Possession - J.M. Dillard [21]
An improvement, Geordi thought; this time, Picard had waited almost half an hour before repeating the question. The engineer glanced at Data, who sat beside him at the console they shared, as together they adjusted the scanners, trying to pick up something—anything—that might be out there. But the android could only offer a short shake of his head.
La Forge sighed. “Sorry, sir. We’re still scanning. It may be best to move the ship again. Maybe keep moving along at impulse and extend the scanners as far as they’ll go. We might miss something that way, but it’ll give us the best range.”
Picard turned to the helm. “Make it so, Mr. Braxton.”
“Aye, sir.”
Geordi doubted this new move would make any difference; his normal optimism was fading fast.
“Captain,” Commander Riker interjected, “it’s pretty late. This crew has already worked a double shift, and between the memorial service, the TechnoFair in Ten Forward, and this ongoing search, I think they’ve been stretched pretty thin. I’d like to suggest a change in crew, so that the senior staff can get some sleep.”
Picard considered it, scowling. In times of crisis, Geordi knew, the captain preferred to have his most experienced crew around him, but Riker was right. They were all dead on their feet.
Before Picard could respond, Worf interjected, “Excuse me, Captain. I believe you should see this. We are getting an unusual reading at the periphery of our scanner range.”
Picard moved at once to the Klingon’s tactical station as Geordi and Data both brought up Worf’s readings on their screens. “Is that a distress signal?” La Forge wondered aloud.
“Not precisely,” Data replied. “It is an energy pulse—perhaps a tractor beam or something similar—that is cycling on and off.” He frowned. “But it is definitely coming from a ship.”
“Could it be a code?” Picard asked, as he squinted at Worf’s tactical screen and lightly fingered the controls.
“I have already cross-referenced the pulse pattern with all known codes, sir,” Data said, “but there is no match. The computer suggests that it is a malfunctioning generator.”
Picard glanced over his shoulder at Geordi. “Can we pinpoint the location of those pulses?”
“Already done, sir,” La Forge assured him. “I’ve sent the coordinates to helm. Whatever is sending that signal is still moving, but we’ll catch up. We should be alongside in less than an hour.”
“Very good.” Picard moved back to his chair. “Let’s keep our position onscreen, and as soon as you can get a make on that ship, I want to hear about it. With the way our luck’s been going, we’ll find ourselves chasing a broken-down robot barge with a faulty tractor beam.”
La Forge and Data exchanged another glance, then went back to adjusting their scanners.
Nabon’s sensitive ears ached from the scream of the alarms as the ship attacked smoldering bits of debris and extinguished the many small blazes. The noise, smoke, and confusion grew too much for the younger Ferengi, who suddenly lost his grip on the phaser and his courage, all at the same time.
He scrambled out from under the melee and dashed for cover as his brother and the Vulcan continued to fight for the weapon and the small alien device. As he crouched behind the surviving chair, Nabon realized that the second device, the one sitting on the counter, was almost completely open. He stared at it in terror. He could see the glow of power coming from within the small shelllike container. It pulsed as if alive. Without realizing he was doing it, he crept closer to the container. When he was close enough, he peered inside the strange thing.
POWER.
A purely electrical jolt of power surged through his body, causing him to cry out—a sound that was lost amid the tumult. For the briefest of instants, pure horror overwhelmed him—the horror of a mind, a soul, consumed by something greater than itself, followed by a hellish hunger that could never be sated.
Abruptly, the terror and craving subsided, entirely forgotten. In its place was contentment, belonging, peace. Nabon stared into the heart of the shell and saw only