The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [73]
Data’s tricorder lay on the table, hooked into the briefing room’s computer link. The recording and sensing instrument had been discovered clutched in the android’s hands after the beam-over. Since the machine had fallen beneath his body and lay covered by it for most of the away team’s mission, it had few visual images, and those were unviewable by a human except in a highly filtered state. The sounds it had recorded were not something Picard wanted to listen to again, either.
But the instrument’s sensing apparatus had recorded a considerable amount of information about the artifact’s gravity, atmosphere, energy sources, and interior structure. They now knew a great deal about the way the alien structure was configured. Picard had reviewed those findings, wondering all the while whether anything that he was seeing indicated the presence of defensive weaponry or energy field controls.
The captain cleared his throat. “Before we begin our discussions of the away team’s abortive mission, I would like to extend my warmest appreciation to Doctor Gavar for her heroic actions in saving the lives of her crewmates. Lieutenant”—he fixed the Tellarite with a grave look—”I thank you, and intend to do everything in my power to see that your actions are suitably and formally recognized by Starfleet Command.”
A dull wave of red spread over the nurse’s fleshy features as she looked down shyly. “Thank you, Captain Picard.”
Good Lord, Picard thought, amused. She’s blushing!
The other officers immediately chimed in with their own personal thanks to the physician. After a moment of this, when poor Gavar was looking so embarrassed by all the attention that she seemed on the verge of bolting from the room, the captain raised a hand for quiet. “Now, to business,” he said. “I would like each member of the away team to describe your experiences in as detailed and coherent a fashion as you can manage. Commander Riker?”
The briefing continued, with each officer giving his or her version of the events. Gavar’s account, of course, was the longest, and Picard had saved it for last. When she finished, he gave a sigh.
“A most distressing experience all around,” he commented. “Recommendations regarding our next move?”
Riker straightened, looking grim. “Captain, we can’t afford to wait any longer. We must risk using our photon torpedoes in an attempt to destroy the artifact. We must break free! None of the tricorder’s information suggests any sort of armament aboard that thing.”
“Indicating that it is not a weapon at all?” Picard asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that, sir,” the second-in-command corrected. “I still believe that it is a weapon, and an extremely deadly one. It’s just not a physical weapon, except in its secondary effects. It’s a weapon designed to destroy minds, which I find even deadlier and crueler than any bomb or phaser ever invented.”
“I agree, Captain,” came a gravelly voice from the doorway. Lieutenant Worf stood there, braced against the bulkhead, looking as though he were staying upright only by force of will. The Klingon staggered into the briefing room and sank into a chair as though he was afraid his legs might buckle.
“Lieutenant—!” Picard began.
“I tried to stop him,” Crusher said, following the Klingon into the room, her slim body taut with indignation and her red hair mussed as though she had been physically brushed aside by the security commander. “But he was determined to get out of bed!” She glared at the Klingon.
“Captain, it is my duty to be here,” Worf said, in a tone that might almost have been pleading.
The captain waved at the ruffled, bristling physician. “Very well, Doctor Crusher, since he is here, let him stay. His insights may be valuable.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Worf. Beverly Crusher turned away and marched back through the entrance, emitting an audible sniff of disgust.
“Lieutenant, we would like to hear your version of what happened aboard the artifact,” Picard said.
Worf related his memory of what had happened, then finished with a diffident