Boogeymen - Mel Gilden [25]
Riker nodded and looked out the window.
“Commander Riker?”
Riker touched his insignia and said, “Riker here. What is it, La Forge?”
“I have a strange power fluctuation on holodeck three. Nothing to worry about, but I thought you should know.”
“Strange how?”
“It looks like signal interference, but that’s not possible. Nothing on board broadcasts a signal of that type.”
“The captain’s using holodeck three with Data and Wesley. Is there any danger?”
“Not at the moment. But if it gets much worse, the simulation they’re using will start to break up. They may suffer some disorientation.”
“Let me know if the situation changes.”
“Aye, sir. La Forge out.”
Baldwin said, “One damn thing after another, eh, Commander?”
“Sometimes I think certain people attract trouble.”
Baldwin raised his glass and said, “Here’s to the heroes.”
Riker smiled and joined him in the toast.
Picard led Data and Wesley through the holodeck exit into a corridor of what looked like the Enterprise. Once again they were ambushed by Boogeymen. Picard was not gentle fighting them off. Even if they had been real and not just holodeck fever dreams, he would not have been gentle. They had adequately demonstrated their hostility. And Picard, though a man of peace, was also nobody’s fool.
Data was handling his Boogeyman with his usual élan, and even Wesley, who was understandably disturbed and intimidated by his creations, seemed to be holding his own. While gripping his Boogeyman in a headlock, Picard shouted, “Exit holodeck.”
A holodeck exit opened before him. He, Data, and Wesley pushed the Boogeymen aside and leapt through. The doors slammed behind them with a satisfying bang, locking in—out?—the Boogeymen.
They stood just outside the holodeck. A few feet away was the cross corridor from which the Boogeymen usually attacked. Picard said, “Exit holodeck,” and another doorway opened before them. They stepped through and found themselves in a place very much like the one they’d left. Picard said, “Exit holodeck,” and they stepped through again. Hoping that the computer would just give up and allow them to exit for good and all, Picard called for the exit again. And again. He lost count of the number of times he and his companions walked through an exit to find themselves where they’d started. They developed a rhythm. Walking the same six feet over and over again was, in its bizarre way, intoxicating. But eventually it just seemed pointless.
As they stood resting in front of a holodeck door, Data said, “I fear your actions will be fruitless, Captain.”
Picard smiled grimly and said, “Are you about to remind me that computers never tire or get bored?”
Data looked a little surprised. “Yes, Captain. I was.”
“At least we’re getting our exercise,” Wesley said.
Picard knew that Wesley was responsible for their predicament, but he did not hold that against him. Not every experiment could be a success. Picard was certain that having to confront one’s childhood fears over and over again could not be easy, but Wesley seemed to be making the best of it. He would log the exemplary performance of both Ensign Crusher and Commander Data. He contemplated the space around them, so familiar, and yet as alien as the backside of Borgus.
“You’re right, of course, Mr. Data. And yet, waiting here seems no more constructive than walking through the same door over and over again. We are, as Mr. Crusher points out, at least getting our exercise.”
Data was about to reply when his eyebrows went up. Picard had never seen him so surprised, and in fact hadn’t known that he was capable of showing such a strong reaction. Picard followed his gaze and the gaze of Wesley Crusher and suddenly was at least as surprised as either of them.
Standing at the intersection of the corridors was a tall, slim woman with short blond hair. She wore a Starfleet uniform. It was Tasha Yar, chief of security aboard Enterprise before her death at the metaphorical hands—the thing had no actual hands—of an amorphous tarry monster that called itself