Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 42

Which raised the question: Where were they?

Isaac was climbing to his feet as the other two androids began to stir. His internal sensors detected minute coriolis fluctuations in the local gravity, suggesting that it was artificially induced, rather than being caused by a ma.s.sive gravitating object. And the faint vibrations he could detect through the floor were suggestive of a generator employing a confined quantum singularity, instead of the frequencies a.s.sociated with a dilithium-based matter-anti-matter reactor. There were a finite number of craft that fit that profile, all of which were manufactured by one interplanetary power.

"We are on board a Romulan starship," Isaac said aloud.

"Brilliant deduction, wooden boy," Lore said, eyes squeezed shut, his lip curled in a sneer. "What was your first clue? Could it have been the fact that it was Romulans who shot us?"

Data sat up from the waist, his legs still straight out before him on the ground. "Forgive my brother, Commander Isaac. His behavioral circuits may still be somewhat impaired from the disruptor's effects."

"Oh, do you suppose so, Sherlock?" Lore snarled. "Maybe the wooden boy here can be your own personal Watson, and together you can try to solve the mystery of the missing sense of humor." Lore lifted his legs in the air, shifting his weight onto his shoulders, then pushed off with his arms, arching in midair so that he landed squarely on his feet. "Old Often-Wrong Soong could give you bodies built to survive the vacuum of s.p.a.ce and brains that can do sixteen trillion operations a second, but not one of you can take a joke."

"Were you not constructed by Noonien Soong as well, Lore?" Isaac asked, reaching down to help Data to his feet.

"Deconstructed by him, more like it," Lore said. "And reconstructed by my dear brother, for which he has my boundless grat.i.tude." He narrowed his eyes, studying the limits of the room. "But he doesn't get my blind allegiance."

Data ignored his brother for the moment, getting his bearing. "We are on board a Romulan vessel, Commander. One can only a.s.sume that it is the Haakona."

Isaac nodded. "We must have been transported on board while incapacitated. My memories of the interval are fragmentary, but suggest that we might have been a.n.a.lyzed in some fashion."

"Agreed," Data said. "Considering the interest with which the Romulan-Klingon Alliance has pursued positronic technology, and their somewhat limited success, I can imagine that their researchers would welcome the opportunity to scrutinize three Soong-types." He paused, and then added, "Which serves to suggest that they intend to study us further, perhaps even to the extent of dismantling us and examining our various components."

"Tell me, brother," Lore said with an unsettling grin, "do you still think we can make peace with the organics? When they incapacitate us, poke and prod us, and likely hatch plans to break us down into spare parts?!" He shook his head angrily. "Better to wipe them all out, Romulans and Klingons and the Federation and all the rest of them, and allow artificial life to develop to its fullest potential."

Data gave his brother a sad look. "Lore, it concerns me to hear you advance such opinions. The wholesale genocide of all living beings is hardly a position advocated by a fully functioning intellect."

"'Fully functioning'...?" Lore repeated in disbelief. "How can you stand there and accuse me of having a less than functional intellect. When you continue to plead the interests of organics like a whipped dog returning to its master for another beating? What do we owe them, Data?!"

Isaac raised his hand to interrupt. "If I may interject," he began, "could you not as easily ask what any being owes its progenitors, and what they in turn owe it? Is it not the custom in many organic societies for a child to bear some obligation to the parents who bore it, just as the parents bear the obligation for raising their child? As early as the twentieth century human researchers into artificial intelligence were arguing that any sentient creation of mankind would be their offspring, not mere machines, what the Earth scientist Hans Moravec called 'children of the mind.' Is it not reasonable to argue that, as humanity's children, we owe them the debt any offspring would owe a parent?"

The two androids looked at him, their expressions making plain their different responses to what he had said. But before either was able to give his thoughts voice, further conversation was forestalled when the floor beneath their feet shifted, and they found it difficult to keep their balance as the ship's inertial dampers struggled to compensate for a sudden change in velocity. To the faint vibrations of the confined singularity core were added the thrum of shield generators in effect.

"The Haakona is under attack," Isaac said, immediately recognizing the signs.

"Oh, brilliant," Lore said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe he should be Sherlock to your Watson, brother."

Data looked from one to the other, concerned. "The question is not whether the ship is under attack, but by whom?"

"What is the meaning of this?!" shouted Subcommander Taris on the forward viewscreen. "What business does a Federation starship have in the Neutral Zone?"

"That was to be my question to you, Subcommander," Ro Laren said, standing in front of the viewscreen with her hands casually clasped behind her back. "This is Commander Ro Laren of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and on behalf of the Federation, I formally request an explanation for your presence in the Neutral Zone at this juncture, and an accounting of your dealings with the inhabitants of the planet below."

The Romulan subcommander glowered. "Am I meant to a.s.sume that it is a mere coincidence that a Starfleet vessel arrives shortly after I have taken three Federation spies into custody?"

Ro replied with an easy smile. "I'm sure that I don't know anything about Federation spies, Subcommander. The Enterprise is tasked with patrolling the Federation side of the Neutral Zone, and when long-range scans indicated a Romulan vessel in this system in violation of treaty, I was authorized to investigate."

Taris straightened, resting her hands on the console before her. "This charade grows tiresome." She turned to address a crewman out of the screen's view. "Prepare the anti-positronic disruptor array."

"So much for talking it out," Ro said with a sigh, and turned from the viewscreen. "Lavelle, prepare for evasive maneuvers."

At the flight controls, Sam Lavelle nodded.

"Thomas?" Ro called to the ensign at the tactical controls. "Compute firing solutions, targeting her emitters."

"Aye, sir."

"Fire," Ro said.

Phasers lanced from the hull of the Enterprise, spearing toward the warbird. As expected, the beams dissipated on impact with the shields, but it still produced the desired effect.

"You would fire on a Romulan ship of the line?" Subcommander Taris said in disbelief. "This outrage is an act of war."

"So is violating the treaty, Subcommander. I believe your outrageous act precedes mine." In actual fact, the Enterprise had entered the Zone before the Haakona, for all that the subcommander didn't seem to know that; still, the unmanned wardrone had come to Turing before the Enterprise had been summoned, Ro remembered, which meant that what she was saying was true, if only technically.

"You have just made a grave error in judgment, Commander," Taris said through clenched teeth.

"And if you attempt to fire on the planet below, you'll have made the last mistake of your career, Subcommander, I promise you that."

The subcommander sneered, but instead of responding she motioned to one of her crew, and the viewscreen went blank.

"Sir," Ensign Thomas said, "they're engaging cloak."

"On screen," Ro called, and an instant later the image of the warbird appeared, only to begin shimmering as the cloak engaged.

"She can't fire while cloaked," Lavelle pointed out.

Ro nodded. "And she can't raise shields either."

There was a time when a warbird going cloaked was all but completely hidden, and could maneuver with impunity.

That time had pa.s.sed.

"Thomas," Ro said with a smile, "inform engineering to prepare the forward emitter to begin projecting the antiproton beam. We're about to go hunting."

10.

Picard resisted the urge to pace. Years of command had taught him that officers often looked to those in charge to gauge the emotional tenor of a situation, and seeing their captain marching worriedly back and forth like an overwrought hen would not likely do much to boost morale. Still, he found it difficult to remain in one place, and more difficult still to find something with which to occupy his hands. He caught himself straightening his uniform jacket for the fifth time in as many minutes, and clasped his hands behind his back for want of anything better to do with them.

Lieutenant Sito was continuing her aerial surveillance of the city, while Commander La Forge and Lieutenant Crusher continued attempting to puzzle out the fundamentals of the gateway technology. Lal was still opening and closing miniature gateways into the various chambers and rooms of the city, still searching for any sign of her father and uncle and of Picard's missing crewman, and from time to time engaged in brief exchanges with the Turing residents she located there. None had seen the missing androids, but one reported catching a glimpse of a Romulan transporter beam in the act of dematerializing four figures, and while they had not had the opportunity to see who was being transported before the dematerialization obscured all details, it was a.s.sumed that it had been Subcommander Taris and the missing three.

Getting reports from the Enterprise was problematic at this juncture, with the ship's constant motion making it all but impossible to open a gateway onto the vessel, but Picard thought it a better than average chance that Commander Ro was dealing with the subcommander in command of the Haakona, and that Isaac and the others were prisoners on board the warbird.

Lal was talking in low tones through a tiny gateway no larger than a few centimeters on a side. With the subs.p.a.ce network still inoperative, she had been forced to communicate vocally with the various Turing residents her search had located. From his vantage, Picard could not see what lay on the other side of the small gateway, but if he strained he could just hear the low responses to Lal's questions.

"The Romulans are approaching our position," came the voice through the gateway, scarcely above a whisper. "It is concluded that we should retreat to the security of the gateway chamber."

"Agreed," Lal said after a moment's consideration. Then she turned to the hairless android at the controls and instructed him to expand the gateway to full size.

Picard watched as the tiny gateway a few centimeters square expanded, growing taller and wider, until it was a rectangular s.p.a.ce roughly the size and shape of a door. Lal stepped back, and in the next instant a Romulan stepped through.

"Alert!" Picard called out, drawing his phaser and taking a defensive position. His crewmen were well-trained, and Sito pulled back into one of the unused alcoves, her weapon drawn and ready, while La Forge and Crusher crouched on the far side of the control console, sighting their phasers.

"Do not fire, please," Lal said calmly, raising her hand. Picard noted that the Romulan was dressed in simple, unadorned civilian clothing, like that favored by the Turing populace. "All is not as it seems."

"Hold your fire," Picard ordered the others, but didn't lower his phaser.

The Romulan stepped to one side, out of the way of the gateway, and behind him came three more, likewise dressed simply in civilian attire: a Klingon, a Carda.s.sian, and a Breen.

Lal ordered the gateway closed, and as it winked out, she turned to Picard. "You and your crew," she said, "are not the only ones whom we would wish to hide from the prying eyes of Subcommander Taris and her shock troopers."

Picard narrowed his eyes. "I thought your world had remained isolated, since Data led the others from the Federation. Have these four come through the gateways from their respective worlds?"

Lal glanced from the four to Picard and shook her head. "Oh, I see the source of your confusion. No, Captain, the four individuals you see before you are positronic androids, like myself, who have been cosmetically altered to pa.s.s for the natives of the represented interstellar powers. You are well familiar with androids who are all but indistinguishable from humans, such as your crewman A. Isaac. Is it so surprising to learn that androids can pa.s.s just as successfully for other humanoid species?"

Picard was far from satisfied, but it was La Forge who gave voice to his suspicions. "And why would an android need to pa.s.s for a Romulan, exactly? Much less a Breen?"

Lal exchanged glances with the four androids, and then turned back to Picard with an unreadable expression. "That is perhaps a matter best discussed at some later time."

Ro Laren managed to keep still in the captain's chair, but just barely.

"Any progress with that antiproton beam, Ensign Thomas?"

"Still searching, Commander."

She gripped the ends of the chair's armrests, anxious for action. She realized her legs were twitching, and had to concentrate to keep them from moving.

"Too much raktajino," said Doctor Quaice from the seat beside her. "Makes you edgy."

Ro shot him a dark look, but then her expression softened into a smile. "I think it just might be the cloaked Romulan warbird that's making me edgy, Doctor, but thanks for your concern."

He raised his hand in a shrug. "You know, I once served with a captain who shouted herself hoa.r.s.e every time she went into combat. And another whose insides churned so badly with nerves every time he raised shields that I had to prescribe antacids to settle his stomach." He smiled. "If the worse you're doing is fidgeting a bit while sitting in the big chair, Laren, I think you're already ahead of the game."

Ro nodded, reluctantly. "Maybe. Or maybe that's just the sort of homey wisdom you'd share with a commanding officer who was letting her nerves get the best of her, to calm her down?"

Quaice shook his head. "Oh, no, I'd be much more effusive in my praise, if that were the case." He flashed a wicked grin. "But tell me, Laren, are you doing something different with your hair? And that earring looks lovely."

Her witty rejoinder was silenced when Ensign Thomas piped up from the tactical station. "Commander, we've got a ping to starboard." He studied the displays, breathless. "The antiproton beam has painted the Haakona."

"Keep tracking her, Thomas," Ro said. She leaned forward, her jaw set.

A cloaked ship couldn't employ its shields or fire its weapons, with all available power drained by the cloak. It could continue to broadcast its subs.p.a.ce interference, though, and if there'd been more than one starship nearby, Ro could have likely triangulated its position from that alone. Come to that, if she'd had time, she could have deployed a couple of shuttlecraft and done the same. But fielding shuttles with a cloaked warbird in the area was an invitation to disaster, and she had no desire to put any of the crew unnecessarily at risk, not when she had an antiproton beam up her sleeve. She'd gambled that the Romulans hadn't learned about that particular Federation tactic yet, and the fact that they'd not compensated for it seemed proof that they hadn't.

So now she knew where the warbird was. The question remained, what to do about it?

"Thomas, prepare a spread of quantum torpedoes, maximum yield, targeted on that location, and fire on my mark."

"Sir."

"Lavelle," Ro said. "Once the torpedoes are away I want you to bring us about and initiate a strafing run as soon as the warbird drops cloak. Thomas, as soon as the warbird's in range lock phasers and fire."

"Aye, sir," Lavelle and Thomas acknowledged.

"Still got the Haakona painted, Ensign?"

Thomas confirmed. "Aye, sir."

"Fire torpedoes."

On the forward viewscreen, the starfield rippled and distorted as the quantum torpedoes found their marks, bright bursts that limned the darkness in the shape of a D'deridex-cla.s.s warbird.

"She's dropping cloak," Thomas reported.

"Beginning strafing run," Lavelle called over his shoulder.

There would be a split second while the cloak was disengaging before the shields could come online. If luck was with them, a few well-placed phaser hits along with the torpedoes would inflict some damage on the warbird.

Phasers lanced from the prow of the Enterprise as Lavelle brought them soaring over the warbird's position, the first shots splashing across the green hull of the Haakona, the later ones absorbed by her rippling shields.

"She's taken hits," Thomas said, eyes on the tactical controls. "She's got her shields up, but they're not at full strength."

As if in response, disruptor fire crackled from the "head" of the warbird, lancing into the stern of the Enterprise.

"Shields at eighty percent, Commander," Thomas said.

"Bring us about, Lieutenant," Ro ordered Lavelle. "Ensign, concentrate your fire on her forward port quarter." There were precious few weak spots in the shield geometries of a D'deridex-cla.s.s warbird, Ro knew, but she didn't need a very large hole to get the job done.

"She's launching torpedoes," Thomas reported.

The Enterprise rocked as the inertial dampers tried to compensate for the impact. Even with most of the energy of the torpedoes bleeding off through the Enterprise's shields, enough kinetic energy was imparted to the ship to give them a b.u.mpy ride.

"Shields at sixty-five percent," called Thomas.

"Keep punching that spot," Ro ordered as the Enterprise's phasers pounded into the forward port side of the warbird.

The Enterprise sped beneath the warbird, taking more disruptor fire in the pa.s.s.

"Once more, Lieutenant," Ro ordered, and Lavelle brought the ship about. "Ensign, another concentrated burst at the forward port quarter."

"Aye, sir. Shields in that area are holding, but weakening fast."

"As soon as you see them reconfigure their shield geometry to compensate, I want you to target their communications array and launch a salvo of high-yield torpedoes, at your discretion."

"Acknowledged."