Ghost Ship Part 10

"That's a more-than-fifty percent chance of getting caught." Tasha bit her lip and took the whole problem personally. "And that's only our certainty level. The actual odds could be a lot drearier. Have you been getting the same results? Is it doing what I think it's doing?"

"If you mean do I see the pattern closing in," Worf said with ominous certainty, "yes. Our odds are dropping with every minute we wait to take action. They won't get better. They'll just get worse. The cage is tightening."

Tasha struck off a few steps of useless pacing, a pitiful echo of the huge cage that was closing around the s.h.i.+p. "What if that thing gets an adrenaline surge or something and bites down harder than it did before? Even if we get s.h.i.+elds up to power, we might not be able to take it. At least, not like we are now. Not with s.h.i.+elds taxed to protect the whole s.h.i.+p, I mean."

Worf's large brown face pivoted up from the small monitor he'd been glaring at. From beneath his Klinzhai skull and the two downturned lances of his eyebrows, his eyes bored through her. "You're not going to suggest-"

She chewed her lip for a few beats, but her eyes showed none of the vacillation she felt. She s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other, then, as if braced, to both feet. At her sides, small fists knotted.

"Yes, I am," she said. "Oh, yes I am."

"Do you have the slightest perception of the danger of your proposal, Lieutenant Yar?"

Tasha took refuge in standing at attention as Picard paced around her. Around them the glockenspiel of bridge noise provided little respite. She drew in a long breath and tried not to feel too small as she stood beside Worf. It took all her restraint to keep from s.n.a.t.c.hing a fortifying glance at the Klingon before she could begin.

"Yes, sir. I do. But I feel it's-" She stopped, gulping back her voice, as Picard suddenly turned and coiled his lariat of dare around her. She couldn't talk while he was glowering at her like that.

"Let's hear it," he snapped, as though he didn't know what her problem was at all.

She refused to flinch, but her stomach shrank anyway. "Yes, sir. We've-that is, I've been calculating-"

"Never mind the blasted calculations and give me the bottom line."

"As the s.h.i.+p is, I put our odds for escape at less than fifty percent and shrinking. I've made an a.n.a.lysis of the last attack and it looks like the thing attacked only the high-energy portions of the s.h.i.+p. The warp engine chambers, the high-gain condensers on the weaponry, the sensors, and the s.h.i.+elds."

"Your point, please?"

"Um ... is that the saucer section by itself may not attract the thing's attention."

Picard's glare was mola.s.ses, but somewhere in it Tasha was sure she saw a tiny flicker of hope that she could walk away with her head and at least one arm.

"Separate the s.h.i.+p's hulls?" he murmured.

"That's ... my suggestion, Captain."

"Realizing, of course, that would leave the saucer section with only rudimentary s.h.i.+elding and no appreciable weaponry if the stardrive section were to be destroyed. You do add that into your equation, do you not, Lieutenant?"

Tasha actually broke attention and turned toward him. "The saucer section's chances of sneaking away on very low impulse power go up to almost ninety percent, sir, especially if we run some power through the stardrive section and distract the thing."

"Not counting any unknown variables."

She backed into attention again and focused her eyes on the bulkhead over the main viewer. "Correct, sir. But also, if stardrive doesn't have to put out a s.h.i.+eld envelope around the entire saucer section too, we'll be able to pump more power into our s.h.i.+elds and maybe withstand another attack. Long enough to fight it, I mean, sir."

Picard also turned, but to eye the glowing, pulsing, fuming, flat wall of electrokinetic power that searched for them in the upper range of the screen. "And stardrive's chances of escape in your scenario?"

Tasha now took that glance from Worf, and held it like a lifeline. "Less ... than eighteen percent, sir."

Jean-Luc Picard circled his two personal hotheads, came around behind them, saw their shoulders twitch, one set narrow and braced by the gold tabard, the other set broad and tall, making a field of black-over-red. He came around starboard of them again and stopped in front of Worf, with Tasha blocked from his view. Before them the great wide viewscreen spread, holding in its starfield the glaring enemy. The silence mutilated their nerves, the ticking clock of the ent.i.ty's encroachment, and yet there was strength in the captain's voice when at last he spoke.

"I'll take those odds. Get Riker up here."

"Report, Mr. Data."

Picard hadn't told them his plans yet. Riker now stood near him as Data and Geordi LaForge squared off before them on the bridge.

Riker hovered nearby, acutely aware of Deanna Troi's absence. Was he just being too sensitive or was Data making a point of not looking at him?

Am I imagining it?

"From its actions and its capabilities-lightspeed, for instance," Data began, "I shall risk concluding that it was indeed constructed and couldn't possibly have evolved naturally. It possesses a rudimentary intelligence, reacting to everything on a basic, simple set of instructions, rather like an insect. When a praying mantis eats its own mate, for example, sir, it is simply doing what instinct tells it to do, without any concept of rightness or wrongness."

Picard rubbed his palms against his thighs and resisted the urge to pace. "You're telling me it's the galaxy's biggest bug."

Data c.o.c.ked his head in a semblance of nodding, but he wasn't ready to commit to that. "Essentially."

"Which leaves out reasoning with it," Riker offered.

"Correct, sir," Data said, "but if we can interface with it somehow on its own level, I may be able to effect changes in that simple programming enough to fake it out-" He caught it fast, and glanced at Riker. "Enough to alter its actions."

Data's self-consciousness disappeared as the turbolift opened and emitted Troi, with Dr. Crusher hovering after her, obviously unwilling to let the counselor out of her sight.

"Captain!" Troi blurted. Immediately she drew back, collected herself, and plainly announced, "Sir, they want something from us."

Picard looked at her dubiously. "I beg your pardon? Have you been in contact with it again?"

"You could say that," Crusher said, eyeing Troi. "For a minute there, thought we were going to lose her."

"Indeed. Are you all right, Counselor?"

"Captain, they want something," Troi pushed on, "something we can provide for them, or at least something they think we can provide."

At the center of a brewing storm, Picard turned to accuse Data. "Well, Data? That's certainly not the wrinkle we expected to develop, given your a.s.sessment."

Data's finely wrought lips slid open on nothing for a moment. "Sir, that cannot be accurate. All evidence suggests that the hostile is not capable of consciously wanting something from us. It has the intelligence of an insect on all response levels. It responds automatically to stimuli. Its reactions do not involve thought as we know it, but only stimulus and response."

Picard wagged a finger toward Troi and said, "But the counselor tells us otherwise, while you"- the finger swung full about-"tell us it's not attacking out of malice. Something in its very simple programming triggers its actions."

"Yes, sir," Data was glad to agree. "Our weapons attracted and agitated it."

"We do have to realize that there may be a difference between the hostile and the minds I am sensing, sir," Troi pointed out.

"But in any case," Riker pointed out, "we have to deal with it. We can't reason with it or frighten it, and there's only a low chance of deceiving it. But the advantage is that we may be able to figure out its programming, as Data suggested."

"But not," Picard pressed, "if it's rational." He placed his hands upon the bridge horseshoe rail and gazed up meaningfully at Deanna Troi. "If it's rational, we may find ourselves impaled on the horns of Mr. Data's logic."

Data stepped down to the main deck and stood beside his chair at the Ops station as though to draw strength from a companion. "I cannot decipher its program by its actions alone, sir. There would have to be some form of communication or interface. In deference to Counselor Troi, I suggest that though it is programmed, it is also fundamentally alive. It does sustain itself with a basic survival drive."

"If we can figure out that programming," Picard followed, "we can thwart it much as we would draw a moth into a trap with a bright light."

Geordi chose this moment to step past him and take his post at Conn, muttering, "We're gonna need one sucker of a b.u.t.terfly net."

"There is a danger, sir," Data went on, "in attracting its attention. We might inadvertently get its Irish up and lay an egg."

Picard had already started to comment, but instead he glowered at the android for a moment. "Yes, I'd already surmised that. Thank you. Mr. Riker-"

"Sir?"

"Prepare to separate the modules."

Riker jolted around. "Sir?"

"You heard me, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, but ... "

"Do you have a question?"

Riker straightened and changed his tone. "Yes, I do, sir. Saucer separation is ideally only for situations when we'll be going into battle and can leave the saucer far behind, well out of the danger zone. If we separate in this situation, they'll be completely helpless!"

"Interesting way to put a question." Picard eyed him foxily. "This isn't the time to get cold feet about this s.h.i.+p's capabilities. Lieutenant Yar, recount your statistics for the first officer."

Yar stood straight behind tactical, her cheeks flushed. "Aye, sir. We calculate only a fifty-fifty chance for the whole s.h.i.+p to escape, but if we separate and the battle hull distracts the thing, the saucer section may have as high as ninety percent chance of escape."

"And the battle hull?"

She fidgeted. "About seventeen percent."

A vertical crease appeared over the bridge of Riker's nose; he felt the tightness of his expression as he glared at her, saw a film of sweat break out on her face, though she withstood the force of his glare. He felt the tickle of a single lock of his dark brown hair, like an irritating thread over his left eye. His mind echoed Yar's words, the spectacle they would bring. With them, he felt again all the implications, all the reasoning, all the trouble of having a s.h.i.+p that could do what this s.h.i.+p could do. All the problems of a battle-ready vessel that was also supposed to serve as home and hearth for families, and how awkwardly the two really went together. A battles.h.i.+p is supposed to plunge forward into adversity, a colony vessel to run from it. Both were honorable answers, but what happens when both are the same s.h.i.+p? And when one of them isn't fast enough to run away?

This Enterprise had only been separated once before, and that wasn't even a shakedown test. And he himself hadn't even been on board when it happened. He'd heard about it. An insane move, at full warp speed, only the captain's prerogative. Not one Riker felt he would have chosen, but he wasn't Jean-Luc Picard, either. In his mind he suddenly envisioned the stars.h.i.+p breaking into two parts at lightspeed, imagined the stardrive section shooting on by as the saucer section abruptly fell out of the warp envelope and crammed down to sublight, an effect that must have thrown every one of its pa.s.sengers to the deck.

Pa.s.sengers ... d.a.m.n this straddling.

The captain's words rang out. "All hands, prepare to transfer command to the battle bridge."

Picard evidently wasn't interested in opinions on the subject. There would be no group decision this time, Riker saw. If he were captain, there never would be. Not even about whether or not the captain should partic.i.p.ate in dangerous away missions. Not even that. But, as he told himself again, again, again-he wasn't Jean-Luc Picard, wasn't the man who now scanned the bridge crew and diplomatically said, "I'll need a volunteer to command the saucer section in this crisis."

Riker wasn't about to speak up. He clamped his lips and waited for someone else to volunteer. Tasha opened her mouth, then closed it, and seemed to hope the captain didn't see. Worf never so much as considered the offer, that much was clear on his swarthy face. Data started to turn from his position at Ops, but thought again and swallowed his unspoken response. Geordi slunk down in his chair to the point of invisibility.

On the upper deck, Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi stood like mannequins, not daring to rupture the captain's carefully phrased offer or the reactions it would bring. Troi stood especially still. She felt the quandary of each person here as the captain's request flowed into each mind, stirred their consciences, and flowed out again.

Picard turned in place, touching each of them with his gaze. He took this unlikely moment to shake his head almost sentimentally. "I'm very proud of every one of you," he said.

At bridge center, William Riker beamed at them, proud of the stock he had behind him.

Picard touched the intercom on his command chair. "Engineering, this is Picard. Chief Engineer Argyle, report to the bridge to take command of the saucer module."

"Argyle here. Did I hear you right, Captain?"

"You did. Get up here, and bring an adjunct bridge crew with you. We're going to take some action."

"Yes, sir. I'll be right there, sir."

The captain turned forward now without the slightest pause. "Mr. Riker, you may begin."

His stomach churning so hard that he actually bent forward-he knew that Deanna saw the change if no one else did Riker faced the helm and forced out words that bothered him. A lot.

"Mr. Data, activate the battle bridge power junctions so it's ready when we get there. All hands, prepare to adjourn to the battle bridge. Go to yellow alert. Secure for saucer separation."

The mandolin jangles of stars.h.i.+p noise jumped to life on the compact and utilitarian battle bridge. This was a darker place, in some ways a more private place, a place with its mind on its work. The viewscreen here was markedly smaller, as though to demand more focused attention.

Enterprise's command crew bolted from the turbolift and settled into their respective places. Tasha and Worf to the tactical and science stations, LaForge to the helm, Data to Ops, the captain to the command center, Riker to the place of all first officers-to the right and slightly behind the captain's shoulder. There was something about that place. Even when a first officer was somewhere else, he was still always right here. And above them, far above, the vast saucer section would soon break away from its sustaining power source, leaving the stardrive section to its little seventeen percent chance of survival and the gratification of knowing what only self-sacrifice can provide to the human soul.

Everyone was aware of LaForge's fingers moving across his panel. Beside him, Data slid into his seat and fed in the corresponding internal adjustments-thrust to get the two modules away from each other as they hung here at full stop, careful limitation of energy surge, just in case the ent.i.ty could pick up on their move, and myriad other tiny calculations required in what the naked eye saw as a simple maneuver. But this wasn't like pulling apart a child's toy. A million circuitry signals would have to be rerouted, and the energy to feed them would have to be ready. All the while, the creature outside moved along their starfield, glowing and snapping, hot on the trail of what it had so recently tasted.

"On my mark," Riker said, knowing perfectly well they could do it without him. In the corner of his eye he saw the cool back of Data's neck, the muscles working there as Data pegged down to calculating this tricky maneuver, saw the efficiency of android fingers, and felt suddenly crude. "All systems at nominal. Energy feed at fifteen percent, allowing for a twenty percent surge on separation. Flight s.h.i.+elds only, stardrive aft thrust at point-zero five sublight. All sections comply clearance of turbolifts and maintenance shafts."

The bridge lift opened. Riker's concentration shattered.

"Deanna, what are you doing here?" He actually stepped away from the captain toward the lift, so driven was he to ask this, to ask why she would expose herself to so puny a chance of living beyond today. But he saw it in her almond eyes as she met his scolding tone unyieldingly, and he felt it in the emotions she flung at him in the next few seconds. He drew up short, canceling what he was about to say-whatever it was.

Even if he had spoken, the words would have been battered aside as Picard jammed his way in front of Riker. "Counselor Troi, d.a.m.n it, you were ordered to remain with the saucer section. Explain yourself."

She had been completely ready for this, it seemed, for she remained the quintessence of poise. "Sir, I'm needed here. If there's any chance of communication with those beings, I am the only person who can provide it. I'd like to volunteer to remain here."

"Yes," Picard rasped. "And I notice you waited until the lifts were shut down rather than volunteering while we were still topside." He pointed at her and ferociously said, "I'll discuss this with you later. Providing there is a later for us."

Troi let her shoulders settle, and breathed, "Yes, sir." Her legs ached with the tension and now the relief of knowing she would stay and bear this out.

Perhaps she could evade the captain, but not Riker. Her gaze caught his, and he had that look on his face, that look with all the levels going back through it, back and back to the core of his being, and she could see all the levels as though looking into an infinity mirror.

"Mr. Riker, we don't have all day."

"No, sir, I know that. Mr. LaForge, Mr. Data. Effect saucer separation-now."

Every breath held. Every spine stiffened. A subtle hum of power came up from beneath them, up from the caverns of Enterprise's gigantic power factory to the interlocking mechanisms in her neck. With a dissonant grind, the s.h.i.+p pulled herself apart. No level of mechanical perfection would ever diminish the power of that dividing moment, no matter how faint, no matter how insulated. They either heard it or thought they heard it-a husky clunk-chunk as couplings released, grippers let go like great claws, their pads sucking back from the s.h.i.+p's yoke with a rubbery reluctance, pins and bolts, lashes and hasps came loose from their harnesses, and all the little pins, which had moments ago held the intricate circuitry that ran the s.h.i.+p, retracted. As though severed by the ax of a great woodsman, the s.h.i.+p became two. The saucer section, with all its families, was suddenly cut adrift.

On the battle bridge, Picard and his command crew watched the stardrive section back slowly away. They seldom got this view of their stars.h.i.+p-or even part of her. The saucer section was a wide plate with tapered edges, her frosty whiteness everywhere reflecting the rings of light from rectangular windows and energy-release points. Lights everywhere, like a glittering foil Christmas tree. A kind of pain cut through Captain Picard. He watched as the saucer's impulse engines suddenly came to life and glowed a bright silvery blue. Stars.h.i.+p captains were supposed to be decisive. Yet their decisions were like raw surgery to him. Why must there be such things in the universe? Why must there be snakes in the water?

Riker watched the saucer section drift away, mesmerized. Hmm. Wasn't so bad. Let's hope everything else goes that well. When he could pull his attention away from the sheer beauty of the saucer, he looked at the captain.

If he'd ever seen Jean-Luc Picard vacillate, now was that time. The captain looked as though he might suddenly call that disk back into place, gather all his charges beneath his robe. For several seconds Riker expected to have to give that order, even figured out what words he would use to keep the captain from looking too foolish.

But Picard said nothing. In silence he bore out the courage of his conviction.

"All secure," LaForge reported. "Free to maneuver, sir."

"Acknowledged," Picard murmured. The taste of commitment. "Maintain status. Send a low-band communique to Mr. Argyle. Tell him to maneuver behind that small asteroid belt on the other side of the gas giant. It may mask their escape."