Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [54]
“No one’s been here for several days,” Riker observed flatly. “Maybe longer.”
“I agree,” Barclay said, reviewing his tricorder readings.
“I don’t see anything that makes me very suspicious,” Rhea said. “He lived modestly, even spartanly, but this isn’t the home of a transient.” She picked up a small, intricately dyed ceramic dish and considered it appreciatively. “He didn’t own many things, but he knew quality when he saw it.”
“What would make you feel suspicious?” Riker asked.
“I don’t know,” McAdams replied. “What does a master criminal’s country home feel like? Maybe I was expecting something that looked better, but felt worse.”
The three of them looked for Data and found him standing outside the library, alternately waving his tricorder toward and then away from the entrance. “Something wrong, Data?”
Data pointed the tricorder away from the library, holding it so Riker could see the display. “Please continue to watch the display and tell me if you see anything anomalous.”
Riker kept his eyes on the tricorder as Data panned it in a slow arc toward the library. When he finished, Riker looked up. “Can’t say I did. Are you picking up something that we can’t?”
“It is very peculiar, Commander,” he said. “When the tricorder scan moves from any direction toward the library, the display flickers for approximately six milliseconds, much too quickly for human eyes to detect.”
“But not for yours?”
“Evidently not. It is as if something in the room is overriding the tricorder’s sensors, giving it specific readings in order to mask something else. Please wait here.” Riker, McAdams and Barclay watched from the doorway as Data made some adjustments to his tricorder and scoured every surface of the library. Unsurprisingly, he eventually stopped in front of a book. Data closed his tricordor and picked up the book, a small volume of poetry. Data opened it, and sure enough, within a frame of false pages, a small flat device was blinking in operation. Data found an “off” switch, and the surface of a small table in the center of the room shimmered and revealed a Federation-standard interface console.
“Oh, my.” This from Barclay, who was staring in shock at his tricorder. “Th-this room is a transporter.”
“Which part of it?” McAdams asked.
“The whole room!” Barclay said. “The walls are lined with molecular imaging scanners, pattern buffers, phase transition coils—”
Riker whistled appreciatively as they joined Data in the room. “Curiouser and curiouser.” He turned to McAdams. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That this is the front door to his real house?” McAdams asked.
“Something like that.”
Data had been studying the tabletop console. “The device is limited in function. Unlike most transporters, this one is apparently designed to transmit matter to single location only.”
“Where?” Riker asked.
“Unknown. Since it cannot be programmed for other locations, there is no coordinate system in place to make that determination. However, it does suggest that the location and distance of the other terminus is constant relative to this one.”
“So it definitely goes somewhere on the planet, and not to a nearby vessel,” McAdams concluded.
“So it would seem,” Data agreed.
McAdams looked at Riker. “I suppose you want to knock?”
Riker grinned. “Why, Lieutenant, you can read my mind.”
“S-sir, is that really s-such a good idea?” Barclay stammered.
“Lieutenant Barclay may have a point, sir,” Data said. “We do not know what may be facing us on the other side. I recommend we contact the Enterprise and request they send a probe—”
Data never completed his recommendation. Without warning, the transporter came on, the dematerialization effect enveloping and immobilizing the members of the away team before they could react.
They rematerialized in the middle of one of the most sophisticated and apparently deserted laboratories Riker had ever seen.
“Phasers,” Riker ordered, and the away team immediately moved into a defensive position, each facing a different direction