Chapter Nine
WITH RELIEF, Captain Picard spied his first officer leading the Kreel contingent into the cavernous shuttlebay. He suppressed a smile to see that Riker had to slow his usual striding charge to a gait more in step with the Kreel, who swayed awkwardly on their bandy legs. The captain couldn’t afford a real smile, because Data’s presence beside him was a reminder that the shuttlecraft should have left six minutes ago. Data’s intricate schedule for the shuttle landings on Kayran Rock was dependent upon their shuttle getting a timely start, which it wasn’t. Jean-Luc Picard hated to be late.
“Captain!” called Riker with equal relief. Picard and Data strode forward to meet the party. “May I introduce the Kreel delegation,” said the first officer. He smiled charmingly as he indicated each muscular humanoid in turn, “Admiral Ulree, First Assistant Kwalrak, Ambassador Mayra, Colonel Efrek, Orderlies Akree and Efrek.”
Picard nodded in appreciation at the difficulty of Riker’s task in remembering all those names and titles. “Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” he replied with an abbreviated bow. “Welcome to the Enterprise.” He motioned to the tall sallow-faced android. “This is Commander Data.”
Admiral Ulree leaned into Data’s face and sniffed him suspiciously a few times. “It’s not a joke,” he observed. “You really have made a lifeless machine that looks human.”
“That’s not how we look at it,” remarked the captain. “To us, Data is a living being whose physiology and intellect are quite different than ours—but in many ways superior. As far as being a machine, we are the ones who are mass-produced, while Data is unique.”
Picard smiled warmly at the android; then he motioned toward the gaping entry of the personnel shuttlecraft Ericksen. “I am sorry we have to leave so quickly, but the ceremonies await. We can become further acquainted en route.”
“Yes, indeed,” purred Kwalrak into Riker’s ear.
Rolling his eyes slightly to Picard as he passed, Riker led the Kreel into the passenger section of the Ericksen. The full-sized shuttlecraft was outfitted with four rows of plush seats, each row accommodating two passengers luxuriously and three comfortably. Kwalrak took Riker’s arm and dragged him to the rear of the vessel, while the rest of the Kreel scrambled for window seats.
Outside the shuttle, the captain’s cordial smile twisted into a scowl. “Now where is Emil Costa?” he whispered.
“He would seem to be late,” the android agreed. “Shall I find him?”
A female voice sounded crisply over Picard’s communicator badge, “Ensign Hamer to Captain Picard. All luggage has been stowed, all systems have been checked, and the course has been set for Kayran Rock. We can leave on your order, sir.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” replied Picard. “I would like to give that order, but we are waiting for a final passenger. In the meantime, Commander Data and I will take our seats.” He turned to Data with concern. “Let’s sit down, then we’ll try one last time to contact Emil Costa.”
“No need, Captain,” replied the android, blinking his pale golden eyes toward the doorway. “I hear him approaching.”
Looking disheveled and dragging a duffel bag that made him walk more lopsidedly than a Kreel, Emil Costa staggered into the holding area. “I-I am sorry, Captain,” he panted, his frail chest heaving with exertion and sweat beading his white scalp. “Several last minute arrangements . . .”
“Yes, yes, Doctor,” muttered Picard. “Take your seat.”
“I will take your bag,” offered Data.
“No, no,” croaked Emil, “that’s quite all right.” He hurried into the main cabin and sank into a seat, stowing his bag under his legs. Then the disheveled scientist stared forthrightly at his hands, avoiding eye contact with the others.
Picard afforded Data a puzzled glance as he strode in to take a seat that had obviously been saved for him beside the imposing Admiral Ulree. The two chatted amiably, and Picard answered questions about the shuttlecraft.
“Nice,” murmured Ulree, not bothering to hide his envy. “If the Federation won’t give us transporter technology, they should at least give us a few of these. If we like them, we’ll buy them—if the price is right.”
The door clanked shut behind him, and Data still hadn’t spotted an empty seat among all the dangling Kreel arms. He was about to head to the more familiar environs of the cockpit when he heard Commander Riker hailing him.
“Over here, Data!” called Will Riker desperately from the rear of the craft. He pushed Kwalrak off his chest and struggled to sit up. Disgruntledly, the red-skinned female uncurled her long hairy limbs from Commander Riker, and he was able to straighten both his posture and his uniform. Riker was glad they had packed their dress uniforms and were still wearing their heavy-duty reds, which could take more of a beating.
“If you wish to lounge, Commander,” said Data, “I will sit elsewhere.”
“Yes, we wish to lounge!” exclaimed Kwalrak, hugging Riker possessively.
“Not now,” insisted Riker, yanking himself free from her grasp. “We’re filled to capacity, and we have to make room for Commander Data.”
“I can sit in the cockpit,” remarked Data.
“No!” Riker growled. He grabbed Data and forcefully inserted the android between himself and the Kreel first assistant. Kwalrak sneered and slid over to make more room for the android.
“Thank you,” Data bowed respectfully to the sinewy female. “I am unaccustomed to being a passenger aboard a shuttlecraft. Usually I serve as pilot.”
Riker snuggled his big shoulders into the thick upholstery and sighed, “You’re an honored guest today, Data. You don’t have to do anything.”
“Being an honored guest,” observed Data, “does not make me incapable of piloting the shuttlecraft.”
“It’s a matter of protocol,” Will insisted pleasantly. “That’s somebody else’s job today. Yours is to sit back and act like a dignitary, because that’s what you are.”
“I am unaccustomed to being a dignitary,” said Data. “What does one do?”
Beside him, First Assistant Kwalrak purred, “Just watch Riker. He knows what to do.”
Data turned to study the bearded first officer, but Riker’s eyes were shut and he was smiling contently. Riker considered shepherding the Kreel to be his hardest duty of the day, and he was going to relax now that it was over. As if in consent, the lights in the cabin dimmed to a warm golden hue, forcing everyone to speak in whispers. The shuttlecraft glided off its pad, and there was a moment’s weightlessness while the artificial gravity adjusted and the elongated vessel launched into space, filled to capacity.
Trapped inside the class-zero pod, his air thinning to the point where standing in a crouch was making him dizzy, Wesley Crusher worked feverishly. The pod had been idle since Lynn Costa’s death, but Wes was throwing together its standard components—specimen receptacles, monitoring equipment, robotic shakers, and sterile tubing—to begin a new experiment.
The computer controls were outside the container, and Wesley couldn’t manipulate them by either voice or hand. What a time to be without a communicator! He tried to forget his problems and concentrate on what he knew about these computer subsystems, one of the few subsystems that were so complex they were kept apart from the main computer to avoid taxing it. Nevertheless, Wes knew the pod’s computer was never totally “off” and that it was set by default to respond to certain types of experiments at all times. Wesley figured he could rig a small experiment that would trip the monitoring equipment. Maybe, hoped the teenager, if the experiment became contaminated, it would set off an alarm.
If it didn’t, he’d be the next experiment.
Wesley rigged up the simplest experiment he could think of, an organic/inorganic particle detector set to go berserk at the wrong kind of contamination. He removed a circuit board from a particle counter and set its switches manually to default to inorganic matter. That way, the slightest detection of organic matter would set it off. He hoped. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about programming the environment; his own body and what little oxygen was left would furnish that. Unfortunately, there would be no way of judging his success until he—or someone—heard the alarm. Wesley tried not to think of what would happen if no one heard.
He slipped the board back into the particle counter and held his breath waiting for the indicator lights to shine. He was hardly breathing by the time they finally did, and it wasn’t due solely to excitement. At the tip of a robotic arm, Wesley found the tiny receptacle he had installed as the collector, and he tapped it with his fingertip to make sure it was awake. There were many ways he could have chosen to contaminate it, but sometimes the simplest is the best. Wesley took dead aim at the funnel and spat.
It took two attempts to really load it with spittle. More than that would be overkill, decided the boy, slumping to the floor. He tried to modulate his breathing, because there wasn’t anything else to do but sit and wait—and breathe until he was rescued or the air was all gone.
Wes fought off weariness and tried to stay alert to any movement outside the pod. The gray tint of the glass was light enough to let him see just past the window to the class-one-hundred cleanroom beyond. If the alarm was going off, someone should be appearing out there just about now. . . . Wes clicked his fingers.
And an apparition in white stared down at him through a bubble visor. Wes blinked in amazement as the angelic vision straightened up and moved to the control panel. Its slim fingers played the controls for a moment until the hatch whooshed open, and Wesley was almost sucked out with the foul air.
The savior lifted Wesley out as if he were a baby and held him for an instant. “Are you in need of medical attention?” he asked.
“Not right now,” gasped Wesley. “They . . . those two sealed me in there. Emil Costa . . .”
Saduk gently set Wesley down and took off his helmet to reveal his stoic Vulcan face. “Emil Costa is the only reason I am here,” he reported. “He asked me to check on an experiment for him, or else I wouldn’t have been in this area. Are you sure you are all right?”
“Yes, yes,” stammered Wesley, confused. “I don’t know why he called you, but we’ve got to stop them . . .”
The Vulcan interrupted the boy’s sputtering. “One thing at a time, Ensign Crusher. There is a man outside this room who is either dead or badly wounded.”
Wesley peered at him. “Where?”
Saduk motioned toward the door, and, despite his dizziness, Wesley was the first one out. His eyes saw no dead man among the scattered enclosures in the class-one-hundred cleanroom. Instead, he saw a very live Klingon staring past one of the large white pyramids toward the spotless floor. As he drew closer, Wesley could see a white bootie sticking out from behind the pyramid.
Lieutenant Worf was aiming his tricorder at a plump white-suited figure sprawled on the floor. Wesley rushed to get a closer look—and wished he hadn’t. The boy had to grab his mouth to keep from gagging. Most of the man’s chest cavity had been burned to a blackened crater, and chunks of his suit had melted around the jutting ribs.
“No rush to call sickbay,” Worf muttered. “This is the work of a phaser set on full. I was far luckier—my attacker had his phaser set to stun.”
“You were shot too?” gasped Wesley. “What is going on here!”
Worf knelt down beside the disfigured body and removed his helmet. Wesley gaped and Saduk looked impassively at the familiar bristling eyebrows and shock of graying hair. The determined jaw was frozen in death.
“Karn Milu!” exclaimed Wesley. “Wow!”
Worf glared at the youngster. “Report, Ensign Crusher. What do you know about this?”
Wesley gulped, “He and Emil Costa had an argument over a submicrobe the Costas discovered and kept secret. It’s apparently indestructible, and Karn Milu wanted to sell it. I was listening, but they caught me and sealed me in a pod. All the while, Emil Costa had a phaser!”
Worf banged his communicator badge. “Security alert! Capture Dr. Emil Costa immediately. Use all precautions—he is armed with a phaser and should be considered dangerous!”
The alert went to every part of the ship instantaneously, including the shuttlecraft, which was still close enough to the ship to be tied into its communication system. Aboard the Ericksen, all small talk abruptly stopped, and Picard sat up in his seat, as did Riker and Data. If they hadn’t believed their ears the first time, they did the second.
“Repeat,” said the Klingon, “capture Emil Costa and use extreme caution!”
The captain swiveled in his seat to find Emil, but instead he got a good look at the business end of a phaser.
“Don’t move!” the scientist shrieked, waving the phaser frantically at the full passenger compartment. He staggered to his feet. “I’m not going back there! I’m not going back to the Enterprise!”
Riker started to rise from his seat, but Picard motioned him down. Undoubtedly, Ensign Hamer was already turning the small vessel around.
“What is this!” growled Admiral Ulree.
That exclamation brought the shaky phaser to bear on the Kreel admiral, an action that was too threatening for one of his orderlies. The orderly snarled and leapt to his feet—and got drilled in the chest for his efforts. He collapsed back into his comrade’s hands, stunned into unconsciousness.
“Don’t move!” Emil screamed insanely. “I-I know how to use this thing! Don’t make me shoot you!”
No one was moving now, that was for sure. “Doctor,” Picard said evenly, “you are endangering your life as well as all of ours. Please put the phaser down, and let’s discuss this.”
“No, no!” insisted Emil, backing toward the cockpit. “I’m not going back there—ever! They’re after me!” He rushed past the partition into the cockpit, and they heard the muffled voice of Ensign Hamer trying to reason with him.
Clearly, they heard Emil shout, “What are you doing? Don’t turn back!”
“Data,” snapped Picard, knowing the android was more impervious to phaser fire than the rest of them. Picard motioned him toward the cockpit.
Before Data got halfway there, they heard a shriek from the cockpit—and it wasn’t Emil Costa. The shuttlecraft took a sudden lunge to port, and Data sprawled across Picard’s lap as everyone was thrown into a heap. It was Riker, crawling on hands and knees, who reached the cockpit first.
What he saw horrified him. Ensign Hamer was unconscious, and Emil Costa was systematically shooting up the controls with his phaser. Sparks and smoke billowed everywhere, and Riker ignored his own safety to corral Emil in a bear hug. He easily wrestled the frail scientist to the deck and slapped away the phaser.
But that was the least of their problems. The tiny vessel continued to pitch wildly, totally out of control, dumping Kreel and humans first to starboard, then back to port. The cabin filled with noxious smoke, and the Kreel howled like frightened children.
“Data!” cried Picard over the chaos. “Get the helm!” “
“Controls are shot to hell!” answered Riker. Underneath him, Emil Costa was sobbing pitifully, and Riker shoved him away with disgust. He grabbed the phaser, pocketed it, then fumbled along the wall for a fire extinguisher.
Data, also more impervious to smoke, found the extinguisher first and began showering the controls with white foam that hit its mark, then evaporated. As soon as he was certain the fire was contained, the android gently moved Ensign Hamer’s unconscious body and sat at the helm. A momentary glance showed him everything he needed to know.
Captain Picard reached his side and slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “Status?” he breathed.
“Stabilizers are out,” answered Data. “Navigational and communication systems are dead, and the conn is inoperative except for basic readouts. The computer is operating at perhaps ten percent efficiency and is trying to compensate for the loss of the stabilizers. Impulse engines are not the least bit damaged. In fact, we are picking up speed.”
The captain slapped his communicator badge. “Picard to Enterprise.”
“Out of range,” said Data noncommittally. “The Enterprise is moving in the opposite direction.”
The captain repeated his request several times, but there was no answer. Then Commander Riker poked his head into the cockpit. “We have some injured back here,” he reported. “How is Ensign Hamer?”
“She has merely been stunned,” answered Data. “But she faces the same danger that we all do.”
“Danger?” asked Riker.
The android raised his eyebrows and said simply, “We are headed toward the greater Kreel asteroid belt with no way to correct our course or speed.”
Picard and Riker took their eyes off the smoldering control panel and peered worriedly out the window. In the distance, they could barely make out a band of brown objects floating lazily in the starscape. From this distance, they looked like dust particles, but they well knew that most of those chunks of space litter were larger than the shuttlecraft. A few were larger than the Enterprise.
Shouts and commotion sounded behind them in the passenger compartment. “I’ll handle that,” said Riker.
He turned to see two of the Kreel pummeling a helpless Emil Costa. “Stop that!” ordered the first officer.
Admiral Ulree turned his wrath on the human. “This man has willfully injured two of my officers!” he snarled. “We will punish him!”
“There’ll be time for punishment later,” warned Will Riker. “Now return to your seats.” He felt for his phaser and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
The gangly humanoids paused in their violent activity and looked at one another. Reluctantly, Admiral Ulree waved them away, and they dropped the injured scientist onto the deck and returned to their seats. Seconds later, the shuttlecraft bucked violently, and Riker picked up Emil Costa and found seats for both of them.
“What is happening?” asked Kwalrak nervously.
“Nothing,” Riker lied. “Data is making repairs.”
He glanced toward the cockpit, hoping his lie had a germ of truth in it.
“Worf to the bridge!” ordered Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge.
Worf, who was striding down a barren corridor on deck 31 with Wesley Crusher in tow, slapped his communicator badge and responded, “I have to find Emil Costa.”
“No need,” answered the engineering officer. “I know exactly where he is—or rather, where he should be.”
“Where?” growled the Klingon.
“I don’t know where you’ve been,” said Geordi with a slight scold in his voice, “but he left with the captain, Commander Riker, and Data in the shuttlecraft over thirty minutes ago.”
Worf stopped in his stride and scowled. “I was unconscious. Get them back.”
“We’re trying,” Geordi moaned. “They’re not where they should be, and they don’t respond to repeated hailing. We’ve been keeping station with Kayran Rock and lending them logistical support, but now we’re breaking off to search the sector.”
“I’ll be right there,” replied Worf. “Out.” He turned to Wesley and said, “Find Counselor Troi and give her a complete report about Karn Milu’s death and what you witnessed. Then join me on the bridge.”
“I should go to the bridge right now,” insisted Wesley.
The Klingon growled softly, “Obey my order, Ensign.”
“Yes, sir!” snapped Wesley. “I hope you find them.”
“We will,” nodded the big Klingon, striding away.
Data inspected the singed circuitry under the shuttlecraft console and made a split-second decision. Normally, he refused to make assumptions without knowing all the facts, but a small ship careening out of control wouldn’t last long in an asteroid belt. Something had to be done. Captain Picard sat beside him, saying nothing, but the tense muscles in his neck and jaw revealed his concern. The asteroids were getting closer. They didn’t look like dust anymore but more like exactly what they were—jagged carbonaceous rocks hardened into deadly projectiles by the cataclysm which formed them eons ago.
The android sat up and reported, “Captain, I believe I can divert the remaining computer circuits into the navigational system. We may be able to steer, but we’ll lose what little stabilization we have, including the artificial gravity.”
“Make it so,” ordered Picard. “I’ll tell the others to buckle themselves in.”
Jean-Luc rose from his seat and returned to the passenger compartment. The Kreel looked sullenly at him, and Emil Costa, blood caked on his nose and lips, looked up sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” rasped Emil.
“A little late for that now,” muttered Picard, his lips thinning with anger. “We’ve lost our stabilizers, and in order to steer, we’ll have to forego the artificial gravity. So, everyone, please buckle yourselves in.”
“I demand to know what you’re doing!” growled Admiral Ulree.
“Admiral,” sighed the captain, “what we are doing is trying to save all of our lives. This craft is out of control at the moment, but we are endeavoring to correct that problem.”
“What about the asteroid belt?” asked Kwalrak.
“Buckle yourselves in,” ordered the captain with finality. “And secure the wounded as well.”
When he returned to the cockpit, Picard was gratified to see Ensign Hamer sitting up groggily. “Captain,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how to stop him . . .”
“No apologies necessary,” replied Picard, laying a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Commander Data has the helm, and I suggest you return to the main compartment and strap yourself in.”
Whoozily, the ensign rose to her feet. “Yes, Captain,” she answered before leaving the cockpit.
Data was still working under the control panel in a convoluted position only a contortionist—or an android—could achieve. “Please seat yourself, Captain,” he suggested. “When I connect the harness array, we will lose all stabilization, but the helm may respond.”
“May respond?” the captain repeated.
“We have not had the benefit of a thorough evaluation,” Data reminded him seriously.
“Of course not,” said Jean-Luc, adjusting his own seat restraint. “I just wish you had a little more confidence.”
Data observed, “This is not a situation that inspires confidence.”
“What will happen to you?” asked the captain worriedly. “You’re not buckled in.”
Data’s face was still hidden under the console, so Picard couldn’t see if it manifested any sort of concern. “I will be weightless,” said the android. “Please restrain me if I appear to be in danger.”
The captain reached down and got a firm grip on the android’s waistband. “Proceed.”
As swiftly as possible, Data unplugged the computer array from the stabilizers and connected it to the helm controls. He was already floating by the time the connector was seated in its slot, and the shuttle went into an immediate spin. Even though Captain Picard gripped him firmly, Data’s head banged against the burned-out console several times.
With all the strength he could muster, the captain hauled the android into the pilot’s seat and buckled him in. Out the window, the stars and asteroids spiraled like a kaleidoscope, and Picard couldn’t stand to look at it for very long. Data ignored the disorientation and weightlessness to concentrate on forcing the helm to respond. After several moments of intense activity, his efforts began to pay off, and they could feel the craft veering slightly from the course set during Emil’s rampage. Nevertheless, the looming asteroids looked so immense that avoidance seemed impossible.
“If I can set a course bearing mark-three-four,” said Data, “I may be able to skirt the outer edge of the belt and emerge below it.”
Already, smaller chunks of debris swirled around the spinning ship. “Use your best judgment,” the captain replied.
The android nodded, then applied his slender fingers to the trim-pot controls. The cabin rang with thuds as several small asteroids hit the outer hull. One of the Kreel screamed, and the others began a low chant. Probably a death dirge, thought Picard.
“This is not working,” observed Data. “The helm is responding too sluggishly at this speed.”
Picard asked, “Can’t the thrusters slow us down?”
The android shook his head. “Thrusters would be ineffective with impulse engines on full.”
“Wait!” exclaimed the captain. “If we can match the speed and the course of the asteroids, we can drift safely among them.”
“Yes,” agreed Data, “but once we disengage the impulse engines, it is unlikely we could start them again. We would be trapped.”
The ship shook with the impact of another small asteroid, and the wailing grew louder in the back. They were closing fast on a mammoth black asteroid as large as some moons.
“We haven’t got much choice,” Picard said grimly.
“Yes, sir,” answered Data, already making the course adjustments. Then he reached under the console, felt his way for a moment, and yanked out a mass of circuitry. The console protested with more sparks, but the impulse engines died immediately. Inertia kept the craft moving at the same velocity, however, and they drew close enough to count the pocked craters on the gigantic asteroid. Data fired the thrusters manually and kept firing until the little vessel finally began to slow down. The asteroid loomed so large before them that Picard involuntarily closed his eyes and braced himself for impact.
When he opened his eyes, the entire window was filled with the ravaged crags of the black asteroid. But they weren’t gaining on it anymore. Picard swallowed and sank back in his seat. “Well done, Data,” he sighed.
“Now that we have no need for navigation,” said the android, “I will rewire the computer for gravity and stabilization.”
The captain nodded in agreement. “I know subspace communications are out, but see if you can rig up a distress signal.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Data.
As the android worked on his new assignments, Captain Picard swiveled in his seat. He almost unfastened his restraint, then remembered that he was still weightless. “To all hands!” he called loudly enough to be heard even at the rear of the craft. “We have stabilized our speed and position. We are in no immediate danger.”
A few seconds later, the Kreel first assistant, Kwalrak, drifted into view over Picard’s head. Oddly, a weightless Kreel possessed none of the awkwardness of a walking Kreel. With her long muscular arms to guide her, Kwalrak maneuvered gracefully around the weightless cabin.
She stared in dismay at the blackened controls, then remembered her purpose. “Captain,” she gulped, “Admiral Ulree would like to congratulate you on regaining control of the shuttlecraft, but he warns you not to remain long in the asteroid belt. We have lost many ships here.”
“Understood,” nodded Picard. “Tell the admiral and the rest of your party that we appreciate their patience. We will leave here as soon as possible.”
Kwalrak bowed her triangular head and floated away. Jean-Luc watched her go, then slumped back into his chair, wondering how long “as soon as possible” would be. Data was working diligently with circuits that looked like they belonged in a junk pile. At the moment, thought Picard, the entire shuttlecraft was just another piece of space junk drifting in a lazy solar orbit through the greater Kreel asteroid belt.