CHAPTER

6

R epairs are complete. All systems fully operational. Jaldark is not on board. Accessing search parameters. Searching planet surface … Jaldark is not present on the planet surface. Alien vessel in orbit about planet. Unable to penetrate shields for search.

Conclusion: Jaldark has been taken by the alien vessel.

Action required: Jaldark must be recovered immediately.

Jaldark, I am coming. I am coming, my Friend. I will not let them harm you.

Gold was still in a solemn mood from the tragic recording he had just seen as the turbolift doors hissed open. But once he stepped on the bridge, and saw the expressions on the bridge crew, he put his pity aside.

It was tragic that Jaldark had died alone, in pain. And he sympathized with the ship’s loss, if it was, as 110 kept insisting, sentient and capable of emotion. But that didn’t mean he was willing to make the ship feel better by letting it blast the da Vinci to bits.

“Shields up. Red alert,” he snapped. He took his seat and gazed at the image on the viewscreen.

It seemed impossible, but there it was. That ship had been badly damaged when it crashed into the planet, and they’d believed that they had completely knocked out its weapons systems. And yet it looked like they hadn’t even scratched the thing. It was, as McAllan had said, heading straight for them, and if Gold imagined that the ship was seething with deadly intent and aching for revenge, he knew he wasn’t guilty of anthropomorphizing.

“Status report,” he demanded.

“One minute, the vessel was dead; the next, it’s completely repaired and heading right for us,” said Wong. “We can’t tell for certain, of course, but I would guess its weapons systems are intact.”

At that moment, a green bolt of energy narrowly missed them.

“I’d say you’re right,” said Gold. “But that was obviously a warning shot. If that ship wanted to hit us, it would hit us. Open a hailing frequency. Attention, alien vessel. This is Captain David Gold of the U.S.S. da Vinci . We mean you no harm. Let’s open a dialogue.”

At once, a metallic voice echoed throughout the bridge. “Omearan Starsearcher 7445 to the da Vinci . You have my pilot. Return her at once, unharmed. Then we will open a dialogue.”

Dear God, thought Gold, he doesn’t know she’s dead.

“Captain,” said Gomez softly, “I don’t think Friend will respond too happily if we beam that body over.”

“Agreed,” said Gold. “Suggestions?”

“Let me attempt to link with it,” said 110 at once.

“110,” said Gold wearily, “that ship might just as soon crisp you as talk to you.”

110 lifted his head and regarded Gold evenly. “As we-as I have told you, Captain Gold, I am already linked with it, though it is not a two-way communication. Its pain is my pain. The only way I will lose that pain is if I can speak with it. And that is the only way Friend will ever accept what has happened to Jaldark. The news must be given to him gently, in a way he can understand. Otherwise, he will attack in anger. When he crashed into the planet-it was not an accident, Captain. He was in despair, and could not engage his self-destruct mechanism.” He winced a little. “Please. This is the only way.”

“110,” Geordi said gently, “there’s no guarantee that you will be able to form a proper link with the computer.”

The little Bynar smiled at that. “There is, as you humans like to say, only one way to find out.”

Geordi and Gold exchanged glances. Gold reached a decision. “Gold to Dr. Lense. Would it be possible to adjust 110’s brain and body in order to render him able to link with the ship?”

“I think so. If you’d wanted to do this with a human, the answer would be no, but the Bynar brains are much better candidates for such a link. And, judging by his brain-wave patterns, I’d say that there seems to be some kind of connection established between them already. It would take some surgery, but I-“

“110, get to sickbay right now,” ordered Gold. At once, 110 scampered to obey. “Wong, reestablish link. Attention, Omearan Starsearcher 7445. We would like to send an ambassador to your command center to speak with you.”

“Return my pilot. Then she and I will speak with your ambassador.”

Gold took a deep breath. Time for a little white lie. “Your pilot is unwell.” It was true. Dead was about as unwell as one could get. “She is currently in our sickbay.” Also true. “We have boarded you previously.”

“I remember.” The metallic voice was angry now. “When you kidnapped Jaldark.”

“We brought her to our ship, yes. But while we were aboard you, while you were inactive, you established a link with one of my crew.”

Silence. “Yes,” said the ship, haltingly. “I remember.”

“We think we can further adjust him so that he may link with you. We can explain everything to you most efficiently in that fashion.”

A long silence. Gold felt sweat gather on his brow. He let this ship take its time.

“I will permit such a contact,” said the ship after what felt like an eternity. Gold briefly closed his eyes in relief. “You should be aware that your crewmember will be vulnerable. If I do not like what I hear, I will not hesitate to kill him.”

Was it a bluff, or the truth? Either way, it seemed as though this was something 110 was intent on doing. And, much as Gold hated to admit it, it seemed as if it was their only hope. The Enterprise herself would have a hard time fighting an opponent that was virtually indestructible. And the little da Vinci was certainly not equipped to handle it.

“We are explorers, not warriors,” said Gold. “We have no intention of harming you. You will realize that once you link with my crewmember.”

“There is no deception possible in the link,” agreed the ship. “All your plans will be revealed.”

“We have nothing to hide,” Gold declared.

“Then you have nothing to fear.” Abruptly, the ship terminated the transmission.

Gold sank back in his chair, debating. He thought about contacting Starfleet and telling them to cancel the arrival of the Enterprise and the Lexington . Gold now knew the vessel wasn’t a Borg ship, and there was a chance that it wouldn’t even prove hostile. What was it Jaldark had said? That she was certain Friend wouldn’t hurt anyone unless someone hurt him first.

But if 110 couldn’t convince the ship-Friend- that Jaldark had already been dead for weeks before the da Vinci found her, then Gold imagined the vessel would consider itself grievously hurt. They’d need the Enterprise and the Lexington then. Hell, they might need every vessel in the fleet if the repaired ship went on a rampage again. It had done enough damage while still repairing itself. At full strength …

Gold chuckled a little. His father had had a wise saying that he would always trot out when David would start fretting about things that might happen. “Don’t go borrowing trouble,” he would say. And Gold realized that’s exactly what he was doing.

They had the tricorder recordings Jaldark herself had made. They had the body, which was in an advanced stage of decay. And they had 110. If these weren’t enough to convince the ship, then they’d just have to deal with the consequences.

“Lense to Gold.”

“Go ahead.”

“110 is tolerating the implants for the moment, but I don’t know how effective they’ll be. I also don’t know how long it will be before his body starts rejecting them. I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the best I can do.”

“Then, as always, Elizabeth, your best is good enough for me. 110, how do you feel?”

“The implants are … uncomfortable, Captain. But it is a necessary pain. Faulwell has given me Jaldark’s tricorder. I hope to be able to interface with both it and Friend’s central computer system.”

“Good luck, 110.”

“Thank you, Captain Gold. It has been an honor to serve you.”

Gold didn’t like the way that sounded. He didn’t like it at all. But there was not a single thing he could do. It was all up to the Bynar now.

He only hoped the little guy was not planning to go out in a blaze of glory.

When 110 materialized in the command center of Friend, part of him felt like he was coming home. Odd, since the last time he had been aboard the vessel it had attacked and nearly killed him. He stood for a moment in the command center of the sentient ship, looking around. There was no dull, blood-colored hue. Instead, Friend had given him lighting that was quite comfortable to his eyes and enabled him to see perfectly. The entire scene was much less sinister than it had been when the away team had beamed over earlier.

Various panels here and there had indentations or spikes. He knew that these were ways to join with the ship if he needed to fire the weapons, or enhance propulsion, or effect repairs. Over there, where he had foolishly begun trying to tap into the ship’s computers, he had triggered Friend’s angry arousal.

But for everyday operations, for companionship, for nourishment, the chair was the central joining point.

Jaldark had died in that chair-and lived in it. 110 wondered if the fluttering in his insides was nervousness or anticipation. Probably a little of both. He had never joined with a computer the way he was about to join with Friend, and he was uncertain as to what to expect.

“Please sit in the command chair,” came Friend’s metallic voice. “It is the most efficient way for us to link.”

Slowly, one hand reaching to touch the buffer at his side for reassurance, 110 climbed into the chair. Even though Jaldark was an adolescent of her species, she had been much bigger than the little Bynar. He had to hold his body in an awkward position for the holes Lense had made in his arms to line up with the spikes on the arms of the chair.

For an instant, 110 knew terrible fear. Then, resolutely, he maneuvered so that the spikes inserted into the arm sheathes.

Information flooded his brain at a speed that even 110 found difficult to process. Frantically, he thought, Slow down, slow down! To his surprise, the ship obliged. It wanted to tell him everything at once, but it tried to curb its urgency. The information came at a rate that would have killed a human, but, with effort, 110 was able to comprehend it.

The ship’s designation was Starsearcher 7445, but Jaldark Keniria had taken to calling it Friend. Their people, the Omearans, had just emerged from a bitter and devastating war that had nearly destroyed their planet. Their foe, the Sarimun, were advanced technologically, but lacked the advanced traits of mercy and a desire for peace. The attack had been rebuffed, but the Omearan world had paid a dreadful price.

The strongest advantage the Omearans had had was the Conjoined, the term used to refer to the linking of Omearans with the Starsearcher vessels. It was a position of tremendous honor among their people. Only one in ten thousand was born who was able to withstand the pairing. Rejections of the cybernetic grafts were the norm. Once a child had been identified as a good candidate, the process began, in infancy. The still-forming skulls were carefully manipulated to eventually house the spherical implants. One by one, strands of cables replaced nerves and muscles. The child was weaned to eat food only occasionally, and to take most of its sustenance from the same fuel that propelled the Starsearchers. It was a union of the most intimate sort.

Once a child pilot entered adolescence, it was bonded with the ship that it would have for the rest of its life. Such pilots considered themselves blessed, and the ships, which had also been carefully programmed with emotions and their own intelligence, adored their pilots.

Originally designed for peaceful purposes, the Starsearchers and their pilots had been altered for war. Thousands were lost in the war, and the pilots grew younger and younger, less and less experienced. By the end of the war, only a few pilots were left. They were sent off to various parts of the quadrant, to search for a planet the Omearans could safely colonize.

Thus it was that Jaldark, all of fifteen in human years, had found herself alone with her malfunctioning implants in the darkness of space. All alone, except for Friend.

Humans could not possibly understand this, thought 110 in wonder. They were so very separate. Even in their marriages, which he understood brought physical union, they remained two separate entities, with their own personalities and uniqueness. The humanoid races that had developed telepathy might have moved closer to comprehension, but even they could not share information so profoundly. Bynars could; clearly, the union of ship and pilot was closer to that union experienced by the Bynars than anything the crew of the da Vinci could conceive.

But … you do? Friend’s “voice,” in his mind, quivered along the implants that served for nerves, tingling where 110 was physically impaled upon the ship’s spikes.

110 let his memories be the answer. It was his turn to flood Friend’s chips with images. Friend was silent as it absorbed the information. 110 thought of Bynaus, of his joining with 111, of the grace and speed and efficiency with which they worked together. He let Friend in on the intimacy of computer linkage with another living being, something he knew Friend understood only too well. Organic being, computer bytes, joined in two beings who were not really two, but one.

I understand, came the response, but not even in words, not anymore. The Bynar and the sentient ship had surpassed such clumsy methods of communication now that they trusted one another. Steeling himself for the fresh wave of pain, 110 relived 111’s death. The emptiness, the aching, the repeated, increasingly frantic queries to a mind that was already gone. Oh, yes, he knew loss such as Friend had experienced.

Friend’s agony washed through 110, and the Bynar experienced it as if it were his own. He swam upward, drowning in the linkage, long enough to press the button on the tricorder. He forced his eyes open. He would have to watch Jaldark’s logs for the second time. Through the link they had established, Friend would then also see them. He would see, and believe.

So much information coursing through his brain, along his artificial nerves! Jaldark’s childish face appeared on the screen, saying words that pierced both vessel and Bynar.

I love sharing things with Friend … I love it when we link up and I’ve got the whole ship’s sensors at my hands… . To be able to experience so many things that, as an organic being, I’d never otherwise know is indescribable. And he is so close to me when we’re joined. I’ve never known anything like it … He’s really sensitive to my happiness. It’s nice to have things like that matter to someone else so much… . I tried to explain to Friend about how great it feels to walk on soft grass in your bare feet, but he didn’t quite get it, I think… .

She was wrong, came Friend’s thoughts. Through her, I knew. I knew everything… .

It was the most amazing sensation, to be linked with him … I just love Friend so much. He’s the most wonderful ship. I’m so glad I’m bonded with him for the rest of my life… . I guess I’m just the luckiest girl in the universe… . Something’s wrong … Friend can sense it, but I’m not telling him any more than I have to in order to maintain function. I don’t know that we’ll make it in time. I hate lying to him like this.

110 had thought the ship’s pain difficult to deal with, but the raw rage almost stopped his heart.

Why did she not tell me? There were things I could have done, systems I could have shut down, that would have made us much more efficient!

She did not wish to burden you with her fears and pain, 110 replied.

We were joined! I was supposed to share her fears and pain!

But Jaldark had been a humanoid, and augmented and technologically enhanced as she was, she remained a humanoid. She didn’t understand that Friend would have been more comforted had she confided in him. Perhaps she would have learned this, as she grew older. But perhaps that wisdom might also have made her less compassionate, and she would not have disabled the ship so that it could not self-destruct.

I think it’s the implants … they’re failing somehow. I can’t get sustenance from Friend anymore… . I have these terrible headaches. And the arm sheathes … whenever we join, I’m in a lot of pain. So, of course, I come up with excuses not to join as often. Friend hasn’t said anything much, but I know his feelings are hurt. He’s the last person-well, thing-I’d ever want to hurt, and I just hate it that this is happening!

The ship could not form coherent thoughts anymore, but 110 did not need it to. For the first time since 111’s death, he let his own grief surface. In the bonding, they were more than two. Now that she was dead, 110 felt as though he was less than one. She had taken so much of him with her when she died.

I don’t think I have much longer. The pain is so bad I can hardly stand it. I think I’m going to die. But I can handle that. It’s Friend I’m worried about. He’s supposed to autodestruct if anything happens to me. They said Starsearchers aren’t designed to function on their own. They told us that the ships need an Omearan mind to link with to make ethical decisions. They … could be dangerous without a pilot. But I don’t believe that. I don’t think Friend would hurt anybody, unless they hurt him first.

Friend had been lost in his own pain, but now 110 felt the Starsearcher’s attention focus fully on the dying Jaldark’s words. 110 wanted to linger in his own bittersweet misery, but was pulled along with Friend. He, too, really began to listen.

I can’t kill Friend, I just can’t. That would be the most selfish act I think I could possibly perform. I know I’m supposed to, but I won’t do it. I won’t. I’ve deactivated the autodestruct mechanism. Friend won’t be able to reengage it on his own. He’s going to live, even if … even if I don’t. That’s what friends do, isn’t it? They help each other. If anybody finds this, please take care of Friend. Send him home. The coordinates are in the computer. Help him find a new pilot. He’s going to be so lost without … me to take care … Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I love him. Tell him it will be all right. He’s just got to be brave.

Friend’s shock now felt as strong as his suffering. That is against all the rules. Jaldark was the reason I was unable to self-destruct? She did it deliberately? Why, why? We were supposed to die together!

110’s narrow chest hitched. So were Bynars. Linked unto death, it was not at all uncommon, nor frowned upon, for a remaining Bynar to die upon losing a partner. Sometimes, more often than not, such a death was chosen, self-inflicted. It was the only way in 110’s culture to avoid being forced to take another mate. It was the only way to remain Bynar.

But 110 did not want to take another mate. For a while, he thought, as Friend had, that he wanted to die. For what was life without 111, without his friend and mate and ultimate companion, who lived in his affections and mind and soul? But there had been no chance for suicide, and, to 110’s own astonishment, his body refused to simply quit on its own. There had been the computer to help, and the Pevvni to fight, and then Friend’s plight to attend to.

While 110 was sorting through this, Jaldark quietly died on the screen. He expected the ship to lose control utterly, and braced himself for the throes that would surely come.

Instead, Friend remained strangely still. 110 realized that the ship was focusing on him and his thoughts.

You did not die.

No, 110 replied. I kept living. I kept working.

For what reason? Your loss was as great as mine. Why did you live?

For a long moment, 110 could not form an answer to that, because he truly did not know. Finally, the answer came, and with it, a sudden easing of the pain that had been his constant companion since that terrible moment.

Because 111 wished me to continue.

As Jaldark wished me to continue, thought Friend. 110 felt the ship’s own pain subsiding ever so slightly. But why? Starsearchers cannot function on their own. We need a pilot. We could be dangerous. I was dangerous. I destroyed buildings and fired upon your ship. I could have killed you. I was not constructed to attack, only to defend.

Physical pain began to penetrate 110’s consciousness, distracting him from the thoughts he was only now beginning to process. The implants. Dr. Lense had warned him about this. Because he was a Bynar, a member of a race that already had a great deal of integration with computers, he could tolerate the implants to a certain degree. A normal human could not. But he was not Omearan, and the implants had not been part of his body since infancy; it was starting to reject them. Once the pain began to increase, Lense had said, he only had a matter of moments before he would go into shock.

Faced with dying like the unfortunate Jaldark, in the same position, 110 realized that he very much wanted to live.

I can help you, sent Friend, with a sudden sense of urgency. I can enable you to make the transition. You could help me by becoming my new pilot. You understand. And … I could help you, too, because I understand.

The pain in his head increased. 110 wondered if all Starsearchers were this compassionate. He understood now why destroying Friend had been anathema to Jaldark. And, oh, it was appealing, wasn’t it? It was the perfect solution. He would not be alone, and yet he would not dishonor the memory of all he had shared with 111 by so quickly selecting another mate. And poor Friend desperately needed him. He was right. They could help one another. Heal one another.

It was ideal. And it was too easy.

Friend sensed his rejection before 110 even had a chance to phrase it. He hurried to explain his reasoning.

Jaldark said you had to be brave. She said everyone thought that the Starsearchers couldn’t function without a pilot. But you proved them wrong. Look at you right now, interfacing with a completely alien species. You’re making ethical judgments. You can be an individual. As … as I can be. If we are both brave enough.

But what is a ship without a pilot? I serve no useful purpose.

The pain was increasing. Morbidly, he wondered if the same white-hot agony that was racking his body was what Jaldark had undergone. He had to transport out and have the implants removed before they caused permanent damage. But he didn’t want to leave, not yet. 110 willed himself to hang on for just a little while longer.

That is a false conclusion, arrived at by incorrectly analyzing the data. You could help to complete the mission upon which you and Jaldark had embarked. If you will let the Federation help you, they can assist your people in searching for an undeveloped world to colonize.

In reply, 110 received such a violent jolt of fear and loathing that he almost passed out from the force of it. Other races hate us! They tried to kill us!

But I don’t hate you, 110 thought. The Omearans have encountered only a few other alien races. There are thousands in this quadrant alone, and every race is different. Many of them have joined the United Federation of Planets, for their mutual benefit. I know my captain wants to assist you, and-once he knows what it is you are seeking-help the Omearans as well. You must be able to sense my sincerity.

Yes. The ship’s reply was slow, halting. 110 supposed he couldn’t blame Friend for his suspicions. But the pain was worsening. He needed a decision now.

Friend, the implants are hurting me. I must leave you.

No, please, please stay, just a while longer… .

I cannot. While it is right and appropriate for us to mourn our lost bondmates, we must continue. Alone. We have tasks to perform, things that only we can do. Things that our bondmates would want us to do.

I … I understand. I will do what Jaldark wanted me to. I will be brave.

Right before the darkness claimed him, 110 knew in his heart that both 111 and Jaldark would be proud of their decisions.