grasping the violet crystal which hung from his neck. ”I'd be very surprised if centuries-old programming caused all of this. It's the rift.”
Melora shot Reg a glance, which seemed to signal that he shouldn't press for more answers now. They had done their job. Now they had to be patient and follow protocols. Barclay found a seat and tightened his lap belt until his skinny frame fit as snugly as possible. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, hoping he could sleep but not expecting more than a fitful doze.
Deanna Troi reclined gratefully in her bed, glad to get a moment's rest after the heady events of the day. It wasn't often she got to take over the bridge in the middle of a crisis, then spend hours flying in a wonderland. But even the incredible sights of Gemworld were almost anticlimactic after their dealings with the Exalted Ones and the Jeptah. It all added up to sensory overload. This was one night when she wouldn't have to dream, thought Troi. Her imagination couldn't possibly match the reality all around them.
Tomorrow she would have to deal with the emotional overload of losing seven crewmembers. She could comfort grieving friends and spouses, but the ongoing tension on the s.h.i.+p was proving to be more difficult to deal with. Although they seemed safe inside this metal coc.o.o.n surrounded by jewels, everyone knew it could crumble apart in an instant. The rift was too unpredictable and Gemworld too fragile-the sh.e.l.l didn't seem to be enough, with its arrogant programmers and arcane protocols. Every member of the crew knew that the Enterprise couldn't escape, and n.o.body could rescue them.
Deanna shook off her troubled thoughts and picked up a padd to do a little reading. But she found that she barely had the energy to focus her eyes, and she let the padd drop to her bed. Music, she thought, would be more soothing.
To her surprise, it wasn't a nice concerto she or dered up, but a sound effect. ”Computer, put on a sound ... the ocean at the beach.”
The cry of a seagull greeted her ear, and waves lapped gently at an unseen sh.o.r.e. With a rhythmic lull, the waves washed up and down the sand, and Troi could feel herself floating in a cradle on the tide. Since she had actually been floating that day, her body aided the illusion, and her muscles went as limp as a Lipul floating in its crystal. Real perception and dream perception intermingled, and she felt herself floating away though a dozen different substances-water, gelatinous ma.s.s, the crystal, the air, the sh.e.l.l, and even s.p.a.ce.
She thought it was the Lipuls' dreams.h.i.+ps calling her, and she turned to look for them in the luminous starscape. But their ghostly, billowing sails were nowhere to be seen. Instead she felt the draw of a presence just outside the protective sh.e.l.l, something that was close but oddly far away. It terrified Deanna to think that she was alone-a fleet of one-but there was the attraction of the deep unknown, lying so close at hand.
If only I could see it as well as I can feel it. With her mind, she probed the emptiness of s.p.a.ce and found it wasn't empty. Inside the darkness was an even greater darkness, alive and roiling with attraction and energy. It didn't reveal itself, but it knew she was there, like a suitor waiting in the shadows for his beloved to sneak out of her house.
Suddenly her mind was flooded with incredible images of worlds and wonders that dwarfed the amazing things she had already seen. Fantastic creatures, planets, vistas, and anomalies danced and faded before her, and Troi felt as if she were plunging through the history of a thousand worlds. It was too much. She almost fled in terror to the realm of consciousness.
Before she could escape, the blackness enveloped her in soothing comfort, and the images stopped. She could feel the knowledge and wisdom of the ent.i.ty that enticed her. It seemed to say that she could cross the greatest barrier, and all the knowledge it possessed would be hers. She would be no mere humanoid anymore.
Troi had seen lights beckon to her before-on a runway or a stars.h.i.+p-but she had never seen a beacon of darkness before. But there it loomed-a black gash where stars had never existed, where nothing existed except for this mysterious welcome. Transfixed, she drifted toward the gaping maw, hoping she could cross and see the ident.i.ty of her suitor. It wanted her so badly, and it was willing to give so much to get her.
On the way to the ultimate barrier, some inner voice told her that she had to look. She had to really look. Deanna had been fooled before, and she knew too much about the nature of attraction to believe her feelings alone. When she peered into the blackness, she fully expected to see a kindly face full of wisdom. Her mind opened, and she used whatever nascent abilities she had to see beyond the veil.
The images came again-only now they were beastly and horrible. Elaysians screamed as skin peeled off their faces; writhing Lipuls were skewered on dark spires; whole planets crumbled into black dust; and stars were obliterated from the night sky. Land and water burned, and knowledge was eclipsed by cruelty and degradation. The friendly face she expected to see was nothing but a monstrous, gaping mouth-anxious to swallow everything!
An unrelenting feeling of fear washed over Deanna, like the waves was.h.i.+ng onto the sh.o.r.e. Her mind filled with the deaths, disease, and destruction she had witnessed in her eventful life. It was as if an unseen power were dredging up these memories, feeding on them, forcing her to look at the horrors already in her mind. This is you, was the message. We're alike!
”No!” shouted Troi, bolting upright in her bed. The darkness of her quarters seemed to engulf her, as if she couldn't escape from the black presence. A gash began to grow on the metallic bulkhead in front her; it lengthened and widened, and she saw swirls of blackness within. The swirls pulled her in like a whirlpool, drawing her out of her bed.
It's never going to leave my mind now that I've let it in! Troi turned to run, but the darkness and fear overwhelmed her, squeezing her mind and roaring in her ears until her senses shut down. Deanna Troi screamed back, and she just kept screaming as she smashed a row of picture frames with her clenched fists. She attacked the shelves and wall hangings, ripping and slas.h.i.+ng her dearest belongings.
It's all closing in... . Coming to get me!
Chapter Ten.
THE DOOR TO SICKBAY WHOOSHED open, and Captain Picard strode briskly into the receiving room, where he nearly ran into Commander Riker, who was pacing with his head down. The first officer gave him a stricken look, then he composed himself and straightened to attention.
”Deanna is still with the doctor,” he said, ”and they won't let me see her.”
”What happened?” grumbled the captain. He had been awakened from a deep sleep by the news that Commander Troi was in sickbay ... being held in restraints.
Riker heaved his broad shoulders in bewilderment. ”She was found wandering the corridor in her nightclothes, screaming.”
”Any idea what brought this on?” asked the captain.
”I haven't been able to talk to anyone,” answered Riker with frustration. ”They're all busy. When I last saw Deanna, she was headed to bed, like the doctor ordered.”
The captain strode over to a broad window which offered a view of a trauma center with several beds, all of them occupied. None were occupied by Deanna Troi, however. Beyond this open area, there were doorways leading to private examination rooms and operating rooms. He saw medical personnel moving among the patients, and he wanted to bang on the window to demand their attention. But the captain refrained, knowing that he wasn't the master of this place. One of the workers finally noticed him, and she pressed a comm panel on the bulkhead and spoke to someone.
From one of the examination rooms, Dr. Beverly Crusher emerged, brus.h.i.+ng back a strand of copper-colored hair. She looked harried and haggard, as if she hadn't followed her own advice to get some sleep. Perhaps Beverly had been woken from a peaceful slumber, too, thought Picard. When there was an emergency on the Enterprise, sleep was the first thing to suffer.
As she approached them, she managed the wisp of a smile. ”h.e.l.lo, Jean-Luc, Will.”
”How is she?” asked Riker with concern.
”Sedated. You can see her, but she's just sleeping.” Crusher grimaced in frustration. ”I tried to keep her awake-to ask her questions and find out what happened, but she wasn't responsive.”
”Did she say anything at all?” asked Picard.
”Quite a bit, but none of it made any sense.”