Part 11 (1/2)

”And yet,” Data said in the reasonable voice Wesley sometimes found maddening, ”the Boogeyman program had nothing in it that might cause such a malfunction.”

”You remember the entire program?” La Forge said.

”Of course. An android never forgets.”

”I've heard a lot about that Boogeyman program,” La Forge said. ”h.e.l.l, I'm the one who installed it in the holodeck. I'd like to take a look at it.”

”I can type it out in just a few minutes,” Data said. He sat down at an empty work station and began to type so fast his fingers were a blur.

”I'd like to try it again,” Wesley said.

”What? The Boogeymen? The training program?”

”Both,” said Wesley.

Even with his eyes covered, La Forge gave the impression he was squinting at Wesley. He said, ”You'd better let me take a look at the programs first, Wes. Data doesn't make mistakes, but sometimes even correct code can do funny things inside a stars.h.i.+p mainframe.”

Riker had listened to Picard's story with some amazement. Though he'd used the Starfleet training programs just as every other fleet officer had, Riker claimed that he always knew in his gut when he was inside a holodeck simulation and when he was experiencing something real. ”It must have been like a nightmare,” he said of Picard's experience. ”You never knew if you were really awake or just dreaming you were awake.”

Riker's comment struck Picard hard. He smiled. ”Of course, Number One. You are referring to the philosophical conundrum stated by Chuang-tzu.”

Riker looked uncomfortable, the way he always did when Picard sprang a history lesson on him. ”Vulcan?” Riker asked hopefully.

Picard shook his head. ”You must read your history, Number One. Chuang-tzu was not Vulcan but a philosopher of ancient Earth, fourth century B.C. China, to be exact. On awakening from a dream he wondered if he had been a man dreaming he was a b.u.t.terfly, or was now a b.u.t.terfly dreaming he was a man.”

”Ah,” said Riker.

”Ah, indeed.” Picard ordered Riker to carry on and left for the exobiology lab, grumbling to himself yet again that Starfleet Academy was perhaps a little light on the humanities.

He nodded to the security guard stationed outside the laboratory door and entered. Shubunkin and Baldwin were contemplating a model of the teardrop s.h.i.+p. Baldwin pointed a clear wand at the s.h.i.+p, and the top became transparent. He touched one of the miniature chairs with the wand and made it rise a few inches above the model.

”If we can believe these chairs,” Baldwin said, ”the members of the crew looked like us; they bent the way we do, anyway.”

”That confirms the sensor readings we recorded on our first contact. Ninety-eight percent human. But humans need instrumentality. There's no indication that they were telekinetic.”

Almost to himself, Picard said, ”And yet they attained warp speed without warp engines.”

”Yes, yes,” Shubunkin said irritably. ”Actually we have found instrumentation of a sort.” He took the wand from Baldwin and pointed to an artifact near the tail of the s.h.i.+p that looked like nothing so much as a small ba.s.s drum. ”As near as we can determine, this focuses some kind of energy.”

”What kind?”

Baldwin shook his head, but he was not disagreeing with Shubunkin. He looked whipped. ”Power output curves show a connection between the focusing mechanism and humanoid brain activity. Where that leads, who knows?”

The three of them stared at the teardrop. Evidently d'Ort'd technology was so different from anything in the Federation that none of the usual signposts were helpful. Picard said, ”Sensors indicated the humanoids were asleep while the s.h.i.+p was in flight. If, for the sake of argument, we a.s.sume that the humanoid brain activity has something to do with the s.h.i.+p moving at warp speeds, perhaps the sleeping does, too?”

Shubunkin glanced at Baldwin to see what effect Picard's question had had. Baldwin shrugged.

”We're still missing something,” Shubunkin said. ”Some essential part of the puzzle.”

”What about the natives of Tantamon Four?” Picard said.

”According to Baldwin's diaries,” Shubunkin said, ”the natives cannot be the builders.”

”Perhaps their ancestors?” Picard said.

”Degenerate descendants?” Shubunkin said. ”Impossible. Baldwin found no advanced artifacts except this single s.h.i.+p. Correct?”

”Correct,” Baldwin said, and made talking-mouth motions with one hand as he rolled his eyes.

Shubunkin pointedly ignored Baldwin's impolite gestures and said, ”Professor Baldwin's own observations support the fact that the natives advance by cooperating instead of by competing, the method used by the natives of Earth and so many other planets. I've found evidence of compet.i.tion on the s.h.i.+p.”

”Your evidence is based on a theory.”

”It is a law of exology!”

”It's a theory developed by a bunch of guys who've never been in the field!”

”Gentlemen, please,” Picard shouted to be heard over their argument.

Quietly, sarcastically, Shubunkin said, ”Professor Baldwin has a theory of his own.” It was a dare.

”It's in the s.h.i.+p's software,” Baldwin said, a little angrily, as if he'd suggested this before to no effect.

Shubunkin said, ”Can you understand the software? I can't. I'm no computer expert. And even if you claim to understand it, you can still be wrong. We need primary data.”

”Software is a tool. It has its own logic. I understand it well enough. I don't know why you get so defensive when I suggest that the humanoid d'Ort'd are the servants of the other, more alien species.”

”A servant, like their s.h.i.+p,” Shubunkin said sarcastically. ”What does that mean? I tell you we need a second opinion.”

”One of your would-be exologists?”

It was obvious to Picard that these two had for hours been daring each other to cross a line and that neither of them was going to budge. He said, ”Perhaps Mr. Data can be of help. Few beings know more about computers and their software than he.”

Baldwin said, ”Sounds good to me.”

Shubunkin shrugged and folded his arms.

Picard tapped his insignia and said, ”Mr. Data.”

”Here, Captain.”

”Would you please join me in the exobiology lab on deck five?”

”On my way, sir.”

Data arrived, the usual inquisitive expression on his face. Baldwin said, ”Maybe now we can get somewhere, eh, Data?”