Dark Mirror - Diane Duane [88]
No, he was not going to spend any more time worrying about that prospect than he had to. He and Barclay took the ‘lift down another deck and walked that one, then another and another. It was in the third ‘lift they took, between decks thirty-eight and thirty-nine, that Picard took advantage of poor bored Barclay’s turning away from him for a moment and turned away himself, “studying” the paneling inside the ‘lift, and with his hands concealed, reached into his waistband, pulled free the little flat canister, opened it, shook its contents (except for the wafer) out on the floor, and then swiftly put everything back in place again.
They got out at deck thirty-eight, and Picard smiled and examined everything he saw with great interest, until even Barclay, so assiduous for his safety, was beginning to twitch with boredom. Behind him, Picard knew that the nanites would be escaping from the ‘lift via the sheathing of its optical and power conduits and heading out onto deck thirty-eight at surprising speed. The rest of them would go down other conduits from there and get into the other computer core on the other side of the main hull, and not long after that, down into the core in the engineering hull. Tiny they might be, but they could move fast and would be unseen; and no one would associate them with him—which was much to be desired. And once they got into the cores … I wonder how they’ll like the FTL field, he thought, and smiled. It should help matters along nicely.
Picard did a few more decks, here and there, finally making a point to go up to ten and see what Ten-Forward looked like. It didn’t look like anything: it was an arms storage area. How appropriate, he thought, and made for the ‘lift again. “The bridge, I suppose, Mr. Barclay,” he said. “Everything down here looks as prepared for the next phase as it’s going to get.”
Barclay heaved a sigh that he didn’t try to conceal, and they got into the ‘lift and rode up there. When the doors opened and all the crewmen rose and saluted, Picard stalked in and tried to look as if he were in a bad humor—not difficult when his eye fell on Wesley Crusher’s post, now filled by another crewman, and the thought of those screams came back to him again. He returned the salute, after a moment, but not before he saw this Enterprise’s Riker get up out of that center seat and offer it to him. The man is trouble, he thought. If I’m lucky, I won’t have to deal with it. Troi is bad enough. She at least wasn’t here: off in her quarters, perhaps, considering what she had found in his mind, or else off having that “talk” with Beverly. He felt like shuddering at either prospect.
“Status, Number One?” Picard said.
Riker grinned. “All normal, Captain. Preparing for phase two in about two hours.”
“Very well. I’ll be in my ready room for a while,” he said, and went through its doors. “Mr. Barclay, a moment with you if you would.”
Barclay followed him in. Picard sat down behind his desk, looking around at the place; it, too, was indistinguishable from his own ready room. “Tell me something,” he said. “Are you happy with the audio security in here?”
“My people sweep it twice a day,” Barclay said. “It’s been adequate so far.”
“Is it adequate now?”
Barclay’s eyes flicked back toward the doors, and Riker. “I’ll have it checked quietly, if you like, sir. But I think so.”
“Very well, that will be all. Please post yourself outside and make sure that anyone who comes in here gives me ample warning.”
“As usual, sir,” Barclay said,