Boogeymen - Mel Gilden [49]
While afterimages popped like fireworks, he heard somebody shout, “Emergency on deck twelve.” Blue emergency lights came on, making the corridor look diseased and unreal, and then the normal lighting blinked on.
A yeoman whose name he didn’t know said, “What’s going on, sir?”
“The Boogeymen are flexing their muscles,” Picard muttered and ducked into sickbay before he would feel obligated to explain.
Sickbay was crowded. Every diagnostic bed was taken, and many crew members and passengers were lying on the floor. They all seemed to be peacefully sleeping. Solemn doctors and orderlies rushed around with medical tricorders and sensing devices. Some were ministering to the sleeping with arcane medical instruments Picard only vaguely recognized. There was a lot of noise, but the patients didn’t seem to be in any danger of awakening.
Ravel’s Bolero began to play. It came in with a crash and then faded to almost nothing. It played too fast and then too slow. Lights flashed in time with the beat. Evidently the Boogeymen were not great respecters of music.
Picard had come down to see if Troi and Baldwin were all right, or at least stable, but it was obvious he could not allow himself the luxury of having personal concerns at this time. Troi and Baldwin were just two among many. He found Dr. Crusher waving a medical sensor over a crewman first class who normally worked in Ten Forward.
When she saw Picard, Dr. Crusher lowered her sensor, though she still looked worriedly at the crewman first class. She took a deep breath and said, “Before you ask, it’s happening to people all over the ship. They’re falling into a trance, and I don’t know why.”
“Any common factor?”
“I don’t know yet.” Dr. Crusher sounded frustrated, more with herself than with Picard. “So far I’m just trying to make sure no one is dying.”
“What is their condition?”
“As far as I can tell, they’re just sleeping. But it’s a heavy sleep. They can’t be awakened, not even by that terrible music, evidently. Can’t you control your ship?”
“I’ll make it my highest priority,” Picard said and gave her a bemused smile.
“Sorry, Captain.” Dr. Crusher shook her head with despair. “I’ll have some answers for you soon.” She began to make passes with her sensor over the crewman again.
Picard wanted to ask her if there was a connection between the trance state and the warp speed, but she obviously had enough on her hands at the moment. Instead, he said, “How are Professor Baldwin and Counselor Troi?”
“Sleeping like the rest of them.”
Picard nodded, though it was little more than an automatic social gesture. “Soon,” he ordered.
Dr. Crusher nodded absentmindedly. By this time she was diagnosing someone else.
Knowing he was gambling, Picard took the turbolift back to deck one. He won his bet. The ride was astonishingly uneventful.
All seemed quiet on the bridge when he got there, though Riker was pacing and casting angry glances at the main viewscreen, as if it were the source of their trouble. Worf was glaring at the telltales on the tactical rail, probably keeping track of his security systems. He was not a happy Klingon, having been confronted with enemies he felt powerless against. His big dark hands gripped the rail hard.
Bridge functions were the most heavily shielded on the ship. Apparently the Boogeymen were having trouble getting control of them. But if they were in the main core, they could eventually gain control of everything.
Picard sat down in his command chair and rubbed his chin while he watched the screen. None of this made sense. It seemed to him that no program, no matter how renegade, could push a starship at warp speed without using the warp drive. Therefore the Boogeymen could not be responsible. What about the virus? Picard