PRECHANCE TO DREAM

by Howard Weinstein

  Picard and Riker both noted that response. “If full-power weaponry were fired at this protective barrier,” Picard said, “I wonder if the reflection would endanger the attacking vessel?”

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” Riker said. “That would make this—whatever it is—a pretty effective passive defense system. Let’s hope we don’t have to find out how effective.”

  “Captain,” Geordi said, “this time, it absorbed seventy percent of our phaser energy.”

  “Hmm. Where is all this absorbed energy going?”

  “Good question, sir,” Geordi agreed.

  “See if you can find an answer to it.”

  “I’m already working on it, Captain.”

  The light show in the cavern continued unabated, now filling a sizable volume from floor to ceiling. Wesley, Gina and Ken had fanned out with activated tricorders, scanning and recording everything from different angles.

  Then the sounds began—feeble and distant at first, like far-off wind chimes jangled by some faint zephyr, then swelling in amplitude. Data wandered a few steps closer, staring up at the wheel of whirling colors and glittering sparks.

  “Counselor,” he called back, “are you sensing anything from the chromatic energy mass?”

  “Yes, I am. In fact, it’s rather overwhelming,” she said, wincing a bit, as if trying to fend off a storm of voices shouting in her ear.

  A concerned expression clouded the android’s face and he came over to her. “Are you all right, Counselor?”

  “Yes, Data, I’m fine,” she smiled as she gave him a reassuring squeeze on his arm. “It’s like . . . well, imagine being at a crowded, noisy party with music and dancing and a thousand people trying to talk all at once.”

  Data nodded. “Ah. I have been at such gatherings. The decibel level can reach a magnitude potentially damaging to human hearing.”

  “Fortunately, I have built-in filtering abilities that protect my empathic ‘hearing’ from that sort of risk. But that doesn’t prevent it from being somewhat unsettling.”

  “Still, we must be careful.”

  “I will be.”

  “Can you tell whether we are dealing with a collection of individuals, or a group mind?”

  “I can’t isolate specific ‘voices,’ ” she said, her lips tightened with frustration. “But I do believe the mass is made up of individuals. I do not think it is a collective mind.”

  “Have you received any impressions which you would interpret as hostile toward us?”

  “No . . . no. There is some fear . . . fear of the unknown. But the dominant feeling I get is one of . . . intense curiosity . . .” She trailed off, her dark eyes glimmering with the wonder she seemed to be sharing with that alien intelligence. “. . . and delight.”

  Data’s eyebrows arched. “Indeed. Then perhaps it is time for a closer inspection.”

  “Data!” Troi called. “What are you doing?”

  But he didn’t answer. Propelled by his own insatiable curiosity, he was already striding directly into the center of the jumble of colors, his face upturned, head swiveling to take in everything going on around him.

  Picard paced the deck between Geordi’s engineering alcove and Worf’s tactical station, his taut tone of voice making his displeasure all too clear. “This is not working as I had hoped.”

  First Officer Riker sat on the edge of the aft console bank, his arms crossed over his chest. “Captain, I could’ve sworn I heard somebody say not too long ago that patience is a virtue.”

  “At times, a highly overrated one, Commander,” Picard said with a sharp look. “Do you disagree?”

  “About patience? Not at all. About our strategy? A little. I think we’re getting some good data we didn’t have before.”

  Picard huffed out a breath, seeming both conciliatory and impatient at the same time. “But where is it getting us? Do we continue on this path, or try something else?”

  “Suggestion, sir?” Geordi offered.

  Picard responded with an open-handed gesture of invitation. “By all means, Commander.”

  “Basically, what we’re doing is throwing electro-magnetic rocks, trying to get a rise out of whatever is down there. If we throw some rocks from different parts of the spectrum, we might get some varied responses.”

  Riker’s eyes narrowed. “You mean photon torpedoes? We wouldn’t be able to limit the damage potential as precisely as we can with phasers.”

  Engineer La Forge shook his head. “I was thinking tractor beam. Pulling instead of pushing.”

  Captain Picard pursed his lips in reluctant approval. The tractor beam, meant for towing other vessels and small objects, would of course have no noticeable gravitational effect on an entire planet. Still, there would be no harm in trying. “Very well. Make it so, Mr. La Forge.”

  With phasers at rest, Geordi activated the ship’s tractor system, sending the slender beam down to the planet. Since he didn’t actually want to pull chunks of Domaran rock and plant life back toward the Enterprise, Geordi modulated the beam to essentially cycle it off at half-second intervals—leaving the tractor with enough strength to register as a force of attraction, but not enough to defeat the forces of gravity that anchored things down on Domarus.

  It took less than a minute for the planet’s enigmatic energy shield to reconfigure itself and repel the tractor beam the same way it had reacted to the earlier phaser fire.

  “Mr. Worf,” said a determined Picard, “add level-three phaser sequence to the tractor beam—but retarget for different impact sites a thousand kilometers from the point of tractor beam impact. Let’s find out how well this shield can stretch.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  With a deft touch, Worf’s fingers skipped across his keypad, quickly revising the preprogrammed targeting matrix. Then he activated the sequence. The starship’s phasers fired at the planet—and almost immediately, the energy shield formed to deflect them.

  Geordi’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. “That’s amazing. Whatever is going on down there, it sure does work well.”

  Picard turned and marched back toward his seat. “Maintain level-three firing rate.”

  “For how long?” said Riker, following him down the side-deck ramp.

  Picard’s expression was determined. “Until something definitive happens.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  AS SOON AS Data waded into their midst, the ribbons of color and the sparkles that produced them parted, forming a buffer around this intruding object so unlike themselves. When he extended his hand toward them, they retreated further to maintain their preferred neutral zone.

  Data wanted desperately to establish some form of communication with them. His approach had been based on the assumption that they were not dangerous; and, so far, they had done nothing to alter that view. He hoped that his presence among them would demonstrate that, likewise, he and his companions posed no threat to them or their as-yet unexplained activities.

  Then again, all these efforts might simply prove futile. Even if the luminous motes of energy were actually sentient, that was no assurance that they and humanoid species—or androids, for that matter— would ever be able to communicate. There were no guarantees among the laws of nature that wildly dissimilar life-forms could in all instances find common ground on which to build the foundations of understanding necessary for complex exchanges of information.

  Some gulfs could not be bridged.

  But it was not in Data’s nature to be pessimistic. Neither could he be called an optimist, not in the way the word applied to human psychology. As a machine, he had been designed and programmed to be objective, neutral, and unbiased in his appraisal of factual observances of the universe around him.

  Still, his innate self-awareness told him that he behaved in a manner that humans would characterize as endlessly hopeful. Perhaps his inability to feel fear or despair just made him appear that way. Or perhaps any being able to objectively approach life, unburdened by self-created demons
, could simply not be anything but hopeful.

  Though he had given much thought to this puzzle, Data had never reached a conclusion. But he did know this: any given problem had multiple solutions. Permitted the time and opportunity to explore them, he believed he would invariably find one that worked.

  One golden sparkle, larger than the rest, hovered slightly off to one side. It caught Data’s eye.

  The different one, Ko thought. What was it doing? Ko’s fellows had drawn back when the different one entered their midst, but no more extreme reaction appeared to be warranted. The different one seemed distinctly nonaggressive. Ko’s desire to communicate with these live things swelled; she felt like she was about to burst.

  What did the live things think when they saw Ko and her fellows of the Communion?What are we to them? Where did they come from, they and their little containers?

  Ko had looked up into the Great Darkness and seen the small points of energy. They look so much like us—are they other Shapers? Do they too dream and shape their Worlds the way the Shapers of this World do? Do these live things live out there in the Great Darkness with those others Shapers?

  So many questions—I must know the answers . . . even if I die finding them!

  A large crimson sparkle swept down from a vantage point near the peak of the cavern ceiling. :Ko! Your time is nearly expired,: said Mog. :Are you ready to admit your failure and submit to the will of the Communion? They must be destroyed.:

  Ko spun into a fury. :No! Time is not yet up, Mog—and my efforts are not yet done.:

  :What is left for you to do? These things are clearly unintelligent.:

  Suddenly, Ko stopped her spin and flared like a small sun going nova. :We will merge.:

  With both hands, Data reached out toward the tiny golden star and the frenzy of colors suddenly exploding around it. To his surprise, the swirl of brightness around him did not withdraw. Instead, the colorful maelstrom closed around him.

  Then he felt what he could only describe as a tingling sensation racing through his neural circuitry—a rather pleasant sensation, increasing rapidly in intensity.

  Suddenly, the bright cocoon encircling him flared to a yellow brilliance and he felt a jolt hit his brain—his eyes bulged, then clamped shut—

  “Data!” Troi suppressed a scream and reflexively started to rush forward to free him, but Wesley’s unexpectedly strong grip held her back. Horrified, they watched as a storm of sparkles coalesced quickly around Data, reeling their colored streamers into a tight translucent shell of shifting hues.

  As Data stiffened, the power roiling through the multicolored cloud lifted him, flipped him to a horizontal position, and held him there, shuddering in mid-air two meters off the cavern floor.

  Troi tried to control the shiver of terror chilling her. “Wesley! What’s happening to him?”

  Wesley thumbed his tricorder switches, but the little scanner could only display the gibberish of overloaded electronics. “Dammit! It’s not working.” He started forward. “I’ve gotta help him—”

  Now it was Troi’s turn to do the restraining and she grabbed his arm. “Wesley—no—there’s nothing you can do.”

  As they and the others stared helplessly, Data and the web of power and colors entrapping him simply and abruptly winked out of existence.

  Still unconscious, still suspended horizontally, Data materialized inside a vault of light, with no apparent walls or boundaries. A pair of the glittering scintillae, the crimson and the gold, attended the twitching android.

  Starting at Data’s head, the gold one spiraled down the length of his body, then back up, as if examining him. Then it darted in through an ear opening and disappeared. The crimson sparkle, which had been hovering, followed the gold one inside Data’s head.

  Seconds later, the gold one emerged out the other ear with its crimson counterpart in pursuit.

  They pinwheeled away in opposite directions, then rushed back at each other, colliding in a brilliant flash, flickering in alternating red and gold. Soon, the gold predominated, and then they split apart.

  The crimson one flared. :There is no wisdom in this, Ko. You cannot merge with something so unlike us.:

  :How do you know? You are too afraid to try. And it is not your decision, Mog. I have told you—this is my Communion—my vision will lead.:

  Mog fluttered nervously, seemingly intent on keeping a cautious distance from Data. :There may be dangers.:

  :From these things? If they had the power and the will to harm us, they would already have done so.:

  :These things are unknown, Ko. You cannot know for certain.:

  Ko alighted on Data’s forehead, as if daring Mog to draw near. :No, I cannot. But we have the chance to find out. That is what makes this encounter so exciting. To do something we have never done before.:

  :That is not our way.:

  :Perhaps it should be. According to the Orthody, all choices are mine.:

  The crimson sparkle enlarged threateningly, and advanced on Ko. :How dare you quote the Orthody when you violate its spirit! That is your interpretation, Mog.:

  :There are no rules for this. This has never happened in any other Communion.:

  :And you cannot say what will happen in mine. I warn you—do not stand in my way. Your disapproval means only one thing to me, Mog—that I am right in everything I have done.:

  Mog backed off, darkening. :Very well. Merge if you must. When it fails, only you will be destroyed, Ko.:

  Like the birth of a Universe, beginning in profound nothingness, Data’s mind burst into brilliant life with visions of a world and wonders he’d never seen before. Stripped of all awareness of containment within a body, yet still able to conceptualize himself as Data, his consciousness soared free through a crystal-blue sky.

  Falling on a downdraft, invisible wings seemed to thrust him through brilliant white clouds where jagged streaks of lightning surged past him. He followed them down, and the phantom wings leveled him off above a broad plain carpeted with undulating waves of grass. As he skimmed the flat land, the lightning bolts struck the ground and it began to ripple beneath him, rising up to form majestic mountains.

  He rose himself, lofted by the winds above the highest peaks, sailing on a trajectory toward a distant, twinkling star. His mind’s eye blinked—and when it opened again, the far-off star was now a flaring sun, filling the sky with fire.

  He blinked again, and felt himself diving down toward a desolate valley of shifting dunes extending past every horizon. But the sands began to flower and the dunes ran like melted wax, transforming into terraced hillsides lush with tropical growth. Subterranean waters bubbled up to flood the parched valley, and the newborn sea spread wide until it became an ocean.

  Then, lifted by the strong wings he could neither see nor control, Data soared again.

  Grim-faced, Jean-Luc Picard stood in the center of his bridge, his eyes on the main viewscreen.

  “Phaser sequence, level four,” said Worf’s rumbling voice from behind him, “programmed and ready to initiate.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant. Fire.”

  Two seconds after Worf implemented the order, an energized haze, distinctly golden this time, enveloped Picard. A second later, before anyone could move, it and he vanished.

  Riker leapt from his seat. “Cease fire.”

  The golden haze materialized inside the Domaran cavern containing the shuttle, and so did Captain Picard, looking more than a little startled once the haze dissipated and he realized where he was, and who and what were there with him in the darkness illuminated only by the away team’s lanterns.

  Troi and her three companions rushed over to greet him, their expressions a confused mixture of terror and relief, and all of them burst out talking at once. Even Counselor Troi couldn’t help joining in, and Picard did his best to sort out the tangle of voices peppering him with questions—

  “Captain, how did you find—”

  “Captain, where did you—”

  “C
aptain, we thought we’d never—”

  “Captain, I can’t believe—”

  Then he frowned and silenced them with an impatient gesture. “I take it you are all unharmed?”

  “Yes, sir, we are,” Troi said.

  “Where is Mr. Data?” He noticed the quick exchange of concerned glances among the stranded away-team members.

  “We don’t know, Captain,” Troi said. As a prelude, she began to describe the multicolored energy patterns and the unexplained sparkles.

  It only took a few moments for Picard to realize the away team and the ships in orbit had shared some parallel experiences over the past couple of days, and he interrupted her. “We saw those same chromatic energy phenomena in space—and I have had several interesting personal encounters myself. Have they done something to Data?”

  Troi started again, skipping directly to a condensed account of Data’s disappearance, and once again she was interrupted—but this time, by Data’s abrupt reappearance, suspended as before inside a blazing halo of golden light.

  Picard tried to shade his eyes. “What the devil . . . ?”

  His voice trailed off as the yellow blaze quickly faded—and whatever force had been holding Data up also faded, unceremoniously dropping him to the cave floor like a crumpled rag doll. Picard and Troi rushed over to him. Wesley, Gina and Ken started to follow, but the captain waved them away.

  “Stay back—we don’t know if there’s any danger.”

  Wes activated his tricorder and scanned the side of the cave where Picard and Deanna knelt over the fallen android. “There’s no detectable radiation, sir. No other apparent risk factors.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Picard said, straightening Data’s tangled limbs. His tone made it clear he still wanted them to keep their distance.

  Deanna smoothed Data’s hair and touched his cheek. Then Picard turned Data’s head to one side and peeled back the patch of scalp that concealed some of his diagnostic circuitry. What Picard saw made his blood run cold.