Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 40

Pacing wasn't doing her any good, nor was punching walls, nor was hounding the bridge crew with questions, or glancing at the chronometer every thirty seconds. They were little more than eleven hours into the twenty-four that the captain had instructed her to keep the Enterprise out of sight, and already Ro felt at the end of her tether.

She remembered what Chakotay had said about waiting and stillness. She could hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing at her elbow.

The most difficult part of any engagement, the instructor had said, was not the fighting, was not the risk of injury or the loss of energy, was not the enemy or their weapons or their tactics. If Ro learned nothing else in Advanced Tactical Training, Chakotay had insisted, she would have to learn patience. The hardest part of any engagement, he'd told her, was the waiting.

It was the same for the captain engaged in ship-to-ship combat as it was for a single soldier engaged in hand-to-hand, the same for an admiral on a flagship as it was for an operative deployed undercover behind enemy lines. The greatest adversary was never the enemy, but was rather impatience, and the inability to judge the appropriate moment for action. One could too easily tire of waiting for the other ship, or the other combatant, or what-have-you, to make the next move, and so rush to action before the appropriate time. And then you would have surrendered any advantage to your opponent.

What the skilled tactician had to remember, Ro had been taught, was that it was sometimes better to do nothing than to do the wrong thing.

Of course, the reason Chakotay had drilled the concept into her head again and again was that Ro's first instinct was always to do something, even if it was the wrong thing. A lifetime of scuffles in the dirt, of barroom brawls, of having to fight just because of who she was and where she came from, had taught Ro that the advantage in combat fell to whomever made the first move, and that meant never waiting around to see what the other person was going to do. Chakotay had insisted that she unlearn that lesson, and instead teach herself how to be patient.

She'd done her best, but it wasn't easy. Even though she knew that there was very little she could do in the present circ.u.mstances, she couldn't help but feel that she should be doing something.

"d.a.m.n it, Captain," she said, glaring around the empty room as if looking for something on which to take out her frustrations. "It should be you up here doing nothing. And me down there doing...something."

She glanced at the chronometer on Picard's desk.

There were nearly twelve hours to go.

"I hate waiting," Ro said.

There was no one to hear her but the fish in the wall-mounted spherical tank, but if they were bothered by what she said, they didn't show it.

Even though he'd only been on the surface of Turing a short time, and still knew comparatively little about the androids who called it home, Isaac could not help identifying with them, and sharing their concerns about the presence of the Romulan troops.

Since Lal had first contacted him via subs.p.a.ce, relaying the captain's words to him, and his to the captain, Isaac had been tied into the Turing communication system. It was something of an odd sensation, like eavesdropping on the Federation Council, able to listen but not given leave to speak. He could hear all of the debate now buzzing over subs.p.a.ce as the population attempted to reach consensus, but he was not permitted to voice an opinion himself, not recognized as a functioning member of the populace.

Even as he accompanied Data and Lore as they followed Subcommander Taris on her inspection tour of the city, Isaac could hear the debate raging about how the Turing population should respond. The Datarians still held a slight majority, hoping for some peaceful diplomatic solution to the crisis, but the Lorist argument for extreme measures was swiftly gaining ground.

"Subcommander," Data said, "I must urge you to reconsider the use of force in this situation. We are a peaceful people, and pose no serious threat to the security of the Romulan-Klingon Alliance."

Along with Taris were one organic Romulan officer, his attention on the tricorder in his hands, and a pair of the android shock troopers.

"A population of thousands of Federation-constructed androids living less than a light-year from the borders of Alliance s.p.a.ce?" Taris said, haughtily. "Even a.s.suming that your claim for neutrality is justified, and that your presence does not violate the treaty between the Alliance and the Federation, I think you can easily see how the Alliance would be...discomfited by the thought of you living in secret so close to our worlds."

"Typically organic," Lore scoffed. "Governed by your own weaknesses and fears, you ascribe sinister motives to anyone not already under your thumb."

Taris shot him a sharp look, then turned back to Data. "Why is he still speaking? I thought you had insisted that it was you who speaks for your people?"

Before he heard Data's answer, Isaac's attention was drawn by a scene some meters in front of them. A shock trooper, weapon in hand, was attempting to gain access to a building, his way blocked by a tripedal Turing android. The android, his three legs firmly planted, refused to move, and the shock trooper was raising his weapon, preparing to fire.

Isaac, having become so accustomed to communicating via subs.p.a.ce over the Turing network, called out in alarm, not using his voice but instead employing his transceiver. "Data! Trouble ahead!"

Data, whose attention had been on Taris, suddenly wheeled around. "No, wait!" he cried out with his voice, taking a step forward, but it was too late. In the next instant, the shock trooper employed his anti-positronic disruptor, wreathing the tripedal android in blue energy.

Taris c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Now," she said with considerable suspicion, "just how did you know that confrontation was taking place?" She narrowed her eyes, then turned to the organic officer walking at her side. "Centurion, scan for communications on all frequencies and wavelengths."

Data and Lore exchanged glances, remaining silent.

"There's considerable subs.p.a.ce traffic, Subcommander," the officer replied, his eyes on his tricorder. "The city is bathing in it."

Taris gave the three androids an appraising look. "d.a.m.n me for a fool, but I'd forgotten the capacity of Federation androids to receive and transmit subs.p.a.ce signals." She dipped her chin, speaking into the bird-of-prey emblem pinned to the front of her uniform harness. Like all Romulan communicators, Isaac knew, this one doubtless lacked any type of dermal sensor, and was instead always in operation, as it would continue to be so long as power remained in its cells. "Taris to Haakona."

"Receiving," came a voice buzzing from the communicator.

"Initiate communications block, cycle pattern alpha."

"Acknowledged."

"Soon there'll be no more secret whispering," Taris said.

"This farce has gone on long enough," Lore raged, and rushed toward Taris, his hands out and grasping.

"Lore, wait!" Data said, but it was too late.

Even moving as fast as Lore was, the Romulan shock troopers were faster. Before Lore had crossed half the distance to where the subcommander stood, one of the shock troopers opened fire with his disruptor, and Lore collapsed to the floor, paralyzed with convulsions.

Isaac called over the subs.p.a.ce network to Lal. "Captain, matters are escalating."

Data looked from his fallen brother to Taris. "That was entirely..."

Suddenly, Isaac lost his connection to Lal, and the voices to which he had grown so accustomed these last few moments all fell silent, replaced only by a drone of static. He felt unaccountably lonely. From the expression that Data wore, Isaac could see that he was experiencing a similar disconnection.

"You are blanketing the area with subs.p.a.ce interference," Data said, thoughtfully. It was a statement, but served just as easily as a question.

The subcommander ignored him, but turned to address the shock troopers. "Shoot these two, as well," she ordered, motioning to Isaac and Data. "I'm tired of these games."

Isaac turned just in time to see the barrels of the disruptors pointed toward them. Then came the torrent of blue energy, and after that was only pain and darkness.

8.

"Mister Isaac, report," Picard said, the volume of his voice increasing more than he intended.

Lal shook her head. "I am afraid I have lost contact."

"Is he injured?" Picard asked. "Was he fired upon as well?"

Lal looked off into the middle distance, her head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side. Her expression indicated confusion. "I..." She paused for a moment, then collected herself and looked up to meet Picard's gaze. "It would appear that some sort of subs.p.a.ce interference has compromised the Turing communications network. I am unable to reach any other member of the populace over subs.p.a.ce."

She turned to the hairless android at the gateway controls, who looked up and shook his head in response. "As am I," he said, his voice flat and affectless.

"d.a.m.n," Picard swore under his breath.

There was a time, Picard knew, when he would have needed no greater incentive than this to rush headlong into battle. An officer under his command in peril, and an old friend and former crewmen in the bargain? A younger Jean-Luc Picard would not have hesitated to order a gateway opened, leaping into the fray with phaser firing and a war cry on his lips. But that was a Jean-Luc Picard who had managed to get himself stabbed through the heart with a Nausicaan's blade on Starbase Earhart. As he'd recovered from that wound, he'd learned what risks to take, and which to avoid.

Still, he thought with a wry smile, a life entirely without risks would hardly be worth living.

"Lal, is the functioning of your gateway network impaired in the slightest by the interference?"

"No, Captain," she replied. "It operates at a more fundamental level of s.p.a.ce-time altogether, and its efficacy is independent of the surrounding subs.p.a.ce conditions."

"Then there is nothing preventing us, in theory, from opening a gateway to your father's last known coordinates and retrieving him and the others."

Lal considered. "No, that is entirely within the scope of the gateway's capacity. However, Captain, would not such an action reveal to the Romulans that Starfleet officers are present on the planet? Unless, of course, you intend to send me through the gateway alone?"

Picard chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "No, I'm not about to send a young woman...even a young android...into any place I am unwilling to go myself. But I should point out, Lal, that matters may be rapidly approaching the point where my people and I can no longer remain in hiding, watching from safety while the population of Turing is put at risk."

"But my father's hope for a diplomatic solution...?" she began.

"Is still possible," Picard finished, interrupting. "But there is nothing to say that it cannot be a diplomacy of the more...muscular variety."

"Captain?" Sito said, standing a few meters away, a worried look on her face. "Will the Romulans take Commander Isaac and the others prisoner, do you suppose?"

"It seems likely," Picard agreed. "Standard Romulan tactics in these sorts of situations demand for the leader of a population to be taken hostage, to ensure the cooperation of the others. It seems likely that this Subcommander Taris will follow suit."

La Forge and Crusher still stood by the gateway controls, their a.n.a.lysis interrupted for the moment by their concern for the others. "We're not just going to let them be taken prisoner, are we, Captain?"

"No, Number One," Picard said with a tight smile. "At the moment, our princ.i.p.al concerns are to monitor what is happening in the city beyond these walls, and to locate and retrieve Mister Isaac, Data, and Lore." He glanced around the chamber. "I invite any and all suggestions."

Sito raised her hand. When Picard acknowledged her with a nod, she instead directed her question at Lal. "Do all of the gateways have to be the same dimensions? That is, would it be possible to create a much smaller one? Say only a centimeter or two across?"

La Forge nodded, comprehension dawning. "Hey, right! Just large enough to look through, and large enough to pa.s.s sound-waves back and forth."

Picard mulled it over. "Like peering through a keyhole."

"Exactly," Sito said.

Lal considered it, and conferred briefly with the hairless android at the controls. "There is nothing in the design of the network to prevent such a thing."

Picard nodded, his jaw set. "Make it so."

"Excuse me, Lal?" Crusher motioned to the young android, standing a few meters away.

She turned to look in his direction, her head c.o.c.ked to one side. "Yes, Wesley?"

"I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for me." He gestured to the control console of the gateway network, where the hairless android was in the process of establishing new gateways to Sito's specifications. La Forge was at his side, watching the proceedings with interest. "I don't want to interrupt your friend, but wasn't sure how familiar you were with the gateway controls."

"Oh, I am quite familiar with them, Wesley," she said, walking over to stand beside him. "Like all Turing residents I spend a part of every year manning the controls. In fact..." She lowered her gaze, momentarily lost in thought. "...I am scheduled to take over in sixty-four days, eleven hours, nineteen minutes." She paused, considering. "Of course, the duty schedule has been interrupted by present difficulties, and Questor"she indicated the hairless android"is remaining at the post beyond his appointed time. So it is possible that the schedule will be adjusted, though whether it will be slid back or the interrupted shifts will simply be abandoned is..."

Crusher held up his hands, in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I trust you."

Lal c.o.c.ked her head in the other direction, giving him a quizzical look. "Oh, I see. I had misapprehended the level of detail inherent in your inquiry, and consequently provided information surpa.s.sing that required for your needs."

Crusher chuckled. "Something like that."

"My apologies, Wesley," she said, chastened. "My experience communicating with organics is limited to the last few hours, and much of my conversation since my activation some years ago has been at high transfer rates via subs.p.a.ce communication." She paused, a faint smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "However, my uncle often says that he has been forced to develop a perceptual filter that he employs when exchanging information with me, which winnows my transmissions of what he considers nonessential information."

"Really?"

"Well, he refers to it most often as 'boring, mind-numbing trivia,' but yes, that is the essence of it."

Crusher couldn't help but laugh. "I think my mother would have paid real money for something like that when I was growing up. She always told me that I sometimes bored her silly bending her ear with things she didn't have the slightest interest in."

Lal looked confused. "You rendered your parent weak or deficient in intellect, lacking in judgment or common sense, all by changing the outward shape of her ear?"

Crusher shook his head. "Oh, no, it's just a human expression. It means that I talked to her about..."

"Wesley," Lal said, holding up a hand to interrupt him. "I am fully programmed with idiomatic expressions in over six million forms of communication, including all current and historical Earth languages, dialects, and variants." She paused, and then added, "I was attempting to make a joke."

"Oh." Crusher began to smile. "Actually, that's pretty funny."

Lal smiled in return. "Good." She was thoughtful a moment. "I should tell you that I experience some trepidation about conversing with organics, in general, and about speaking with you in particular. I find it gratifying to learn that it is not difficult carrying on a conversation with you."

Crusher nodded. "I find it easy to talk to you, as well," he said.

A moment's silence pa.s.sed, as Crusher stood there smiling at her.

"There was something you wished to ask me about the gateway control mechanism?" Lal finally said.

"Oh, right," Crusher hastened to answer. He held up his tricorder. "I've just started to take preliminary readings of the energies involved, and I had some questions about what sort of coordinate system the network uses. It can't be absolute, or it wouldn't be possible to open a door onto another planet, like Romulus." He paused, thoughtful. "Why was there an open gateway to Romulus, anyway?"

Lal c.o.c.ked her head to the side, considering her answer. "I am afraid that I was not part of the project who requested that gateway, and with the Turing communications network down cannot contact the individuals who were."

Crusher nodded, and then narrowed his eyes. He couldn't help noticing that she hadn't actually said that she didn't know. Was she trying to hide something?

"Okay," he finally said, filing that thought away, making a note to watch for any sign of subterfuge or obfuscation, "so the gateways must employ some sort of relative coordinate system, compensating for planetary orbits, the movements of star systems, and so on."

Lal nodded. "Yes, you are correct."

"Good," Crusher said, tapping a few terms into his tricorder. "Now, it's only a rough a.n.a.logy, but it looks to me like what the gateway controls do is something similar to opening a subs.p.a.ce wormhole, which is really the only possible way to cover those kinds of distances. But even with a wormhole there's a transit time, and there's a considerable spillover of energy whenever the terminus opens and closes. But with the gateways, the transfer is instantaneous, and as near as I can tell there's barely any residual energy bleed-off whatsoever."

"That accords with our findings, as well."

Crusher pressed his lips together, thoughtfully. "Well, the only thing I can figure at this point...and I have no idea how this might be possible...is that the network somehow distorts s.p.a.ce-time to create a multiple-connected topology for a finite amount of time. But in order to do that, without the use of a subs.p.a.ce wormhole-and without the distorting effects of a warp field-the network would have to be changing the fundamental characteristics of s.p.a.ce-time itself."

"But, Wesley," Lal said, somewhat perplexed, "is that not impossible?"

Crusher grinned. "Well, of course it's impossible. Clearly it's impossible. But that doesn't mean that it can't be done!"

Lal smiled, giving him an apprising look.

"Allow me to restate, if I may," she said, "how pleasant it is to meet you, Wesley. This promises to be a most intriguing relationship."