Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [75]
“Oh, yes, Captain,” La Forge said. “As long as no matter more than ten to the sixteenth grams is left here, there won’t be any ill effects to our universe.”
That clinched it, then. Picard suddenly knew what was going to happen. As long as that threshold amount of mass is left here. They’re not, then, merely planning to capture the ship and destroy it. “When it’s gone …” They’re going to send it back. Not with one of our crews. With theirs …! That at least seemed perfectly clear. “Mass less than ten to the sixteenth grams. …” He thought briefly. If you took all the weight of all the bodies on the Enterprise … let’s see now … average weight per person, say a hundred kilos … He did the sum in his head. All the human beings and other creatures aboard the Enterprise lumped together would be much less than ten to the sixteenth grams. And in his mind, Picard saw the sudden image of many, many bodies, floating frozen in space or phasered out of existence. … Matter could neither be created nor destroyed, of course: their component mass would still exist, in other forms. But this universe wouldn’t be harmed. And it wouldn’t matter to these people how his crew died, so long as they did and left room on the Enterprise for their own people, their counterparts.
He nodded and walked on around the great apparatus in its cabinets. At a stroke, he had been deprived of one option he had been considering, in which he had instructed Riker: the option of destroying the Enterprise while still in this universe, if they couldn’t get back. They would have reacted adversely, La Forge had said. Was he understating? How much? Could hundreds of thousands of parsecs of space really be affected by the permanent presence of this extra mass? And if it could—could the destruction of his Enterprise here destroy life in this universe? He couldn’t imagine the exact mode of the destruction, but somehow he was sure it would happen. So far he had not found a single bright spot about any of this situation: this unpalatable prospect wasn’t very likely to be the exception.
Even in this universe—skewed and warped as it seemed—on some of these planets, around some of these stars, there had to be innocent lives, millions of them, people not responsible for this situation, not contributing to it. He would not be their murderer. Yet, at the same time, a cold voice far back in his brain said, Are you sure this universe wouldn’t profit from being killed? Are you very sure? Look at it! Is this life?
He thrust that thought resolutely away. Transporter or no transporter, I must find a way to warn the Enterprise about this. At least, I have to get this information to Geordi and Troi. They might be able to devise something. And he himself would have to devise quickly a way to get Geordi into the core, and some way to incapacitate this ship as thoroughly as possible. Two birds with one stone would be best, if it could be managed.
There was a sound of footsteps, and he and Geordi and Barclay all turned to see Lieutenant Worf approaching them. “Commander Riker sent me to ask whether eighteen hundred hours will be all right for that briefing you wanted.”
What briefing? Picard almost said, and caught himself in a hurry. He wondered whether this was some sort of trick, or simply something his counterpart had asked for before going to his quarters. “Briefing,” he said, trying to sound neither too vague nor too certain. “Eighteen hundred will be fine. Though—” He paused for a moment. “Never mind. Was there anything else?”
“No, Captain,” said Worf.
“Good,” La Forge said. “Then get out of here, slave.”
Picard, looking at La Forge, was not entirely surprised to see the flare of jealousy and protectiveness. But this was not just an exaggerated case of what command-level personnel sometimes called “engineer’s disease,” the tendency for engineering personnel to consider their department, and by extension the whole ship, as their personal property, and to treat any intrusion into engineering by anyone, even the