The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [4]
Geordi relaxed slightly as he walked toward the conference lounge. The captain seldom showed any trace of his native Gallic accent—usually only when he was deeply worried or upset. Which plainly wasn’t the case now. Obviously not a full-scale Romulan invasion, the chief engineer concluded. New orders, maybe. But we haven’t yet finished our mapping assignment in this sector … which means that, whatever it is, it’s pretty important to pull us away with our mission half done.
Once seated around the table in the conference lounge located behind the main bridge, a comfortable room whose neutral furnishings were eclipsed by its stunning view of the stars, the senior bridge crew expectantly regarded their commanding officer.
“We have been ordered to investigate trouble along a newly established trade route that passes through Sector 3SR-5-42, linking Federation territory and the Klingon Empire,” Picard began. “The only inhabited nearby planet is Thonolan Four, a recently settled Andorian colony. Starfleet Command has advised me that several Federation freighters have disappeared as they traversed this sector—vanished without a trace, apparently. There have been three vessels missing in the past six months.”
Uh-oh, La Forge thought. I smell trouble. This sounds like one of those “Go stick your head in the noose, guys, and find out what happens” missions.
“Yesterday, the Klingon High Command lost contact with one of their ships, the Klingon cruiser PaKathen. We have been ordered to investigate its disappearance and, if possible, rescue the PaKathen.”
Picard turned to Data. “Mister Data, from our present position, how long to reach Sector 3SR-5-42 at maximum cruising speed?”
“Four days and seven hours, Captain,” the android replied almost instantaneously.
“We will leave by thirteen hundred hours, as soon as we have terminated operations here.” Picard glanced around the room, his expression somber. “Questions or comments, anyone?”
Commander Riker nodded. “I gather that some ships have made it through this area without incident?”
“Correct, Number One.”
“Then I suggest that we access the public record logs of any of those ships. Perhaps one of them noticed something that would give us a clue about what has happened to the missing ships.”
“I concur, Number One. Have Commander Data implement such a search once we are under way.” Picard regarded his second-in-command thoughtfully. “Commander Riker, what is the current status of our mapping mission?”
“We are”—Riker smiled ruefully—”were about halfway through, sir.”
“Instruct your scientific teams to halt their efforts and transmit all currently completed data to Starfleet Command. Remember, we depart within the hour.” Picard inclined his head at his senior staff. “Dismissed.”
Lieutenant Selar watched the small, blue-skinned child wearing the shimmering black mesh over her short tabard walk hesitantly toward a bulkhead, then suddenly halt. “Distance from the wall?” Selar demanded.
“One point three meters, just as you said,” the little girl reported.
“Excellent,” Selar said. “You are gaining confidence.”
“It’s getting easier each time to combine what my sensor net reports with what I sense with my antennae. This sensory net is much better than my old One.” The child turned to face the Vulcan doctor, her pale eyes staring fixedly over Selar’s head. “Thank you for teaching me to use it, Doctor Selar.”
The Vulcan shook her head, momentarily forgetting that the Andorian child couldn’t see her gesture. “It is my job, Thala. One does not thank another for the simple performance of one’s duty.”
The child grinned suddenly, impishly. “You’ve spent extra time with me, and I know it. I heard Doctor Crusher say so during my last examination. She thought I wasn’t listening, but I was.”
Selar raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I shall have to caution Doctor Crusher about the acuity of your hearing.”
The little girl’s blue-skinned features crumpled suddenly beneath her cottony white