Star Trek: The Next Generation™: Slings and Arrows Book 1: A Sea of Troubles

by J. Steven York

  “Nothing unusual. None of the anxiety or nervousness one might expect from a spy in fear of discovery.” She considered for a moment, mentally reviewing the earlier meeting. “In fact, I remember thinking that she seemed extremely calm and comfortable for an officer reporting for her first day of duty as a new department head.”

  Picard nodded. “Exactly. At that point, maintaining the deception, the Changeling was in its comfort zone. A Changeling in the presence of any potential threat is going to be least comfortable in its natural liquid form.”

  Hawk frowned. “Forgive me, Captain, but it sounds to me like you’re defending the Changeling’s actions.”

  “I’m trying to understand them, Mr. Hawk, not defend them. There is a great deal of difference. Fresh from Earth, you’ve likely had little experience dealing with aliens—”

  Hawk started to protest, but Picard held up his hand. “I know you’ve encountered many aliens at the Academy, at Starfleet, and here on the Enterprise, but that is far different from dealing with extraterrestrial sentients operating solely on their own terms with no regard to your sensibilities as a human, as a citizen of the Federation, or as a Starfleet officer.

  “Our intelligence tells us that the Founders of the Dominion seem to think of us as, at best, useful animals and, at worst, vermin to be exterminated. This individual,” he said the word carefully, as though qualifying it, “seems to operate only slightly above the high end of this range, but the fact that it is willing to engage in a dialogue at all is significant.”

  Picard paused, weighing his choices.

  “In any case,” he continued, “consider this a hostage negotiation. So long as we are talking, the Changeling is not acting against the ship or its crew, and it gives us—” He looked at Hawk. “—you—time to take action that will neutralize the threat.”

  “But security is to look the other way while you set up meetings?” Hawk was reluctant to let the matter stand, despite Picard’s explanation.

  “The situation is delicate. If I arrange negotiations, I have to offer some assurance of safe passage to the Changeling. But outside of that specific framework, I grant you full authority to use any means necessary and possible to capture the Changeling.”

  Riker’s eyes narrowed. “Capture, Captain?”

  “Yes, Number One, capture. If the Changeling is killed, we will have gained nothing from this encounter. I believe it is worth the risk. Deadly force is not to be used except in direct defense of life. Is that clear?”

  Hawk nodded, but he wasn’t happy about it, and from his expression, neither was Riker.

  “Keep in mind the added security protocols and cooperate with Mr. Hawk in every way possible. Dismissed.”

  There was no rush for the door. The senior staff left in twos and threes, moving deliberately, and with everyone watching everyone else. Hawk stood but waited until all but he, Picard, and Riker had left. He lingered in the doorway, but Picard merely looked at him sternly. “You have work to do, Mr. Hawk. I’d suggest you get to it.”

  Picard glanced at Riker. “I’m glad you stayed, Number One.”

  “This situation concerns me greatly, Captain.”

  “As it concerns me, Will, and yet I cannot allow this opportunity to slip by me.” Picard moved back to the window and looked out. His gaze wasn’t focused on the nebula, but rather on something distant and unseen.

  “I have always thought of myself as a diplomat and ambassador first, and as a warrior second. Circumstances of recent years have too often required me to reverse those priorities.” He lowered his head, regret softening his posture and clouding his eyes for a moment. “War with the Dominion may be inevitable, but I have always believed that diplomacy has a place in any conflict between species and civilizations. If it cannot prevent war, then it at least has the potential to moderate it, to reduce the death, suffering, and injustice that is the inevitable result of war. At least, that is what I once believed,” he finished, almost to himself.

  Riker’s face softened. “The Borg.”

  “I came face-to-face with a species that would not talk, a species with which dialogue and negotiation was impossible. The only language the Borg understand is aggression, violence, and reprisal. That, perhaps, is why I feel so strongly about the Borg. Not merely because of the threat they pose, or the countless fellow beings they have killed, or the atrocities they have visited on me personally. It is because of how they drag us down to their primal level in the name of survival. How they rip away our veneer of civilization and bring out the very worst in what we are.”

  “The Borg are not your responsibility, Captain.”

  He turned and looked at Riker. “If not mine, then whose? Who goaded Q into bringing us into contact? Whose mind, willingly or not, guided the Borg in the slaughter at Wolf 359? Every night I lie awake, thinking, ‘What could I have done differently?’ But ultimately, the answer is that it doesn’t matter. What is done is done.

  “So I look into the future and see the Dominion waiting there, and I have much the same, hopeless feeling about them that I do about the Borg. What will we be driven to do before this war is over? Even if we are victorious, what will be the price to our souls?”

  CHAPTER

  8

  Hawk watched as the security teams swept the walls of Ten-Forward with low-power phaser fire from their rifles. The blasts were carefully calibrated to be weak enough not to damage the ship or its furnishings, but strong enough to sting a disguised Changeling into reverting to liquid form.

  Hawk looked at the empty table near the windows where he and the false-Linda had sat, what now seemed a lifetime ago. Again, he cursed himself for not detecting the deception, for not taking action earlier. Even now, he still felt helpless.

  He’d had security teams doing continuous phaser sweeps and blood screenings for nearly a day now, with no results. He honestly didn’t expect any. There were too many areas of the ship that, for technical or safety reasons, they could not phaser-sweep. There were too many places to hide and to move about the ship.

  The Enterprise had hundreds of kilometers of Jefferies tubes, ducts, conduits, service areas, and other hidden spaces through which a Changeling could travel. For all they knew, a Changeling could even assume some form that would allow it to safely travel through the plasma in EPS conduits. Perhaps that was why the Changeling had been so interested in the Enterprise schematics. For a liquid shape-shifter, they provided an invaluable road map.

  He hoped the fact that she—it—had been studying Sovereign plans caused it to take a few wrong turns.

  When they were finished, Hawk moved into the corridor, where his escort, Ensign Shreff, waited, antennae waving nervously. Shreff was a tall, quiet Andorian with a fierce devotion to duty that Hawk found admirable.

  “Where next, sir?”

  Hawk realized that he didn’t know. He was out of ideas. “Back to the security office, I suppose.” On their way back to the turbolift, they passed Riker and Troi in the corridor.

  Riker stopped him. “How goes the search, Mr. Hawk?”

  “Not well, sir. Frankly, I’m beginning to think this is an exercise in futility. If the Changeling is sufficiently motivated to stay hidden, we’ll have to take the ship apart plate by plate to find it.” He thought about what Picard had said about trying to understand the alien. But how was he supposed to know what a morphing blob of gelatin might want?

  Then it came to him. He blinked in sudden understanding.

  Troi tilted her head curiously. “I don’t need to be an empath to know you’ve thought of something significant, Lieutenant.”

  He nodded. “Commander, I think I have an idea of what the Changeling is after. Captain Picard said the Changeling wanted to ‘neutralize’ the Enterprise, not destroy it. At first I thought that was simply a matter of keeping us trapped here near the Mira variable star, but now I think it’s something else entirely.” He gestured back down the corridor, toward the entrance to Ten-Forward.

  “Whe
n I talked with the Changeling in Ten-Forward, it showed great interest in the Sovereign schematics I was looking at. She traced its lines on the screen in a way that was sensual, bordering on sexual.”

  Riker frowned. “I don’t understand, Lieutenant. You’re saying it’s in love with the Enterprise?”

  “In a manner of speaking, Commander. For a shape-shifter, what would be more attractive, more important than shape? Than form?” Hawk’s voice rose in excitement. “I think it finds the Enterprise’s shape pleasing in a way we really can’t understand. It’s not sex, but it’s close. It’s like—”

  Troi smiled. “Chocolate.”

  “Yes! Exactly. Like chocolate for some people. Or fine wine. Or a beautiful painting. A sensual pleasure so fine that it’s worth preserving, even defending.”

  Riker shook his head. “Interesting theory, but even if it’s true, it doesn’t explain how it expects to neutralize the Enterprise.”

  “I’m afraid that might be my fault. I unwittingly talked with ‘Linda’ about the significance of the shakedown logs as the final documentation of a ship’s design—its operation, capabilities, and weaknesses.

  “If the Changeling could obtain a copy of those logs and return them to the Dominion and their allies, the Enterprise’s value as a front-line warship would be compromised. We wouldn’t dare put the E, or any of her sister ships, against the Dominion fleet for fear they would have learned some weakness or characteristic they could exploit. The Federation’s mightiest warships would be relegated to rear-guard duty.”

  Riker nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. We can’t under any circumstances allow the Changeling access to those logs.”

  “They’re already under tight wraps, but we can take steps to make them more so. However, I think we have to keep them accessible enough to give the Changeling the illusion that it can obtain them. A Changeling simply hiding from us might never be found, but a Changeling with a focused objective can be tricked. It can be cornered, and it can be trapped!”

  Troi arrived with Riker on the bridge just as Captain Picard was finishing a communicator conversation with Hawk. As they stepped from the turbolift, they saw a security team sweeping the bridge with low-level phaser fire.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hawk. Your insights into the Changeling’s psychology may prove very valuable in our next meeting. Picard out.”

  Troi looked from the security team to Picard, her eyebrows arched in an unspoken question.

  “Mr. Hawk insisted we maintain constant monitoring of the bridge.” Picard shrugged, though she could sense the effort it took for him to accede. “He felt the bridge was the one area where we could not allow the Changeling. Much as I disliked putting limits on our potential for negotiation, I agreed with his assessment.” He tugged at the hem of his tunic and stiffened his spine, effectively shutting off any further discussion.

  “So, tell me, Counselor,” he said, steering the conversation back into safer waters. “Do you agree with Mr. Hawk’s interpretation of the Changeling’s motivations?”

  “Hawk has some interesting ideas, but based on our limited exchanges, it’s difficult to be sure.” She sidestepped a pair of security officers who crossed the deck and continued. “It’s very easy, when dealing with a shape-changer, to project things onto them that aren’t there, either based on our own feelings or on our perceptions of the form they’re occupying at the time.”

  “You have your own opinions of the Changeling.”

  She frowned slightly. “I have concerns, Captain. From what we have observed and been told, this Changeling’s behavior is aberrant by Changeling standards. It might be described as deviant, or even psychotic. Its self-imposed isolation from the Great Link especially concerns me. It’s difficult to conceive of what extended isolation might do to such a being.”

  “And yet, Counselor, a normally functioning Changeling would be unlikely to negotiate with us at all, much less concede anything useful. Perhaps a mad Changeling is exactly what we need at this juncture.”

  “Perhaps, Captain, but it could also make this individual especially unpredictable and dangerous. In any case, I believe none of this necessarily contradicts Mr. Hawk’s ideas. Perhaps it even supports them.”

  Picard watched as Troi moved across the bridge to talk with Data, while Riker sat in his chair to the captain’s right. “So Hawk has given you his theories about the Changeling. I see how that’s useful to Hawk, but how can it be useful to you?”

  “One of the primary tactics of negotiation, Number One, is to develop a relationship with the other side, to find and exploit areas of commonality. If the Changeling believes this is a beautiful ship, then so do I. If we share nothing else, we have that, and it’s something I may be able to build on.” He studied Riker’s face. “You seem skeptical.”

  “Someone, I think it may have been the writer Will Rogers, said that diplomacy is the art of saying ‘nice doggie’ until you find a rock. In this case, I’m not sure if we’re the guy with the rock, or the dog.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, Will, but I’m not willing to give up diplomacy without giving it at least one more chance.” Picard turned and punched up a shipwide intercom on his chair’s armrest companel. “This is Captain Picard. I address myself to the Changeling who has infiltrated this ship. As you are doubtless aware, we have continued our efforts to locate and neutralize you as a threat to this ship. You certainly must understand that we cannot sit idly by while you openly profess to being an agent of an enemy of the Federation.

  “However, I remain open to dialogue. To that end, I am willing to meet with you in one hour’s time in lecture hall two on deck twelve. This is centrally located near many ducts and central Jefferies tubes, allowing you multiple means to enter and exit, and you have my word that there will be no attempts to trap you within one hundred meters of this room for ten minutes before and after the meeting. Despite our differences, I still hope to find some common ground on which we can base an understanding. Picard out.”

  The security team had stopped their phaser fire, and openly stared at the captain. Riker scowled. “You people have duties. Get to them.”

  The phaser fire resumed, and the crew busied themselves at their stations, but the undercurrent of unease remained.

  Picard managed a sour frown. “Number One. My ready room, now.”

  As they stepped up to the door, the security officers stepped through first, sweeping the room with phaser fire before giving them the all clear.

  Picard watched them through the closing doors. He stopped to examine the cylindrical fish tank, now empty, its occupants taken to the biolab because of the phaser fire. “This is becoming tiresome, Will.” He looked up. “What just happened on the bridge especially so. For a while, the continual security sweeps seemed to reassure the crew that we were taking precautions.”

  Picard’s usual confident determination slipped for a moment, concern furrowing his brow and carving worry lines around his mouth. “But now, I feel I may be losing the confidence of my crew. In any other negotiation I could speak with them, discuss the importance and perhaps even the strategy of what I was trying to accomplish. But under the circumstances, I can’t do so without showing my hand to the Changeling. Even on the bridge, with all our precautions, there is the chance of discovery.”

  Riker leaned against the edge of the desk. “Captain, they’re frustrated and concerned because they know there’s a Changeling among them. But I believe most of these people would hike their way around Andor with nothing but an ice pick and a light sweater if you asked them to.”

  Picard nodded. “They’re a fine crew. I should never doubt that.”

  “Begging the captain’s pardon, but it seems like it’s yourself you’re doubting.”

  Picard smiled slightly, his confidence returning. “You’d never have said that so freely eight years ago, Will. You’ve become more than just a fine first officer to me. You’ve become a friend, and I trust your judgment.”

  There
was something in the captain’s voice, a hesitation, as though he wanted to say more. Riker prodded. “What exactly is it you’re asking of me, Captain?”

  Picard looked away thoughtfully. “I don’t really think I need to ask. If I went too far in the name of diplomacy, if I put this ship and this crew at unreasonable risk, I believe you would tell me so.”

  “I would, sir,” Riker assured him. He looked directly at the man he trusted and admired, the man who returned that trust. “But I haven’t so far, have I? I’ve got my concerns, yes, and in my judgment you’re walking this side of a very narrow line. But you are on this side.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Will. I’ve always prized my skills as a negotiator, and in the past, I’ve always felt that no matter the circumstances, I knew at any given moment who had the upper hand, who was manipulating whom. Right now, I’d like to think I have the Changeling at a disadvantage, but I’m by no means sure that I’m not being played, and that I haven’t been from the very beginning.”

  “You said it yourself, Captain. Deception is the very nature of the Changeling’s existence.”

  Picard walked over and looked out the window. The nebula danced and taunted him beyond. “And that, I am very much afraid, is the problem. I’m trying to find some common ground with the Changeling, to earn its trust in some way. But I must keep reminding myself that my trust is all based on illusion, not substance.”

  He turned back to face Riker. “In truth, the only substantive thing about the Changling is the nature of its character, and of that, I truly know nothing. It tells me that it took no active part in the death of Lieutenant Addison or the destruction of the Samson, and while that is plausible, it is simply a tale with no substance to support it. More illusion. When I speak with the Changeling, not just its appearance, but every gesture, every move, every facial expression is a calculated illusion. In some respects, I might just as well be negotiating with a holodeck program. And yet the sum total of my human experience programs me to respond to those cues.”