Encounter at Farpoint

by David Gerrold

  “No,” he screamed again. “No—”

  Riker took a step forward, as the sparkling luminiscence completely covered the screaming Bandi administrator.

  Zorn clutched at Riker’s arm desperately. “Help me,” he pleaded. “Help me!”

  The glow began spreading over Riker’s body. He felt a strange tingling creep down his arm . . .

  “Sir, no!” Data grabbed Riker and pulled him back. The first officer was surprised to feel the immense power in Data’s fingers, and equally surprised to realize the android had pulled him back with just two fingertips.

  Zorn’s screams stopped suddenly. Data and Riker glanced around.

  Save for the two of them, the room was empty.

  Chapter Ten

  RIKER BLINKED, STARING at the space Zorn had occupied. Behind him, Data murmured, “I suspect this will create a difficulty.”

  “You have a talent for understatement, Commander.” Riker tapped his communicator to key it and barked, “First officer to Enterprise”.

  Picard’s voice immediately crackled over the minute speaker. “Go ahead, Riker.”

  He’s not going to like this, but I’m damned if I know what to do about it, Riker thought. He shook his head slightly, took a breath, and went ahead. “We’ve lost Zorn, sir. Something like a transporter beam has snatched him out of here.”

  “Like a transporter beam? Not one of ours?”

  “I would say alien, sir,” Data chimed in.

  “Question, sir,” Riker went on. “Could it have been this Q?”

  Q’s eyebrows lifted archly, and he smiled at Picard’s sour expression. It was so plain, and these fools would never get it. “None of you knows who transported him? You’re running out of time, Captain.”

  Troi moved in her chair, stirring from an inner-directed center of attention. She had been alert to Picard’s hostility and Q’s mocking taunts until something else crept in, nudging her mind subtly. She frowned, analyzing it, separating out the elements. “Captain,” she said finally, “suddenly I’m sensing something else.” He swung around to look at her questioningly. “It’s satisfaction, enormous satisfaction.”

  “Oh, very good,”Q chuckled.

  Picard ignored him. “From the same source as before?”

  “No, that was on the planet. This is much closer.”

  The Captain turned toward the viewscreen where the mystery ship hovered ominously in orbit. Q rocked up on the balls of his feet and then back again to his heels, grinning wickedly at Troi. “Excellent, Counselor!” He jerked his head toward Picard. “He’s such a dullard, isn’t he?”

  “Perhaps,” Picard shot back. “But you seem to think this is nothing but a riddle game—and I’ll remind you we have more serious business here.”

  A voice crackled over the intership, interrupting them. “Transporter Room 6 to captain. First officer and Mister Data have now beamed aboard. They’re on their way to the bridge, sir.”

  “Ah,”Q said, smiling cheerfully. “Excellent also! Perhaps with more of these little minds helping, you’ll—”

  Picard whirled on him, exploding. He seldom lost his temper, didn’t believe it ever accomplished much. But this creature was too overbearing, too smug to be tolerated. “That is enough, damn it!”

  Q stepped back slightly, his eyebrows cocked sardonically again. “Have you forgotten we have an agreement? I’m just urging you to keep it.”

  Picard was aware the turbolift doors had opened and someone entered the bridge. Data and Riker most likely. His attention remained riveted to the alien before him. Q had moved back, given ground. Picard’s fencing training snapped to the fore, and he instinctively stepped forward. When an opponent has been forced back, follow; attack boldly. “We have an agreement which you are at this moment breaking by taking over my vessel, interfering with my decisions!” He was nose to nose with Q, and his voice rang with authority, though he did not raise it. “Either leave or finish us.”

  Q paused thoughtfully, studying Picard. Everyone else on the bridge found himself holding his breath, waiting to see how the mercurial alien would react. In fact, though Picard had surprised him with the vehemence of his attack, Q was enjoying himself. Finally, he allowed a sweet smile to cross his face; and his voice, when it came, was gentle. “Temper, temper, mon Captain. I am merely trying to assist a pitiful species toward a slight achievement before you have to return to your little planet—and stay there. Perhaps I’ll leave if Commander Riker provides me with some amusement.”

  “Do nothing that he asks!” Picard snapped at Riker.

  Riker had no intention of doing so and merely shot a confirming glance at his commander. Q moved toward him, his voice pleasant and persuasive. “But I ask so little. And it is necessary if you are to solve all this.”

  “What is it you want?” Riker asked.

  Q flipped a casual hand toward the huge viewscreen and the alien ship. Beam over there with your . . .” He paused and turned to Picard appealingly, “What do you call it? Your away team?”

  “I’ll risk no lives on such an unknown,” Picard said flatly.

  The alien shook his head in great pity. Such a trial, these humans. They simply refused to let him help them. “You should already know what you’ll find there, Captain. But perhaps it is too adult a puzzle for you. Too complex. Too far above your puny efforts . . .” He paused. “Maybe you should just use your phasers . . .”

  “Q, I’m warning you . . .”

  “Captain,” Riker said. “With all due respect, I want to beam over there.”

  Q turned quickly toward Riker. “Ah! You show promise, my good fellow.”

  Riker interrupted angrily, nodding toward Picard. “Have you understood any part of what he’s tried to tell you? Humanity is no longer a savage race!”

  “What did they used to say, back in your 20th Century? Yes, I have it. ‘Talk is cheap.’ The words are very fine, my dear Commander Riker. But you must still prove that!” The blinding flash that signaled his departure exploded in their faces, and the officers shrank back from its brilliance.

  Riker turned to Picard as the light died away, leaving their bridge looking almost faded in its soft light and muted colors. “Sir, I repeat my request to take an away team to that ship. If there are answers, that’s where they’ll be.”

  “I’m surprised you believe that, too,” Picard said.

  Riker lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s the only place left to look, sir. Why not?”

  Picard turned it over in his mind. Riker was correct, of course; and Picard had known that he would agree to the first officer’s request the moment he had made it. He nodded.

  “If there’s anything there, we’ll find it, sir.”

  Picard nodded again and moved away up the ramp toward the aft turbolift doors. “Sir?” Riker persisted. “If he’s not open to evidence in our favor, where will you go from there?”

  Picard paused at the top of the ramp and turned to look back at Riker. “I’ll be attending to my duties.”

  “To the bitter end.”

  The captain tilted his head, thinking about it. Then his mouth tilted in a half smile. “I see nothing so bitter in that.” Riker nodded soberly, and then he offered a thumbs-up sign to Picard. The captain strode to the turbolift doors, which obligingly parted before him. “Sickbay,” he said curtly, and the doors closed on him.

  Riker decided he liked this man very much—and if they managed to get out of this, he thought he was going to enjoy shipping out under Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s command.

  Beverly Crusher had been busy running routine checks on the new personnel signing aboard, correlating their last recorded medical status with current readings. Lieutenant LaForge lay quietly on the examining table before her now. His full range scan showed him to be in excellent health, as his records stated. She was as interested in the visual prosthesis which lay beside him on the table as she was in his medical readouts. His blind eyes stared unblinkingly straight up into the overhead light
ing; and she found the flat gray irises with no pupil somewhat disturbing. As she finished the scan of his eyes with her hand instruments, she said, “Naturally, I’ve read up on your case. You are able to compensate extremely well with the VISOR appliance—”

  “Yes, a remarkable piece of bioelectronic engineering by which I ‘see’ much of the EM spectrum ranging from simple heat and infrared through radio waves, et cetera, et cetera,” Geordi chanted in a bored lilt. “Forgive me if I’ve said it and listened to it a thousand times before.”

  “Your records indicate you’ve been blind all your life.”

  Geordi sat up at her tap on his shoulder and swung his feet over the side of the examining table. “Born this way,” he replied flatly. It was a fact, one he lived with. Period. As he accepted the VISOR that gave him vision, he also accepted the fact that nature had seen fit not to allow him to see as other people did. Beverly lifted the device and placed it in his hands.

  “And you’ve felt pain all the years you’ve used this?”

  Geordi nodded philosophically. “They say it’s because it uses my natural sensors in different ways.”

  Beverly hesitated thoughtfully. She could think of options but surely other people had proposed them too. The young lieutenant seemed resigned to the situation. Still, it was worth venturing them to him. “I see two choices. The first is painkillers. . . .”

  “Which would affect how this works,” Geordi interrupted. He slipped on the VISOR and looked at her directly. “No.”

  The doors to sickbay slid open, and Picard stepped in. Beverly shot a glance past Geordi and stiffened slightly when she saw the captain enter, then her attention was drawn back to LaForge’s question. “Choice number two?”

  “Exploratory surgery, desensitize the brain area troubling you.”

  Geordi slipped off the examination table and shook his head. That was one he had heard before, too; but he managed a smile at her. “Same difference. No thank you.”

  Beverly smiled back at him, understandingly. “Just thought I’d remind you the options are there. And I’m sure there will be others in the future.”

  “I’ll keep an open mind, Doctor.”

  Picard stepped forward from the doorway, glancing between Beverly and the young lieutenant. “Any problems, Doctor? Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. Absolutely none at all,” Geordi replied. He nodded to Beverly and moved toward the door.

  Picard watched him out and then turned to Beverly as she spoke. “Can I help you, Captain?”

  He was uncomfortable, but he was also a man who didn’t like to leave things left unsaid to fester in silence. Better to state what was on his mind and have everything clear. “Just some unfinished business. I didn’t want to have you thinking I was a cold-blooded bastard.”

  Beverly’s right eyebrow arched, and she managed to conceal a smile; but the humor trickled into her voice anyway. “Now why would I ever think that?”

  All right, she was laughing at him. Picard relaxed a little, realizing she was going to let him have his say. He had thought she might be rigid or hostile after their two confrontations; but she was proving to be not at all what he anticipated. That was interesting . . . He immediately stopped that line of thought and turned to what he had come for. “I didn’t exactly welcome you aboard in the best personal or professional manner. I yelled at your son, who, as you pointed out, was quite correct in his assessment of the bridge situation. He does seem to have a good grasp of starship operations. I apologize for shouting at him. I . . . ah, don’t have a great deal of experience with children.”

  Beverly smiled at him then, accepting the apology. “I can understand that, Captain. I assure you neither of us were permanently damaged by the encounter.”

  Picard considered the statement a moment and finally extended his hand to her. “Then, welcome aboard, Doctor. I hope we can be friends.”

  She allowed a quick and perfunctory handshake. “Thank you.” Equally as quickly, she withdrew her hand and her smile. Picard studied her, faced the fact he had no other choice but to withdraw, nodded and left. Beverly drew a deep breath. For a while, she had wondered whether her plain speech had offended him so deeply that he would not accept her as his chief medical officer. Apparently, everything Jack had said about him, and everything she had ever heard about him, was correct. He was hard, but fair. He accepted the fact he could be wrong and acknowledged it when he was. Maybe, just maybe, she would come to like him as much as Jack had. A vaguely disturbing thought drifted through her mind and was gone again in an instant.

  Maybe she could come to like him more.

  Riker’s away team filed toward the transporter platform, quickly and efficiently checking their equipment as they moved. He had chosen Lieutenant Yar, Troi and Lieutenant Commander Data for individual strengths and traits, but also because they had worked well on the brief mission to the surface before the ship attack. He had justified the inclusion of Troi for her sensitivities to other life forms, sensitivities which they would undoubtedly need aboard the alien vessel. The android had also proven valuable in his ability to analyze information and present a conclusion—even if he was a little persistent in his queries about any references that were not literal facts.

  “Set phasers on stun,” Riker ordered. As the team quickly made the last check and settled on the transporter pads, he looked at the chief. “Ready.”

  The transporter chief rechecked his console carefully. “I’m locked on coordinates that should put you in the middle of that ship, sir, but our sensors can’t get through whatever screens they have up. I don’t know what I’m beaming you into, except it isn’t their engines. Those we can read by the high intensity energy they put out.”

  Riker nodded. “Understood. Energize.”

  The transporter beam materialized them in what appeared to be a tunnel. Riker instantly recognized the symetrical shapes and unearthly soft glow. Data scanned his tricorder around, checking its readouts. “Most interesting, sir. Light, but no apparent light source. Construction of the walls—unknown. The tricorder cannot analyze it.”

  “It’s the same construction as the tunnel under Farpoint Station,” Tasha interjected.

  Data looked up, quickly. “As I was about to comment,” he said. Riker could have sworn the android sounded slightly miffed. “But you will notice, there is no sound of power or other ship sounds. No equipment.”

  “How does this ship run?”

  Riker nodded to indicate a way down the tunnel. “Let’s find out.”

  Tasha immediately took the point and led off in the direction he had signaled. Data kept up a constant tricorder scan of their surroundings, but shook his head at Riker to say the readings were useless.

  Troi staggered, as if she’d been hit. Riker was at her side in two quick steps.

  “Troi, what is it? Is it the same as you felt on the planet?”

  “No, this is . . . different.” She carefully lowered the mental shields she had snapped up when the empathic feeling had hit. A delicate probing analyzed it, and she looked up at Riker with a frown. “It feels much more powerful . . . full of anger . . . hate.

  “Toward us?”

  “No. It’s directed down toward the old Bandi city.”

  Data moved forward eagerly. “Most intriguing again. The place that this vessel was firing upon wasn’t the Farpoint Starbase but the home of those who constructed—” He abruptly stopped, glancing at Riker in something akin to embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. I seem to be commenting on everything.”