Part 9 (1/2)

”You're empathizing with Captain Reykov, then?” Picard surmised.

”At times,” she answered. ”His is the strongest personality. But, sir ... there are many others. Many others. Those sharp visions are clouded over by uncountable life forces around the phenomenon. Not in it, but existing in a halo all around it, as though drawn through s.p.a.ce wherever it goes.”

”Are they prisoners?”

As Picard shot those blunt words at her, Troi flinched. She settled back in her chair, almost as though to remove herself, and dropped all emotion from her Mediterranean features and those inkdrop Betazoid eyes. ”Are you asking me to theorize, sir?”

”I'm asking you to help me formulate a plan of action,” he said, ”or at least a plan of approach.”

”Yes,” she murmured. ”Rather than helping, I've put you in a difficult position this time.”

”It's not your fault, Deanna,” Crusher said.

”Not at all,” Picard echoed.

Troi searched her telepathic self for more from him, but the captain was not a man whose feelings gave up their s.h.i.+elds easily. She sensed his resistance of her probe, a resistance as refined as he himself was, and respectfully drew back within herself.

”If these life essences are prisoners, as you suggest, and we destroy the prison,” she continued, ”will we be committing murder?”

With that question, she cut to the core of Picard's problem. He studied her. She was graceful, thoughtful, exotic-yes, that was the word for her-and so concerned, yet as helpless as the rest of them.

”You do have an artistic curve to your clinical self, don't you, Counselor?” he observed softly. ”I realize your task is a strain. But mine is too. If our only chance of survival is to destroy those thousands or millions of minds you sense, what do I do? Save or sacrifice? Whose lives are forfeit?”

”That's the one flaw in the Prime Directive, Jean-Luc,” Crusher said. ”When interfering with another culture is the only way to save the lives you've been entrusted with-I don't know what I'd do either. Count heads and see who has more lives to save?”

The captain leaned back and ran his knuckle along his lower lip. ”From what the counselor says, that puts us in a rather noticeable minority.” He tapped the nearest intercom on the desktop and said, ”Picard to bridge. What's the status up there?”

”Unchanged on the thing, sir,” Yar reported. ”s.h.i.+p's condition is improving, but we're having to task many systems to reestablish power to the s.h.i.+elds. Everything's strained, including warp power.”

”Charming,” Picard responded. ”They're going to have to work faster.”

”Yes, sir, I'd like to see that myself.”

”Picard out. Counselor, do you have anything, anything more concrete to say?”

Troi sighed. ”I've been trying to isolate the impressions, to see if they're only memories of lifeforms or actual life essences, but so far I have no specifics to offer.”

”It's you I'm worried about,” Crusher told her.

Troi's mouth bowed. ”You're kind. But if I can't use my abilities to the good of the s.h.i.+p-”

”You know what I'm talking about,” the doctor interrupted. ”The inherent danger of telepathy. If other telepaths are more overbearing than you are, the force of their minds could damage you, Deanna. And I can't put a bandage on your mind.”

”I've tried to close my mind, but they batter through my barriers-”

”Are you telling me these things could present an actual danger to you?” Picard suddenly roared.

Startled, Troi clamped her mouth shut and stared at the whole prospect. She hadn't yet heard it put into words, and it didn't sound very good.

”This whole business worries me,” Crusher said. ”After what Wesley described to me, I'd have suggested a ma.s.s delusion if it hadn't come over the computer screen. That element adds a frightening scientific reality to all this. Oh ... Captain, Wesley asked that I apologize to you on his behalf.”

Picard puzzled this for a moment, then asked, ”Whatever for?”

Crusher blinked. ”I don't know. I thought you did.”

After a moment he shook his head. ”Don't recall anything particular, doctor.”

She shrugged, embarra.s.sed. ”I see. Then the apology is mine. Wesley's at that age where he thinks all adults are prejudiced against children.”

Picard c.o.c.ked his hand toward her and mused, ”Of course we are. They're children. They have to grow out of it. No one expects any more, or any less. When they're adults, they won't be children anymore. And there'll be new prejudices for them to ford.”

”You mean like those against superior officers?”

”Yes.” He chuckled, his mouth lengthening into a melancholy grin. The change in mood cleared his head, and he found the difficult situation a little easier to accept.

Troi turned to gaze out the viewport, waiting for the moment to end. And those against telepaths. To offer unclarity in place of another unclarity-to replace ignorance with ambiguity-is this my only service?

”If these beings are prisoners,” Picard mused, ”then they become my responsibility as well. I wonder if I have the right to decide on their behalf. We're going to have to increase our efforts to communicate with them somehow.”

Troi looked at him, her fears returning. ”But that requires power, sir. The ent.i.ty could focus on it and destroy us.”

Crusher spoke up. ”And there's something else.” The captain tried not to sound weary. ”Yes, doctor?”

She dropped her gaze to the desktop for a moment. When she looked up again, she met Jean-Luc Picard's eyes squarely. ”What do we do if they simply will not negotiate with us?” she asked. ”You know what they say about the road to h.e.l.l.”

”Curious that Counselor Troi would have been focused upon by an electromagnetic disturbance.”

”Keep your mind on your work,” Riker grumbled at the android's comment. Irritation skittered through him as his hand hovered an inch from the intercom, an inch from calling sickbay. There was Data, a few steps away. Still walking around after that attack. Just shook it off. And Deanna was in sickbay, fighting for control of her mind.

Data looked up from the readout screen. ”My mind is always on my work, Commander. You see, I have a multiphase memory core which allows me to-”

”I don't care,” Riker heard himself bite back. ”I'm really not interested.”

Data's brows poked up over his nose. ”Perhaps if I explained on a simpler level-”

His back cramping, Riker straightened and glared into Data's yellow eyes. ”Would you mind?”

”Not at all, sir,” the android responded amicably. ”The concept behind my special multiphase brain capacity is-”

”That's not what I meant!”

”Isn't it, sir? It is what you said.”

Geordi reached over and tugged on the android's sleeve. ”Don't push the issue, Data. Mr. Riker wants reports exclusively on the disturbance and its source.”

With a childish blink, Data said, ”Oh. No sweat.” He pivoted and bent once again over the screen. ”The phenomenon's physical makeup is confusing to the pa.s.sive sensors. There is little for the sensors to focus upon because the ent.i.ty is out of phase as often as in. Ent.i.ty or mechanism, I cannot define it.”