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By Root 669 0

Riker remembered too clearly the anguish in Arkady Reykov’s eyes when the two had “met” in the corridor. Met-if only they could. Envy pierced him suddenly and he wished he could crawl into Deanna’s mind and have a conversation with Reykov and Vasska. What would it be like? To contact men of that age? Such a fascinating part of history, that brink of the great plunge into the space age-what a time it must have been. They could build ships like that and float them on top of the water and put five thousand people inside. Wouldn’t it be interesting to speak to Timofei Vasska and compare first-officer notes? What did Vasska have to know? Things about the sea and atmosphere that probably seldom occurred to captains and officers these days. And all the political tumults of a civilization like Earth’s-what an experience it would be to understand the thoughts of such people as they must have been. They’d have to be decisive and quick. Their opinions were probably right up front all the time, no disguises, no shady diplomacy. And here they were, within reach. Asking for help, in fact, according to Deanna. Part of the brotherhood of big ships.

All at once, guilt entered his thoughts. How sure could he be of his own convictions? What had Reykov tried to convey to him when they met in the corridor? What had that extended hand meant? Riker knew he’d hurt Deanna with his arguments. He remembered how her face had grown pale, her eyes sad as she looked at him during those moments. Arguing with Crusher was easy enough. Doctors were used to that, and Beverly was so low-key her heart only beat once a day. But Deanna had never really known what to do with confrontation. It wasn’t part of her nature. He’d hit her when she was down.

He approached the command chair and touched the intercom. Quietly he asked, “Tell me where Counselor Troi is now.”

The computer’s response was immediate and conspicuous on the quiet bridge. “Counselor Troi is in sickbay lab isolation area, unit four.”

“Still? How long are they going to let this go on?” he muttered, clasping his hands behind his back.

“More information is required to answer your inquiry, please.”

“I didn’t mean you. Cancel.”

“Thank you.”

“Pain in the ass,” he grumbled back at its sugary female voice, and strode forward away from it.

Something had to work. So far, nothing had, but something would have to. Separating the ship had only gotten them into bigger trouble. Increasing power to the shields had only attracted and fed the creature. Phaser power would probably do the same, albeit with a different kind of energy. There had to be some weapon to devise, something, some idea in Starfleet’s new technology that could get them out of this. It was here, that idea, Riker made himself believe. All they had to do was find it. Except … all the cards were in the deck. They didn’t have enough information about the enemy.

He turned expectantly and looked at Worf’s hunched shoulders as the Klingon bent resolutely over the science station.

Riker sighed, and paced.

Going to space on a ship like this … it was easy to get smug, to figure the deck was solid and the ship was impregnable. Easy to become imperious about mortality. And when the wisdom of the age put children on board-well … safe, right?

“Sir!”

He spun, dragged around both by the alarm and the accusation in the voice that stormed the bridge. On the upper deck, LaForge was charging out of the turbolift.

“Where’ve you been?” Riker demanded. Then LaForge’s appearance registered-little electrical burns on his sleeves, his dark features glossy with sweat, and even behind the visor anger showing clearly in his face. Riker paused and redesigned his question. “What happened to you?”

“Data locked me in the AR decontamination stall and shorted out the safety shield. It took me this long to tear the wall apart and get out,” LaForge panted. “Mr. Riker, he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Riker blurted. “Where?”

“He took a shuttlecraft and headed out to find the creature. And it’s your fault, sir.”

“He took-are you sure?”

“I was just down at the flight deck. The