Possession - J.M. Dillard [86]
A crease formed on the smooth skin between Riker’s brown eyebrows. “But, sir, I’m sure Skel views the TechnoFair as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to share his work. To deny him that …”
“Would be to prevent the infection’s spread to the very best minds in the galaxy, Will. Commander Data discovered some unusual electrical readings in Skel’s brain scans—as if some other form of energy coexisted there.”
“And there’s no chance this energy reading might be due to something other than the entities?”
Picard tilted his head to one side, neither denying nor affirming. “Possibly. But you’ll have to come up with some very sound arguments, Commander, to convince me to keep him as a passenger aboard this ship.”
“I see.” Riker lowered his gaze, considering this a moment, then lifted it again. “You know, I was told that I attended a conference on the information we received from Starfleet about the infection.”
“That’s true, Will.”
“But—this is very strange—I have no memory whatsoever of the information discussed there. In order to be of use to you in this discussion, it would help me to understand what you mean about Skel’s brain scans being unusual. Any chance I could take a look at them?”
“Of course.” Picard swiveled toward his terminal, fingered a few controls, and an image coalesced on the small screen. He swung it toward Riker so that the first officer could better see it. Nonchalantly, Will rose and parked one hip on the captain’s desk to better study the image.
It was a three-dimensional scan of Riker, William T.’s brain, called up from sickbay’s directory of patient files. Deep within the brain’s core was the bright blue starburst pattern; Picard traced the deadly blossom with a finger. “Let me show you your own scans—which are normal for someone who was once infected by the entities. The bright blue here has tracked the areas of your memory loss… .”
“I’ll buy that,” Riker said easily, leaning forward to better see the viewer; he finally reached to pull the screen toward him—or so Picard thought.
Instead, he caught Picard’s wrist. Astonished, the captain glanced up—
Into Riker’s clear blue eyes, eyes that loomed so large that for an instant they filled Picard’s entire universe with a brilliant mesmerizing glow. The first officer’s other hand found Picard’s face and rested there.
A jolt of electricity passed from Riker’s fingers into the captain’s cheek like a dry static shock. Picard groaned and, for a dazzling millisecond, wavered on the precipice of utter surrender or utter rebellion.
Rebellion won: In place of Will Riker’s face, Picard imagined the mechanical, soulless visage of the Borg.
You can infect me, but you can’t have me, can’t use my face, my voice, as they did—to kill …
On pure instinct, Picard broke free and rose from his chair like a projectile, using his skull as a weapon, striking the first officer a hard solid blow to the chin that made Riker’s teeth clack. Will lost his balance and went sprawling backward, long legs spread out in front of him; before he regained his footing, Picard shot around the desk, using the sudden surge of violent energy, of hate, to his advantage.
Indeed, fear, desperation, hatred—all married with the image of the Borg to fuel the rage within him; he had no doubt that, at least for the moment, he was as physically strong as Riker.
And lither, faster.
In the wink of an eye, Picard stood on the other side of the desk, catching hold of Riker’s heel just as Will flailed, on the verge of regaining his footing. With a strength that should have dislocated his shoulder and did not, Picard pulled.
The force of it threw Riker once more from his feet; he fell backward, skull flung back with such violence that Picard could not tell whether the snapping sound came from his teeth clamping down or from the cervical vertebrae fracturing. The back of Riker’s head struck the corner of the captain’s desk with a loud sickening thunk… .
Sickening, Picard realized