The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [42]
“I see. That will be all, Ensign,” Picard said. He sighed. “Computer, darken the viewports again.”
The artifact vanished from sight.
Will Riker shook his head, his bearded face grim. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained is right.”
“What about photon torpedoes, sir?” La Forge said.
“The backlash from such a close-range detonation would be quite likely to damage the Enterprise,” Data warned. “Unless, of course, the energy field absorbed it all, as it did the phaser blast.”
“But we could try it,” Riker said. “With all power transferred to our forward shields, we might not sustain too much damage.”
“That would be an extremely high-stakes gamble, Number One,” the captain said. “One that I would like more information about before attempting.” He turned to the chief medical officer. “Doctor Crusher, what is the mental condition of the crew? Exactly how many incidents have there been?”
“Five, Captain,” she said softly. “Two attempted suicides, one attempted murder—the man is now in the quarantine cell in sickbay—one case of hysteria, an Andorian child, a couple of hours ago. And one case of fugue withdrawal, like the ones we beamed back from the Marco Polo.”
Picard pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Five. We have been within the sphere of influence of the artifact for nearly ten hours now. Doctor, how long had the twenty-six casualties aboard the Marco Polo been dead when the away team examined their bodies?”
“Two had been dead for about eighteen hours, but most had been dead for fifteen hours or less,” she reported. “Remember, one died while they were examining him.”
“To me, that suggests that whatever killed them is not infiltrating the Enterprise with nearly the success that it had with the Marco Polo,” the captain said slowly. “And I would speculate that it is our shielding that is providing the protection.”
“It’s certainly true that the onset of many of the cases occurred when our shields were down to allow the away team members and their patients to beam back,” Crusher said.
“No wonder it affected the Marco Polo so much faster!” Riker said. “A freighter is not equipped with shielding beyond standard navigational shields.”
“But PaKathen had shields,” Worf reminded him. “It was a military vessel.”
“The Klingon vessel was also captured several days before the Marco Polo,” Riker said. “Besides, the effects may have been more immediate and severe with Klingons.”
“Have you felt any distress, Lieutenant?” Crusher asked anxiously.
The security chief drew himself up. “Certainly not,” he began, then hesitated, his face taking on the expression Worf wore whenever he faced a conflict between duty as a Starfleet officer and his dignity and honor as a Klingon. He finally nodded reluctantly. “While I was aboard the Marco Polo, “he confessed, “I did feel a certain amount of mental … stress.” He glared at the assembled company. “Everyone in the landing party did. Including Lieutenant Selar.”
“I see … ,” Picard said, careful not to smile. He got up to pace slowly back and forth, hands behind his back, as he considered all options. “I have decided that we have a small margin of relative safety here,” he said at last. “And we will use that time to discover more about our antagonist. Mister Crusher, you and Lieutenant Commander La Forge, with Lieutenant Commander Data’s help, will attempt to recalibrate our sensing devices so that we can get an idea of what is inside the artifact. Search especially for any sign of control devices or machinery that may be generating that field. Try and find out how it absorbs our phaser bursts. You have eight hours.”
The captain turned to the chief medical officer. “You, Doctor, will please have sickbay provide me with hourly updates on the mental and emotional status of the crew and passengers.”
“I understand, sir,” Crusher said, pushing herself up by bracing her hands on the table. “I’ll see to it personally.