Possession - J.M. Dillard [69]
“I don’t know all of it,” Tarmud insisted, his face flushed and shining, his breath short. “Evans’s injuries called to the others. The pain she felt drew them. After eighty years of deprivation, the entities’ need is powerful, difficult to control. The Enterprise crew is disciplined, trained, capable of holding them in check, but the others—the technicians, our assistants—they’re civilians. Most of them are young burgeoning scientists, curious, interested in experiencing everything. They lost control …”
“They cannot afford to do so if we are to succeed,” Skel countered coldly.
“Have patience,” Tarmud urged. “We’re not all Vulcans, you know—the entities have adapted to you and your level of control. It isn’t as easy for the rest of us …” He drew another gasping breath and continued. “They carried Evans from her hiding place, took her to Ten Forward because they knew it would be deserted. She helped them, told them where to go, why. Destroying the facilities caused emotional mayhem in their core selves, the humans inside each of them who protested the wanton destruction of their own work. And when the entities fed off that all they could, they turned to their original source.”
“So, she is dead,” Skel said placidly. Killed, even as his mother had been.
“Yes.” Tarmud lowered his head as if in regret, but as he did so, Skel caught the spark of sadistic glee in his eyes. “She’s dead. The others absorbed her entities so there would be no loss to the whole.”
“They left her there?”
“Yes. They wanted to alarm the others, to evoke the emotional response they might feed from, and keep their need in check.”
“Her death and the destruction of Ten Forward will alert the Enterprise crew to our presence,” Skel countered.
“Perhaps. The technicians thought out their actions, in spite of their hunger. They wore protective garb. The only physical evidence that will remain will belong to Barbara Evans. If we can control their appetites, this will not happen again.”
“It cannot,” Skel insisted. “If we are detected before we have recruited the senior staff, we can be defeated. There must be control. They must learn to wait.”
“They would not need to wait if we had the empath at our disposal,” Tarmud reminded him. “Last night she did not dream at all. None of us could even sense her.”
Skel nodded. “Her empathy—while valuable to us as a rich source of nourishment—is still a danger to us as well. If the Betazoid senses us too clearly, we will be exposed before we are ready. We must be cautious until we hold the majority of the crew, perhaps even until the Vulcan ship arrives and can be captured. The empath must remain unaware—and unavailable. Are we still recruiting?”
“Yes,” Tarmud assured him. “Recruitment is going well.”
“Not well enough,” the Vulcan insisted. “We still need Dannelke, and more of the senior staff.”
Just then the door chimed; Tarmud and Skel exchanged a glance. “Come,” the Vulcan said.
The doors opened to reveal Dr. Crusher. “Picard skipped breakfast this morning. What happened?”
The two men told her about Ten Forward.
She shook her head in disapproval. “Now, he’ll be wary. He’ll be much harder to approach.”
“We can still work on the rest of the senior staff,” Tarmud told her. “Everyone but the Betazoid.”
“Even Data?” Crusher asked. “Can he be recruited? He’s an android.”
“Unknown,” Skel told her, “but unlikely. The positronic matrix could house the entities, but because the android has no emotions, it would be harder for the resident entities to feed. However, controlling the android is very desirable for other practical matters, but we must be cautious. An attempt to recruit could alert him to our presence. If we were not successful, he would have the resources to expose us.”
Crusher nodded, just as Picard paged her through her communicator. “Crusher here.”
“Doctor, I need to speak to you immediately. “I’ll be in sickbay.”
“Aye, sir. On my way.” She looked at her collaborators.