by Dayton Ward
However, what if he had also suffered some form of mental breakdown of which he was not yet aware? Recent events had forcibly reminded Picard that Data was still a machine, and not an invulnerable one at that. Was he still susceptible to further incapacitation? What if his efforts to help the Dokaalan were being hindered by a lingering side effect of the mysterious malady he had endured, something that might not make its presence known until the worst possible time?
No, the captain decided. Based on past experience, he was certain that Data would not place himself in a position where he might threaten the ship or any of the crew if he believed himself to be dangerously impaired.
Would he?
Stop it, Picard chastised himself. Trust your people.
“Data,” he heard Riker say a moment later, “how long after the torpedoes detonate will we know if we’ve been successful?”
Still working at the science station, the android turned and replied, “Preliminary indications of the proper chemical reactions should be apparent within three minutes of detonation, sir. As I explained earlier, however, the total impact of the phylocite’s introduction will not be complete for approximately twelve point six years, assuming there are no changes in the Dokaalan’s own atmospheric processing efforts.”
“Do not worry about that, Commander,” said Creij, her aged blue face brightening the image of her displayed on one of the science station’s monitors as she offered what passed for a Dokaalan smile. “Your work here has served to renew our commitment to seeing this project through to the end.”
Like Hjatyn and the rest of his delegation, the science minister had elected to remain at the Dokaalan’s central colony. The time required for the Enterprise to traverse the asteroid field was long enough that Dr. Crusher had recommended against any of their hosts staying aboard the ship. Creij had resisted at first, but the scientist in her saw the logic behind the doctor’s request.
“I wish I could be there to witness this momentous occasion firsthand,” she said a moment later, “but it is a small price to pay. Besides, I have plans to walk around on the planet itself, and I have already selected a location upon which to build my new home.”
The sentiment drew pleased reactions from the rest of the bridge crew, Picard noted, only adding to his growing enthusiasm. It had taken little time for word about Data’s bold proposal to aid the Dokaalan to spread throughout the ship, relieving much of the regret everyone seemed to share over what had happened with the rescue operation at the mining outpost. The potential to help these people make their dream a reality after so many years of labor and sacrifice, beyond the superhuman efforts they had expended merely to survive, was working to strengthen the crew’s blunted and burdened resolve.
The positive emotional change was still somewhat tempered, of course, by the knowledge that two of their fellow crew members remained missing. Though the full complement of the Enterprise’s shuttlecraft and shuttle-pods had been deployed into the asteroid field in search of Commander La Forge and Lieutenant Taurik or any sign that their own shuttle had crashed into one of the asteroids, so far the effort had yielded no results. Even during its own maneuver through the field in order to position itself in orbit over Ijuuka, the starship’s formidable array of sensors had been brought to bear but to no avail. Not even the Ballard’s distress beacon had been detected, though Picard knew there was no way to know whether that might be due to radiation interference.
What he did know was that he was dissatisfied with the progress of the search to this point, as well as the apprehension he felt over the implications such failure represented.
Still, he could not allow that anxiety to cloud his emotions now, not while there was still so much to be done.
Turning his attention to Troi, who until now had been observing the proceedings in silence, he asked, “Counselor, have you sensed anything new?”
“Only an anticipation over what’s about to happen,” the counselor replied. “There seems to be some nervousness, of course, but that’s to be expected. Mostly I sense that they’re hopeful our plan will work. As Hjatyn said earlier, this seems to have reinvigorated their passion for the terraforming project.”
“It’s not as if they’d grown complacent or discouraged,” Riker said. “Considering they’ve been at this for more than a hundred years, I don’t think anyone can question their dedication.”
Picard agreed. From what he had seen, the Dokaalan were anything but an impatient or easily disheartened people. Given their situation, those were indulgences they would not have ever been able to afford.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Vale called out from the tactical station, “we’re being hailed by First Minister Hjatyn.”
“On screen,” Picard ordered.
During the journey to reach Ijuuka, the captain had ordered the dispersal of three subspace repeater beacons within the asteroid field at Data’s recommendation in order to better facilitate communications between the Enterprise and the Dokaalan central habitat. The decision was a wise one, as evidenced by the clarity of the image on the main viewer as it switched to a picture of the elderly leader.
“First Minister,” Picard said by way of greeting. “We are almost ready to commence the firing sequence.”
Nodding, Hjatyn replied, “So Creij tells me, Captain. I wanted to wish you good fortune. You carry with you the dreams of all my people.”
“And we will do our utmost to safeguard that, sir,” the captain said, bowing his head formally toward the viewscreen. “Please stand by.” At his prompting, the image of the Dokaalan leader vanished from the screen, replaced once more with a view of Ijuuka. From the Enterprise’s current position, orbiting twenty thousand kilometers above the planet’s surface, only its curved edge was visible as it dominated the lower third of the display. Beneath Ijuuka’s oppressive, enveloping pale brown cloud cover was a world in waiting, he knew, waiting for science, technology, and sheer force of will to wrestle it from its prison.
Studying the image on the screen, Picard envisioned the planet as it might be a decade hence if all went according to plan, lush and green and vibrant. It would be a paradise from which the Dokaalan would build a new society, using the steadfast community they had already forged here among the asteroids as a foundation.
It will be a prize worthy of these people’s indomitable spirit.
Turning his chair to face the science station, Picard asked, “Mr. Data?”
“I have finished my preparations, Captain,” the android replied. “We can begin on your order.”
As Data gave his report, the captain imagined he felt a tingle of electricity move across the bridge. Officers at their various stations straightened in their seats and fingers moved a bit faster across consoles. There was no denying his people’s anticipation as they waited for the operation to begin. That in itself seemed like a good enough reason to avoid delaying any longer.
“Make it so, Commander.”
The first volley of four quantum torpedoes launched ten seconds later, blue-white streaks arcing away from the Enterprise and immediately separating to follow their prescribed trajectories toward the far side of the planet. Within moments the next wave was fired, no one on the bridge saying anything as the process repeated itself again and again until all twenty-six weapons were away.
“Shifting to tactical view,” Data called out as the final two torpedoes pulled away from the ship, heading directly for their assigned positions over Ijuuka’s surface. Then the image on the viewscreen changed to show a three-dimensional computer-generated schematic of the planet. Twenty-six points of blue light now formed a pattern across the graphic, illustrating the independent trajectories now acting to guide the torpedoes to their designated positions.
“Detonation in ten seconds,” Data reported, his attention focused on his console. No one else said anything, the only other thing Picard could hear on the bridge being the normal ambient sounds of the various workstations. Watching the torpedoes’ final seconds of life, the
captain realized he was holding his breath in anticipation. He remembered to exhale just as Data counted down.
“Zero.”
Twenty-six eruptions of blue light flared simultaneously on the viewscreen, and from each a yellow sphere began to expand outward, pushing away from each torpedo’s detonation point and beginning to canvas a portion of the planet. In his mind’s eye Picard saw the phylocite mixing with and commencing the lengthy process of altering the chemical structure of Ijuuka’s atmosphere.
“Total atmospheric exposure should be complete within two hours, Captain,” Data said as he turned from the science station. “I am already beginning to register minute alterations in the composition of the upper mesosphere.”
Picard could not tear his eyes from the viewscreen as the first moments of the operation unfolded just as Data had predicted. Watching the computer’s representation of Ijuuka and the changes the torpedoes were affecting on the planet’s atmosphere, the captain permitted himself the private luxury of basking in pride at what Data and his team, and by extension the rest of the Enterprise crew, were accomplishing here. Until this moment, it had been nothing more than an abstract theory, but now it was happening—an outlandish premise willed into reality by his people’s technical acumen, their dedication to duty and to the Starfleet principles of helping others in time of need, and even simply because of their passion to triumph over any obstacle erected before them.
From the report Data had submitted, Picard knew that the process would continue for several weeks. Like a timed-release fertilizer that a gardener might use to nourish the plants and flowers in his care, the terraforming agent Data had introduced here would bond itself at the atomic level to the conglomeration of artificial and Dokaalan-engineered gases currently composing Ijuuka’s atmosphere. Then the truly wondrous properties of the phylocite would go to work, laboring to accelerate the process the Dokaalan had already put into motion in a dogged attempt to push the transformation of Ijuuka into high gear and giving even the oldest members of the beleaguered mining community a chance to see the fruits of their labor within their lifetimes.
Having seen flourishing examples of terraforming for himself, it was easy for Picard to envision the end result of what was happening here today. Should the Dokaalan efforts prove successful, the planet that emerged from the process would undoubtedly be the object of study by Federation scientists for years to come. Ijuuka could well take its place alongside Blue Horizon, New Halana, and Venus as landmarks of this most audacious example of living beings challenging nature and their place in it.
“Lieutenant Vale,” he said, “open a channel to First Minister Hjatyn. I’m sure he and the rest of the council will be interested in our progress.”
The security chief’s smile was nearly infectious as she nodded in reply. “My pleasure, Captain.”
An insistent beeping alert suddenly filled the air of the bridge, making everyone turn to the science station. Rising from his chair, Picard looked to where Data was already working, his fingers dancing across his console so fast that they seemed almost a blur.
“Mr. Data?” the captain prompted.
Not turning from his workstation, the android replied, “Sensors are picking up deviations in the chemical reactions taking place in the planet’s atmosphere. I am attempting to analyze them now.”
Silence engulfed the bridge as Data worked, each second that passed adding to Picard’s growing dread that something was wrong. On the main viewer, the yellow plumes were continuing to enlarge over the computer graphic of Ijuuka, pushing outward from the torpedoes’ original detonation points. Did the picture represent new hope being infused into a dead world, or had the Enterprise merely succeeded in pulling a shroud over an already long-dead corpse?
“The introduction of the phylocite into Ijuuka’s atmospheric composition is not in line with our computer projections,” Data finally said after nearly two minutes of silence. “I am detecting the release of several elements that should not be factors in the terraforming process. Argon molecules are moving to fuse with the existing oxygen and nitrogen, and I am picking up indications of methane and lithium being introduced, as well.”
Stepping up from the command area until he stood directly behind Data at the science station, Picard asked, “What are you saying, Commander?”
“The alterations currently under way in the atmosphere are inconsistent with what is required for our acceleration of the terraforming process to be successful, sir.” The android’s expression remained neutral as he turned from his console, but Picard thought he could see resignation in Data’s gold eyes.
“I will need to conduct further scans,” Data continued, “but it is possible that we may have damaged or even nullified the changes introduced by the Dokaalan.”
Just as he had felt their excitement only minutes earlier, Picard now sensed the energy draining away from everyone on the bridge. Their enthusiasm, and his, had all but evaporated in the face of Data’s report.
Simply put, they had failed.
Chapter Eleven
IF THE MOOD on the bridge had been somber, Picard decided, it was now positively dire in the observation lounge, and with good reason, so far as he was concerned.
“I don’t understand,” Riker said, his expression glum as he sat slump-shouldered with both hands placed palms-down on the polished surface of the conference table. “Everything was plotted and calculated down to the last detail.” Looking up to where the android had positioned himself near the room’s main viewscreen, he added, “Wasn’t it?”
“That is correct, sir, within a certain context,” Data replied. “The formulae mixing phylocite into the Ijuukan atmosphere were devised using all the information at my disposal, whether gathered using our own sensor equipment or given to me by Science Minister Creij. I cross-referenced everything she provided against the operational records and design specifications for their processing plants, and compared those findings to the relevant information available to us from Terraform Command. This in turn allowed me to devise the proper ratio of phylocite and other elements that could best interact with the planet’s natural atmospheric composition as well as with the changes being made by the Dokaalan’s own reformation efforts.”
“So what happened?” Riker asked, frustration lacing every word.
To Picard, the android seemed to ponder the question for several seconds before slowly shaking his head. “I do not know, sir. In all seventeen computer simulations I performed, the results were virtually identical, varying only with respect to the rate at which the phylocite began to bond with the other elements comprising Ijuuka’s atmosphere. These variations were explained by different patterns I experimented with for spreading the quantum torpedoes around the planet.”
“And nothing in any of those tests suggested anything resembling what we’re witnessing now?” Picard asked from where he sat at the head of the conference table.
Pausing momentarily, Data actually bowed his head, a gesture that for someone with emotions would almost certainly have been born out of shame. “No, sir. I am at a loss to explain it at this time.”
The gesture of concession, real or mimicked, did little to ease the captain’s growing anger and frustration. Amid all of that, the questions Picard had earlier raised to himself regarding Data’s competence were now clamoring for his attention. Had the android made some sort of colossal error due to a curtailed ability to carry out his duties?
Try as he might, the captain simply could not bring himself to believe that. There had to be some other reason for what had happened, something of which they were not yet aware. What could it be?
“Is the process reversible?” Riker asked. “Is there something else we can do?”
“Further tests and examination of the effects currently taking place in the atmosphere will be necessary to determine that, sir,” Data said, “but without additional intervention, I believe the eventual outcome of what is happening now will be an atmosphere incompatible with Dokaala
n life-support requirements. I intend to begin my investigation as soon as we are adjourned here.”
Replaying the events of the last half hour over in his mind, Picard found himself dwelling instead on the consequences of the failed experiment. How much damage had they inflicted? If he understood the process Data had put into motion, the full ramifications of their actions here today might not be known for years, but the preliminary results were alarming:
The planet would be useless to the Dokaalan.
There were other emotions running rampant, as well, each harassing and threatening to overwhelm him as he struggled with the gravity of this situation. First, there was embarrassment at his and the Enterprise crew’s apparent inability to aid the Dokaalan after all the promises to the contrary. Sorrow mixed with anger was present, too, of course, at the thought that all of the work these people had performed, more than a century of laboring toward the realization of a dream, might all have been destroyed in a span of minutes.
Overshadowing all of that, Picard realized, was a foreboding sense of déjà vu.
Time had not yet lifted the heaviness weighing on his heart since the loss of the U.S.S. Juno at the hands of the Ontailians. Though he, and the Ontailians, had ultimately been found innocent in the actions that had resulted in that tragedy, the exoneration had not stopped him from repeatedly reexamining the incident in search of some other decision he could have made or some other step he could have taken. Unable to summon any satisfactory answers, Picard knew that the Juno disaster would join a relatively short list of events from his life that would forever haunt him.
Right alongside what’s happened here today, he mused bitterly as he allowed his gaze to wander beyond the viewports and to the field of asteroids drifting past the ship. That list seems to be getting longer all the time.
