Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [44]
“Excuse me,” said Data. “May I inquire where I am?”
“Great voice emulator system,” said a tech, looking at an oscilloscope.
“Where are my friends?” Data asked. “May I communicate with them, or with my ship?”
The techs ignored his requests, which he repeated in various forms as they performed tests on him. By their comments to each other, uttered as though Data were not even there, he understood that they were preparing to dismantle him.
An idea occurred to him—a weapon he might use against them. He didn’t have enough information to know for certain what effect the weapon would have, but its theoretical base was sound.
In a voice that would have carried out to the last row of a theater, he said:
“Cries of carbuncle ecstasy when you perfume her with Chyme de Voltaire;
Mary Queen of Callipygian Beetles rubbed against gallstone-pattern wallpaper scream scream;
Monkey milkshake squirting from her tear ducts in the quiet dawn so fun-sized;
Podiatrists smell like wet dog resonators, so they called him Bob Crowned With Savory Carbon Atoms.”
The techs looked at each other, baffled. One of them tittered, then put his hand over his mouth.
“You hear all that?”
“Some of it. My headphones cut out some parts but let me hear others.”
“Mine, too. Something’s mixed up.”
“Hey, Jack, look at the one-eyes. I just gave one a thought order and it didn’t respond.”
“Looks like they’re frozen up.”
Data saw that the one-eyes were hovering immobile, as he had postulated. Intriguing.
He strained with all his strength against the solid steel bars that held him against the table; he was able to flex them a bit, but they were too strong even for him to break.
Maybe under different circumstances, he thought, the strategy could have been used for escape.
The techs were momentarily clustered around the trio of motionless one-eyes.
“There. Back on line. Just a little glitch.”
“All right, let’s keep to the schedule and start the disassembly. Shut the unit off.”
Data felt a hand reach behind his back.
In the space of a microsecond, Data thought of each living being he’d ever known and said a silent good-bye to them all.
Chapter Ten
THE SMALL CAVE-ROOM wreathed Troi in its cold dampness. She sat leaning back against the wall, the stone drawing the warmth from her flesh, making the flesh feel like stone, too.
Since she had found no escape option, she had decided to use her time in these caves as best she could. She was going to invite contact with the alien Other-worlders and try to unlock their secret, which she hoped would unlock Crichton’s secret as well.
She had considered what had happened during her previous contacts with the Other-worlders, and concluded that since only her mind, not her body, had been transported into their universe or state of being, she should be in no physical danger.
Still, the thought of confronting them was terrifying. The fear was causing waves of nausea to wash through her. She told herself that she didn’t have to lose control of the encounter; she had broken it off voluntarily the first time, and she could do it again.
Troi shut her eyes and opened her empathic sense. The Other-worlders were all around her. She sent out a mental invitation to them. A moment passed and nothing happened, so she opened her eyes.
The walls and roof of the cave were gone. She was in the midst of an oceanic multitude of Other-worlders. Under a sky filled by a huge spiral galaxy they covered the ground from horizon to horizon.
Those near enough to show their detail were greatly variegated—some humanoid, others of inconceivable shape and dimension. Among them Troi recognized the Mirror Man and the Lioness, but they were only two faces in the infinite horde. This was not the situation she had expected and she didn’t know how to initiate any kind of dialogue.
She noticed that she was up on a raised platform. The horde was scrutinizing her with such intensity she had to look down at her body. She found she was nude. Her skin felt strange. It was changing, hardening as she watched, developing small