“Go on.”
“And I apologized for allowing her into the simulation.”
“You didn’t allow it. It was a mistake.”
“Sir, I should have programmed her out. If I had known a simulated Deanna would have—could have—acted as it—as she—did. She killed K’pril. Stabbed him in the back. That was not my plan. It was—was—”
“An unexpected, unforeseen, and unpredictable expression of human emotion. Deanna’s simulation expressed anger, just as Deanna might have. You could not have predicted it.”
“I caused her grief. She is still shocked by her simulated self’s action.”
“I ask again, Worf, have you come to an understanding about this incident?”
“I am—working on it.” Admitting weakness, fatal before a Klingon but admissible before his human captain, still rankled, and Worf had to force it past clenched teeth.
What do counselors do when they require counseling?
“Qapla’,” the captain said. He stood and Worf followed.
“How’s the security training simulation going now, Worf?” Picard asked as he escorted Worf to his ready-room door.
[155] “It is ready for use by the crew, sir. I will have a report on your desk tomorrow.”
Picard nodded.
“Sir,” Worf said, one hand on the doorframe, “if I ever leave the Enterprise, I will know I have left my shipmates as secure as—as humanly possible.”
Picard smiled, but said nothing.
Yes, the training sim is ready, Worf mused as he returned to his post on the bridge, because I made Deanna angry. I hadn’t planned it the way it occurred. Thankfully, her anger didn’t stop her from filing a report that helped the captain keep us out of court-martial, but—
Worf shook off the thought as he returned to duty. He forced his thoughts away from the strained conversations he’d had with Deanna since the incident. He’d shown her a darker self that she’d never imagined existed. It was inadvertent, but she’d never forget. He tried to forget the look in her eyes as she returned to the sim days after. The anger.
Deanna fought hard in the sim. She’d made it work. It was ready for the crew to use.
Worf had won.
Deanna walked past his security post and nodded a silent greeting to Worf. He returned the stiff nod.
Yes, I won. But I lost.
Reciprocity
Brad Curry
Sleep would not come, so she rose from her bed, poured herself a glass of warm tevash, and curled up with an old book in her favorite chair.
But despite the bland tevash and the dull prose of the novel, she found herself unable to relax. She considered taking a long, hot bath, but then thought, no, something more was needed to calm her restless mind. So at last, she decided to use the remedy for sleepless nights that had served her best over the years: she would climb the worn, spiraling steps to the top of the tower, stand before the high-arched window there, and watch the stars.
She was quite old now and rarely made the climb up from her comfortable quarters on the ground floor. Years ago, when she had first made her home in the deserted tower by the sea, she had climbed up and down the long spiral staircase several times each day. But with the passage of time, she found the ascent increasingly difficult, and now kept mostly to her spacious apartment below.
But on this night, the view from the tower’s uppermost window was worth the trip. The sky was clear, and a gentle breeze from the sea caressed her lined and intelligent face. [157] The small, pale moons of her world had already set, and a multitude of bright, glimmering stars filled the sky.
When she was younger, her work had taken her to many of those stars and the worlds that circled them. For years, she had traveled across the galaxy, from one new world to the next, with none that she could truly call home. But it had been an existence that suited her, for her work was her passion, and she had devoted her life to it with no regrets.
Eventually, however, she completed the labors that had first sent her to the stars. Then, wanting only to rest, she had come here, to this gentle world of warm seas and soft rains.
She ran one hand over the cool stones of the tower’s wall. She was not, she knew, the first of her people to call this world home. Centuries, perhaps millennia, ago some unknown architect of her race had traveled here and fashioned this ancient structure with subtle skill.
How many of her kind, she found herself wondering, had stood on this very spot over the years and watched the distant stars? And how many more would do the same in the long centuries to come? It might very well be, she thought with some regret, that she would be the last to call this place home. For although her species had arisen in this part of the galaxy, many of her people had chosen to leave their ancestral homes, seeking new worlds to explore and settle.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a movement in the night sky. To her surprise, one of the bright points of light above was traveling, slowly and purposefully, across the horizon.
With keen eyes, she watched the point grow larger, until the outline of a small craft could be discerned, skimming low over the water. When she was certain of its destination, [158] she turned from the window and, with a resigned sigh, began the long descent back down the stairs.
By the time she reached the ground floor and the tower’s wide entrance, the craft had landed and was resting a short distance away among the dunes. As she watched, a doorway slid silently open and a solitary figure stepped out onto the sand.
Her visitor was an older man, almost her own age. Even in the soft light escaping from the craft’s doorway, she recognized him: her former student and colleague.
She walked out to greet her guest, a wide smile on her face. “I hope you have a good reason for disturbing an old woman in the middle of the night.”
Her visitor stepped forward, and the two friends embraced. “I think,” he said, offering her a grin of his own, “that you’ll find my reason more than acceptable.”
She took his arm, and they walked together toward the tower. “As much as I love seeing your cantankerous old face,” she said, “you could just as easily have sent a message. Crossing light-years of space to this backwater world wasn’t necessary.”
Her friend stopped and looked at her with a warm and exuberant expression. For a moment, the years rolled away and he was once again her eager young student. “The message I bring,” he said, smiling, “could only have been delivered in person.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “One of our survey teams has made a discovery.” He laughed, a joyful sound in the cool night air. “No, not just a discovery—a DISCOVERY!” He laughed again, and to her amazement, there were tears in his happy eyes.
She stared at him, a feeling of cautious hope warming her [159] heart. “Just exactly what kind of discovery are you talking about?” she asked slowly.
Her friend put his hands softly on her shoulders and looked gently into her curious eyes. “The discovery,” he said, “that we’ve all been waiting for.” He paused and then smiled. “The discovery that you’ve been waiting for all of your life.”
Jean-Luc Picard lay quietly in bed, staring at the ceiling. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he was still wide awake. Sighing in exasperation, he rolled onto his side and gazed contemplatively at the cause of his insomnia.
Outside the ship’s windows, hanging close together in space, two white-hot objects burned with hellish intensity. One of the blazing objects was a neutron star, the other, a brilliant white dwarf. In a rare event, the two collapsed stars were about to pass extraordinarily close to one another, a chance meeting in their lonely wanderings through space. As they drew close, they were exchanging stellar matter—and in the process, releasing tremendous amounts of energy.
The Enterprise was observing the spectacle from several million kilometers away, a presumably safe distance. Nevertheless, Captain Picard was finding it difficult to remain completely at ease. When the stars reached their closest
point—which would happen soon—their extreme proximity would produce exceptionally intense gravitational stresses in the local fabric of space. Unfortunately, the precise effects of those stresses could not be accurately predicted. It was this unpredictability—and the potential danger to his ship—that was giving the captain of the Enterprise a restless night.
Picard sighed and sat up in bed. Sleep, he realized, was [160] going to be impossible in his present state of mind. Accepting the inevitable, he got to his feet and padded silently across the room to the replicator.
“Hot chocolate,” he said after a moment. As he picked up the steaming cup, Picard smiled to himself: Counselor Troi would be pleased to know she’d made another convert.
Cradling the hot cup in both hands, Picard went to his couch and sat down. Outside, the stellar pyrotechnic display was in full swing. Brilliant streams of incandescent plasma were flowing between the two convulsing stars, exploding with nova force as they impacted on each star’s surface.
Picard leaned back and took a sip of cocoa. The view, he had to admit, was spectacular. He was just beginning to think It’s too bad such events are so rare when he felt a slight shudder pass through the ship’s frame. A moment later, the starfield outside slowly began to move.
He set his cup down. “Picard to bridge. What’s our status, Will?”
After a brief pause, Commander Riker’s voice came on the channel. “Our two friends out there are just about as close as they’re going to get, Captain. If they were starships, they’d practically be rubbing the paint off each other.”
His first officer’s voice sounded tired but excited. Like Picard, he’d had too little sleep in the past few days.
“They’re also beginning to generate some pretty intense gravity waves,” continued Riker. “I thought it best to move the ship out a few million kilometers.”
“A prudent choice,” agreed Picard. “It looks like we’re in for quite a show.” He stood and headed for the door. As it [161] swished open, he added with a smile, “Just don’t let it all happen without me.”
The turbolift door opened, and Picard stepped out onto the bridge. At the same instant, the deck beneath his feet suddenly lurched, throwing him against a bulkhead.
“Mister Data,” he said, rubbing his arm, “can you compensate for these gravity waves?” Even as he spoke, another wave struck and the ship pitched again.
“I am attempting to do so, Captain,” Data replied. The android’s fingers danced across his console, and in a moment the ship’s heavings began to settle down.
Picard sat down in his chair. “Are we receiving telemetry from the probes?” he asked, referring to the two class-5 probes that had been dispatched earlier to make observations of the event.
“Yes, sir,” said Riker. “Both probes are functioning perfectly. In fact, the data we’ve already received should keep the astrophysicists busy for years.”
Data suddenly broke in. “Captain,” he said, “sensors indicate the space between the stars is becoming unstable. The gravitational stresses are creating an intense spatial distortion, similar to what is commonly found near a singularity. The process is increasing exponentially.”
Picard stood up. “Increase shields to maximum. Helm, take us away—”
Before he could finish, a brilliant flash of light burst from between the stars, lighting up the bridge. A heartbeat later, a violent shock wave rocked the ship.
On the main viewscreen, an explosion of incandescent fury rippled outward from between the two stars. Space [162] seethed and boiled, as though reality itself were being torn apart. Then, in the center of the maelstrom, a blue-white vortex blossomed into existence, filling the void between the now retreating stars.
Picard retook his seat and turned to his science officer. “Mister Data,” he said, “can you tell me what just happened?”
Data studied the readouts on his console, then looked at the captain with an expression of android astonishment. “It appears, sir, that the gravitational stresses between the two stars have created a localized fold in the space-time continuum.”
Commander Riker stood up and examined Data’s console. He looked at the android, his eyebrows raised. “A wormhole?” he asked. “You’re saying we just witnessed the creation of a wormhole?”
“I believe so, Commander,” replied Data, with a nod. He studied his console again. “The sensor readings are indeed consistent with a Class-4 wormhole. The verteron emissions, however, indicate a high degree of instability. It is extremely likely that this wormhole is a short-lived phenomenon.”
“Short-lived or not,” said Picard, “the creation of a wormhole is a rarely observed event. Can you determine how long it will last?”
“No sir,” said Data, “not using the ship’s sensors. They lack the necessary resolution. A probe sent directly into the wormhole, however, should be able to give us sufficient information to predict the time of collapse, as well as determine the wormhole’s exit location.”
“Captain,” the android added, with an almost apologetic [163] look on his face, “the two probes we had in place were destroyed by the energy release occurring at the wormhole’s creation. I will need to launch another.”
Picard nodded. “Very well, Mister Data. Launch another probe.”
He turned to his first officer. “Well, Will, where do you suppose our new rabbit hole leads?”
Riker sat down in the chair next to the captain. “If it leads into the Gamma Quadrant,” he said, “I almost hope it is a temporary phenomenon. There are some parts of the galaxy that are best kept at arm’s length.”
A slight smile crossed Picard’s face. “You’re sounding more like a soldier than an explorer, Will. Unfortunately, we can’t have our wormholes made to order. We have to take what Mother Nature gives us.”
Riker leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I suppose that’s true,” he said. Then he grinned. “And after all, it is a big galaxy. There must be plenty of fun places a wormhole could reach.”
Data turned to face the two men. “We are beginning to receive telemetry from the probe,” he said. “The computer should obtain an astrometric fix momentarily.”
His console gave off a short series of beeps. Data studied this new information, then looked back at Picard.
“There is a problem, Captain. During its passage through the wormhole, the probe’s engines were damaged by the gravitational fluxes it encountered. It will be unable to return to this side.”
Riker looked at Picard. “More Starfleet property down the drain,” he said, then laughed. “Literally.”
Picard raised his eyebrows and gave his first officer a wry [164] smile. “Since you think it’s so amusing, you won’t mind writing the equipment replacement reports.”
Riker rolled his eyes and groaned. But before he could muster a retort, Data spoke again.
“Captain, the computer has determined the exit location of the wormhole.” The astounded expression that accompanied the android’s statement brought both Picard and Riker to their feet. They both leaned over to examine Data’s console, then exchanged astonished looks.
“Remarkable ...” whispered Picard.
Riker let out a low whistle of surprise and shook his head. “Well. I’ll. Be. Damned.”
The small craft descended in a slow and graceful arc and landed gently a short distance from the excavation site. An opening appeared and two people, an elderly man and woman, stepped out into the bright sunlight.
The woman stood for a moment and looked around her. She and her companion were standing on a windswept plain that stretched to the horizon in all directions. Above their heads, fleecy white clouds drifted in a deep blue sky. On the hard, flat ground below, a tall, grassy plant covered the plain, growing with slender blades that rustled in the breeze.
The woman smiled and drew a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. She had almost forgotten the thrilling feel of a new world’s soil beneath her feet, the intoxicating taste of alien air in her lun
gs. I’ve been cloistered away in my tower for too long, she mused.
Her companion gently squeezed her arm, interrupting her reverie. “Come,” he said, “let me show you our prize.”
With a silent nod, she took his arm and they walked [165] together to the ramp that led down to the dig site. When they reached the bottom, they were greeted by a throng of excited scientists. As the introductions were made, the woman was surprised to find that many of the younger scientists seemed awed by her presence.
“What do you expect?” whispered her companion, noticing her puzzled expression. “It’s not every day they meet a living legend.” He gave her a mischievous wink.
The woman frowned, but before she could reply, she and her companion were interrupted by the arrival of a tall man wearing a worn lab coat. The site’s chief archeologist, he beamed an infectious grin at the newcomers and gave an enthusiastic greeting to the elderly man, his friend and colleague. Turning to the woman, he offered a short, respectful bow.
“We’ve been waiting for you both,” he said, grinning again. “You couldn’t have arrived at a better time.”
The archeologist stepped between his two guests and took each eagerly by the arm. “Please, come this way,” he said. Without waiting for a reply, he led the pair through the crowd to a sturdy table, where a large object lay brightly illuminated beneath powerful worklamps.
The elderly woman bent carefully forward to examine the object. The artifact resting on the table was a long, black pod, somewhat greater in size than a large man. Although its exterior might once have been smooth, heavy pitting and wear now marred the surface.
She turned to the tall archeologist. “Have you been able to determine its age?”
He nodded and looked down at the artifact “The geological evidence shows that it’s been buried here on this [166] world for at least twenty-five million years. And judging by the cosmic ray and micrometeoroid damage to the exterior, it must have drifted in space for a very long time before that.” He paused and then looked at his guests. “Altogether, we estimate its age at approximately forty million years.”
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds II Page 14
