Unification - Jeri Taylor [76]
Picard turned as he heard the characteristic hiss that signaled the appearance of a holographic figure. He knew what Sela had done and was sure the others had anticipated it, too.
Standing in the room was a perfect representation of Spock. He was immobile now, frozen in a moment of serene meditation, his eyes focused on nothing. “By taking advantage of holographic sampling these last few days,” explained Sela, “we have created a pro-grammable Spock.” She searched the faces of the men, seeming to want a reaction. Picard carefully kept his face expressionless; he had no desire to stroke this shrewd woman’s ego.
“Run program,” she said, and the holo-Spock came to life.
“This is Ambassador Spock of Vulcan,” it announced, its voice a perfect representation. “By now, Federation sensors are tracking three Vulcan ships crossing the Neutral Zone. These ships carry the future of the Vulcan and Romulan people. Our long conflict is finally over…”
“Freeze,” said Sela, and the figure stopped in mid-sentence. She adopted a vaguely disappointed look when she said, “We would have preferred an interactive Spock who could have responded to questions, but this will have to suffice.” She smiled contentedly. She reminded Picard of an animal who has feasted after a kill, belly full and needs assuaged, at one with its world, sanguine and assured. Picard felt impelled to rattle this self-satisfied attitude. “This will hardly convince anyone,” he said tersely.
“I don’t need to convince them,” she explained. “Just confuse them long enough for us to reach Vulcan.” She turned and gazed fondly at her creation, then said, “End program.” The holo-Spock disappeared.
She smiled again—that annoying, lazy smile—and started tbr the door. “If you will excuse me,” she said pleasantly, “it is time to send the ships on their journey.” And she exited.
Immediately the three began to examine the room for escape potential. It didn’t seem to offer any; it was an inner office and well sealed. “Suggestions?” asked Picard, almost automatically.
“Commander Data,” mused Spock, “are they still unaware that we have access to their computers?”
“I believe so, sir,” replied Data.
“Then perhaps you and I can find a way to create a diversion.” Spock and Data moved toward the computer console, and for the first time in many hours, Picard began to hold a measure of hope.
The crew on the bridge of the Enterprise had been sitting in tense silence for an hour. Since arriving at Galorndon Core, they had each taken a few hours off to nap, but otherwise they had kept their posts.
They weren’t even sure what they were waiting for. Riker felt like a coiled spring, his neck beginning to ache from the pressures of internal stress. “Maintain position,” the captain’s message—if that’s what it was—had said. But why? “Will advise soon,” it had continued, but that had been ten hours ago. How long were they to wait? And for what?
Riker had managed to take an hour and have coffee with Gretchen Naylor, briefing her on the latest developments and offering to let her wait on the bridge with them. To his surprise, she declined the offer, assuring him that she knew the situation was in good hands. There was a relaxed quality to her that he hadn’t noticed before, and it flattered her. They arranged to have dinner once this present crisis had resolved itself.
Now, sitting in silence on the bridge, listening to the faint electronic hum and crackle that was the normal background noise of the instruments, his nerves were taut. More than anything, Riker hated to wait.
Worf’s voice, when he spoke, startled them all. “Commander, sensors are picking up three vessels crossing the Neutral Zone.” He paused, and then added, “Vulcan ships.”
Troi whirled on him. “Vulcan?” she said, astonished. Riker was already on his way to the aft science station, where Geordi stood.
“What’s their heading, Mister Worf?” Riker asked even