Boogeymen - Mel Gilden [57]
“Perhaps some of the others—” Picard said.
Dr. Crusher interrupted. “I’ve been asking every one of them I can catch.” Picard and Shubunkin turned to look at her. She said, “They don’t remember any more than Counselor Troi does, and many of them remember even less. Fortunately, the longing for home fades as quickly as the new perspective. Fortunately also”—she aimed her medical tricorder at Troi and when it warbled, she checked the reading—”the activity in everyone’s Martinez node is normal again, which is to say almost nonexistent.”
Picard said, “Can you keep it that way?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Crusher said, “but we’re working on it.” She looked somewhat doubtful.
“Very well, Doctor. Flank speed if you please. What do you make of all this, Lieutenant Shubunkin?”
“Nothing useful, Captain. But I am as new to d’Ort’d psychology and technology as you are. I can only hope that Baldwin’s infowafer holds some answers.”
“I believe you have just defined your mission, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” Shubunkin said and left sickbay at a nice clip.
“Speaking of which,” Picard said, “where is Professor Baldwin?”
“He said he was going to see you in your ready room.”
That surprised him. The last time he’d seen Baldwin, Picard had accused him of sabotaging the Enterprise. “Did he say why?”
“No. But he was most insistent.”
Picard touched a companel and said, “Professor Baldwin, this is Picard.”
The sound of Boogeymen singing the Hallelujah Chorus poured briefly from the companel. With disgust, Picard said, “Do all you can, Doctor,” and strode from sickbay.
As he walked along the corridor to the turbolift, the light bars began to blink. Boogeyman laughter rolled along the corridor like bowling balls, and the ship shuddered. Picard ran to a companel. On his way he moved through a very cold area no larger than a transporter plate. He stepped back into it briefly and saw his breath fog, curl, and dissipate. This was maddening.
He touched the companel and called, “La Forge? What’s going on down there?”
“Right offhand, sir, I’d say we have a bad case of Boogeymen.”
“Sir, this is Wesley. I think it’s going to get worse. I had Data design the Boogeymen to become more aggressive with time.”
“Is there no way to go around them?”
“That becomes more and more difficult as the contamination spreads,” La Forge said. “We don’t have many options left.”
“Make use of those we do have. Picard out.”
There was no point being angry at La Forge. He and Data and Wesley were doing the best they could, which, Picard knew, was the best that anyone could do. If only it hadn’t been for Baldwin and his damned compulsion to disappear. Baldwin was in his ready room. Maybe he had an answer. Picard kept moving.
Suddenly the corridor tilted sharply, rolling Picard head over heels back the way he had come. He banged into the wall at the T-intersection and tried to collect his wits. Ensign Perry was next to him, evidently trying to do the same thing. She was a tall, slim blonde with short hair and good cheekbones. Picard made sure that she was all right, and together they stared along the corridor at the turbolift at the other end, a direction that had suddenly become a steep upward grade.
“What’s going on, sir?” Perry said.
The Boogeymen were growing stronger; that was what was going on. But to explain the Boogeymen to Perry would take a while, and Picard did not feel he had the time to spare. He said, “We have a computer problem. Senior staff is working toward a solution at this moment.”
“Yes, sir.” Perry tried on a smile. It was becoming but not hopeful. She didn’t understand but was attempting to take Picard’s answer at face value. He took it at face value himself and hoped he was correct.
“Come along, Ensign. Perhaps the floor will level out farther on.” Picard helped her crawl up the floor. It was textured to give maximum traction when walking, but no one in Starfleet Engineering had guessed that anyone would ever need to climb it. They rested opposite sickbay, sitting against the corridor wall and catching