Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [41]
Picard was handcuffed and led out of the room.
He made them stop.
“I must speak to Crichton,” he demanded.
There was no reply; the CS men simply heaved him along.
They flanked him as they took him along several hallways lined with cells like the one he had just left.
At one point Picard noticed a group of CS men with a woman who also wore a CS uniform, though on hers the logo was red rather than blue. She was unarmed, and wheeled a cart full of electronic gear.
Picard had already noticed that in CephCom certain jobs were reserved for men while others were only for women, as though here equality between the sexes had still not been accepted. He supposed the Rampartian settlers all left Earth before equality was achieved, and once they were here, no speculative thought on changing the situation had been allowed.
The equipment on the woman’s cart had switches, meters, and CRT tubes. It could have been anything. On top was a rounded cap-like dome with color-coded wires sprouting from its electrodes. He was sure the cap was meant to fit on a human head and somehow interface with a human brain.
As it happened, the group with the CS woman entered a room in front of Picard and his guards. As Picard was brought past, he stutter-stepped to slow himself and was able to catch a glimpse of an adolescent girl on the bed, restrained with straps. As the cart was wheeled in she cried out hysterically. Her panic washed over Picard in a wave. It made the fine hairs on his neck stand on end. Her cry reminded him of an animal caught in a trap.
The CS men roughly pulled Picard back into line with them.
As they continued to walk, Picard began to understand the staggering size of the place. The corridors went on forever, filled with CS officers, soldiers, administrators, and one-eyes traveling alone or in patrols of a dozen. He saw doors inscribed “Psycho-surgery Division,” and “Interrogation,” and “Chemical Corps.”
Two high-ranking officers emerged out of the latter and walked along behind Picard and his escorts. He could catch only parts of their conversation.
“… new kind of pharmacological attack on the brain …”
“… scopolamine, methamphetamine, atropine sulfate … classic goofball effect … provide every officer a truth-kit to use in the field …”
Picard’s guards brought him to a sudden stop. There was a commotion ahead. A CS soldier had suddenly been surrounded by a dozen one-eyes. Within instants the soldier was arrested and taken away.
The incident confirmed something Picard had already guessed. He’d noticed antennae and cameras mounted along the corridors. Now he knew what they were for: One of the CS’s tasks was to spy on its own staff. Subversion could happen anywhere, even here. Maybe especially here, where the CS was in constant contact with the enemy—the Dissenters they’d arrested.
Picard’s forced march ended in front of black double doors. A nameplate read “Director of Cephalic Security.” The CS guards who stood on either side opened the doors and Picard was taken in.
Crichton was shuffling papers on his desk. He was wearing a protective helmet but the rasters were clear enough for Picard to see his eyes.
Picard was made to stand at a spot in front of the desk, like a naughty schoolboy. He noticed that in this spot he was covered by several camera lenses and antennae situated along the walls.
Crichton stood. He seemed to be avoiding Picard’s stare.
He read aloud from a document.
“For the high crimes specified in the Code of the Council of Truth, pursuant to and as a result of documentation gathered and on record, the detainee before me, Jean-Luc Picard, is hereby sentenced to death, such sentence to be imposed without delay.”
Crichton sat down. Not once had he actually looked Picard in the eye.
“That’s all,” he said, and began to collect some of the papers on the desk.
The guards began to pull Picard toward the double doors.
Picard dug in his heels.
“Wait!” he cried, twisting around to see Crichton. “You have two of my officers as prisoners—what’s going to happen to them? What is happening on my ship?”
“Your