Worlds Without End, Part XXXII

Main Unity Worlds Without End

"What do you mean 'you don't have a body'?" Picard replied to Laforge on his way into Engineering. "How do you know she's dead?" Picard felt so many emotions running through him he didn't know how to deal with them. Minutes before he had learned that Deanna Troi, his friend for over ten years, had died on board his ship, while they were in Spacedock no less.

"The computer said that at 1402 hours Counselor Troi entered Holodeck 2," Laforge said, "And she stopped being in Holodeck 2 at 1557 hours."

Lt. Commander Sullice was in Engineering with them. "We had made plans to go together at that time, but I had to back out with my work down here."

"Yes, well apparently that didn't stop her," Laforge replied; they looked up for a moment as Riker, Data, and Seven walked in to join them. The Death Star would have to wait; Deanna was family. "She was running a program of the seas of Tibillis III during that time, and had no visitors. However, the program deactivated on her command at 1557."

"The same time she disappeared," Picard said.

"Yes," Laforge said, "and I have a rather nasty theory about what happened. As you know, a holodeck is a rather complicated bit of technology, utilizing light, forcefields, tractor beams, replicators and so on. They all exist within the holodeck system."

"Yes, but how does this explain what happened to the counselor?"

"The system is also designed to be self-cleaning. For example, let's say you run a track and field program for several hours. When everything is turned off you don't want two pints of sweat suddenly appearing in the middle of the floor, so the computer disposes of it."

"You're referring to the bio-reclamation system," Seven said.

Riker looked at her then shook his head. "I had no idea something like that even existed."

"It proved to be a maintenance necessity," Data said. "I believe the first time this was determined was during the testing of the first holodeck at the Daystrom Institute. After initializing a sexual program-"

"Thank you Data," Picard interrupted. "Your point, Mr. Laforge."

"The computer suffered a malfunction and misinterpreted Counselor Troi for.... biological waste."

The group looked at one another in horror. The thought that their friend and colleague had been disintegrated by their own computer was gut-wrenching. "Is there any way to reverse it?" Picard asked. "Anything."

Seven, Data, Laforge and Sullice looked amongst each other; none of them had a look of optimism. "I'm sorry, sir," Laforge said.

"How could this have happened?" Picard said, trying to remain focused on the problem.

"First glance makes it a freak accident, sir," Laforge replied. "The wrong code entered the system at exactly the wrong time." He paused. "Sir, that is why we were all instructed to wait until we were in the arch to end the program. I know it's something we never do, but it seems like in this case, a hard lesson was learned."

"She couldn't have just been transported off the ship?" Picard asked, offering one final hope.

"I'm sorry, sir," Laforge replied, "there was no transporter activity at all during that time, and she vanished at precisely the same moment the holodeck shut down, and the bio-reclamation system noted a large matter influx. I've gone over everything a dozen times, sir, she's gone."

"You said the wrong code entered the system," Picard replied, trying to focus on the logistics of the problem. Deanna would have called it something like transference, Picard thought, but I'll take whatever help he could get right now. "What did you mean by that?"

"Thousands of messages are being sent to the computer at any time," Laforge replied. "Occasionally a code might go through that interferes with another system. It's rare but it does happen. In this case, it was several million to one against."

"Talk about bad luck," Riker muttered. He was visibly trying to keep a grip on himself, given their past history.

"Could this have been done intentionally?" Picard asked.

Laforge thought for a moment. "Unlikely, but it is possible. But you'd need to be a high-level computer expert to pull it off, not to mention not leaving any tracks."

Picard reflected on it for a moment. "Mr. Laforge, the installations are complete?"

"Yes, captain."

"Number One," he said to Riker, "have us depart Spacedock and set course to rendezvous with the fleet." Riker nodded and left. "Mr. Laforge, begin an investigation into this accident, just to be on the safe side."

"Yes sir," Laforge replied. "Data, I'd like you to start-"

"I'm afraid Mr. Data is otherwise engaged," Picard interrupted, a twang of guilt plucking his conscience.

"Sir, there's a lot of code to sift through. This may take some time."

"I understand, Mr. Laforge, but I'm afraid Mr. Data's time is very limited right now. Take other staff from engineering if necessary."

Picard felt the weight of his steps all the way to the turbolift. He knew that the Death Star was their top priority, regardless of his own personal feeling. Nevertheless, it was hard to ignore the sense of betrayal he was feeling right now, that he had somehow abandoned Troi in her hour of need. Maybe he should tell Data to join the investigation. He reached Deck 8 and the turbolift doors opened, and the Earth hung in space before him for a fraction of a second before exploding. Picard stumbled to the back of the lift as the debris raced towards him.

And then he saw the hallway. Quickly he stepped out of the turbolift and went to his ready room.

Lord Vader's eyes opened as his meditation ended, the Emperor's instructions still fresh in his mind. The time was coming to end this war and bring this entire part of space under firm Imperial control. With a mere thought a message was sent across space, and after several minutes a garbled image appeared on Darth Vader's private display in his meditation chamber. "We'd agreed you wouldn't contact me here," the voice said with irritation.

"The Emperor wishes to accelerate his plans," Vader said, ignoring the remark.

"I'm working as fast as I can!"

"We must begin now," Vader said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The plan is already in motion. You'll be bringing my son before me soon, and then... all your desires will come true."

The distorted image changed shape as it hung its head in quiet defeat. "If we're to proceed, we need to deal with Picard."

"Kill him." There was no anger or animosity in the tone of his voice, it was as if Vader had ordered a weapons check, a simple command to be carried out swiftly and efficiently.

The voice was silent. "I can't."

Vader remained fixed in place as he had throughout the entire conversation; yet somehow he managed to make himself appear far more menacing. "And why not?"

"Troi's death already aroused suspicion; but I couldn't let her live with what she knew. But now... any more accidents and there will be a full investigation. There's nothing I can do."

The room was silent, save for the Dark Lord's heavy mechanical breathing. Finally he reached a decision. "Then bring him to me. I shall deal with Picard myself."

For the first time, the Defiant's hyperdrive was activated. Its final destination would be Starbase 375 to rendezvous with Picard's fleet, but its task force was making a stop along the way to mop up a contingent of Cardassian ships. Colonel Kira flexed the biomechanical arm the Imperials had given her, and it was hard not to smile at this prospect. The Cardassians took away her home, her friends, and a part of her own flesh... they'd pay with a pound of their own.

They almost hadn't made it... she almost hadn't made it even. But Bashir's reputation as a doctor was well-earned, and he'd kept her stable while Nog piloted the Defiant out of there. At the time it had seemed an act of heroism on his part; he'd been badly injured, but he kept his head and flew them back into Federation space, where the Vengeance was able to pick them up. But when the word came down on what had happened to Deep Space 9, there were a lot of second thoughts, especially from Nog himself. The last thing he'd done with his father was treat him with mock embarrassment... it visibly weighed on him.

"I want all personnel at battle stations," Kira ordered. "Torpedoes standing by, an open comm with Engineering. The minute we drop out of hyperspace we hit them before they get the chance to run."

Commander Brills, the Defiant's new first officer, seemed a bit taken aback. "Captain," he said, using the protocol term for the situation, "we will give them a chance to surrender first, right?"

"They've had their chance to surrender," Kira replied. "Now they pay the price for refusal."

"Captain, let's be reasonable here," Brills said. "They just lost their home-"

"Which just proves there's a small amount of justice in the universe," Nog rumbled.

"As you were, lieutenant," Brills said sharply.

"With all do respect, sir," Nog replied, emphasizing the word, "they murdered my father, my uncle and my best friend. When they're destroyed, the celebration is on me."

"Revenge never solves anything," Brills said irritably.

"'He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of your to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way,'" Bashir replied in a quiet, frigid tone. Brills looked at him oddly. "Something from one of the Chief's holodeck programs."

"So, they destroy your station, you destroy their planet," Brills replied sarcastically.

Bashir's eyes flicked up at him. Ezri was supposed to be on the Defiant... she was supposed to be alive! But the Cardassians took her away, and they didn't even let him say he loved her one last time. "That's about the size of it," he said darkly.

"Quite a philosophy for a doctor."

"Yes, I'm a doctor, not a vet," Bashir said. "I don't treat animals."

"Coming out of hyperspace in one minute," Nog said.

"Regardless of personal feelings," Kira said, "everyone is to follow my orders, clear?"

"Yes sir," Brills said. "And they are?"

Kira smiled, but it was humorless and bitter. "Kill 'em all and let the Prophets sort it out."

The milkiness of hyperspace disappeared as the Defiant re-entered normal space along with several other Federation vessels. The star destroyer Vengeance was already moving in on the fleet of twenty Cardassian ships. The Defiant went to full impulse as the Red Alert signal went up throughout the ship. The Cardassians had the advantage of numbers, but they were demoralized and running low on supplies; they'd be easy pickings. "Torpedoes, full spread," Kira ordered, ignoring the look on Brills' face. The weapons tore away from the ship, their silver-white glows marking their path towards destruction. A Cardassian ship tried to evade but to no avail; the entire port forward section of the ship was vaporized and it drifted helplessly through space. The other ships tried desperately to rally against the attackers, but it was clear that discipline had been lost, and their efforts were uncoordinated. Their weapons bounced harmlessly off the shields of the Vengeance while its turbolasers chewed through their own. The Defiant slipped through their lines, blasting at one Cardassian ship after another.

"Sir," Nog suddenly reported, "twenty-six vessels just arrived!"

"Why didn't we detect them sooner?" Brills demanded.

"They've dropped out of hyperspace, sir."

"Cardassians don't have hyperdrives."

"No," Kira said, looking at the readings. "But we all know who does." Two squadrons of Rebel fighters and a pair of huge cap ships closed in, and the Imperials broke off their attack to engage them.

"Orders sir?"

Kira thought quickly. "Our orders were to take the Cardassians and that's what we'll do."

"Captain-"

"Continue attack," Kira ordered as Brills began his protest.

"Incoming message from the Bozeman," Nog called as they continued their pursuit course.

"Federation ships, this is Captain Bateson," came the transmission. "Today you need to make a difficult decision. The Federation we all know is gone, a mere puppet of the Empire, pressed into an evil purpose. I know it goes against all your training and gut instinct, but if you truly love the Federation, show it by joining with me in a defection to the New Alliance. It's the only way to restore freedom to humanity."

There was silence on the bridge of the Defiant; word of Federation defections were everywhere, and many knew those who were likely considering it. Kira took a deep breath. "Break of pursuit of the Cardassians," she said finally. There was a noticeable tension present now. "Target the Bozeman, all weapons. Blow that traitorous son of a bitch out of space!"

However, it seemed the Defiant's crew was alone in its assessment. The Reliant, the Crazy Horse, and the Iliad ganged up on the Defiant as it tried to wear down the Bozeman. Both had fought the Borg together, but now their weapons were trained on each other. Their weapons blasted away at each other as phaser pulse met phaser pulse. The Rebel fighters entered the fray, and while their shields were weak and their weapons not as powerful, their high speed and quick maneuverability made it difficult to target. The two sides seemed equal in this stand-off when the Vengeance exploded under Rebel bombardment.

Kira stared at the viewscreen with open malice. The Cardassians who destroyed her life so many times, the Rebels who took away her chance to punish them, the Federation officers who had the audacity to side with them. She wanted them all to pay, right here and now... but she was responsible for this crew. She couldn't justify this. "Break off the attack," she muttered. "Take us to Starbase 375." The Defiant turned and vanished into hyperspace.

The ready room door chimed; it was Data. "Captain," he said coming in, "about the investigation around Counselor Troi's death-"

"I am as saddened as anyone on this ship," Picard said. "But you know how important your current assignment is."

"Yes sir, but that is not why I am here." He paused as he seemed to weigh matters. Anything that required that must be very delicate, so Picard offered him a seat. "I do not wish to prey upon feelings of paranoia in the wake of this tragedy, sir, but duty -and my friendship with the Counselor- compels me."

"You have some insight into this?" Picard asked, unsure whether this was good or bad news.

"Seven is my friend, sir," Data went on. "She has confided in me. I do not wish to share the details, but she has been coping with emotions that are new to her... very strong emotions." He looked up at Picard. "I trust you understand why I can relate to her position, sir."

The smashed table came back to mind. "Indeed," Picard said. "Go on."

"I repeatedly advised her to speak with the Counselor," Data continued. "She was strongly opposed to it. She has her pride, and these emotions seemed to make her feel weak and flawed." Data hesitated. "She visited the Counselor yesterday. When I arrived at 1355 hours, I observed Seven leave in a rush, visibly upset, sir... far more than I have ever seen her. She did not even acknowledge my presence."

Picard folded his hands and leaned forward. "Data," he said slowly, "are you suggesting that Seven murdered Deanna?"

"I am aware of the gravity of such an accusation, sir," Data said. "And I would not bring it to you if I did not consider it a viable possibility." Picard was about to speak but Data pushed on. "Seven has a complete understanding of every aspect of the Enterprise. She is an expert in computer science. She had full access to the Enterprise's computer systems with the means and instructions for her to operate without being traced." Data seemed to hesitate. "And her recent experience in the Tsunkatse arena has taught her how to kill, sir."

"Killing a stranger to preserve her own life," Picard said sharply. "Not murdering a friend to keep a secret."

"Respectfully, sir," Data said, "killing someone with one's own bare hands can only make it easier to kill someone you will never have to actually witness dying." Picard was silent. "As you said sir: whoever has the means, motive, and opportunity is likely the guilty party."

"I can't believe that," Picard said hoarsely.

"Seven is a very dear friend, sir," Data said. "But she is attempting to reconcile her humanity with her Borg nature. Both have their dark sides, sir." Picard shook his head in quiet disbelief. "The evidence is circumstantial," Data admitted. "But the likelihood of this being an accident is statistically nonexistent."

Picard got up and walked over to the window, trying to think. Twice he'd let his prejudice against the Borg turn him against Seven, and twice she'd proven innocent. He didn't want to compound his mistake by doing so again... but he had to admit Data made sense. When faced with a distasteful choice, Seven had chosen to embrace her Borg nature... if she were desperate enough, it was certainly possible she'd do so again. "At this time all you have is a theory," he said. He hung his head. "But one I have a hard time rejecting," he said quietly.

"It is my deepest hope that I am wrong, sir," Data said.

"And mine," Picard said. "For now, I want you to watch our Borg friend very carefully; let me know if she does anything out of the ordinary."

Data nodded. "Aye sir." He stood up to leave. "I also would advise long-range sensor sweeps and monitoring the holonetwork, sir."

"Why?"

"Merely as a precaution, sir," Data said, then hesitated. "Seven still possesses a subspace interface... if this situation proves beyond her ability to cope, she might attempt to summon the Borg, so that she could be returned to the collective consciousness."

Picard looked momentarily aghast at the accusation, then looked down as he swallowed uncomfortably. His throat was almost too dry to say the words. "Make it so."

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