The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [83]
Realizing that he’d been aboard the artifact for more than an hour, the android began sorting even more rapidly through the records, scanning quickly for any reference by the Ylans to the energy field surrounding their creation.
Finally, he found it—and knew that, once again, Wesley Crusher had demonstrated his own particular brand of genius. The boy had said that he felt instinctively that the field surrounding the artifact had not been intended to be harmful.
Wesley was right. The tractor field effect was an unexpected by-product of the artifact’s alien type of energy—it would have never reacted in this manner to ships engineered in the way Ylans had discovered to cross interstellar distances—which was, as Wesley had said, by going around space. But on ships engineered to enter and leave space warps, the energy field had behaved in the same manner as a tractor field.
The Ylans had designed the energy field surrounding the artifact to serve as a signpost, an invitation, “Come one, come all, to see our art gallery!” Basically, it was a form of advertising.
Data glanced through the references, scanning as rapidly as his android eyes would function, until he found the section he wanted. Then he went over to the farthest console and squatted down so he was on a level with the controls.
He touched a red disk inset into the top of the console, then, when the blue lights flashed, tapped them in a prescribed sequence. After a half-million years of steady and faithful operation, the machine’s barely felt vibrations ceased, and its lights darkened.
The energy field shut down, and with it the destructive emotional emissions. The space Sargasso was no more. The Enterprise was free.
“I’ve got it,” exclaimed Chief O’Brien excitedly. “The recall signal!”
“And I’ve got something else!” cried La Forge, who was keeping the transporter chief company while they waited for Data’s return. “He turned off the energy field! The artifact isn’t emitting anything anymore … so we can lower our shields!”
O’Brien’s broad features relaxed. “Then we’re free, thank God,” he said softly.
Geordi’s communicator signaled. The chief engineer tapped it. “La Forge here.”
“I assume you are monitoring, Mister La Forge?” Picard’s voice emerged.
“I sure am, Captain! He did it!”
“Yes, Mister La Forge, he certainly did.” On Geordi’s tactical schematic the ship’s shields went down, one by one. “Has Commander Data signaled for recall?” Picard asked.
“Yes, sir. We’re bringing him back now.”
“Keep me informed about his status.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Picard out.”
Geordi tapped his communicator. “Lieutenant Selar?”
“Selar here.”
“We’re bringing Data back.”
“I am on my way.”
O’Brien carefully dimmed the lights, then he operated the controls, and the characteristic sound of the transporter emerged. A dark form appeared in the beam, solidified …
Data appeared, swayed on the platform. “Data, are you okay?” Geordi said, starting toward him. His friend shrank back, away from him, arms up to cover his eyes. Noises emerged from the android’s throat that bore no resemblance to any human language or sounds the engineer had ever heard.
“What’s wrong with him?” O’Brien demanded. “It looks like he’s scared.”
“No, this isn’t an emotional reaction,” La Forge said, studying his android friend closely. “It appears to me as though he spent so much time over there aboard the artifact, that now he’s having trouble making the switch from his alien-calibrated sensory input to his normal functioning modes.”
“Why is he covering his eyes and ears?”
Data crouched farther away from the sound of human speech, and Geordi lowered his voice. “His audio and visual sensors are giving him contradictory input, which is disorienting and impeding the functioning of his positronic brain.”
“Why didn’t he just shut down the way he did before?” O’Brien asked, frowning worriedly.
“I’m not sure, but I suspect it’s because he at least is basically familiar with this environment, where he wasn’t familiar with the environment aboard the artifact—at least the first