One day a man named Tenuto, who had spent two terms on the Executive Council some years back, entered my cell without warning. I was only half-dressed, lying on the floor working through the daily stretching and exercise routine for my back, the exoskeleton propped against the bed.
Tenuto stopped, looked down at me, then looked away. "I'll come back later," he said.
"No, don't." I didn't know why he was here, but I didn't want him to leave, not even if he had bad news.
I turned over and pulled myself up onto the edge of the bed, put on my shirt, then worked my upper body into the exoskeleton. As I struggled with it, I glanced at Tenuto. He kept his eyes turned away from me; he knew I didn't want any help. I remembered him as a quiet man who took his position on the Executive Council seriously. He was intelligent and thoughtful, made reasoned and forceful arguments without being aggressive or obnoxious, and always voted with principle, even in a losing cause. Because he could not be manipulated, he had been replaced by General Wyse, who could be.
When I was finished I offered him a seat, but he declined.
"I won't be long," he said. "I'm here to inform you that you are to be released tomorrow."
I sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. I should have been elated, but felt more disoriented than anything else. I don't think I quite believed it, although I could not imagine Tenuto's being involved in any kind of deception; at least, not knowingly.
"Released," I repeated.
"Yes. Tomorrow morning at 0900."
"Why?"
Tenuto shook his head. Did that mean he didn't know? Or was he forbidden to tell me.
"Is this to be temporary, or permanent?"
"Permanent." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Assuming you don't attempt to lead another mutiny," he said.
"My sentence was commuted?" I asked.
"I believe you were never tried or sentenced," he replied.
I nodded, remembering my conversation months earlier with Father O'Heron. "Were the charges against me dropped?"
"I don't know."
"Who asked you to do this?"
"Captain Picard."
"If I'm to be released," I said, "why can't I just go now?"
Again Tenuto just shook his head. "Be ready at nine tomorrow. That's all I can tell you."
He turned and started to leave, but I stopped him.
"Wait!"
He looked back at me.
"What's going on out there?"
Tenuto didn't answer. His expression didn't even change.
"What's been found?"
Still no answer, but this time his face visibly tightened. "Be ready," he repeated, then walked out."
The next morning, upon my release, I was not allowed to return to my own rooms. Instead, I was escorted directly to the captain's chambers by a contingent of six masked and armed security guards. I did not feel like a free man.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvPhRESUJGX
It'd been less than a year, but already the captain's chambers seemed unfamiliar. The six soldiers didn't help, but even after Jean-Luc had dismissed them, I still felt like a stranger in those rooms.
Jean-Luc sat behind his desk, saying nothing. I stood in front of him, my hands clasped behind my back as if they were bound and I was still a prisoner.
"It's been a long and hard time, Pavel."621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAEkQiZqGLP
I gave him a half-smile and said. "For whom?"
Jean-Luc nodded in acknowledgment. "Harder for you, yes. But hard for me as well." He waved at the chairs across the desk from him. "Please, Pavel, make yourself at home."
"Like old times?"
"Yes, like old times. We can try, can't we?"
I sat in one of the chairs, which felt unusually soft and comfortable after all the months in my cell. The orange glowglobes were stationary above us, distributed in a patterned matrix. The faint aroma of mood incense lingered in the air, almost cloying.
"I had no choice," Jean-Luc finally said to me.
"Imprisoning me?" I asked. "Or freeing me?"
He sighed heavily. "Is our entire conversation going to be like this? I understand how you feel, but I don't want to do it this way. I don't have the time or the energy for it."
I just shook my head.
"Why don't we have a drink?" Jean-Luc suggested.
"All right."
He seemed greatly relieved. He got up and poured two glasses of whiskey. I remembered the last time we drank together----just before landfall, when he kept emphasizing how much he was depending on me. Apparently he had been depending on me to keep the mutiny going so he could be the hero and save the ship. Now, months later, he brought a glass of whiskey to me, and I could not help but wonder in what new way he was about to deceive me again. He sat back down and we both drank.
"You were saying you had no choice."
He nodded. "That's right. No choice. I couldn't let you stay free while we incarcerated the others. Too many people knew you were involved."
"How long had you known of our plans?"
"Some time," Jean-Luc replied. That was vague enough.
"That was your plan all along to fend off the bishop. You knew about the mutiny all that time, and let it go ahead so you could top it at the last minute and be the hero."
His silence was all the response I needed.
"And how long had you known of my involvement?"621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhwu9QlBO3j
"I only found out at the very end, just before they started boarding the shuttles, when it was too late to warn you. By then I had no choice---I had to let it happen."
I didn't believe him, but I let it go.
"I did what I could," he went on. "I managed to convince the Executive Council not to proceed with the charges, no trials, no sentences. I kept things as open-ended as possible."
"Why have I been released now?"
Jean-Luc hesitated a long time before answering, and I started to sense how hard this was for him. "I've risked everything to have you released. I had to release all of the other conspirators as well."
"Why?" I asked again.
He pulled at his beard, always a sign of distress. "I need you," he said at last.
I almost smiled, but managed to keep my expression neutral.
"Does the bishop know?"
"By now, I'm sure he does. He'll be furious. You see, in order to do what I did, I had to bypass the entire Executive Council."621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8cr89gd3dk
"All right," I said. "Tell me what's happened."
"It would be better if I showed you," he replied.
We walked through the ship corridors to the command salon, a half-hour of tense silence---more uncomfortable for Jean-Luc than for me, I was sure. He carried the whiskey bottle and glasses, which showed me the depth of his distress. The few people we passed pointedly ignored u, although some did appear surprised (not glad) to see me.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI5gMyWyfHU
Once inside the salon, Jean-Luc sank into the command chair, setting bottle and glasses on the floor. He didn't look much in command of anything. He moved his hands to the control consoles and tapped out a series of key sequences.
There was a faint vibration, a barely audible hum, and the canopy began to retract----robotic iris, a giant eye to us, but a tiny eye to the ship, opening to the vastness of space. Stars came into view, only a tiny handful at first, then more as the canopy continued to retract, a dense and growing expanse of radiant dust.
As almost always happened in that room, I became disoriented once the canopy had fully retracted. I felt unmoored, adrift in a glass bubble.
Jean-Luc raised a hand and pointed out through the clear steelglass. "There," he said.
I followed the direction of his trembling finger, studied the unending night. Nearly lost in all the stars was a tiny smudge of bluish light against a small dark occlusion.
"What is it?"
Jean-Luc handed one of the glasses to me, which I took. He filled it along with his own, then drank most of his down at once, eyes clamped tightly shut. He shuddered, then opened his eyes and stared at the bluish light.
"An alien starship," he said.
Something's been found, Sulu's note had said. Oh, yes, something had been found. I stared at the azure light, the dark area within and around it. An alien starship.
"How do we know it's alien?" I asked. "Are we communicating with them?"
Jean-Luc shook his head. "There's no one there. It's a dead ship. Abandoned or deserted, who knows?" He drank again, refilled his glass. "Maybe just empty and dead because everyone aboard has perished. We haven't found any bodies yet."
"How do we know it's alien?" I asked again.
"Because there's not a damn thing recognizably human on that ship, inside or out."
"So we've been inside?"
"We have. But we've only explored the smallest piece of the bloody thing." He turned to look at me. That ship is huge, Pavel. A lot bigger than the Enterprise."
"How far are we from it?" It seemed so small.
"About three thousand kilometers. I wasn't going to bring the Enterprise any closer until we had a better idea of what it was. And now that we do, I still don't want to." He turned his attention back to the alien vessel. "We picked it up three months ago. Spent a week on our approach and deceleration, another week of observation---scanning, listening, probing. No response, no signs of life."
Jean-Luc worked the console, and the monitor screen rose from the floor, three meters square and already coming to life. A black shape flickered into focus, somewhat ovoid, and so dark, its surface features were almost impossible to make out; it seemed to be covered with smaller half-ovoids, like bubbles. Bluish light beacons hovered above the surface of the vessel.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDlUYC9NWZQ
"The lights belong to the ship, or are they ours?"621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmwX039CpCD
"Ours," Jean-Luc answered. "Navigational guidance, they help provide orientation and perspective, as well as some illumination. The ship's surface has almost zero reflectivity. We don't pick up anything from it. No lights, no heat radiation, no drive disturbances or engine exhaust, nothing: Dead ship. But deadly.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡza48PI9XGt
"What's that supposed to mean?"621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡegtuqfEvnz
Jean-Luc made a huffing sound. "Nine weeks ago, the first exploration team flew oer in one of the repair pods and made contact. They spent three days just locating an entrance. It took two more teams and another day and a half to finally figure out how to work the airlock system. We call it an airlock, but there's no atmosphere inside. Cold and black as space----" His voice and attention drifted. "We sent in a couple of remotes, but they aren't sophisticated, and they're not very dexterous. Couldn't get any further than the airlock itself, couldn't manipulate the doors. There was another day of discussion and argument on the Executive Council, which won't surprise you, but we finally reached a consensus, and a team went in. A few hours later we had the first casualty."621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuV77M7ksna
I waited for him to continue, but he just stared at the image on the screen, eyes glazed.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWOLOZMi0ug
"What happened?" I asked.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzoPaNTtkvs
Jean-Luc breathed in deeply and slowly let it out. "An accident. See for yourself."621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4AB9kUwKYM
More finger movements on the console, and the image on the monitor shifted, flickered, went through a series of changes before at last resolving into a shaky video of a pressure-suited figure crisscrossed with light and shadow, drifting weightlessly near a curved, dark metal wall. The figure's left hand reached out and took hold of a bar on the wall, anchoring itself; the right hand held a large hand torch whose beam swept unevenly across the wall.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsoB0hitbxa
"That's Helsing," Jean-Luc said. "On point. Every member of the team has a camera and light mounted on their helmet, so we have a pretty thorough record of everything that happens during each excursion. We try to have the video transmitted light back to the Enterprise so we can follow along and communicate with them, but the transmissions break up fairly quickly, and the teams don't get far inside before we lose them altogether. But everything is recorded, so we can always review it later."
He touched another control, and the team's audio was added to the video images. I could hear someone laughing, then a woman's voice.
"Oh, man, Helsing, you're a crude bastard." Then more laughter, some of it stifled.
"That was Faulken," Jean-Luc explained. "That's her video we're watching now. It shows the best view of what happened."
For a time, we could hear only breathing. As Faulken looked around, her camera revealed an enormous spherical room twenty-five or thirty meters in diameter. The walls were nearly featureless, broken only by regularly spaced bars that projected out half a meter----the bars served as handholds for the exploration team, but it seemed unlikely that that was their original purpose.
A third suited figure drifted into view, then just as quickly drifted out of sight.
"Jammer," Jean-Luc said. "There were three in the first team."
I knew Jammer well. He was a very serious and quiet man. He did not dislike me, and we got along. He was married and had two children, and I remember hoping as I watched that he wasn't the casualty.
"Over here," That was Helsing's voice.
Faulken turned her head and Helsing came back into view. He was next to a large opening or doorway, a hand on one bar, a boot resting against another. His hand torch was aimed into the opening, the beam cutting its way into darkness.
Faulken pushed off the wall and floated toward him. "What have you got?" she asked.
"Not much. A huge room of some kind."
She landed on the other side of the doorway as Helsing worked his way closer to the opening, shifting his grip from the bar to the frame. "I can barely make out the other end."
Faulken turned to look at Jammer, who was watching from several meters away, holding onto a bar, his legs drifting about.
"Well, let's check it out," Helsing said.
Faulken turned back to him. With one hand on the doorframe, he swung himself out into the opening and began floating through it into the next room. Faulken's helmet light and hand torch crossed him and cast irregular beams into the darkness.
"What the----?"
He suddenly began moving more quickly, lost his grip on the doorframe; then both hands reached out frantically as he picked up speed. But it was too late, the doorframe was out of reach and Helsing plummeted into the room.
"Oh, shit!"
"Helsing!"
Faulken was at the opening now, but holding back. The beams from her helmet light and hand torch caught Helsing's reeling figure falling rapidly, his own helmet light flashiong about in all directions.
No more words from Helsing, but now there was a drawn-out cry as he fell, his shrinking figure tumbling in and out of the light.
Faulken was at the opening now, but holding back. The beams from her helmet light and hand torch caught Helsing's reeling figure falling rapidly, his own helmet light flashing about in all directions.
No more words from Helsing, but now there was a drawn-out cry as he fell, his shrinking figure tumbling in and out of the light.
The cry ceased with a terrible but brief explosion of a scream. Then nothing.
"Helsing!
"Faulken! What happened?" Jammer's voice, rising in pitch.
"Helsing! Jesus, Helsing, answer me!"
Faulken had her hand torch aimed down at the far end of the room, and I could see her hand and the beam shaking. Helsing's unmoving body was illuminated by the dim light, sprawled on a flat surface. His helmet light had apparently been knocked out by the impact, but his hand torch was still functional. It lay nearby, its light reflecting off the shiny top surface of his helmet.
"HELSING!"
Then there were no sounds except for rapid breathing from Faulken and Jammer. Nobody moved, nobody said a word.
The video froze for a moment; then the image flickered and the screen went dark.
"You can watch the whole thing from Helsing's camera if you wish, but I recommend against it."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Up to that point, every room and passage was zero gee. But that cabin has gravity," Jean-Luc said. "Unfortunately for Helsing, it was twice Earth-normal, and in the wrong direction."
Gravity, in one room, but none in the adjacent cabins and passages---which meant that the aliens had been able to control gravity in a far more sophisticated way than we could. It was incredible. What else might be found in that amazing vessel?
"And Helsing?"
"Dead. There was no helmet or suit rupture, but he broke his neck." Jean-Luc paused, polishing off another drink. "His body was there for hours before we could get the people and equipment to pull him out."
By that time, we had gone through more than half the bottle of whiskey, and I was feeling it; I'd had no alcohol in months, and I wasn't accustomed to it. More than anything, though, it made me tired. I wanted to forget about the alien ship, forget about Helsing, forget about Jean-Luc and his betrayals. I wanted to go back to my own quarters and re-acquaint myself with them, go to sleep in my own bed. As if sensing that, or recognizing his own drunkenness, Jean-Luc capped the bottle and ordered coffee brought in.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBwzaIRjxMP
I was shocked to see Guinan bring in the coffee. We stared at each other, neither of us quite sure what to think. She set up a small table and tray with pot and cups, poured, then left. The coffee was strong but horribly bitter, and I had to dilute it with cream. I resisted the urge to complain that the coffee I'd had in prison was better than this.
I drank one cup quickly, then poured another. Jean-Luc was just sipping his, and I suspected he wanted to add whiskey to it, maintain his blood alcohol level.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhJAj9tOHyz
"What's happened since?" I asked.
"We've continued to explore the ship," he said. "Much more carefully, of course. We make a little progress each time. Sometimes the access is hard to work out, and the absence of gravity makes things more difficult---it's been all zero gee since that one room. And now the teams take the time to inventory and record everything they see."
"Any more casualties?" I knew the answer had to be yes."
Jean-Luc nodded. "Four more dead, seven others with severe injuries. All accidents, each one unforeseen. Ruptured pressure suits, broken limbs, concussions. And stranger things. William Riker returned from an excursion inside, went to sleep for sixteen hours. Could hardly wake him. Physically, he checked out fine with the doctors. But he refuses to go back into the alien ship, and won't say why. Actually, what he says is that he just doesn't feel like it. And do you know about Victorina Vangelos?"
I told him the name sounded familiar, but I couldn't picture her.
"She's been inside the alien ship several times, and lately she's been behaving strangely. A few days ago, her husband brought her in to see a physician. She didn't want to be examined; she said she was feeling fine, but her husband insisted. Primary symptoms: sleeping more than usual, and periodically going into a kind of fugue state---she'll be unresponsive for hours, but doesn't remember anything when she comes out of it. In fact, she insists the fugue states aren't occurring at all, that her husband is fabricating them. Another major symptom is what her husband describes as an overwhelming apathy." He paused. "Do you understand why I'm worried?"621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc8OJvPUqZa
"Let me guess," I said. "The physician found nothing wrong with her, either."
"That's right. Three different physicians have examined her, and they spent two days running tests. Nothing. But her husband insists she's not the same."
"You continued to send teams in," I said.
"Yes. Two weeks ago I temporarily suspended all explorations, but we're going to start up again soon. What else are we going to do? An alien starship, Pavel. As far as we know, this is the first and only time in human history that we've had any contact, any evidence of an intelligent alien civilization. We can't just stop now, leave it all behind as if it didn't exist."
That was Father O'Heron's argument for staying on Antioch, but I didn't remind the captain of that. I was sure he'd say, maybe with some justification, that this was very different, and far more important.621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz0jMBDraVl
"I'm sure some people have argued we do just that," I said. "That whatever might be discovered just isn't worth the loss of lives."
"Yes, some have."
"The bishop?"
"No."
"No?"
"The bishop has a different agenda."
"And what's that?"
Jean-Luc smiled ruefully. "The same old agenda." But he didn't say any more, his gaze unfocused, as if lost in his thoughts. Or simply lost.
"Why do you need me?" I asked.
"I'm in trouble again, Pavel."
"Because of the casualties?"
"Yes. I'm being held responsible for them, like everything else."
There was something about the way he said that.....
"What else are you being blamed for?"
"There's more trouble with the downsiders. After we put down the mutiny, I expected the downsiders would become more docile, at least for a few years. Instead of fear, the quelling of the mutiny has stirred up only more resentment. We have open rebellion now. Nothing major, but dozens of small rebellions, subtle bits of sabotage, disgruntlement, resistance. They're making like on this ship difficult without going far enough to warrant arrests or reprisals or other punishments." He gave a grudging smile. "We often can't identify who is causing the difficulty, or what exactly has been done. Ocassionally, I do imagine, nothing at all has been done, and some piece of equipment breaks down just because of age, as has always happened on this ship. Now, however, we question everything."
"You've engendered resentment in them, and they have in turn engendered paranoia in you."
"Yes, that's an apt assessment."
"What do you want from me, Jean-Luc?"
"The bishop wants to take over the exploration of the alien ship."
"Well, let him. He can take all the risks, as far as I'm concerned."
Jean-Luc shook his head. "I can't, Pavel. I can't trust him, you know that." He paused. "And he's up to something. He thinks he's been sly, that on one's on to him, but....He's made an excursion over to the alien ship on his own. I don't know what he's looking for, or what he's got in mind, but I do not want to put him in charge. If I let him take over now, I might just as well hand the captaincy over to him. Even if he failed, I would never become captain again. Never."
"What do you want?" I was exasperated. More than that, I was angry, although I wasn't sure what I was angry at.
Jean-Luc finally looked directly at me. "I want you to take charge of the exploration of the alien ship. I want you to bring me success."
I felt I was being set up as scapegoat and distraction. If by some chance I could achieve success, all the better. If not, I gained time for the captain. I didn't like it.
"Suppose I refuse?"
"Your cell remains empty."
"You would imprison us all again?"
Jean-Luc cocked his head and stared at me, and his true state of mind showed itself---in the intensity of his eyes, the tightness of his lips as they formed into a mirthless smile.
"I would not hesitate," he said.
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