Engines Of Destiny Part 11

"Surely, Captain," Tal prompted, "identifying your homeworld is not that difficult a task."

"Actually, Commander," Picard admitted, bracing himself inwardly, "it may be somewhat difficult, not because we do not have the information but because you may find it hard to believe."

The Romulan arched his eyebrows in what was obviously mock curiosity. "Indeed? And why is that?"

"Because we are from another... reality," Picard began, carefully watching that other Guinan out of the corner of his eye. "We- "

A bark of laughter erupted from the Romulan's throat. "Another reality? You are spirits, then? You are very solid spirits, if we are to believe our sensors."

Picard shook his head, still watching Guinan as much as the Romulan. "We of course are not 'spirits.' By 'another reality,' I mean an alternate universe, one just as real and solid as this one, but different in many ways. Surely your scientists have suggested the possibility that such things exist."

"Perhaps," the Romulan said with a shrug, "but the Alliance has little time for such theoretical esoterica. We must focus our energies on more practical matters, for example finding a way of stopping the Borg."

Picard managed a small smile. "Oddly enough, that is precisely what we ourselves are doing."

The Romulan frowned skeptically. "Explain."

And Picard did, cautiously spinning out the story his subconscious had apparently been working on ever since Riker's jolting remark about El-Auria, In their own universe, Picard explained quite truthfully, the Borg, while not yet invading the Alpha Quadrant, were as much a long-term threat as they were here. If a way wasn't found to stop them, they would almost certainly, given time, turn the entire galaxy into one ma.s.sive collective.

Recently the Federation had stumbled onto a method of traveling to alternate universes, Picard continued, beginning to bend the truth in earnest.

"That is why your warp trail began in the Arhennius corona?" Tal asked with a frown. "Your method of travel involves a star's gravity well?"

Picard nodded, relieved that the Romulan had jumped in to supply a part of the explanation. "An interaction between an intense gravity well and the warp drive, yes."

"And you are out exploring? Looking for what? A universe where the Borg don't exist?"

Picard shook his head. "A universe where they have been defeated," Picard said slowly. "In our universe, the Borg have not arrived in this sector of the galaxy, but they soon will, and we are powerless to stop them. The Enterprise and several other ships are searching for a universe in which a way to defeat the Borg has been found."

"This is obviously not the universe you seek," the Romulan said. "I a.s.sume you will soon be on your way."

"Not necessarily," Picard said, still watching that other Guinan out of the corner of his eye. She had been listening intently, looking as if she were about to interrupt any number of times, but always restraining herself. "There is a major difference in Borg behavior in this universe. In our own universe-indeed, in every universe we have visited-the Borg have for millennia steadily and systematically expanded in their home quadrant. Here, however, they appear to have broken that pattern and leaped hundreds if not thousands of pa.r.s.ecs to take over Terra and expand outward from there."

"And how do you know this?"

"I don't know for certain, not as yet. Based on what we have seen so far, however, it seems to be the only logical conclusion. I am of course a.s.suming that the Borg in this universe originated in the Delta Quadrant, as they did in ours."

"They did," said the Guinan on the screen.

The Romulan turned to scowl at her. "I realize you know many things, Guinan," he said stiffly, "but I did not know you were more of an expert on the origins of the Borg than are those who have made it their life's work to study them."

"There are many things you do not know about me, Tal," she said in a tone so familiar it sent chills up and down Picard's spine. Then she turned to look out of the screen at him. "Captain Picard, would it be possible for me to visit the Enterprise? I would like to learn more about this universe you say you are from. It could be most useful for the Alliance," she added, glancing at Tal.

Picard hesitated, remembering how his own Guinan had fled from the bridge moments before the hail from the Romulan ship and the appearance of this Guinan's image on the screen.

"I don't see why not," he temporized, "but we are far outside transporter range."

"Of course," she said, looking again toward the Romulan, whose scowl faded into a look of resignation.

"Very well, Guinan," Tal said, "but someday you will go too far, even for you." Turning back to the screen, he said, "You are welcome to her, Captain, at least for the time being. In the meantime, I will be making a complete report of this incident to Alliance Prime, which may well have further questions. I trust you will have no objection to answering them."

"None," Picard said, and the images wavered and disappeared from the screen. The moment the connection was broken, he stood up from the command chair and strode to the turbolift. "Number One," he said over his shoulder, "let me know if our friend Tal-or anyone else-makes contact. And Mr. Data, keep me informed of any changes in the level of chronometric radiation. I'll be wherever Guinan is."

Fourteen.

NOT EVEN the discipline that came from a hundred-plus years of iron self-control could keep all traces of shock and surprise from Sarek's face when the two creatures appeared on the Wisdom's viewscreen.

They were doubly impossible.

First, they appeared to be Terrans, but Terrans no longer existed except as mindless Borg drones. The only existing records and images of that lost race were contained in the thoroughly studied logs and diaries of the few travelers that had sporadically and unofficially visited the world in earlier, less troubled centuries.

Second, Sarek recognized them not only as Terrans but as specific Terrans that he had until this moment believed existed only in his own hallucinatory memories of a life he could not possibly have lived.

One was named Kirk, those memories told him. He had been a captain and then an admiral in the fleet of starships maintained by the "Federation," which Sarek had long ago decided was nothing more than his rogue subconscious's idealized version of the constantly-coming-apart-at-the-seams Alliance.

The other Terran, he "remembered," was named Scott. For many years he had been an engineer on the ship the one called Kirk commanded.

Logically, neither one could exist here, in the real world.

But, equally logically, it was pointless to deny their existence, just as it was pointless to doubt his own sanity. He had to a.s.sume he was sane despite evidence to the contrary.

And he had to find out who and what these beings really were.

It was the only logical course.

But before he could even begin to formulate a plan, one of the beings, his eyes widening in seeming surprise, blurted out Sarek's name.

For a fraction of a second, the Vulcan froze. How could this creature from his own hallucinations know his name?

Abruptly, keeping his hands out of range of the viewscreen, he signaled for Varkan to break the connection.

As the impossible image was replaced by the sensor-provided image of the aliens' tiny craft, the commander turned toward Sarek in puzzlement. "What- " he began, but Sarek cut him off.

"Transport them both to Interrogation."

Varkan hesitated but only for a moment. Stepping forward, he spoke the security code that only a ship's commander possessed, then activated the transporters and watched the lines of data that streamed across the bottom of the screen.

"Transport complete, Arbiter."

"Now program it to respond to my voice rather than yours, Commander."

The hesitation was longer this time, but finally Varkan complied, speaking the code again and adding a transfer sequence. Sarek repeated the code, watching the screen as the computer indicated its acceptance.

"Arbiter- " Varkan began but again was cut off.

"I will speak with the prisoners myself, Commander. Signal me immediately if there is any further communication from Outpost No. 3. Or any communication whatsoever regarding the prisoners or the Vortex."

"As you wish, Arbiter. But I urge you not to interrogate them alone."

"Are you suggesting the chamber's security is insufficient? Or malfunctioning in some way?"

"Of course not, Arbiter," Varkan said hastily. "All mechanisms are checked regularly. It is just that- "

"I appreciate your concerns, Commander, but you will serve the Alliance best by remaining on the bridge."

The Romulan looked for a moment as if he were going to continue his protest, but he finally nodded an uneasy a.s.sent. "As you wish, Arbiter," he repeated.

Sarek turned and strode from the bridge, making his way down a dimly lit secondary corridor to the auxiliary transporter cubicle that provided the only means of access to Interrogation, itself buried deep in the Wisdom, as were similar rooms in all Alliance ships.

"Enable entry," he said distinctly, waiting a moment for the newly reprogrammed computer to recognize his voice and accept his command.

The door slid open and he stepped through, onto the single transporter pad that made up most of the cubicle's floor. "Interrogation," he said, unable to entirely suppress a shiver as the transporter field gripped him.

A moment later, he found himself in another small room, this one with no entrances or exits. The only way in or out was by transporter. A control panel and a meter-wide viewscreen took up half of one wall. He was, he realized, probably the first person to occupy this s.p.a.ce since the Wisdom had been commissioned, just as the two beings from his false memories were the first to occupy the chamber on the far side of the still-opaque wall opposite the viewscreen.

The so-called "drone chamber."

One was built into every Alliance vessel, all in the so-far-vain hope that a Borg drone could be captured and totally isolated from the collective.

And interrogated.

As yet it had never happened.

Unless these two were themselves Borg creations, Sarek thought. Could the Borg have learned how to extend their mental links beyond the collective? Could they have eavesdropped on his thoughts and then modified two of their Terran drones to match his false memories?

Or could they have somehow created those false memories in the first place?

Anything, he feared, was possible. After more than a century of observation, no one in the Alliance could do more than make wild speculations about the Borg's true capabilities.

"Enable automatic extraction mechanism," he said.

"Enabled," a soft voice replied from the walls. Until the mechanism was disabled, any significant change in his life signs would be detected and would trigger the transporter.

"Security protocol alshaya."

"Security protocol alshaya," the computer confirmed. Until Sarek removed or altered the protocol, the only connections to the outside world were a hardwired incoming link from the bridge, allowing the commander to signal him in an emergency, and a hardwired two-way link allowing him to access the Wisdom's records.

"Enable iso-vision," he said. The wall he faced faded to one-way transparency.

The two beings-Terrans? Modified drones?- were both looking in his direction, frowning. Could they have heard his voice despite the force fields that separated them? Or had the faint hum of the transporter alerted them?

Sarek could not entirely suppress the chill he felt as he saw that these two did not just resemble the beings from his false memories, as he had hoped this up-close, detailed inspection would reveal. Other than the stubble on the face of the one called Scott, he could detect no differences between these two and the two from his "most recent" false memories.

Finally, he turned and inspected the bio readouts on the control panel beneath the viewscreen. There were dozens, but collectively they showed two things: The beings were one hundred percent organic, which meant they were not Borg-at least not in any way that Alliance technology could detect.

And they could be Terrans. None of the readouts conflicted with any of the biological parameters that had been a.s.sembled from the records of pre-Borg visitors to the world.

"Full vision and sound," he said.

A moment later, the beings' eyes widened. With the sound baffles down, he could hear their accelerated breathing.

Kirk and Scotty lurched and almost fell as the transporter field released them and they found themselves in a featureless, gray-walled room-box?- with no doors, no windows, nothing. The only light source was a square glowing patch above their heads.

"Sarek!" Kirk half-shouted, but there was no response.

At the same time, Scotty s.n.a.t.c.hed the remote control unit from the utility belt at his waist, studied its readout a moment, then entered his security code.

Nothing happened. The G.o.ddard's computer did not respond.

This was not good, Kirk thought. Even if Sarek reappeared and took the time to talk with them, Scotty's ill-timed exclamation had committed them to something at least vaguely resembling the truth, which unfortunately was, in its simplest form: "We're here to radically alter the past and present of dozens of worlds, including your own."

Not that they would ever have a chance to do any such thing, not if their present situation was any indication.

"Ideas, Scotty?"

The engineer shook his head, frowning as he replaced the remote control in his belt and extracted what Kirk a.s.sumed was a tricorder, even though it was closer in size to a communicator. Scotty's frown deepened as he scanned slowly in all directions.

"There's another room not much bigger than this one on the other side of this wall," he said, pointing, "but there's no way out of either one, except by transporter. And there's a force field to block that."

Kirk grimaced. "A maximum security dungeon? But where? In Sarek's ship?"

"Aye," the engineer said after a moment's study of the tiny tricorder screen, "we're in a ship, at least. There are more than a hundred life forms, including Vulcan and Romulan and half a dozen others. I wouldn't- "

Scotty broke off, directing the tricorder toward the wall that concealed the adjacent room. "The force field is going down," he said. An instant later the silence was replaced by a faint, directionless hum.

Hastily he grabbed his remote control, but before he could reenter his code, the humming stopped and the tricorder indicated the force field was back.

And that the adjoining "room" now contained a life form.

A Vulcan life form.

Hastily, Scotty stowed the tricorder while Kirk nodded his approval. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to that or the communicator and possibly have the devices confiscated.

As they watched the wall, its entire length wavered like a viewscreen going out of focus.

Suddenly, then, it was transparent, and they found themselves facing not a viewscreen image but a seemingly real and still-haggard-looking Sarek less than two meters away. In the otherwise featureless wall behind him were a small viewscreen and control panel.

"Are we prisoners?" Kirk asked sharply.

"That depends on who and what you are and how you come to know my name," the Vulcan said, his voice indistinguishable from that of "their" Sarek.

Suddenly, Kirk had an idea. The truth!