Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [101]
“Yes, I think that’s it. How big did you say it was?”
“Two raised to the power of ten trillion.”
“And that’s considerably more than the total number of atoms in the entire known universe. Which, as I see it, means the exploration in here,” he pointed to her head, “is as unbounded and vast as the exploration out there.” He pointed out the porthole. “And bear in mind the occupation of the man who is making that claim.”
“I know what you’re telling me. I won’t give this up.”
“Good. Now, did you still want to speak to me regarding my own suppression of feelings?”
Troi laughed. Then she realized the captain really meant it.
But at this moment she didn’t feel the necessity. As an empath she could tell that the captain was allowing more of his emotions into consciousness. He wasn’t showing them as openly as she might want, but that was his style of command. At least the feelings were there; especially now, after the mission to Rampart. That would figure. Amoret had apparently sifted through his mind—through everything, no matter how private and emotional. And afterward she had decided to save his life. Anyone would be less stiff after that.
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary right now.”
“Thank you. Since I now have the counselor’s seal of good mental health, I think I’m ready for some recreation. Care to join Will and me for a little horseback riding?”
“No, but thanks,” she said. She was grateful enough that the two top officers of the ship would carve out some time to relax together.
She followed him onto the bridge.
“Come on, Will,” said Picard. “Some holographic horses need a holographic sweat. Data, you have the bridge.”
The first officer rose and accompanied Picard toward the turbolift. Troi noticed that the captain had his hand on Riker’s shoulder in a decidedly paternal way. They could indeed have been father and son.
It was enough to make a ship’s counselor proud.
After a day off, Wesley had already caught up on his sleep.
Now he paced around his cabin, considering the present alternatives for possible diversion, some edifying, some just fun.
The one that popped into his mind was in a different category altogether. A startling idea. He decided to act on it immediately, lest he lock himself into a hesitation-loop and delay it forever.
He called Shikibu and suggested the holodeck. She answered simply, “Yes, Shikibu out.”
He beat her to the holodeck entrance and programmed in the Ryoanji rock garden, with the same soft rain as before.
He let the slim young woman precede him into the holodeck. Her black hair was free, swaying, her feet silent as mist on the stones. She led him toward the wooden patio. The rain was hypnotic, pattering on the gravel, dripping from the cedars and running in rills off the ancient tile roof.
For a moment Wesley found himself worrying what he would say to her, and if he should touch her again, and why he still felt awkward. She was still a mystery to him, after all those koan and mondo he’d read trying to understand her.
As they sat under the eave, he decided to just do what she was doing, and watch the garden. He decided not to try and understand any of it and simply gave up.
Then, as he looked at the garden which so skillfully blended the works of man with the works of nature, he had a strange sensation. He, himself, was a work of nature. At the smallest level he was composed of an inconceivable number of quarks and leptons, oscillating and spinning. These particles were organized into atoms, which were structured into vastly complex molecules in frenetic interaction that, in turn, made up his trillions of cells—each cell containing a DNA polymer with two billion “bytes” of information …
And all of it happened spontaneously, with no volition on his part. He didn’t have to tell the quarks or the DNA what to do. In fact, he wasn’t even the same person from moment to moment—the cells of his body were continually dying, and new ones were growing in their places, and as he looked at his hand now he knew that it wasn’t the same hand that had existed