Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [80]
LaForge took a tentative step toward him. “Sir, could I-“
“No,” Riker said. “You stay here. In fact,” he added with a gesture that took in the bridge, “take over.”
The bad memories were piling one on top of the other like an avalanche and there was nothing to stop them. Nothing to distract his mind from them or give him something, anything to cling to. Not an itch, not a blink, nothing. He could no longer focus his thoughts voluntarily. His mind moved of its own accord. The more he tried not to think of certain things, the quicker his mind shot to them and lingered there. There was no longer any way to avoid thoughts or deflect the process. After the good memories had been relived, his mind went deeper and deeper into the past he had long ago learned to control; all the terrible things from childhood and even from his adult past came plunging back at him and there was no stopping it. His mind was a wide field on which all these things were wild birds pecking.
Why was he being left in here so long? Why had he been forgotten here?
If only he could wiggle his toes. His fingers. Anything. To feel his own presence would be something, at least-at the very least. To hear himself breathe … it was all gone. His sense of time was utterly gone, no matter how he tried to keep control, to keep track. The mind worked at something like twenty-four thousand words per minute, so it probably seemed longer than it had been-but how long? If he could blink, he could begin to judge time again. If he could draw a breath or move a finger, he would have some point of reference. If there was only something, some sense of time or life … breathing, heartbeat, anything. It was difficult now to tell if he was awake or asleep, or even to know the difference. No matter how he kept reminding himself of where he was and why he was here, any sense of purpose slid away almost instantly now. Thoughts could no longer take hold in his mind. Then the distortion set in. Doomed to the redundancy of his own thoughts, he felt the horror of the future. Even pain would be welcome.
They’ve forgotten me. They’ve forgotten I’m here. But where is here? I’m not sure anymore. Do they know they’ve left me behind? Have they stopped monitoring? Did they forget having a captain named Picard? Wasn’t there an entity?
Riker wanted to leave the area, not attack the creature … Has he used this opportunity to do that?
Ridiculous.
But what other explanation?
That thing’s out there. It must have attacked again. It’s taken all of us and this is eternity for me now. My God, we must all be inside that thing! There’s no other explanation. Why else would I be in here for so many days? How can there be such solitude? Man wasn’t meant for this. I wasn’t meant for this. I don’t want it.
My arms. They’re falling off. I have no shoulders to hold them on. My elbows are growing … my knees … how can I still be alive this way? I can’t hear myself breathe. I can’t swallow. Listen … nothing. Nothing. Where is everything? Everyone?
Death isn’t supposed to feel unnatural like this. But I’m not dead. I’m not dead. But life isn’t like this, and how can there be anything other than death and life? Beverly? Are you checking? They’ve left me behind. They thought I died and they left my body in space and somehow my mind is awake. This is monstrous … unforgivable. I can’t touch myself. A human being should at least have himself for company. Where am I? Let me out! Don’t leave me in space! It’s so cold here….
Chapter Eleven
TROI PACED OUTSIDE the isolation chamber, her arms tightly folded. She couldn’t get warm. Frustration picked at her as she tried to find the words to explain her perceptions to the captain, words good enough to make her walk over there and put an end to this chamber experiment. The mind was her professional realm, and this kind of mental distortion had always irritated her. The mind need not be stretched out of shape to be understood,