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The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [28]

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who lived aboard the Enterprise. Walking serenely through its long corridors, at ease in dining rooms or soundly asleep in their cabins, they were oblivious to the starship’s looping and swerving flight as Geordi La Forge followed the trail of discarded particles that marked the passage of the Choraii. However, any port window revealed the true path of the Enterprise, and people quickly learned to avert their gaze from the reeling cosmos. On the bridge, the prolonged pitch and yaw of stars on the main viewer frame was harder to avoid, and more than one of the bridge crew had staggered off to sickbay. The rest kept their eyes trained on their duty station.

This was difficult for Captain Picard because Lieutenant Data was delivering his report while standing squarely in front of the viewer. Again and again the captain’s gaze drifted away from a neutral spot to Data’s face. And behind his face the stars whirled. Picard ignored the faint sensation of nausea for as long as possible, willing it to go away, but the feeling only grew stronger.

“Enough.” Picard stopped for an involuntary swallow. The last few sentences of Data’s report had left no impression. “Let’s meet in the Ready Room.”

“Good idea, sir,” said Riker.

“Will, you’re as pale as Data,” observed the captain when they had reached the safety of the enclosed office.

Riker smiled weakly. He positioned his chair so that the one window in the room was at his back.

The android, however, seemed unaffected by the dissonance between visual motion and the inner ear’s perception of a stable physical world. He continued his report without a break. “Unfortunately, most of our sensor scans were compromised by the disruptive effects of the energy net. Ambassador Deelor provided a record of the encounter with the Ferrel, but those instrument readings were similarly affected.”

Picard frowned at the implications. “Does that mean we can’t construct an effective defense to the Choraii weaponry?”

“No, sir,” said Data. “The task is difficult, but not impossible. Given sufficient time for study, a solution can be reached.” He anticipated the captain’s next question. “But I cannot specify how much longer the process will take.”

“The shorter the better, Mr. Data,” sighed Picard. “I would prefer to meet the Choraii with a greater advantage than last time.”

“Understood.” Data laid a small metal cylinder down on the desk. As an afterthought, he added, “Interesting. This particular vocoder technology is quite advanced, unlike any I’ve seen in general use by Starfleet personnel. Actually, I would consider it more appropriate for certain intelligence-gathering operations.”

“Is that opinion or fact, Mr. Data?” asked Riker.

“Opinion, sir,” admitted Data. “But in my case, the two are often very closely allied.”

“Well, keep your opinion to yourself, my friend. You’re traveling on quicksand.”

After a startled look at the deck beneath his feet, Data nodded in understanding. “Oh, I see. You are using a metaphor that connotes danger. Perhaps that would explain the gaps in the tape: security censorship. Should I keep that to myself as well?”

“You can tell us,” said Picard, leaning forward. His body’s discomfort was forgotten the moment his mind seized hold of a puzzle.

“The vocoder record covers only the latter part of the encounter, after the Choraii ship caught the Ferrel in its energy matrix. Several earlier tracks have been erased from the file, but I was able to recover a few bytes of the missing data.”

“And what did you find?”

“A single frame detailing the ship’s power status just before the energy net was cast. It seems the Ferrel’s power reserves were unusually low, making them especially vulnerable to the contracting field.”

“Data, does the record explain how the Ferrel’s power was drained?” asked the captain.

“No, sir, it does not. If that information was ever present, it has been successfully deleted.”

“So the ambassador is still playing his little security games.” Picard rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. From out of nowhere, he recalled D’Amelio’s last warning. Don’t waste

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