Part 18 (1/2)
Absence maintained the treasure Of pleasure unto pleasure, Sparing with praise; Absence doth nurse the fire, Which starves and feeds desire With sweet delays.
He'd heard it read once before. Once. And hadn't thought of it since. Listened to and forgotten; his brain caught up with the girl and her voice and not the poem, yet now he remembered and reexperienced every word, every syllable, every nuance. The meanings of the words together, their meanings separately, even the music of the letters. The whole poem. Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke-Caelica, wasn't it? When had he picked up so much literary awareness? Certainly he had paid little attention in that cla.s.s he signed up for, especially since he only signed up for it so he could walk Laura there every other day. Ah, young men. Young women.
This experience was enthralling too, this complete freedom of his mind to explore and remember and examine the things he'd seen in his life. Old experiences that he thought had faded came charging back in full light. Once again, and one at a time, he became intimate with his own memories, all the pasts a man his age could accrue. It wasn't a bad-looking past at all, really, dismissing a few knocks, stumbles, and burned fingers along the way.
After the past was enjoyed, something in it reminded him of quantum physics and away he went on that fast s.h.i.+p through all the science and math he'd ever been taught or figured out or even watched being figured by someone else. It all seemed so simple now! Equation after theory after hypothesis after experiment-stunning and dazzling, all the compartments his mind had closed and kept treasured all these years. Dead relatives, missing comrades, absent friends, friends who also died, one after another they came to visit him in his silent place here and he reexperienced them, from pleasure to pain, and he felt himself cry. Or thought he did ... Where were his eyes? Where were his tears? Why couldn't he feel the tears on his cheeks?
How long have I been here? In fact, where am I?
Oh, yes. The s.h.i.+p. I should have Riker try this. It's exhilarating, seductive ... having no distractions, no clock to answer to, nothing to concern my mind other than its own thoughts, not even an itch to rupture my attention. Though it would be rea.s.suring if I could just wiggle my toes ...
How will I know if the s.h.i.+p needs me? We could be blasted out of s.p.a.ce and I'd never know. No ... Riker would have me brought out if I was needed. What is this strange irrationality?
Were those birds? He'd heard that kind of birdsong once before ... Canis IV? Yes, of course. The fluffy birds with the silly faces. They made a pretty song. Perhaps he'd just hang here and listen for a while.
Something about Canis IV-a long time ago.
No. No, I don't want to remember that. No ...
Riker paced the bridge, eyeing the deceptive emptiness of s.p.a.ce on the huge viewscreen. The bridge was reduced to nightclub dimness. The walls and carpet, usually the color of sand and camels, were dark now and Riker felt like he was walking around inside a cup of espresso. The s.h.i.+ny black computer panels and liquid crystal schematics of the s.h.i.+p's operating systems were reduced from their usual foam greens and blues to muddy and muted patterns. With the lights down and the displays subdued, the broad viewscreen jumped to shocking prominence. Suddenly they were players on a proscenium and everything they did was crucial. The level of their voices, the sheen of sweat on their skin, the sequence of their movements. Everything was magnified. And before them, s.p.a.ce was their audience.
As empty as s.p.a.ce was, and as cold as it was, it never quite looked that way. There were always stars to twinkle their pastel lights and broad nebulas to s.h.i.+mmer in the distance, but it was hard for the human mind to accept the wholeness of that distance, so everything looked much fuller than it was. He often liked to watch s.p.a.ce go by, but today it gave him no comfort. Today there was a rat behind the woodwork. Still out there. Hiding behind all that nothing. Riker knotted his fists and dared it to come out.
”Lieutenant Worf, anything further from life sciences or engineering on that thing?”
Worf's huge frame straightened from Science Station 2. ”We're trying to lock down the individual components of its exostructure now, sir, using the postulation of interdimensionality as a guide. Don't worry, sir. We'll figure it out if I have to slice off a piece of it and beat it to death for an autopsy.”
Riker nodded, but he couldn't manage the smile that would've shown his real grat.i.tude. Nearly fourteen hours now, hanging here in silence and dimness. He'd never been much of a wait-around type, and this kind of tension was mutilating. How often had they told him at the Academy that battle was nine-tenths waiting? Waiting, planning, a.n.a.lyzing, waiting. Deadly. Sometimes deadlier than the battle itself. It made for recklessness.
He wished the captain was here. This business of isolation, sensory deprivation, sounded risky. Never mind time-consuming when time was one thing they might not have. Then again, I'm the one pacing around with nothing to do. The captain's probably getting something accomplished while I wear a rut in the rug.
He found he'd worked his way up to Worf's station. Riker leaned over the muted display, keeping his voice low. ”No clues about some way to fight that thing off, Worf?”
”As a matter of fact, sir,” Worf's deep voice returned clearly, ”we've brought it down to a question of its tolerance level.”
”Tolerance?”
”Yes, sir. How much energy it can take in at a given time. We think that's why it backed off us before.” Worf's big brown fingers poked in a few commands, and the faint jade image of the Enterprise was enhanced. Specific areas on the display then quietly flashed. ”These were the areas most affected by the drain. We're trying to narrow down its power consumption at the moment it backed off. If we can calculate the amount of energy drained from the s.h.i.+p up to the point when the ent.i.ty backed off, we may be able to calculate its breaking point.”
Riker straightened. ”Boy, that sounds shaky. You're proposing we overfeed it to overload it”
”That's the conclusion so far, sir. We're keeping our minds open for alternatives, but it likes the taste of energy and the phasers-”
”I know. All right, keep going. I'd like a couple of choices to present to the captain when he comes out of his experiment, and exhausting all the s.h.i.+p's power trying to stuff that thing till it pops isn't my favorite. That leaves us with no second chance.”
”Understood, sir.” Worf made no ceremony about turning his fierce countenance back to his console once again, his dogged perseverance taking over completely. Riker watched him for a moment, taking refuge in the fact that Worf was ignoring him. He wished all his crew could be so unaffected by the presence of an officer at his shoulder. Even Data wasn't this imperturbable. Not with me, anyway. But I guess I make him nervous.
All at once he turned. ”Where is Data? Still down in AR?”
Worf looked puzzled as he said, ”Now that you mention it, sir, we haven't heard from either him or LaForge since they cleared us to refill the mains. They were monitoring from the source.”
”Doesn't take this long. Get them back up here.”
”Right away, sir.”
”Worf, how do you feel about all this? What are your instincts telling you?”
”My instincts, sir?” The big man came to his full height and frowned in thought. ”The captain never asks me about tactics, sir.”
”Well, I'm asking.”
”Klingons are warriors, sir. Our goal is to die in battle. Some Klingons have even made wars and feuds begin so they and their clans could go out and die right. But this thing,” he said contemptuously, casting a glare at the wide viewscreen and its glitter, ”this thing is a coward and a bully. There is no honor in fighting it.”
”You wouldn't feel obliged to fight it if you could find a way to escape it?”
”No more than I would feel obliged to fight a thunderstorm, sir.”
”I see,” Riker murmured. ”Thank you.”
”My pleasure, sir.”
His pleasure sounded like a threat. What a voice. Glad it's on our side, Riker thought as he strode away, trying to think like a Klingon. Coward and a bully. Yes, that was true. A big stupid phenomenon with more power than it knew how to handle and a propensity for stealing more. It probably thought preserving the life essences of its victims was the decent thing to do. If it thought at all, which it probably didn't. Or did it? Data had been in contact with something, and evidently not the same something Deanna was sensing. Maybe there was more intelligence at work than was apparent-It didn't matter. Getting away mattered. Not falling into the trap mattered. Riker remembered too clearly the anguish in Arkady Reykov's eyes when the two had ”met” in the corridor. Met-if only they could. Envy pierced him suddenly and he wished he could crawl into Deanna's mind and have a conversation with Reykov and Va.s.ska. What would it be like? To contact men of that age? Such a fascinating part of history, that brink of the great plunge into the s.p.a.ce age-what a time it must have been. They could build s.h.i.+ps like that and float them on top of the water and put five thousand people inside. Wouldn't it be interesting to speak to Timofei Va.s.ska and compare first-officer notes? What did Va.s.ska have to know? Things about the sea and atmosphere that probably seldom occurred to captains and officers these days. And all the political tumults of a civilization like Earth's-what an experience it would be to understand the thoughts of such people as they must have been. They'd have to be decisive and quick. Their opinions were probably right up front all the time, no disguises, no shady diplomacy. And here they were, within reach. Asking for help, in fact, according to Deanna. Part of the brotherhood of big s.h.i.+ps.
All at once, guilt entered his thoughts. How sure could he be of his own convictions? What had Reykov tried to convey to him when they met in the corridor? What had that extended hand meant? Riker knew he'd hurt Deanna with his arguments. He remembered how her face had grown pale, her eyes sad as she looked at him during those moments. Arguing with Crusher was easy enough. Doctors were used to that, and Beverly was so low-key her heart only beat once a day. But Deanna had never really known what to do with confrontation. It wasn't part of her nature. He'd hit her when she was down.
He approached the command chair and touched the intercom. Quietly he asked, ”Tell me where Counselor Troi is now.”
The computer's response was immediate and conspicuous on the quiet bridge. ”Counselor Troi is in sickbay lab isolation area, unit four.”
”Still? How long are they going to let this go on?” he muttered, clasping his hands behind his back.
”More information is required to answer your inquiry, please.”
”I didn't mean you. Cancel.”
”Thank you.”
”Pain in the a.s.s,” he grumbled back at its sugary female voice, and strode forward away from it.
Something had to work. So far, nothing had, but something would have to. Separating the s.h.i.+p had only gotten them into bigger trouble. Increasing power to the s.h.i.+elds had only attracted and fed the creature. Phaser power would probably do the same, albeit with a different kind of energy. There had to be some weapon to devise, something, some idea in Starfleet's new technology that could get them out of this. It was here, that idea, Riker made himself believe. All they had to do was find it. Except ... all the cards were in the deck. They didn't have enough information about the enemy.
He turned expectantly and looked at Worf's hunched shoulders as the Klingon bent resolutely over the science station.
Riker sighed, and paced.
Going to s.p.a.ce on a s.h.i.+p like this ... it was easy to get smug, to figure the deck was solid and the s.h.i.+p was impregnable. Easy to become imperious about mortality. And when the wisdom of the age put children on board-well ... safe, right?
”Sir!”
He spun, dragged around both by the alarm and the accusation in the voice that stormed the bridge. On the upper deck, LaForge was charging out of the turbolift.