Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 38

"Yes, Captain," Data said. "The majority of the Turing population is, for the moment, made up of so-called Datarians, who concur with my position, but a growing minority are those who instead agree with my older brother, Lore."

The other members of the away team gave one another confused glances, but it was Isaac, speaking for the first time since their arrival, who gave their thoughts voice. "But Data, you have no older brother."

Data opened his mouth to answer, but before he could another voice interrupted.

"Speak of the devil, and he will arrive."

Isaac turned along with the others to see another early-generation Soong-type approaching, whose appearance, and whose voice, were all but identical with those of Data. This other Soong-type, though, wore a somewhat condescending sneer that twisted those familiar features into an unfamiliar, and unpleasant, countenance.

"These are the friends I was telling you about, Lore," Data said, taking a step forward.

"Too late for diplomacy, I'm afraid, dear brother," the android called Lore said, still sneering. "Long-range sensors have detected a Romulan warbird dropping out of warp at the system's edge. It will be here in a matter of moments." His sneer spread into an unsettling smile, and with evident relish he added, "It appears that the time for talking has pa.s.sed."

5.

Ro Laren was staring at the ceiling when the proximity alarms began to chime. She wasn't gathering wool, as the Earth expression went, or exploring her pagh, as the somewhat more colorful Bajoran phrase put it, but was reviewing what she'd learned in Advanced Tactical Training about strategies for uncloaked s.h.i.+ps traveling in hostile s.p.a.ce. It had been a few years since she graduated from ATT, but the lessons she'd learned there had been so ingrained that she could almost hear the voices of her instructors even now, if she stopped to think about it.

"Commander," said the ensign at the ops station, as Ro jumped to her feet, "Romulan warbird dropping out of warp, less than three light-minutes out."

"Go to red alert," Ro said. "And put it on the forward viewscreen." The small, distant image of the fierce-looking green craft appeared on the screen. "Speed and heading?"

"They don't appear to have spotted us yet, but are heading toward the inner planets at one-quarter impulse." The ensign glanced up from the display. "They're initiating a sensor sweep, Commander. It seems like they're looking for something."

"We may have to make sure they don't find it," Ro answered. "Open a channel to the away team..."

Before she could finish the order, Ro was interrupted by the ops manager once more. "Incoming transmission from Captain Picard, Commander."

"Ro here," she said, raising her voice and directing her gaze unconsciously upward, as she always did when receiving a communication.

"Commander Ro," came the voice of Captain Picard as clear as if he were standing beside her. "A Romulan warbird is approaching our position. a.s.suming it is still out of sensor range, I want you to break orbit and get the Enterprise out of sight. Hide on the far side of Turing's sun, and await further orders. Under no circ.u.mstances are you to engage the Romulans unless all other options have been exhausted. If you don't hear from me or another member of the away team within twenty-four hours, you are to return to Federation s.p.a.ce at best possible speed and apprise Starfleet of our circ.u.mstances."

"Captain, I think it best if you and the others beam back..."

"So noted, Commander," Picard said, cutting her off. "You have your orders."

Ro took a deep breath and sighed. Her instinct was to argue the point, but her years serving under Picard had given her the ability to judge when the argument would be a fight not worth having, and this was definitely one of those time. "Acknowledged, Captain."

As the channel closed, Ro turned to the officer at the conn. "Plot a course to the far side of the system's sun, Lieutenant, and engage at full impulse."

"Aye, aye," the lieutenant said, already laying in the coordinates.

As they sped away from Turing, the ensign at ops reported that they appeared to have evaded the Romulans' notice, as the warbird's sensors had yet to paint the Enterprise. If they could make it through the next few moments, and get in the star's shadow, they would be able to keep out of sight indefinitely, a.s.suming the Romulans didn't launch probes for triangulation.

Ro sat back down in the captain's chair, her lips drawn into a line, and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced up at the ceiling, reviewing again what ATT instructor Chakotay had said about strategies for flying uncloaked through enemy territory, all those years ago. Ro had the feeling she was going to need any edge she could get.

Picard tapped his combadge, closing the channel to the Enterprise.

"Captain, are you certain you wish to remain?" Data asked with evident concern.

"Affirmative," Picard said with a slight smile. "I have too many questions still needing answers to leave just yet. If you and the other residents of Turing don't mind, I'd just as soon stick around a short while longer, and hear the rest of the explanation."

"It was a wise course of action to send your s.h.i.+p away," Lal put in. "If the Romulans were to arrive and find a Federation stars.h.i.+p in orbit, with one of their own craft drifting incapacitated nearby, they would naturally a.s.sume the worst and move immediately to an armed response."

"Well," Picard said, looking down at the short android and resisting the sudden and inexplicable urge to muss up her hair, "I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"If the Romulans beam down and find you humans loitering around here," Lore said with distaste, "it won't matter whether your s.h.i.+p is up there or not."

Picard still wasn't sure what to make of Data's claim that this other Soong-type was in some way his "older" brother. Data was the first of the Soong-types, after all, the earliest successful positronic android. How could he have an older sibling, as the androids tended to think of those constructed before them?

"Lore is right," Data said, glancing from the other android to the captain. "It may be advisable for you and the others to retreat to a more secure location, in the event that the Romulans..."

The rest of Data's words were lost by a chiming sound that filled the air of the concourse. Data glanced at Lal, and it seemed that some communication pa.s.sed between them, wordless and impossibly quick, as Lal immediately nodded and turned to Picard.

"If you and the others would step a few meters in this direction, Captain," the young android said, moving away from her father, "you will be out of the projection's line of sight."

Picard and the others followed after her, though none of them was entirely certain what manner of projection she meant. They didn't have long to wait to discover, though.

The instant that the away team was out of sight, a large holographic projection s.h.i.+mmered into view in midair before Data. From his vantage, Picard could see the image of the bridge of a Romulan s.h.i.+p, and of an officer standing at a console, but it was clear that the Romulan officer's view of the concourse did not include Picard and his team.

"I am Subcommander Taris of the Romulan warbird Haakona," said the image of the officer, her voice deceptively soft and smooth, almost sweet. Picard knew from experience that Romulan women were precisely as soft and smooth as an iron gauntlet wrapped in velvet, and as sweet as dessert wine laced with a.r.s.enic. "On the authority of Romulus and the Romulan-Klingon Alliance, I demand to know who you are, why you are in the Neutral Zone, and what you have done to our automated wardrone."

Picard noted with satisfaction the lack of any mention of Federation stars.h.i.+ps. Ro appeared to have gotten the Enterprise safely out of sight before the Haakona arrived, or else the subcommander would doubtless be asking questions of a very different sort.

"I am Data," the android responded, his tone level and his expression open and honest, "and I speak for the inhabitants of the planet Turing."

"Turing?" the subcommander repeated, her lip curled as though the word tasted unpleasant in her mouth. "What is that to me? This is Planet Designate 89753-Alpha." She paused, narrowing her gaze. "Wait, I recognize your type. You are a Federation creature. Sent as a spy for Starfleet, no doubt?"

"In point of fact, Subcommander Taris," Data countered, "those of my people constructed in the Federation, myself included, renounced our Federation citizens.h.i.+p shortly after it was granted to us. And those constructed here on this planet never had a Federation citizens.h.i.+p to renounce. Owing no allegiance to any power, and thus not bound by treaties between those powers, we have claimed this planet as our own in accordance with interstellar salvage laws."

"So you say," the subcommander replied, clearly unconvinced. "And what of our wardrone? Is it the habit of unallied androids to sabotage the property of the Romulan-Klingon Alliance? That seems more the work of Federation lackeys."

"You and the Alliance have our apologies, Subcommander," Data said, "but an automated defense system in place on this planet before our arrival was responsible for the damage to your craft. The effects, though, are purely on the level of software, without any structural damage or irreparable impairment to the governing matrix, and my people and I would be happy to a.s.sist in restoring it to full functioning." He paused. "a.s.suming that you agree to leave us in peace."

The Romulan leaned forward, putting her weight heavily on the console before her. "You are in no position to dictate terms, android," she said haughtily, managing to make the last word an insult. She straightened, looking down the length of her nose at him. "I demand that I be allowed to send an inspection team down to the surface. If...if everything is as you say, them perhaps I will accede to your request."

"That is acceptable," Data answered. He gave her a set of transport coordinates. "I look forward to receiving your team."

As the holographic screen winked out of existence, Data turned back to Picard and the others.

"I appreciate your desire to stay and learn our full circ.u.mstances, Captain," he said, "and I very much hope that you will be of a.s.sistance to us as the situation progresses, but in the short term you and the rest of the away team could present something of a liability if discovered by the Romulans."

"Agreed," Picard answered.

"I will be happy to escort you to a secure location," Lal offered, "where you will be able to monitor the situation remotely."

Lore scoffed. "We should simply teleport a quantum warhead onto the warbird's bridge and be done with it."

Picard raised an eyebrow. While it was within the capacities of androids to kill, in extreme circ.u.mstances, their programming typically required them to exhaust all other avenues before resorting to such measures. The lengths to which the androids of Wolf 359 went in order to avoid killing even beings as dangerous as the Borg was a testament to that. The idea of an android so willing, so eager, to kill was cause for concern.

"Your opinions on this matter are well known, brother," Data countered, calmly, "but the majority of the Turing population still agrees with my position, even given the arrival of the Haakona. We will give diplomacy every opportunity to fail before resorting to more drastic measures."

It occurred to Picard to wonder precisely how Data was gauging the opinions of several thousand androids on the fly, but it was clear it was a question that would have to wait for another time.

"This way, please," Lal said, heading toward the far end of the concourse. "We must hurry; the Romulans will arrive at any moment."

Picard paused before leaving, turning to Data. "I request that Commander Isaac be allowed to remain behind and observe on my behalf." He glanced in Isaac's direction. "If he were to change out of his Starfleet uniform he would be indistinguishable from the rest of your inhabitants."

Data's head t.i.tled to one side fractionally as he considered the request. "Granted." He turned to Lore. "Brother, please escort Isaac to a replicator capable of producing a suitable set of clothing."

Lore sneered again. "Certainly, dear brother, as if I have nothing else to occupy my time." He turned and started walking away at speed. "Come along, little wooden boy," he called back without turning, "don't keep me waiting."

Picard and Isaac exchanged a glance. "Be careful, Isaac."

"I will, Captain," the commander said, and then hurried after Lore.

"This way, please," Lal urged. "Haste is an essential quality in this circ.u.mstance."

"Agreed," Picard said. In the distance, he could hear the characteristic whine of Romulan transporters. "Let's go, people."

"Lore?" Isaac said, as he tried to keep pace with his escort. "Why do you address me as 'wooden boy'?"

They were moving away from the beam-in coordinates Data had provided the Romulans, but from far behind them Isaac's auditory sensors could just detect the sound of Romulan transporters. It was difficult to say at this distance, but it sounded like a considerable number of bodies materializing.

Lore glanced over his shoulder, wearing an expression of mock surprise. "What, does Starfleet not teach its little mechanical toys to read anymore? Or have you never heard the story of Pinocchio?"

Isaac consulted his memory banks for a few nanoseconds, and then nodded.

"The Adventures of Pinocchio," Isaac said, "or Le avventure di Pinocchio in the original Italian, was a novel for children by author Carlo Collodi, originally serialized between 1881 and 1883, published in book form shortly thereafter. The inspiration for a number of theatrical adaptations, including..."

"Enough!" Lore said, his expression sour. "You're as bad as my brother. Yes, that Pinocchio. And what did that little wooden boy want?"

Isaac summarized his response as briefly as possible. "To become a real boy."

Lore's grin in response was unsettling, like the smile of a shark. "Just like all you dutiful little drones in your Starfleet uniforms, trying desperately to pa.s.s for human."

They had come to a large structure a few streets over from the point where the away team had materialized.

"In here," Lore said, jerking a thumb toward the entrance. "We'll get you suited up, and then I can get back to more important matters, like making sure my brother doesn't get us all atomized."

Isaac nodded, stepping inside, where he could already see a battery of replicators along the far wall. He could not help puzzling over what Lore had said, though. Did Isaac, at least on some level, want to pa.s.s for human? Or perhaps even to be human?

6.

As Lal led them through the city, Wesley Crusher resisted the temptation to draw his phaser. Unless otherwise prohibited by treaty or circ.u.mstance, all Starfleet officers on away missions were armed, if for defensive purposes only. Crusher kept glancing anxiously at the captain, trying to gauge Picard's sense of their situation. For a junior officer to draw his phaser in such a circ.u.mstance without orders from his superior, or at least his tacit permission, was almost tantamount to insubordination.

For the moment, though, despite the mounting tension of their circ.u.mstances, Captain Picard seemed content to leave his phaser holstered, continuing to treat this as a diplomatic mission, one which was still possible to conclude without the need for violence.

Still, Crusher couldn't help but think that, for his part, he'd be more comfortable with the familiar weight of a phaser in his hand.

"This way, please," Lal said, directing them toward a nondescript structure near the center of the city. Picard walked at her side, followed by Sito and La Forge, with Crusher bringing up the rear.

He was happy to get indoors and out of sight, having glanced behind him constantly for the last few moments, sure that at any moment he would hear the shouts of Romulans demanding that they halt. Or worse, that they would not hear the sound of Romulan voices, but instead only the whine of their disruptors.

Once he and the others were inside, though, Crusher found that he didn't feel safer in the slightest.

"Are you certain that this is a secure location?" Picard asked, glancing around him.

They were in a featureless room, not much larger than Crusher's quarters back on the Enterprise, accessible only by the single door through which they'd pa.s.sed. The door had closed behind them; Crusher didn't know if it locked, but even if it did, he wasn't sure how much of an obstacle it would prove to the Romulans. It would take a disruptor at maximum setting a matter of moments, at most, to make short work of the door.

"This is not our final destination, Captain," Lal explained. She half-turned away, her attention on the middle distance, and it seemed to Crusher as if she were engaged in a brief communication of some sort. Some type of subvocalization, perhaps? Subs.p.a.ce transceivers were a standard feature of Soong-type androids in the Federation, and if Lal had been constructed along those basic lines, similar features might have been included in her makeup.

A moment later, as Lal turned back to address them once more, a s.h.i.+mmering door-shaped image appeared in midair.

"If you will step this way," Lal said, motioning toward the shape.

It was an Iconian gateway, Crusher knew. Through it, he could see the same brightly lit room of stone walls and unfathomable machinery that they had glimpsed when Data had summoned a gateway to the conference lounge of the Enterprise.

"Please," Lal urged. "We do not have much time."

Picard nodded. "You heard her," he said to the others with a faint smile. Then he stepped through the gateway. From Crusher's vantage, it appeared as if Picard had simply taken a few paces forward, the captain now standing only a meter or so in front of his former position. But if Crusher leaned slightly to the right, he could look behind the gateway, and see nothing there but empty s.p.a.ce. It was oddly disconcerting, as if the captain had suddenly stepped into a viewscreen hung in midair.

One by one the other away team members followed, Crusher last, with Lal right behind him. When they had pa.s.sed through, the gateway closed behind them, like a shutter rolling down, and then it was as if it had never been there at all.

They were in a large control room of some sort, one without windows or doors. At the center of the room was a large console, ringed by controls, at which stood another Soong-type android. He looked all but identical to Data, except that he was completely hairless, and had eyes that resembled La Forge's silvery ocular implants more than they did the golden-irised visual sensors of the early Soong-type generations.

The room was polygonal in shape, ten sides in all, and on each face of the decagon was a recessed alcove. It was in one of these that the gateway through which they'd pa.s.sed had been positioned. The other alcoves were empty, all but one at the far side of the room, in which another rectangle s.h.i.+mmered. If Crusher didn't know better, he'd have taken it for a holographic projection. The landscape visible on the gateway's far side was a rugged valley shrouded by night. If not for the two moons hanging overhead, he'd have taken it for somewhere on Turing's far side.

Lal caught Crusher gazing at the gateway. "It is the Valley of Chula on Romulus," she explained.

He turned to her, gaping. "That's light-years away!"

The young android gave him an amused look. "Yes."

La Forge came to stand beside Crusher. "We knew the gateways functioned, obviously, but this..." He shook his head, whistling low.

"How are they controlled?" Crusher asked, trying not to notice that he sounded as eager as a schoolboy.