Part 9 (2/2)
”I believe it is, sir. In the world of computer simulations, a microsecond is a significant period of time. The Boogeymen who abducted Wesley from the Howe greenhouse also moved slowly. As do these Boogeymen here. I might also point out that when you called for an exit while holo-people were present, the exit was noticeably late.”
”All of which means what?”
”In each case, I believe the slowdown occurred because more people were generated by the holodeck computer than it could easily handle in its present weakened and polluted condition.”
Picard sat up a little straighter. Perhaps there was hope yet for Wesley, for all of them. ”We have never seen more than three Boogeymen at a time. And when they were with other holo-people-”
”Such as ninjas or the Howes-”
”They moved more slowly than expected. Just as the exits appeared more slowly than expected when other simulated people were present. What about them?” Picard indicated the three Boogeymen on the bridge.
Data said, ”I hypothesize that they are moving slowly because the computer has fabricated other Boogeymen who are presently with Wesley.”
”Of course. Delightful. Delightful. Well done, Mr. Data. I believe you have found their Achilles' heel.” Picard rubbed his chin for a moment and said, ”And I believe I have thought of a way to p.r.i.c.k it.”
Chapter Seven.
DR. CRUSHER SAT at her desk in sickbay turning her medical tricorder on and off. When she turned it on, the tricorder made an audible twinkle and the red power light glowed. When she turned it off, the power light went out. She watched it as if it were blinking a coded message. On. Off. On. Off.
Counselor Troi came into sickbay and sat down across from her without being asked. Troi allowed Crusher to ignore her for a while and then said, ”I could feel your concern two decks from here.”
”Sorry,” said Dr. Crusher. She made a self-deprecating smile and turned off the tricorder again. She laid it aside with a certain finality and pressed her hands down flat on the desk. ”I'm really fine,” Dr. Crusher said.
”You're not fine and that's all right. Your son is missing in the depths of the holodeck and you're worried. Nothing could be more natural.”
”He's with Data and the captain. He'll be fine. I'm fine.”
Troi smiled and said, ”An Earth sage once said that a doctor who treats herself has a fool for a patient.”
”Booga-booga,” said Crusher without humor. ”How long before Geordi cuts through the door?”
”Maybe another hour. As he continues to remind us, 'tritanium alloy is not exactly tissue paper.' ”
”A tissue-paper stars.h.i.+p wouldn't be of much use to anybody.”
Troi looked at the ceiling as if a tissue-paper stars.h.i.+p were hanging there. ”No, it wouldn't,” she said. ”Not much use. It would just be pretty.”
They sat in silence for a while. Dr. Crusher's hands strayed toward the medical tricorder but didn't touch it. Troi stood up and said, ”Care to join me in Ten Forward?”
Dr. Crusher frowned.
Troi smiled and said, ”The s.h.i.+p is full of companels. And besides, Commander Riker can reach you by way of your insignia. Or my insignia. The s.h.i.+p is full of insignia too.”
”It's office hours.”
”Give yourself the same break you would prescribe to anyone else. Anybody who needs you will be able to find you.”
Dr. Crusher drummed her fingers for a moment. Troi watched her, an inquisitive half smile on her face. ”Right,” Dr, Crusher said. She put the tricorder away and squeezed Troi's hand as they went out.
Evidently the computer had not been able to guess what Picard and Data had in mind because they arrived safely at the recreation deck. As they strode onto the large open floor, Picard said, ”You might have told me before about this slowdown.”
”It's only a theory, sir. Attempting to contact Wesley by companel or insignia seemed to offer more hope of success.”
”Taking advantage of that slowdown is our only hope now,” Picard said as he glanced around. He imagined that the large open s.p.a.ce was filled with ghosts, all watching him, waiting for him and Data to try one more solution and fail.
The rec deck was the largest open area on the s.h.i.+p. With the help of the main computer, sections of the floor could be laid out for basketball, horseshoes, shuffleboard, one-thumb, almost any sport enjoyed by any species in the Federation. Even on a s.h.i.+p where a holodeck was available, it was sometimes important for beings to know they were playing against other beings and not against a computer simulation. Sometimes make-believe was not good enough.
At the moment, the important thing about the rec deck was that a large proportion of the Enterprise's crew could meet there at one time. Such a s.p.a.ce was necessary not only for sports but because live performances of music and drama had never quite gone out of style, despite dire warnings to the contrary ever since the invention of the moving picture in the late nineteenth century, old calendar.
Though Picard understood the need for a place like the rec deck, all that open s.p.a.ce seemed a little unnatural on a stars.h.i.+p. He touched a companel, got the twinkle, and said, ”This is, er, Mr. Picard. Captain Crusher orders the presence of all personnel on the recreation deck. Secure your positions and come immediately.”
A moment later the computer said, ”Mr. Picard is not in the chain of command and therefore cannot give such an order.”
”Why-” Picard began angrily, then realized that huffing and puffing at the companel would do him no good. He took a few deep breaths and said, ”Mr. Data, perhaps you can do better.”
”Yes, sir.” Data touched the companel.
”Identify Lieutenant Commander Data,” the computer said.
Data repeated Picard's order word for word.
The computer said, ”Requesting the presence of all on-duty personnel is against regulations.”
To Picard, Data said, ”At any one time at least a third of the crew is off duty. I think that will be enough for our purposes.”
”Very well.”
”Computer,” Data said. ”Working.”
”Captain Crusher orders the presence of all off-duty personnel on the recreation deck. Immediately.”
A moment later they heard the computer's voice echoing throughout the s.h.i.+p. It came from every companel, from the insignia of every off-duty crew member. Picard admired the computer's attempt to continue the illusion that this was the real Enterprise. The computer could, of course, have just made them come. Or even just made them suddenly appear. Or maybe it couldn't, Picard thought. After all, wasn't finding out things like that a point of this exercise?
Crew members arrived singly and in twos, threes, and larger groups. Though Vulcans had been serving with humans on stars.h.i.+ps for many years and members of other races had followed, Starfleet had found through hard experience that the crews of stars.h.i.+ps were generally happier if all the members came from the same race. This wasn't a value judgment-Starfleet never tried to decide if one race was better than another, but it was certain that they were all different.
Though it carried a primarily human crew, the Enterprise had a tradition of leavening the mix with nonhumans. Worf was a Klingon, of course-unthinkable on a Federation vessel till just recently-and Troi was half Betazoid. But there were a few Vulcans on the Enterprise too, most of them in the science sections. Also some Benzites with their smoking gas feeders around their necks.
That seemed like a lot of nonhumans when Picard saw them all together, but they actually accounted for much less than one percent of the crew.
Picard and Data stood to one side, watching them arrive. The first few crew members seemed to move normally, though Data said he could detect a slowdown. After the first ten or so entered the rec deck, Picard leaned over to Data and said, ”Yes, I see.” Even with his merely human senses, he could not help noticing that the gathering crew members were moving as if they were underwater. As more of them arrived, the ones already there slowed even more. They stood around like cadets at their first Academy dance.
”Becoming very creaky, aren't they? Almost painful to watch.”
”They are not real,” Data said.
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