by Mel Gilden
“Right. Computer, take us to the bridge.”
The turbolift began to move again. Picard said, “Any idea what to expect, Data?”
“None whatsoever, sir. To guess without information seems pointless.”
The turbolift stopped, and the doors hissed open. Picard stepped onto the bridge and fell into a martial arts crouch. Three Boogeymen were in the command seats. The one in the center jumped up and cried, “Intruders! Get them!” The other two ran toward the turbolift.
Picard pushed Wesley and Data back into the turbolift as he retreated. The doors closed and Picard said, “Deck ten.”
Data said, “The main computer, sir?”
“Yes. It may be no more real than the arch, but it still may be able to tell us something about this holo-universe. Also, I’m hoping that somehow we can break through to the real Enterprise. How are you getting on, Mr. Crusher?”
“All right, sir.” Sure. As right as can be expected when meeting one of your worst fears in the flesh. The captain was correct: it was unfortunate Wesley had used an old nightmare as the model for the aliens. But Wesley was a lot older now than when he’d had those terrible dreams. He’d designed the Boogeymen in the form of his old nightmares because he’d been convinced he could successfully face them. Having seen them, he was shaky but optimistic.
The corridor on deck ten was as deserted as the others they’d been on. Ten Forward was deserted. Not even any Boogeymen were in sight. That had to mean something. Wesley thought about this as they walked quickly to the main computer.
Every so often Picard stopped, touched a companel, and asked it where they were. None of the companels worked and Picard wondered why, if the turbolifts and the arch worked.
Data said, “Difficult to say, Captain, not knowing exactly what is wrong with the holodeck computer.”
The captain kept trying. This holo-Enterprise looked like his ship, and at some primal level, down in the base of his brain, Wesley thought Picard still believed that it was his ship. The components ought to work even though all his logic told him there was no chance.
Hoping to redeem himself in Picard’s eyes, Wesley said, “Sir, have you noticed how deserted the ship seems to be?”
“Not deserted enough,” Picard said.
“Even the Boogeymen,” Wesley said. “We’ve never seen more than three at a time.”
Data said, “The number may be coincidental. Or it may be the result of a glitch in the program. It may mean nothing at all.”
“Everything is evidence,” Picard said.
“I was not disputing that fact. I was merely suggesting that the evidence may not be helpful.”
Picard touched a companel and said, “Picard to Riker.”
A moment passed, and Wesley thought this companel was as dead as all the others Picard had tried. Then a voice said, “Riker here, Captain.” The voice could have been Riker’s. Wesley smiled and even Data brightened.
“Number One, Commander Data and Ensign Crusher and I are trapped on holodeck three. Have Mr. La Forge attempt to shut down the holodeck computer.” He glanced around and said, “And just to be on the safe side, send Mr. Worf with a contingent of security guards.”
“Security guards?”
“Difficult to explain, Number One.”
“Aye, Captain. Security guards.”
As Picard stepped back from the companel to let it know he was done, he said to Data, “Perhaps you can reach the main computer through this companel.”
Data stepped forward, touched the panel, and said, “Computer.”
There was no response. Data called the computer again, and once more nothing happened. “Most puzzling,” Data said. “Perhaps the panel is able to act only as a person-to-person communication device.” He touched the companel again and said, “Data to La Forge.”
Before La Forge had a chance to answer—if the companel had made contact at all—they heard scuffling behind them. In a moment, three more Boogeymen galloped down on them wearing the uniforms of Enterprise security guards.
In a hellish parody of Worf’s voice, the lead Boogeyman cried, “Security detail reporting!”
By that time Wesley and the others were moving quickly, running around the large curve of the corridor. Wesley ran without looking back. He supposed Picard and Data were close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, turned cold, and did what he thought was impossible—he ran faster. Two Boogeymen were chasing him. One was bald and wearing a red uniform. The other was a pale waxy yellow and wore a gold uniform. They were catching up. The bald one cried, “Mr. Crusher! Mr. Crusher!”
Wesley ran so fast he was certain he almost attained warp one. Then somebody grabbed him. He fought blindly, thrashing out and kicking and clawing, in his frenzy having forgotten everything he’d learned about martial arts.
“Mr. Crusher!”
It was Captain Picard’s voice. His real voice. Wesley opened his eyes and saw that the real Captain Picard held him by both shoulders.
“Captain! They’re after me. Boogeyman versions of you and Data.”
Data looked back along the corridor, and said, “The corridor is empty, Wesley.”
Wesley looked too, and when he saw that Data was right, he felt both relieved and cheated. He’d been ready for a fight, and now it seemed there was not to be one. He tried to make his heart stop banging quite so hard. He said, “How did you two get in front of me?”
“I wasn’t aware that we were until you ran into us,” Picard said.
“Evidently,” said Data, “the topology of this holodeck Enterprise follows different rules from those on the real ship.”
“Or anywhere else,” said Wesley. He commanded himself to get a grip. He’d made a mistake designing the Boogeymen the way he had, and now he had to live with it. The situation would not improve if he became hysterical.
Picard looked around as if he could see the anomalies on all sides. “I’d be very surprised if the holo-Enterprise follows any rules at all other than the ones the Boogeymen make up as they go along.”
Wesley shook his head. “They could have caught me, sir.”
Picard nodded and said, “I assume you designed them to be good game players.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I suggest to you that, for whatever reason, they wish the game to continue.”
That was certainly an explanation, but it didn’t comfort Wesley. He’d had enough of this game already. And he’d learned a lesson about writing special programs for the holodeck.
Data said, “Perhaps the main computer core will give us more answers.”
“Yes,” said Picard. “And allow us to get through to the ship. Stay close, everyone.”
They continued down the corridor and stopped at the entrance to the main computer core. It had double security locks, and from the look of the twin red telltales, both locks were working. Crew members did not ordinarily enter the computer core control center, and those who did required a top security clearance.
Picard set his fingertips against a blue plate, and the computer said, “Ensign Jean-Luc Picard is not cleared for this area.”
Picard stepped back as if he’d been physically assaulted.
Data said, “Of course. The holodeck computer is still running Ensign Crusher’s program. As far as it is concerned, Wesley is the captain.”
Wesley was embarrassed by this, but Picard laughed and said, “Well then, perhaps Captain Crusher would be so kind as to put his fingers on the identity plate.”
Smiling with embarrassment, Wesley did as Picard had done. The computer said, “Captain Wesley Crusher is identified.”
“Open control center.”
The computer thought about that for a while. Confirmation of Wesley’s access to the control center should have taken nanoseconds, a time seemingly instantaneous by human clocks. “Maybe—” Wesley began.
The computer said, “Clearance confirmed,” and the heavy-duty double doors slid open. The security field sparked once—which
was odd—and went off.
At Picard’s insistence, Wesley led them into a dim room so full of blinking lights that Wesley thought of the stars outside. Outside the holodeck. Outside the real Enterprise. Each light was an isolinear chip that was in use.
Four crouching dwarfs faced a thick column that ran from floor to ceiling and throbbed with its own glow, like a big heart—which, in a sense, it was. Without the main computer core, and one like it in the engineering hull, the Enterprise would have been nothing more than an expensively furnished rations can. It would have needed ten times its present crew working constantly just to do the routine jobs the computer did effortlessly and without bother.
Opposite the door was a flow chart showing which parts of the main computer and its satellite computer were busy and what they were doing. Had someone made an inquiry? Was someone using a food slot? Was the life-support computer making routine adjustments? The computers could do thousands of complex tasks, both independent and interconnected, and if you knew how to read the flow chart, you could find out what they were at any particular moment.
Except for the long breathe sound of the air recirculators, the room was completely silent.
Wesley said, “Raise illumination to daytime level.”
The light came up, and Wesley saw that the dwarfs were computer terminals. He knew they should have been terminals, but he was relieved they weren’t Boogeymen. He and Picard and Data spread out a little as they ventured farther into the room.
Picard said, “It all looks astonishingly normal.”
“The computer has every inch of the ship in permanent read-only memory,” Data said.
“Let’s remember that when considering the Boogeymen.”
Wesley sat at one of the terminals. Everyone on the ship had at least a basic knowledge of how to operate a computer, and Wesley’s knowledge went far beyond the basic. Once, while on a routine mission from Starbase 123 to a nearby planet, Picard had allowed him to temporarily reprogram the navigational computer with his own set of specifications, laboriously worked out over the preceding months. The Enterprise had arrived three days late and fifteen planetary diameters off course, but Riker claimed to have been astonished at such sharpshooting. Picard had gently suggested Wesley reinstall the Starfleet specs.
Still, when Wesley put one hand out to the control surface, he pulled it back without touching anything. This wasn’t a real terminal. It might not work at all, or it might work in a wonky way. He figured he’d caused enough trouble already. Let Data and the captain do the experimenting.
“You know why we’re here, Mr. Data?” Picard asked.
The captain stood near the central column. Data had been wandering around the walls, apparently checking the chips, and then had spent some time studying the flow chart. He turned to the captain. “I do, sir. You wish me to go on line with the holo-simulation of Enterprise’s main computer.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Wesley said. “I mean, if the main computer has an information surge while Data’s on line, it could overload his circuits and blow out his positronic brain.”
Matter-of-factly, Data said, “The odds of that happening are only one in eight hundred million.”
“That’s for the real main computer.”
“The chance must be taken.”
“Mr. Crusher is correct, Data. A large element of risk is involved here. That is why I am making a request rather than giving an order. Maybe we can solve our problem another way.”
“I would be delighted to hear any suggestion.”
“Mr. Crusher?” Picard said.
In the quiet room, Wesley tried to think of something they might do other than talk to the main computer. The main computer ran everything. It knew every centimeter and circuit of everything on the Enterprise, every centimeter and circuit even of itself. The main computer had to be an important part of any simulation of the Enterprise, and it was not impossible that the computer was simulated down to its last chip. Wesley said, “No, sir. If we’re going to break through to the outside at all, this is the place to do it.”
Picard nodded and said, “Very well. Proceed when ready, Mr. Data.” He sat down at one of the other terminals, made as if to rest his hand on it, glanced at Wesley, who was sitting with his hands in his lap, and decided to sit that way also. Wesley didn’t feel like such a gazebo if Picard also seemed to be afraid to touch anything.
Data removed a patch of his scalp to reveal an intricate web of thin silver paths and tiny blinking lights. In the center of the web was a complex computer outlet. He took a short optical cable from a storage locker and plugged one end into the outlet. To one side of the flow chart was a panel of ports into which one could plug anything from a tricorder to a single iso-linear chip. Data found a port that would fit the off-end of the optical cable, and looked back at Picard and Wesley.
“When ready, Mr. Data,” Picard said.
Data nodded. Like a man delivering the final thrust of a sword, Data plugged himself into the wall. His eyes got wide, but he stood without moving.
“Do you think—” Wesley said.
Picard interrupted. “I don’t know.”
A low hum began. It grew in pitch and intensity. Data started to shiver. As the hum grew, he shook harder until his boots beat against the floor. Without thinking about the danger to Data or himself, Wesley rushed him and hit him hard with his shoulder, knocking him loose from the port. At the moment of impact, Wesley felt an electrical charge shoot through his body. For a moment Data lay beneath him as still as death. Wesley was not certain that he could move either.
Then Wesley felt hands under his arms, and Picard helped him to his feet. Wesley was relieved that the residual shimmer of the lightning bolt was fading. He and Picard looked down at Data. His eyes were open, but seemingly sightless, focused on nothing.
Picard knelt and called to Data. Without moving anything but his mouth, Data said, “Most interesting.”
The captain shared a smile with Wesley and said, “What is most interesting, Data?”
“I believe I have just experienced a sensation humans call ‘stunned.’ To be dazed or bewildered. To be shocked, startled, jolted—”
“I think he’s all right, sir,” Wesley said.
He and Picard helped Data to his feet. Data slid the covering tip back onto his pinky and said, “Most interesting, Captain. Our analysis of the situation is correct in all important aspects. Wesley’s Boogeymen have taken control of the holodeck satellite of the real Enterprise’s main computer. This computer”—he indicated the holodeck simulation of the main computer—“has no knowledge of any ship outside the simulation we are trapped in and therefore refuses to communicate with anyone or anything outside.”
Data and Wesley looked at Picard. He appeared grim, but he shrugged and almost smiled when he said, “Then let us hope Commander Riker is taking measures to rescue us. Meanwhile, I, for one, do not propose we sit around waiting for him.” He called out, “Exit holodeck.”
A doorway appeared in the middle of the room, cutting into the central column. Outside was an apparently normal Enterprise corridor. Wesley and the others knew better, of course, but that was what it looked like.
Picard walked to the doorway and turned. “Coming, gentlemen?”
Wesley and Data followed him through the doorway.
Chapter Five
RIKER WAS HAVING a drink with Baldwin in Ten Forward when the call came through from La Forge. They sat on the highest level, the one farthest from the bar, and Baldwin was staring out the window at the rainbow streaks of stars falling toward them.
Riker sipped his transporter, a silver drink whose shimmering bubbles gave it its name. He said, “You must have formed some conclusions about the Tantamon Four natives, having been there for six months.”
“Am I still on company time?” Baldwin said without turning his head.
“Sorry,” said Riker, obviously a little miffed. “I was just making conversation.”
Baldwi
n looked at him and smiled. “That’s okay. I don’t really mind. Exology is my life.”
“You don’t sound serious.”
They both watched a pretty yeoman cross the room and sit down at a table with a friend.
“I almost never do. A playful attitude protects me from the stuff that really bothers me.”
The pretty yeoman laughed. Light caught in her blond hair glowed.
When Riker looked back at him, Baldwin was frowning. “Thinking about Mont?” Riker said.
“I guess I was, at that. I was thinking that it’s funny how you can make enemies without even half trying.”
Riker nodded and looked out the window.
“Commander Riker?”
Riker touched his insignia and said, “Riker here. What is it, La Forge?”
“I have a strange power fluctuation on holodeck three. Nothing to worry about, but I thought you should know.”
“Strange how?”
“It looks like signal interference, but that’s not possible. Nothing on board broadcasts a signal of that type.”
“The captain’s using holodeck three with Data and Wesley. Is there any danger?”
“Not at the moment. But if it gets much worse, the simulation they’re using will start to break up. They may suffer some disorientation.”
“Let me know if the situation changes.”
“Aye, sir. La Forge out.”
Baldwin said, “One damn thing after another, eh, Commander?”
“Sometimes I think certain people attract trouble.”
Baldwin raised his glass and said, “Here’s to the heroes.”
Riker smiled and joined him in the toast.
Picard led Data and Wesley through the holodeck exit into a corridor of what looked like the Enterprise. Once again they were ambushed by Boogeymen. Picard was not gentle fighting them off. Even if they had been real and not just holodeck fever dreams, he would not have been gentle. They had adequately demonstrated their hostility. And Picard, though a man of peace, was also nobody’s fool.
Data was handling his Boogeyman with his usual élan, and even Wesley, who was understandably disturbed and intimidated by his creations, seemed to be holding his own. While gripping his Boogeyman in a headlock, Picard shouted, “Exit holodeck.”
