Boogeymen - Mel Gilden [69]
“Not bad for a man who isn’t a specialist,” Riker said.
“I do okay. The modified d’Ort’d program was on a secured sector of the infowafer. No one could access it except me.”
“Then you did install it in our computer banks on purpose,” Picard said.
“Yes. When I first came on board I intended to wait till we got to Memory Alpha to install it. Commander Mont’s attack changed my mind. I saw that I could no longer wait. Have you transmitted any messages to Starfleet lately?”
“No,” said Riker. “Go on.”
Baldwin pleaded with Picard. “You must send a message. Any message. It will contain the virus. I can start to disappear.”
“Not while the Boogeymen are still active.”
Baldwin tried to speak, but Picard continued. “And even if the Boogeymen were not a problem, I would not allow your name to be deleted from Federation records. You are a part of Federation history, and neither of us has the authority to change that.” He shook his head. “I’m not certain that anybody does.”
“Fame is a poor substitute for a good night’s sleep.”
The room was silent but damned hot. Only Worf seemed to be entirely at ease. Worf and Pilgrim. If it got much hotter, some of the more delicate machinery would begin to break down. If it got much hotter, they would parboil in their uniforms.
“Eric,” Picard said finally. “You must tell us how you modified the d’Ort’d code. It’s the only way we’ll be able to untangle them from the Boogeymen.”
Baldwin threw his hands up in despair. “Jean-Luc, it took me three weeks to figure out what to change and how to do it. I think it would take me at least that long to delete what I did.” His gaze met Picard’s. “I’m sorry.”
Picard sighed heavily.
“Right back where we started,” said Riker.
Picard laid a hand on Baldwin’s shoulder, then turned to Worf, and said, “Can you set that tricorder to look for Data? Perhaps he and Mr. La Forge will have some ideas.”
“Yes, sir.” Worf took the tricorder back from Riker and glared at it as he pushed buttons.
Picard stood up. “Well, then, gentlemen, I suggest—”
“Captain,” Worf interrupted. “Data is moving toward us along the gangway in the secondary hull.”
Riker said, “If they’d found a solution they wouldn’t be coming just to tell us about it. They’d have implemented it by now.”
“Indeed. They must have something else in mind. Mr. Perry, as ranking command officer, it is your responsibility to look out for Professor Baldwin’s safety.”
Perry nodded. “Yes, sir. I assume that Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi will be staying here with us?”
“Unless they have business elsewhere,” Picard said.
Dr. Crusher said, “With the comlink down, house calls seem unlikely.”
“I suspect,” Troi said carefully, “that the need is greatest here.”
“Very well. Number One? Mr. Worf?”
They marched to the corridor, where the air seemed hotter than it had been—more like soup than stuff to breathe. Picard crossed the corridor and went into the stairwell, where the air was considerably cooler. But he suddenly felt heavier.
“Gravity is up,” Worf said.
“Warrior’s gravity,” Riker said. To which Worf only growled.
“Lead on, Mr. Worf.”
Worf nodded and descended, sweeping his tricorder before him.
“There’s the hatch to deck seventeen,” La Forge said and sat down heavily at the top of the flight of stairs.
Wesley sank next to him, and said, “I feel like I’ve put on a lot of weight since we started.” At first the exercise had been invigorating, but after the first few flights, Wesley got bored. He did cube roots in his head to keep awake.
“Gravity is our friend, Wes. We’re just tired.”
“You may be tired, Geordi, but Wesley’s feelings are correct. The gravity gradient is up seven point three percent. Of course, our mass is still the same.”
La Forge struggled to his feet and opened an access panel on the wall. He touched a control surface and shook his head. “The Boogeymen have everything all bollixed up.” He slammed the access panel closed and sat down next to Wesley.
Data swept