Star Trek: The Next Generation - 114 - Cold Equations: The Body Electric

by David Mack

  He kissed her again as the door opened with a pneumatic sigh, and Gatt said in a near growl, “That’s enough. Visit’s over.” He waved his two sentries inside, and the skeletal-looking robot took Data by his arms and escorted him out of the room by force. Gatt lingered in the doorway as his minions retreated with Data in tow. “That was positively touching, my dear.”

  “If you hurt him, I will end you.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of harming Data. He’s going to make your father give me his secrets.”

  “And why would he do that?”

  The horror-faced android bared an ugly grin. “To keep me from killing you.”

  12

  “Steady as she goes,” Picard said, as if he hadn’t ordered the Enterprise into the wild maelstrom surrounding the Machine. “How long until we’re close enough to transmit a clear signal?”

  Faur kept her eyes and hands on the helm as she replied, “Thirty-five seconds, sir.” Her report was punctuated by another thunderous jolt of energy hammering the ship.

  “Shields holding,” Šmrhová called out over the aftershocks echoing through the hull.

  An indigo storm swirled across the main viewscreen, promising rougher encounters ahead. It was the Machine’s encircling tempest that made this perilous maneuver necessary. Not long after Taurik and Elfiki had prepared a message to the Machine translated into its exquisitely complicated native code language, Dygan and La Forge had uncovered the next obstacle in their path: the energy bursts in the Machine’s captive nebula would garble such a broadband comm signal transmitted from outside. In order to ensure that their message was received intact, Picard had to risk ordering his ship through the turbulent clouds so that they could send a signal clear of all interference. Unlike the unarmed shuttlecraft, which had cruised through the nebula with little difficulty, the Enterprise seemed to be facing deliberate resistance.

  Chen, Elfiki, and Taurik huddled around the master systems display, making final refinements to deep lines of nested code in the message. They all looked up as Glinn Dygan called back from ops, “We’re in position.”

  Worf looked at La Forge. “Transmit when ready.”

  “Aye, sir,” Chen said. She took a deep breath. The other two junior officers finished making their changes, and Chen delivered the missive with a tap on the console. “Sending.”

  Several seconds dragged past without an apparent response from the Machine. Then it stirred. Flashes of light traveled across its surface, and different regions of its surface pulsed in a seemingly random sequence. Titanic energy bursts lit up the nebula on the far side of the Machine, and then the phenomenon made its way toward the Enterprise. It was a fearsome spectacle, one that for Picard evoked memories of ancient myths in which mortals awakened great leviathans to their immediate peril and lasting regret.

  Worf leaned toward Picard. “Sir, I suggest we fall back to a safe distance.”

  “Not yet, Number One. We’ve sent it a message. Let’s wait for a response.”

  Prismatic ribbons of energy snaked upward from the Machine into the nebula. Elfiki reported with barely concealed alarm, “Picking up massive increases in energy output from the Machine, Captain!” Half a second later, the number of energy twisters rising from the surface doubled, then quadrupled. “Ionization in the nebula is spiking!”

  “I think we have our response,” Worf said.

  “Come about,” Picard ordered. “Take us out of—”

  A thunderous impact turned the bridge pitch-dark and launched the crew into free fall as the inertial dampers failed. Booms resonated from ruptured power conduits, which rained searing-hot phosphors onto Picard and his officers. Gravity returned and slammed everyone to the deck. Shaking off the dull aches in his knees and elbows, Picard pushed himself back to his feet, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the emergency lights. “Report,” he snapped before he saw that the main viewscreen and half the consoles on the bridge were hashed with wild static, and those that weren’t were dull and dark.

  Dygan pulled himself back into his chair and prodded at his malfunctioning console. “The last thing I saw was that we’d suffered a direct hit.”

  Šmrhová frowned at her stuttering security panel, then shook her head at Worf.

  Picard tapped his combadge. “Bridge to La Forge, Priority One.”

  After a crackling of static, the chief engineer’s voice emanated from Picard’s combadge rather than from the overhead speakers. “La Forge here. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “All bridge functions are off line. Transfer helm control to engineering and pilot us out of the nebula. We’ll contact you as soon as we reach auxiliary control.”

  “Understood. We’re on it. La Forge out.”

  Moving from station to station, Worf made a quick check of the bridge crew, asking each person if they were all right. He checked in with Šmrhová last, then had her help him test the turbolifts. Their shared frustration made it clear to Picard that the lifts were off line, as well.

  “Attention,” Worf said. “We will be using the emergency access hatch and escape ladder to leave this deck. We will climb down to Deck Four and proceed from there to auxiliary control. Lieutenant Šmrhová will take point. Follow her.”

  The security chief made a beeline for the emergency hatch, which was located in the starboard passageway connecting the bridge to the observation lounge. “This way, everyone.”

  Picard felt the deck vibrate as the ship’s impulse engines accelerated, and the Enterprise trembled from what felt like a glancing blow of lightning, or perhaps a near miss amplified by the density of the nebula. He stopped at Worf’s side. “Well done, Number One.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He glanced at the exiting bridge personnel. “With your permission, sir, I will remain here and wait for the damage-control team.”

  “Absolutely not,” Picard said. “The engineers will let us know when the bridge is back on line. I need you at my side.” He gestured toward the aft starboard exit. “After you, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir.” Worf led him off the bridge, through the hatchway, and down the ladder.

  For the sake of preserving his crew’s morale, Picard kept his true thoughts to himself as he made his descent. If this is how the Machine responds when we try to make peaceful contact, how will it react when we start trying to stop it from finishing its mission?

  Listening to the deep groaning of his damaged ship, he suspected that the answer to that question was going to be unpleasant—and that, unfortunately, it now had become inevitable.

  * * *

  Auxiliary control was a cramped space that gave Worf new appreciation for the Enterprise’s bridge. Only essential personnel—himself, the captain, flight control officer Faur, operations manager Dygan, and security chief Šmrhová—had stations inside the oval compartment tucked deep within the core of the Sovereign-class starship, between the forward sections of the saucer and the largely automated shuttle-storage hangars. Surrounded by thick bulkheads of reinforced tritanium armor and ablative shielding, this was arguably the safest space in the entire ship. If not for the fact that Worf felt as if they were all nearly shoulder-to-shoulder while trying to work, he might have considered suggesting transferring control of the ship there on a permanent basis.

  La Forge’s voice issued from the speaker in the overhead, which was as uncomfortably close as everything and everyone else in the compartment. “The damage extends through our entire power network, Captain. We’ve got overloads in everything from the warp coils to the sensor grid. Plus, part of the last surge hit the main computer core. I don’t think we lost any data, but most of its functions will be off line until we finish a level-three diagnostic.”

  The captain absorbed the news with stoic reserve. “How long to finish essential repairs?”

  “At least a day, maybe two.”

  Worf needed more specific information. “How long to restore tactical systems?”

  “It’s all connected, Commander,” La Forge said
. “I estimate we’ll be without shields, phasers, or tractor beams for at least twenty hours.”

  Picard noted the disapproval on Worf’s face, but he maintained his air of calm. “Understood, Geordi. Keep us apprised of your progress. Picard out.” A faint click from the speaker confirmed the channel was closed. “Glinn Dygan, we might need to rely upon Wesley’s ship and our runabout for further encounters with the Machine. Have the hangar crew remove the runabout’s weapon systems at once.”

  Dygan nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  Another voice from the overhead: “Crusher to Captain Picard.”

  “Go ahead, Doctor.”

  “I have final casualty numbers for you. Zero fatalities; two critically injured, both from engineering; fourteen serious injuries requiring a night in sickbay; and forty-seven minor injuries treated and returned to duty. Mostly burns, fractures, and concussions.”

  The captain processed the report with a short, thoughtful nod. “Noted. Picard out.” He turned to Worf. “Number One, coordinate with Lieutenant Šmrhová on a plan to neutralize the Machine. Make use of anything available that you need, and consider all feasible options.”

  “We have already begun. However, we have yet to conceive a scenario with even a small chance of success that does not involve the loss of the Enterprise with all hands.”

  His revelation did not seem to faze Picard. “If that proves necessary, so be it. As I said, consider all options, Number One. Even the unthinkable ones.”

  Worf frowned. “Understood.”

  The door opened behind them, and both men turned to see T’Ryssa Chen hurry in. The young woman clutched a padd to her chest as she sidestepped around Šmrhová to join the captain and first officer. “Sirs? I know you must be busy right now, but I—”

  “Yes,” Worf said, short on patience. “We are.”

  Picard struck a more forgiving note. “Is this important, Lieutenant?”

  “I think it might be, sir.” She held out her padd for the captain to see. “I’ve been studying the translation codes that Taurik downloaded from the Machine during the away mission. I think what happened to the Enterprise is similar to what happened to the away team. Basically, the Machine gave us the brush-off because, just like V’Ger, it doesn’t consider us ‘true life-forms.’ ”

  Hearing himself described in such dismissive terms irritated Worf. “How did the crew of Kirk’s Enterprise convince V’Ger they were ‘true life-forms’?”

  “They didn’t,” Chen said. “Kirk tricked V’Ger into overriding its own prejudice by exploiting its core need to make contact with its creator. He promised he could help it reach its creator, but only if V’Ger permitted him and his crew to make direct contact. Once they got to V’Ger and realized it was an old Earth probe, they found the codes they needed to end its mission—though Kirk’s logs are a bit vague about how that happened. Anyway, that trick’s not gonna work this time. The Machine’s mission is nothing like V’Ger’s.”

  “Unfortunately,” Picard said, “the Machine shares V’Ger’s callous disregard for life. Protesting that its actions will kill quadrillions of sentient beings seems to mean nothing to it.”

  Chen frowned. “Sad to say, but true. The Machine thinks all organic information is doomed to be wasted, so it doesn’t care if entire galaxies’ worth of ‘organic containers’ get spilled into the ether. But the key word here is ‘organic.’ Some of the code sequences Taurik downloaded suggest the Machine has at least one secondary mission objective: to make contact with other AIs.”

  The captain traded a bemused glance with Worf before he replied to Chen. “Are you saying it might be willing to negotiate if it were approached by a fellow AI?”

  “Maybe. It might not want to talk to us, but if we could show it there are beings in this galaxy like itself, it might be willing to stop what it’s doing long enough to listen to them. But it would have to be a true sentient AI, not just a holodeck simulation or a tethered EMH program.”

  Picard shot a hopeful look at Worf. “Are you thinking what I am, Number One?”

  Worf nodded. “We need to find Data.”

  13

  The lighting in La Forge’s quarters was dimmed, but it was enough to glint off the silvery casing of the quantum transceiver Data had given him months earlier. He let the small metallic cylinder rest in his hand as Worf loomed over his shoulder. The first officer furrowed his thick brows at the tiny device. “It is very small.”

  “Yup.” La Forge admired its simplicity. “That’s part of its charm.”

  A light like avarice burned in Worf’s keen gaze. “How does it work?”

  “According to Data, it’s based on the principle of quantum entanglement. It sends and receives audio signals—in theory, at any distance. Even across the universe.”

  He could almost hear the gears of Worf’s imagination turning. “And it does so without any risk of detection or interception?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Impressive. If we can learn how this works and adapt it to Starfleet’s comm network—”

  “Don’t even think about it. I have no idea what makes this thing tick, and as long as it remains our only link to Data, I’m not letting anybody else mess with it.”

  A sigh of frustration flared Worf’s nostrils. “A shame. A communication system impervious to eavesdropping would be most useful.”

  La Forge knew that many past technologies had made such a claim, and that in time all of them had been compromised. He suspected this one would be no different. Sooner or later, someone would learn how to tap into it or block it. But for now, it was as secure a means of communication as any known to Federation science. He held up the transceiver. “Ready?”

  Worf sharpened his focus. “Contact him.”

  La Forge pressed the transmitter button. “Data, this is Geordi. Do you read me?”

  He and Worf waited in silence for several seconds. The Klingon looked concerned. “Maybe he did not hear us. Should we try again?”

  “It might take a few seconds.” La Forge checked the status lights on the transceiver; everything appeared to be functioning as intended. “If he doesn’t respond by—”

  “Yes, Geordi,” Data replied, his transmitted voice as clear as if he were in the room. “I am here. I detect notes of extreme stress in your voice. Are you all right?”

  Just hearing his best friend’s voice improved La Forge’s mood immensely. “I’m fine, Data. But we’re in the middle of a major crisis over here, and we could really use your help.”

  “I am not sure I can be of any assistance to you at the moment.”

  Worf asked, “Why not?”

  “Because I am being held prisoner by the Fellowship of Artificial Intelligence.”

  La Forge’s good mood vanished. “Since when?”

  “I have been in their custody for several days, if one includes the time I spent in transit to the ship on which I am currently being held.”

  The XO covered the transceiver with his hand. “If Chen is correct, the more AIs we bring to the Machine, the better. Data’s encounter with the Fellowship could become an advantage.”

  “Worf, they’re holding him prisoner. I doubt they’re looking to do him, or us, any favors.” He moved Worf’s hand out of the way. “Data, where are they holding you?”

  “I am aboard a starship called Altanexa. Its present coordinates are unknown to me.”

  Suspicion crept into Worf’s voice. “If you are being held prisoner, how are you able to speak with us without being detected?”

  “My quantum transceiver is concealed inside my body and linked directly to my neural network. I am not speaking out loud but transmitting simulated audio data directly into the transceiver. Your replies are being processed in a similar fashion by my matrix. To my captors, I appear to be sitting in my cell, motionless and silent.”

  “Pretty clever,” La Forge noted.

  “A necessary adaptation,” Data said. “What is the nature of your predicament? Perhaps I c
an offer advice from here.”

  Worf harrumphed. “Doubtful.”

  “We’ve confronted a planet-sized machine that’s tossing entire star systems into the supermassive black hole Abbadon at the center of the galaxy. And if our intel is accurate, its long-term plan is to slam Abbadon into Sagittarius-A* and obliterate subspace in our galaxy.”

  “What manner of help do you require from me?”

  “We need you to talk to the Machine on behalf of this galaxy, because it doesn’t consider organic beings ‘true life-forms.’ Our hope is that its desire to make contact with other AI life might be enough to make it stop, or at least slow it down while we work on a new plan.”

  “A fascinating proposition. If I were able to reach you, I would come at once. However, I cannot leave this ship until my business here is done.”

  “Business?” Worf scowled in confusion. “You said you were a prisoner.”

  “Technically, I am. But I am also here because I wish to be—and because there are things I must do before I can return home. For now, it suits my purposes to let the Fellowship think I am completely in their power.”

  Intrigued, La Forge asked, “Does that mean you can leave that ship any time you want?”

  “Not exactly. But I am working on it.”

  Worf stroked his bearded chin. “Is there any way we can help you?”

  “Unfortunately, no. This is something I must do alone.”

  La Forge’s shoulders drooped in disappointment. “Be careful, Data.”

  “I will, Geordi. And I promise that as soon as I finish my task here, I will contact you. I just hope that I am able to join you in time to be of assistance.”

  “So do we, Data. So do we. Signing off.” With a tap on the transceiver’s controls, he closed the channel. He sighed and looked at Worf. “What do we do now?”

  A dark intensity steeled Worf’s gaze. “Now . . . we attack.”