Chapter Eleven

F LIPPING END OVER END through space, Data sailed toward the whirling maelstrom that marked the edge of the gravity dump in the center of the graveyard. As the android tore through space, crashing into jagged debris from the Vuxhal, fear gripped his throat like a garrote. He thought about turning off his emotion chip, but what good would that do? Emotions or no, he had to act quickly to save himself.

Spinning within his reach was the large chunk of hull that had struck him. The rest of the blasted Ontailian ship flew in a million different directions. This could be a boon in disguise, thought the android. Mustering his superior reactions and strength, Data lunged with both hands and grabbed the spinning chunk of metal; it was like grabbing a whirring propeller. His body was wrenched into a new flight path that was part his momentum and part the rubble’s. As he hoped, the spinning abated, and he hung on to the chunk of metal as if it were a giant manta ray dragging him under water.

Data finally tucked the chunk of debris under his arm, which freed his other hand, and he grabbed another good-sized piece flying in the other direction. This altered his course again, and he used the two large pieces as shields to ward off the smaller bits that threatened to puncture him. After getting his confidence, the android performed this maneuver at blazing speeds, moving from one chunk of wreckage to another, changing his course each time. It was like jumping from rock to rock in midstream. He could see his destination just ahead, the blackened hull of the Seattle, the only Ambassador-class starship to perish here.

He swam through the flow of burning wreckage, grabbing and riding each piece that might help him move toward his goal. The Seattle was in an altogether different orbit, slow and stately. Data veered recklessly toward it, propelled by his momentum and burning hunks of the Vuxhal.

The scorched hull loomed closer. He could see the debris from the Ontailian vessel silently pummeling the old hulk. Data realized that he was going to pass close to the stern. He would have only a nanosecond to catch a handhold or foothold. As he spotted a twisted flange jutting from the stern, he pushed off his metal shields, twisting and thrusting even while crashing into wreckage. With the tips of his fingers, Data grabbed the jagged flange and hung on to the Seattle while sheets of debris pelted him. Since he was weightless, he pulled himself easily along the skin of the charred ruin, ducking from the constant rain of rubble.

Moments later, he reached a jagged hole in the underbelly of the main hull. He pulled himself through it without looking. Once inside, he found himself in a dark corridor filled with a blizzard of sparkling metal flecks. Where he touched them, the sparkly bits shot off in whatever direction he pushed them, just like a miniature version of the flying debris outside. Data let out a sigh of relief, and glanced at his surroundings. A direct hit had fused almost everything into molten lumps, but it looked like the maintenance shaft for the tractor beam emitter.

He made note of emitter panels and auxiliary stations, even though they were too badly damaged to be useful. If his memory banks were intact, he knew the emergency battle bridge was near here-only one deck up. That was one of the better-protected sections of this older-designed ship, thought Data.

He was optimistic as he found a Jefferies tube and climbed to the next deck up. Darkness was no problem for the android. He broke through a dented door to enter the battle bridge. Once inside, Data’s hope sank as he looked around at the devastated keep inside the bowels of the starship. It hadn’t been destroyed by enemy fire but by illicit salvagers, who had made off with everything of worth. Looking at the ripped-up panels and consoles, he understood how Captain Leeden could call them so many derogatory names.

It looked bad, but it wasn’t hopeless. With his internal energy supply and connection ports, all he needed was a link to a subspace relay connected to a transceiver assembly. There had to be a combination like that still intact on the ship. Those circuits were usually buried deep in the infrastructure. It didn’t appear as if the scavengers had dug very deeply. They preferred to cut the wiring and connectors, leaving them behind while they took the bare units. Since subspace communications relied on relays to boost the signal at every step, all he needed was enough wiring to reach one relay. With power from his own cells, he could transmit a signal strong enough to reach the nearest buoy outside. Then it would be relayed to the next and the next, getting stronger with each iteration. This wouldn’t be a long message, thought Data, just a standard distress call. The Seattle was clearly in the Enterprise’s records, even if its position had changed.

It took Data several minutes of patient testing to find the circuit he needed to reach the nearest subspace relay inside the ship. Just as he was about to move on to the next crucial step, the ruined hull was jolted hard and swerved roughly to port. Data banged into the bulkhead and felt the unmistakable pull of gravity, which was not a good thing on a ghost ship in the center of the graveyard.

When he found himself getting afraid, Data reluctantly turned off his emotion chip. He’d gotten all the intuition and insight he needed, and now he had to work efficiently. No doubt enough debris had struck the Seattle’s hull to change its course and send it swerving closer to the gravity vortex. The android poked his head and shoulders into a ravaged access panel, grabbed a fistful of wires, and set to work.

From the viewscreen on the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Leeden looked suspiciously at Captain Picard and the bridge crew. The Juno was just off to starboard, so the standard frequency was strong, with only mild interference. “Are you saying we should stop recovering bodies?” she asked.

Picard maintained a conciliatory tone as he addressed his counterpart, because he knew this was a delicate issue with her. “As you told us when we first arrived,” he began, “the Rashanar Battle Site is becoming more dangerous with the passage of time, and we aren’t getting the resources we need to do half our job. These derelicts are inherently dangerous, and even more so when you consider the anomalies which we’ve yet to explain.”

“How do you propose to keep the scavengers from walking away with everything?” Leeden asked.

Choosing his words carefully, the captain answered, “I will propose to Starfleet that we have a large memorial service. We would invite all the species who perished in this battle, from both sides. Then we should back off and utterly vaporize every old derelict in the boneyard. That would remove the lure for the salvagers.”

Captain Leeden slowly considered the idea. “This mass destruction would be tasteful, I presume.”

“It may take days for every species to have their say,” answered Picard, “but then we can tear down this haunted cemetery.”

“I think that may be the best way out of a hopeless situation,” answered Captain Leeden. “However, in the meantime we should both join the Ontailian task force covering the gateways. Let’s cut the Androssi off before they can get away.”

“We’re still looking for Data near the center,” answered Picard. “Once we resolve what happened, we will be happy to help.”

Leeden shook her head sadly. “You’re the one who told me that he was forsaking the dead in order to protect the living. I’m rather disappointed, Picard. Leeden out.”

Abruptly the transmission ended, and Picard’s shoulders slumped. He supposed that he wasn’t following his own advice, but there was a difference between these dismembered derelicts and an officer who had been missing for only a few hours. When that officer was Data, his odds of surviving went up considerably.

The captain watched stoically as the Juno pulled back, fired impulse engines, and banked gracefully into a littered section of the boneyard. They were headed for the outer belt, leaving the Enterprise as close to the center of the battle site as they dared to go, along with the Vuxhal and whatever shuttlecraft were still on patrol.

He tapped his com panel and said, “Bridge to Riker, are you ready to take the Polo out again?”

“Affirmative,” answered the first officer. “We’ve got a possible lead with some vapor trails we picked up near buoy twenty-six.”

Vapor trails, thought Picard. It felt as if they were clinging to nothing but vapors. “Our records show two more shuttlecraft crews will be reporting for duty in-“

“Captain!” interrupted Lieutenant Vale, staring at her tactical console. “There’s a distress signal coming from the middle of the boneyard. The source is on a derelict…the Seattle.”

He tapped his com panel again and said, “Number One, we’ve just gotten a better lead-stand by for launch. Picard out.” He turned to Christine Vale at the tactical station. “Is the Seattle intact?”

“No, sir, it’s in several pieces,” answered Vale. “It’s near the gravity sink and classified as too dangerous to board.”

“Conn, set course,” ordered Picard, “the last known position of the Seattle.” Seeing the shocked look on Vale’s face, he added, “Don’t worry about the warning buoys-we’re not going to be there long.”

Cautiously, Data made his way back through the sundered starship Seattle to the gash in her underbelly where he had entered. Braving the debris smacking against the scorched hull, he stuck his head out the gash and looked around. The vortex appeared so close that he could touch it. The battered husk of the Seattle arced toward destruction on an erratic, decaying orbit. Other hulks raced beside them, banging into each other like fanciful vehicles in a mad race. Data felt like he was inside a tornado with the wind blowing in a hundred different directions with a dozen structures whirling all around. In such chaos, the silence was eerie. He reactivated his emotion chip to experience every moment of this spectacular scene. It could possibly be the last thing he ever saw. He could be emotional about that.

This is life at its best, thought Data, exhilarating and terrifying! The unadulterated fear tasted like a rare wine, and he appreciated every drop. He had done all he could to get help; now he was dependent upon his comrades. So Data could only watch and shudder as other wrecks were ground to pieces in the looming maelstrom. He estimated that he had less than a minute before he and the charred hull suffered the same fate, but it had been a good existence.

Something came streaking out of the glittering blackness of the graveyard, which wasn’t unusual, but the object had a rope attached to the other end. This high-powered harpoon struck the hull perfectly amidships, and the old spacecraft shuddered as some kind of charge exploded. At once, the wreck changed course and was hauled rudely backward out of orbit. This brought it into contact with a ton of rubble, and Data had to duck back inside to save his head. After a few moments, he took one more peek outside to try to catch a glimpse of his saviors. He wasn’t aware of any Federation ship in the area which had such harpoons. That was a salvager’s tool.

He caught a glimpse of an ungainly vessel that looked better suited to ride ocean waves than cosmic currents. It was covered with so many harpoon guns, winches, antennas, and valves that it looked like a porcupine. Its winches worked slowly, and the old hulk groaned with every meter it was dragged against its will from the gravity sink. Finally they got about two kilometers away from the vortex. Data was feeling considerable relief. He hoped to be able to personally thank his rescuers, but the exploding barb on the harpoon suddenly compressed and withdrew, leaving the blasted hull to drift on its own. Just as quickly, the salvage spacecraft slipped away into the cover of a cloud of plasma.

A moment later, Data saw why his rescuers had fled: the Enterprise glided into view, stopping just outside the worst of the debris field. Still the junk popped and sizzled off the starship’s hull, making it look like a fireworks display. He wanted to signal them that he was aboard the hulk, so he propelled himself out the gash and caught the jagged edge with his foot. Hanging upside down to their perspective, the android waved his arms frantically.

Two crewmembers in EVA suits, wearing jetpacks on their backs, emerged from a hatch on the underbelly of the saucer section. Pulling a tether line, they flew across the expanse that separated Data from the Enterprise, and they secured the line to his waist. He would be able to hold it, but he cooperated and said nothing. Thus secured, the android was reeled into an airlock, with his rescuers flying protectively behind him. The outer hatch was quickly closed, shutting off the rain of debris pelting the Enterprise.

Riker and Deanna Troi rushed forward to embrace Data, and the android grinned with happiness. “We must leave this area,” he said. “A mimic…a shapeshifter…It is out there!”

“Do you have your emotion chip turned on?” asked Troi with a smile.

“Yes!” he answered, looking around worriedly. “Where is Geordi? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” answered Riker. “We can’t leave just yet, Data, because there’s an Androssi ship in the area. They ran as soon as we arrived.”

“They saved my life,” said Data. “I would be ground up in the vortex if they had not pulled me to safety. They must have intercepted my distress signal.”

Riker nodded somberly and relayed this information to the captain. While they conversed, Deanna Troi put her arm around Data’s shoulder and said, “We thought we had lost you for good.”

“I thought I had been lost for good,” he answered with tremendous relief. “What I have seen out there, Counselor…it boggles the mind. We are in grave danger.”

“We’ve been in grave danger since we got here,” answered Troi.

Data nodded urgently. “Yes, but it is worse than we thought. Are you sure everyone is all right?”

Before Troi could reassure him again, Will Riker ended his conversation with the bridge. “Thank you, Captain. Riker out,” he said.

With a smile, the first officer turned to Data and announced, “We’ll leave the Androssi vessel alone, although there will probably be hell to pay for that later. We should get back to a level-three buoy, anyway. Are you ready to go to the bridge to brief the captain?”

“Yes! Let us hurry,” urged Data, pushing them toward the exit.

Captain Picard listened intently to a tale he would have doubted only a week ago, but a week in the Rashanar Battle Site had broadened his perspective. He glanced at the viewscreen on the bridge, hoping that nothing was sneaking up on them. “So the real Vuxhal has been destroyed,” concluded the captain, “and this replicated ship is out there…somewhere?”

“That is correct,” said Data with a nod. “We must not come in contact with this mimic ship at close range for even an instant. If we do, all systems will be shut down by what I theorize is a directed-energy weapon. After that, the ship is programmed to scan its prey and duplicate it. Both the Calypso and Vuxhal were destroyed, but had they been left intact, they would resemble these ships in the graveyard. In fact, the presence of this doppelgänger might explain much that has transpired here, going back to the Battle of Rashanar.”

Captain Picard stroked his chin thoughtfully and asked, “Who built this ship? How does it work?”

“I have several theories and no proof,” said Data, cocking his head. “I have observations…and intuition. It is possible this is a Dominion weapon which has outlived its usefulness. We know the Founders are shapeshifters who can exist in a communal state, the Great Link. Perhaps they created a shapeshifting spacecraft from their own protoplasm. Then again, perhaps this is an illusion generated by holographic emitters hidden inside the wrecks-an elaborate trick to drive us out. In the places this doppelgänger has been seen, sensor readings have been inaccurate.”

Data considered another possibility. “Captain, you called it a ‘replicated’ ship. Perhaps that is what it is. The transformation is rather slow and may be akin to our scanning and replicating process, only on a much larger scale. If one can replicate a coupling, why not an entire ship? I only know one thing for certain-the directed-energy beam is a genuine threat. It causes very little physical damage but is completely debilitating.”

“La Forge has verified that,” said the captain. He gazed at the viewscreen to see an energy spike ripple between two wretched hulks, as he thought about the greatest mystery of Rashanar. “Perhaps,” he mused, “that is why the combatants all kept fighting to the end…why they died at their posts, without using escape pods. If there were one or two of these mimic ships in a large-scale battle, they could wreak incredible damage.”

There was a silence on the bridge of the Enterprise as the senior staff considered this one answer amid a whole slew of new questions. The turbolift door opened; then Geordi La Forge stepped tentatively onto the bridge, looking down as if he were wearing someone else’s spectacles. In place of his eyes were his typical ocular implants, and he grinned broadly when he caught sight of his missing comrade. “Data!” he called.

Data rushed to embrace his friend, and he looked as if he was going to cry. Finally the android regained his composure and said, “It is gratifying to see you again, Geordi.”

“They told me you were back,” said the beaming engineer. “I begged Dr. Crusher to let me get out of bed. If I stumble around, I’m just getting used to these new implants. Some of my synapses atrophied, so it will take a day or two to adjust.”

“Data, bring La Forge up to date on what happened to you,” ordered the captain. “Take an auxiliary console and see if you can expand on any of your theories about this mimic ship.”

“Yes, Captain,” answered the android. He turned to his best friend and said, “It was an emotional experience for me.”

“I can tell,” replied Geordi with a smile.

Riker leaned close to the captain and asked, “Do you want me to stay on bridge duty, sir?”

“Yes, Number One. You too, Counselor Troi.” Jean-Luc Picard turned away from his officers and gazed at the viewscreen. For some moments, he watched the somber wrecks make their lonely treks through the graveyard, like ghosts who visited their old haunts and went up and down the stairs and hallways, pointlessly and for eternity. Is there any way to exorcise the demons from here and send all these lost spirits to their just reward? wondered Picard.

“Captain,” called Christine Vale from her tactical station, “subspace message received from Captain Leeden on the Juno. She says an Androssi salvage ship came this way. Have we seen it?”

The captain glanced at Data, who gave him a hopeful expression. “Tell them the truth,” answered Picard. “The Androssi ship saved Commander Data, and we were too near the gravity dump to follow them. So we let them go. Tell them we are investigating an anomaly which may explain the duplicate ships. We’ll report to the Juno’s position and let her talk to Data. That’s all.” Picard turned toward his navigator and said, “Conn, set course for the Juno and proceed with caution.”

“Yes, sir,” came the response from Kell Perim, efficiently working her board.

“Captain,” said Deanna Troi, “I can’t help but feel that the Ontailians are mixed up in this, whatever it is. It’s not that I sense they’re plotting against the Federation or anything, but they’re hiding something. They must know more than what they’re telling us.”

“Captain!” cut in Jelpn from his ops console. “The sensor readings are erratic, however there seems to be a ship on an intercept course with us.”

“Put it on screen,” Picard commanded, moving toward his front line of personnel, the helm and ops.

The Deltan shook his head. “I can’t get a fix on it, sir. But it’s moving too quickly to be one of the shipwrecks. It’s on a dead intercept course with us.”

“Sir,” called Vale at tactical. “The Juno and her task force are making for our position, too…but it’s not the Juno. This one is coming from bearing twenty-six mark one hundred seventy.”

Picard felt a presence at his side; he turned to see Data, looking intently over the Deltan’s shoulder at the ops console. “Mr. Jelpn, give up your station to Data.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the officer. The two ops officers quickly switched places.

“I will try to clarify these readings,” promised the android, setting to work at blinding speed. Everyone on the bridge seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the android to interpret the jumbled sensor readings.

“Captain Picard,” said Vale, squinting at her board, “now I’m getting a poor image of the approaching ship. It should improve as we get closer.”

The captain motioned, and a static-laced picture appeared on the overhead viewscreen. Among the streaks, it was hard to pick out a spacecraft, but a silver fin glinted in a burst of electrical energy. With another jump in magnification, the fin became the triangular wedge of an Ontailian ship.

Data was the first one to gasp out loud. “Captain, there it is-the replica of the Vuxhal.”

“Are you sure?” asked Picard, his jaw tightening. “Whoever they are, hail them.”

“I’m trying, sir,” answered Vale, entering commands repeatedly. “They don’t respond to any hail, RF or subspace.”

“Conn, evasive maneuvers, pattern alpha-six,” ordered Picard. “Modify it to avoid the wrecks.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Perim at the helm. The scenes on the viewscreen shifted erratically as the Trill took the Enterprise on a zigzagging course between the ghost ships. Every few seconds the screen caught the silver fin still trailing them like a shark. It executed their maneuvers more gracefully than they ever could.

“The mimic vessel has matched our course and is gaining on us,” said Data worriedly. “We cannot outrun them in here. I estimate contact in one minute.”

“You’re sure that’s the mimic ship?” asked Picard very calmly. “There can’t be any mistake.”

“That is the duplicate!” Data jumped to his feet. “Captain, I advise you to destroy it. Do not let it get close to us, or the Enterprise will be like all these other derelicts…dead bodies and smashed circuits.”

The captain nodded sympathetically and said, “Data, turn off your emotion chip.”

The android cocked his head, looked visibly calmer, and dropped his hand. “I have done so. Is that better?”

“Yes,” answered the captain grimly. “Get back to your post and take over helm and tactical. Try to lose them.”

“Yes, sir.” The android slipped back into his seat and swiftly made modifications to give himself control of all three critical stations on the bridge. During the Dominion War at the height of battle, Data had often taken over all the stations and had executed the captain’s commands faster than any combination of officers could do it. To Picard, this felt like those days-going into battle against an implacable, inscrutable foe.

A large chunk of debris glistened against the shields, blowing up with a bright explosion, but Data worked his controls unmindful of collisions large or small. Up and down, back and forth, the Enterprise lumbered, doing maneuvers no one had ever planned for a Sovereign-class starship.

“This reminds me of a movie I saw when I was a kid,” said La Forge, gripping the arms of his chair. “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”

“They are closing the distance,” warned Data, “and we cannot lose them. You must destroy them before they get too close, Captain.”

Picard frowned and asked, “Did you turn off your emotion chip?”

“I did, sir.” Data turned to gaze pointedly at the captain. “My advice is perfectly rational. If this shapeshifting vessel were to successfully imitate the Enterprise and escape from Rashanar, it could wreak untold havoc in Federation space.”

“Are they answering hails at all?” asked Picard.

Data shook his head. “No, sir.”

Everyone on the bridge gazed at the viewscreen to see the silver wedge slicing through the glittering rubble, bearing down on them. A wild spike of energy suddenly cut across the bow of the Enterprise, and there was an explosion at a rear console.

“We cannot proceed at full impulse,” said Data. He stared intently at the shifting screens of information on his console. “Captain, they will be in close range in fifteen seconds. The Enterprise will never be in greater danger than it is at this moment. I urge you to fire upon them.”

The captain’s lips thinned, and he shook his head. “I’ve never fired at another ship first-without provocation.”

“In another ten seconds, I and every system on this ship will be inoperable,” declared the android. “It is your decision, Captain.”

His lips thinned, and Jean-Luc Picard watched as the elegant spacecraft bore down on them so serenely, so relentlessly.

“Five seconds until contact,” warned Data.