Ghost Ship Part 7

"Listen to Lieutenant LaForge. Just listen."

"I do listen."

"You don't. You hear what he has to say, but you don't appreciate it. You think all he does is 'see.' "

Riker tried to interpret what she was saying by looking into her deep-set eyes and reading them, but after a few seconds of that he floundered and admitted, "I don't know what you mean."

She settled her long hands in her lap. "My G.o.d, Will. Do you think he just puts that thing on and sees? Okay, not fair ... I'll explain. Of course that's what it looks like to everybody. I tried to tell him that just now, but from his perspective-well, Geordi LaForge is one of only four blind people successfully fitted with the optic prosthetic. I mean, four who've successfully learned to operate it. Four. That's all in the whole Federation."

"Really ... " Riker muttered, rapt. "Keep talking."

Crusher drew in a long breath, trying to find the words to explain something she herself had never experienced. "When he looks at an apple, he has to interpret between twenty and two hundred separate sensory impulses just to get shape, color, and temperature. After that, he has to recalibrate to get molecular composition, density, and everything else he gets. Trust me-it's mind-boggling. Which is what it does to Geordi. You're talking some thousand and a half impulses just to look at an apple. Do you know that he gets exhausted if he doesn't take the device off several times a day?"

"No ... I didn't. But he doesn't take it off."

"He refuses to give in to his handicap. And because of his dedication, he gets depleted and has to deal with some considerable pain."

Riker grasped the edge of the chair and crushed the cushion tight. "Pain? Are you telling me that thing hurts him?"

"He never shows it."

"I had no idea...."

Dr. Crusher slid off the table and said, "That's the kind of crewman you've got, Mr. Riker. Now you know."

The first officer slumped back in the chair, his blue eyes slightly creased as he tried to imagine something his own brain simply wasn't made to visualize. But he understood pain, and he understood the resistance of it. And the dogged recurrence of it. Suddenly he was aware of how little time he and these special people had spent together. Special talents, yes, but also special handicaps. Data and his mechanical self; Yar and her explosive temper and overprotectiveness; the constant tug and pull between himself and the captain with the undefined split of authority on a starship with civilians on board as regular complement; Troi and what she was going through on all fronts; and now this with Geordi LaForge-blind, but not-a man who could see phenomenally or not at all, no easy middle ground.

This was hard. It was a strain. Since day one there had been troubles, troubles that made them put aside those all-important moments when people got to know each other. They had been through much together, yet they were still strangers. What did he really know about Geordi? How did Geordi feel about other things than sight and that helm he worked? What was Yar's favorite pastime other than polishing her martial prowess? Certainly such a woman, so young and so vital, would think about something more fun. What music did she like? Did her shoes hurt sometimes? And surely there must be something more to Wesley than just a typical sixteen-year-old invulnerability. And Worf-was he lonely? As lonely as Troi seemed to be sometimes? What kept him in Starfleet when he could easily go back to his Klinzhai tribes and be completely accepted? It wasn't a Klingon trait to reject one of their own blood, no matter the circ.u.mstances of his separation. Why didn't he go?

Somehow each had become nothing to the others but a name and one particular eccentricity. Data was the Android, Geordi was his visor, Worf was the Klingon, Crusher was the Doctor, Wesley was the Kid, Troi was the Empath, Picard was the Marquis-I guess that makes me the gentry. Or the rabble, Riker thought, not caring what all this did to his expression as Crusher watched silently. I don't know them. I don't know any of them yet, and all this time we've been depending on each other for life and limb. And Captain Picard ... I know him least of all. But then, I haven't shown him much of Will Riker, either-have I?

"d.a.m.n it," he whispered.

Crusher pressed her lips inward and tried to avoid a softhearted nod, for she saw the changes in his face and especially noticed when he started absently picking at a nail and looking guilty.

"What?" she prodded, very careful of her tone.

"Nothing." He stood up abruptly, committing the very crime he was hanging himself for. Even as he began to turn toward the door he realized what he was doing, and he paused, balanced on one foot. He tipped his shoulder back toward her and thought about turning. "We aren't ... we aren't showing-"

"Commander Riker, to the bridge immediately. Yellow alert, all hands, yellow alert. Commander Riker, report to the bridge-"

"Something on the edge of sensor range, sir."

Tasha Yar's voice gained a sudden rock-steadiness as she raised her volume over the yellow alert noise.

Picard stood resolute at bridge center, glaring at the viewscreen, very aware of Counselor Troi beside him. "Scan it."

"Scanning."

"On your toes, everyone. And where the devil is-"

"Riker reporting, sir. Sorry for the delay."

Picard turned toward the turbolift and said, "I want you one hundred percent available the next twenty-four hours, Number One. We don't know what we've stumbled upon and I don't like riddles. Until we discover what's going on-"

"At your service, sir, no problem." Riker landed in his place between the captain and Troi with a faint thud on the carpeted deck. Troi caught his eyes for just an instant, and each had to work hard to keep from speaking out-of-place rea.s.surances to each other. Forcing himself to look away from her, he noticed Yar working more furiously than usual at her tactical station and demanded, "Fill me in, Lieutenant."

Her pale brow furrowed. "Scanning something on the periphery of sensor range, Mr. Riker, but I can't get a fix-wait a minute-that ... that can't be right. I'm not getting anything back. No, that can't be right."

Picard spun. "Nothing at all? No reaction to the scan at all?"

"No, sir," Yar complained, "not even readings of surrounding s.p.a.ce debris or bodies-" She broke off and slapped her control board like an errant child. She straightened decisively, absolutely sure of what she was seeing on her instruments. "Sir, far's I can tell, it's absorbing the sensor scan."

Picard's face took on an arrogant disbelief. "That's the most curious d.a.m.ned thing I've ever heard of. Corroborate it with the s.p.a.ce sciences lab immediately."

"They're already tied in, sir," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Same report."

He swung about and b.u.mped his fist against his thigh. "Well, d.a.m.n that." With an imperious stride, he approached the starfield before them, his eyes going to slits. "Boost the sensors."

Yar looked up again. "Sorry?"

"Yes. Put out a high-energy sensor burst over the nominal sensors."

Yar's hand leaned ineffectually on her board, and she looked with helplessness to Riker. Her mouth formed her silent question: Boost them?

Riker felt the weight slam onto his shoulders. At least a foot shorter now, he approached Picard. "Sir, could you refresh us on that procedure?"

To everyone's surprise-relief- Picard merely glanced at him and said, "Of course." He stepped to the Ops station, where Data had been sitting in silent vigilance all this time, and put one hand to the small tactical access panel on the Ops console, pecking the controls carefully. "It's more or less an unofficial skill, not something Starfleet engineers approve of ... somewhat radical. If it's done too often it can cause quite a burnout. We'll have to key in the computer sensors, readjust the energy output for tight-gain/ high-energy bolt, ask for a momentary scan so all the energy is contained, and tell the computer to fire when it's ready. There you are."

His hand fell gracefully away from the instruments, leaving them with a surprising clue to his rogue side. Within seconds, sure enough, there was a flush of energy from the bridge sensory systems, and the scanning burst was off, crossing the distances of s.p.a.ce with the unfettered speed of pure energy.

"Sir!" Yar jolted at her station. "Definitely reading something now! G.o.d! It's heading directly at us out of interstellar s.p.a.ce-it homed in on us! It'll be here in seventy-eight seconds!"

The captain snapped, "Visual!"

LaForge kept his voice laudibly calm as he reported, "Sir, for visual of these readings, the sensors'll have to be adjusted twelve points into the gamma-ray spectrum-"

"Just do it, Lieutenant!" Picard roared.

The young blind man grimaced behind his visor, punched in the code, and nailed the engage b.u.t.ton, then held his breath as the ship's systems whined their strain back at him. But the readings began coming in.

"Sensors at maximum output-draining their sources, sir," LaForge reported over the energy shriek. "Almost got visual-there!"

The starfield blurred before them, sizzled, and reformed into a new pattern-and suddenly the bridge was walled with a gigantic gla.s.sy false-color image, undulating and fluxing as it raced at them through open s.p.a.ce. Its aurora borealis colors were chaotic, its l.u.s.ter blinding, its electrical nature obvious as it crackled across the huge screen.

Geordi instantly brought a hand up to shield his visor. "Chrrrrist-"

The fireworks blazed across their faces and ran amuck on their fears. It was a thing utterly alien, and struck panic in all their hearts-it looked like fire, like electricity. Like the face of h.e.l.l itself.

Suddenly Troi came to life behind Riker and the captain, her horrified expression even more horrifying as the fulmination from the screen glared on her skin and in her eyes.

"Stay away from it! Don't let it get near us!"

Picard was beside her as though appearing out of nothing. "Counselor?"

Her slim hands clamped on his arm like talons. "Captain! Do not let that thing come near us!"

"I can't just-"

"Do not let it!" she repeated. "Captain, what am I doing on this ship if you do not take my counsel? If I'm wrong, I'll resign my position! If I never do anything worthwhile in my life again, I'll have done this! Captain, please!"

The purplish veins of light played ugly patterns between them, glowing as though to hammer out Troi's words and the conviction in her eyes.

The captain held her by the arms and bored through her with eyes that were doing something other than questioning her veracity. At once he sucked in a breath and his voice gripped the bridge. "Raise shields! Go to red alert status."

"Red alert!" Riker echoed instantly, flashing the words toward Tasha. "Speed and ETA?"

"Warp six now! Sixty-one seconds ETA!" She flinched under the prismatic light from the screen. Her blond hair sparkled orange, then amethyst, then blue, then a cruel white. Her arms moved among the fireworks, and the ship whooped into alert. Lights of their own flashed now throughout the starship, and all around the vessel, high-energy defensive shielding buzzed to life around the great hulls and nacelles.

Picard pressed Deanna Troi behind him, back toward the three lounges that were their command places in better moments, and shouldered his way into the glaze of lights. "Lieutenant Yar, fire phasers across its bow. Make our intentions absolutely clear. Warn that thing off"

Behind him he heard Troi whisper, "Weapons ... no!"

But it was too late.

Without acknowledgment, Yar played her controls and before them long-range phasers lanced s.p.a.ce, thin as needles, their power twisted into threads so slim that they could strike even at this distance and be felt like solid blades.

"Captain, it's accelerating!" she shrieked then. "It's put on a burst of speed-warp ten now ... warp twelve! Warp fourteen-point-nine!"

"LaForge!"

The captain's roar bombarded the bridge.

LaForge smeared his palms over the controls, jamming the starship into emergency warp. The change of speed was so abrupt that even sophisticated Starfleet equipment couldn't compensate for the stomach-sucking effect.

The starship wheeled in s.p.a.ce and bolted into a sudden warp five, but there was no warp fifteen in its vocabulary. Before the ship could maneuver more than one light-year's distance, the thing was upon them.

St. Elmo's fire blanketed the bridge as the new Enterprise was given the shakedown of the millennium. A billion tiny firecrackers erupted across the heavy-duty shielding. Electrokinetic jolts fanned through the ship, through every person's body, through every bone and nerve, every circuit, every conduit, every skin hair, and crackled through every inch of stuff, living or mechanical.

Troi felt a short scream squeeze out of her as she crumpled against an enemy she somehow recognized. All around her, jagged voltage profaned the bridge with ugly blue fingers and left sparks wherever it touched. She saw her crewmates falling, writhing, fighting. She heard the whine of the ship's gallant battle against this electrical storm, and knew the Enterprise, like her crew, was defying the attack.

The weight of a thousand minds crushed into her head and she forgot the ship, forgot everything but the pain of it. They were screaming at her, shrieking the reedy noises of zombies and wraiths, the graveyard shrill of things Picard had ordered she not consider. She struggled against the sharp piercing clarions and tried to cling to that order. Her fingers were electric blue as they clawed at the air before her, her eyes frozen open no matter how she tried to close them.

The effect squealed around her, and as it sought her brain and all the parts of her that reacted to her telepathic self, it released her muscles one by one and she sank to the deck, still staring, still wrapped in the blue lightning.

Riker saw her fall, and tried to reach for her. But he too was being beaten by the attack. The ship might as well have been impaled on a lightning rod. Fiery blue veins accosted every panel, and beneath them the deck itself tossed and bucked as energy crashed through it. As the seconds dragged past, the effect sank away from Troi and left her lying on the deck as it scouted the bridge for whatever it wanted and couldn't find.

Riker was trying to reach Troi when the chair beside him moved abruptly and Data was dragged out of it and thrown across the Ops console on his back, and mauled by the electrical pistolwhipping. The ship shuddered one more time before the silvery blitz dropped away from its attack on the whole bridge, converged to a single point from all over the bridge and settled on Data, wrapping around him and his Ops console and effervescing there.

"Data!" LaForge plunged toward the android, only to be knocked to one side by Riker's shoulder.

"Don't touch him!"

Chapter Five.

RIKER SHOUTED OVER the crackle. "n.o.body touch him!"

LaForge shoved against the first officer. "It's killing him!"

Riker had to twist around and grab him in order to hold him off. The navigator continued to push his way toward Data, his hands biting into Riker's arm, but Riker simply refused to let him through.

Quivering, Data lay across the Ops panel in a skein of light threads, and his mouth began to work as though by an invisible hand. "Ship ... con ... tact ... con ... kill ... "

"Is he in communication with it?" Picard shouted over the awful electrical din. "Data! Are you in contact? Are you in contact! Data!"

The ship began to settle as the effect fell away, leaving only the snaps and fizzes of frenzied equipment. Data was the last to be released. The iridescence had its fill of him and dropped off, seeping down into the Ops panel and leaving only a confused flicker behind on the board. Data slipped down the console and flopped to the floor, catching hold of the console's edge and managing to land on his knees. His face had a very human glaze of panic, and he was trembling.

Geordi shoved his way past Riker and skidded to one knee, giving Data his arm to lean on. Riker let him go, and they crossed by each other as Riker dropped to Troi's limp form on the deck, lifting her with one arm and using the other hand to tap his comlink. "Sickbay, emergency!"

"Shut down all systems!" the captain said at the same moment. "Pa.s.sive sensors only. Do not hit it with active sensors!"

"Aye, sir, pa.s.sive sensors," Yar confirmed, her voice cracking. Her features, spare as a porcelain doll's, worked as she fought for control.

"Where is it?" Picard demanded.

"Moved off, sir," Worf boomed. "Now hovering approximately two light-years distant. It's not doing anything but just roaming there snapping at us, working some kind of a pattern."

"It's moving?"

"Yes, sir. Random turns and coasts along a cube pattern. I think it's looking for us, Captain."

"Ship's status?" Picard scanned the bridge all the way around once, noticing the shimmying electrical quirks and vibrations that still flashed here and there.

"Shields drained seventy-nine percent, sir," Worf reported angrily. "Systems blown out all over the ship. Stardrive is down. Communications are out. Sensors are unstable. Most disabled are the shields, and they'll take the longest to recharge."

"Condition of the saucer section?"

"Intact, sir. They were shook up, but not as badly as the bridge and as the stardrive areas were. Looks to me like it focused on high-energy areas of the ship."

"What was that thing?"

Worf puckered his lips in a Klingon kind of shrug and glared at Tasha.