“Won’t our shields protect us?” Troi said.
Riker shook his head. “Subspace distortions alter the shape of space itself. The Enterpriseoccupies a pretty fair amount of that space. And she can’t take this sort of punishment the way the planet can.”
Batanides strode toward the turbolift, where Zweller awaited her with a sullen expression. She paused in the open doorway and turned to face the bridge. To Picard, she said, “Commander Zweller I and will be in the shuttlebay.”
Picard nodded to her. “Everything is ready for you,” Picard said simply, then watched as his two oldest friends entered the turbolift, headed to their rendezvous with Chairman Koval. Just before the doors hissed shut, Picard saw the thunderheads looming behind Batanides’s gaze.
He was supremely thankful that he was not Cortin Zweller.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of Data and La Forge, the Romulan scoutship was ready for launch ten minutes ahead of schedule. The bridge crew had detected three more strong subspace distortion wave‑fronts that followed no perceptible pattern. The Romulans were clearly stepping up their efforts. It could be that they were closer to harnessing the subspace singularity’s colossal power than anyone had suspected.
But they might also be losing control of it,Picard thought. No wonder they wanted us to clear out of here yesterday.
The shuttlecraft Herschel,carrying Zweller and Batanides, had already departed when Picard entered the shuttlebay. Now that the damage had already been done to Federation–Chiarosan relations, Picard could only hope that his old comrades‑at‑arms could extract some useful information from the Romulans. And that they would survive the attempt.
Aboard the Romulan ship, Picard found Data seated directly behind the cockpit, where he had become part of an arcane and faintly disturbing tableau. The back of the android’s head, including much of his hair, lay discarded on a nearby seat. The gleaming cortenide and duranium of his skull lay exposed, baring the busy polychromatic flashings of the positronic matrix that comprised his sentience. A flat, paper‑thin cable ran from near the top of his head to an information access port in one of the bulkheads.
Picard realized he was staring when Data smiled up at him. “Please forgive my appearance, Captain. This direct interface will allow me to access the array’s security grid a great deal faster than I could by entering commands through the consoles.”
Picard had rarely seen Data in such a state of partial disassembly. The sight was a stark reminder of the huge gulf that still separated his inorganic friend from the humanity to which he aspired. Organic beings, Picard reflected, tended to take their basic bodily integrity as a fait accompli.
“Carry on, Mr. Data,” Picard said as he made his way forward into the cockpit, where he took one of the two narrow seats. Lieutenant Hawk sat in the other, and was running a series of preflight checks.
During the flight from the rebel base, Picard had become quite familiar with the scoutship’s many systems and instruments, despite the alien appearance of the icons in the cockpit’s graphical interface. Still, he was glad to have Hawk at his side on this mission; the lieutenant was not only a fine pilot, but also an exceedingly quick study. Picard was well aware that Hawk had been watching the cockpit controls attentively during much of the voyage from Grelun’s compound to the Enterprise.
Assuming that we get out of the current circumstances alive,Picard thought, I expect you to go quite far, Mr. Hawk.
“Captain, could I ask you a question?” Hawk said, setting his activities aside for a moment.
Picard could see that something was bothering the younger man. “Certainly, Lieutenant. What’s on your mind?”
“Assuming we succeed . . . what are the chances of anyone ever locating this subspace singularity again?”
“Commander La Forge is of the opinion that it won’t be detectable again for centuries. If ever.”
“I . . .” Hawk hesitated, then seemed to find the courage to go on. “Commander Zweller spoke with me shortly after the mission briefing.”
Picard thought he knew where this was heading. “And he believes that we may be overreacting to the threat posed by the singularity.”
“I think he may have a valid point,” Hawk said. “May I speak freely, sir?”
“Of course.”
“We’re about to destroy this thing, for all intents and purposes. Doesn’t that fly in the face of our overall mission of exploration? It might even be questionable under interstellar law.”
“With the fate of the universe at stake, Lieutenant, I’d gladly face the consequences of my decision in a court of law,” Picard said. A moment later, he added, “I take it Commander Zweller brought these matters to your attention as well.”
“Yes, sir. He did.”
“And are you stronglyin agreement with him?”
Hawk looked uncomfortable. “I just thought . . . I think that the question needed to be raised. Once we do this, there’s no turning back.”
“You’re right. There isno turning back.” Picard sighed and looked through the scoutship’s forward viewports through steepled fingers. “Lieutenant, I’m not insensitive to your concerns. I’ve wrestled with the same issues myself. This mission goes against all of my instincts as an explorer. If I thought there were any safe way to preserve this phenomenon for scientific study, I would. But I can’t. The risk is simply too great.”
“Still,” Hawk said glumly. “If we could find someway to save this thing, and harness its power for some peaceful purpose . . .” He trailed off into silence.
“Lieutenant, are you acquainted with the writings of Lord Acton?”
“ ‘Power tends to corrupt,’ ” Hawk quoted, nodding. “‘And absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ ” A smile slowly fanned across the younger man’s lips.
“Strange,” Picard said. “That old caveat always struck me as more chilling than humorous.”
Hawk looked mildly embarrassed, and his smile abruptly vanished. “That isn’t it, sir. It’s just that . . .” he trailed off again.
Picard frowned. “Yes?”
“It’s just that Commander Zweller told me that you’d probably quote Lord Acton to me if I spoke to you about this.”
Picard’s combadge overrode his tart response before he could deliver it. “Crusher to Captain Picard.”
“Go ahead, Doctor.”
“I just heard that you’re planning to fly the mission yourself,” the doctor said, her tone slightly chiding. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to enter the cloaking field. We don’t know what effect it will have on your artificial heart.”
“Doctor, what does the cloaking field have to do with my heart?”
“Cloaking devices tend to give off tetryon particles,” Crusher said. “And that energy field is made up of literally thousands of cloaking devices.”
“Then why wasn’t I harmed by the tetryon emissions that led us to this scoutship?”
“The tetryon counts inside the cloaking field could be much higher,” she countered. “You could be flying into a veritable soupof tetryons.”
The only thing Picard disliked more than medical conversations like this one was having them in front of other members of his crew. “Damn it, Beverly, I’m not an invalid.”
“Captain, do I have to remind you what happened at the Lenarian conference?” Crusher said, beginning to sound impatient.
He remembered all too well; the Lenarians had shut his heart down with a compressed tetryon beam. That incident had nearly cost him his life. But Picard knew that the stray tetryon output from any number of cloaking devices was a far cry from a weapon of that sort.