Star Trek (5 page)

She held up a placating hand. “Of course, you
know
how to do one, but have you ever actually done so? On an alien, about whom we know nothing?”

He looked a little excited. “No, I haven't.”

“You'll find this fascinating,” she assured him. “I've been doing some comparative research on how this used to be performed in the old days, and how it's done in other cultures. A few hundred years ago, they had no holographic technology. If you wanted to find out how someone had died, you had to literally cut them open.”

The sensitive hologram stared, mouth slightly open. “That's … barbaric,” he stammered.

“Well, naturally, we think so, but that's only because we have other methods to gain information,” she replied. “And there's something about actually seeing inside a body, touching it, weighing the organs. It makes you respect death a little more, I think.”

“I prefer to respect life,” Em replied primly.

“Of course you respect life. Every doctor does. But on this mission, you and I are dealing mainly with the dead. You'll need to cultivate respect for them, too.”

Em's face furrowed. “But, Doctor, surely dealing with a holographic representation shows more respect to the body than cutting it open.”

“Yes—after a fashion. But let's begin. You'll see what I mean eventually.”

Despite everything that had happened, Lense couldn't help laughing at the expression on Emmett's dark face. “Don't worry. We won't be dissecting the body, I promise!”

Em looked very relieved. Still chuckling, Lense gave instructions to the computer. “Computer, prepare to construct an accurate holographic replication of the body on the biobed. All weights and textures must be exact.”

The biobed closed over the body and a lavender beam washed through the form.

“Prepared and awaiting data,” replied the computer in its cool female voice.

“Project the alien's skeletal structure,” Lense ordered. “Keep it in the same position as it would normally be if held in place by tissue.”

Immediately, the skeleton appeared on the empty bed. It could easily have been mistaken for that of a human, save for the narrower jaw, extreme indentations of the skull at the temple point, longer finger bones, and a rib cage that extended almost to the hip.

“What conclusions do you draw from this?” she asked Em. He carefully examined the skeleton, leaning in to peer at it, his hands clasped behind his back.

“No, no,” said Lense. “A good doctor uses more than
just his eyes. Touch it.”

Em was hesitant. “We are not programmed—”

“You'll need to learn to exceed your programming here, Emmett. Go ahead. Touch it. Like this. Computer, adjust image to permit removal of individual bones without disturbing the construction.” Lense stepped forward and picked up the skull. She ran her fingers over it, feeling the smooth, slightly oily texture.

“This is unusual,” she said, caressing the indentations in the skull. She handed it to Emmett. “What do you make of it?”

“Perfectly circular,” he said, emulating her and running his fingers around the holographic skull. “It's unlikely that this is a natural development.”

“Part of the torture that we think may have been performed?” It was a leading question, but she wanted to push him.

“No,” he replied with certainty. “The indentations are too old, too well-integrated into the skull structure to have been inflicted upon an adult. These modifications were begun when the patient—” His face fell a little, realizing that there was no “patient” to treat, only a body to examine. “When the, ah, subject was in infancy and the skull was more malleable.”

“Good,” approved Lense. “What else?”

Em was starting to get as excited as she was about this old-fashioned method of examination. “There are similar stresses in the radius and ulna. They've been manipulated
over a long time to draw away from one another. Again, I would say this was begun in infancy. Perhaps for decorative or ritualistic purposes.”

“Good. And the rib cage? What does that indicate?”

“The extended rib cage indicates the strong likelihood of a multiorgan cardiovascular system, and perhaps other extra organs humans do not possess. And the lengthy fingers indicate that this race is probably quite dexterous.”

“You catch on quickly,” said Lense. “Computer, add internal organs, except for the brain.”

Blue light traveled down the skeleton, leaving in its wake an intriguing jumble of soft tissue. Lense nodded to herself. Emmett's theory of two hearts had been dead-on. There were a few extra organs that they did not recognize. She went through them one by one, removing them and handing them to Em for his comments. The functions of most of them were immediately recognizable, despite the unusual shapes, textures, and colors. All humanoids had hearts, lungs, and organs that performed the functions of kidneys and livers. They might have different shapes and colors, and be located in different parts of the body, but they were always there. She frowned when they examined the digestive system.

“It's unusually atrophied for a humanoid of this size,” she said. “What could be the reason for that?”

Em frowned. “Perhaps this alien has evolved to the point where it does not require fibrous foodstuffs in order to obtain its nutrients.”

It was a fascinating development, and one Lense had never before encountered, but it had no direct bearing on their real purpose. They could save that for later. Time to look at the brain.

“Computer,” she instructed, “replicate the alien's brain.”

It appeared on the table, beside the skull. Lense was shocked. It looked, on first examination, no more complex than that of an average human. She had begun to wonder if this species was more highly developed, but apparently not.

Em, too, seemed a little disappointed. “It looks a great deal like a simple human brain,” he said.

“Let's look a little closer. Computer, separate the brain along the two hemispheres.” The computer complied, and Lense picked up one in each hand, scrutinizing them carefully. “The corpus callosum is severely degraded,” she said, confused. That slab of white nerve fibers was what transferred important information from one hemisphere to another. Thus degraded, it made it highly unlikely that the pilot could function.

“It doesn't look damaged,” said Em. “Perhaps the brain transferred information by some other method.”

Lense nodded, though she had her doubts. There were a few things common to all humanoids, and the corpus callosum was one of them. This body was becoming more intriguing to her by the minute.

Further examination of the brain only whetted her
appetite. Other parts of the brain were degraded. Some seemed to be completely missing. Other areas were so developed as to be completely unrecognizable.

“This is absolutely fascinating. We'll have to come back to this later, but I want to complete the procedure so that you're familiar with it. Computer, add musculature.”

Again, the pilot's muscles were not as well-developed as she would have expected. She glanced over at the actual body. It seemed fit and strong. Why, then, were the muscles so atrophied? This was not a result of decay, for the computer was programmed to extrapolate on how the musculature had been in life. She thought about the brain with its missing corpus callosum. Something strange was going on here. She asked Emmett what he thought.

“The muscles could be artificially stimulated,” he suggested.

She smiled a little. She'd caught him in an error. “But then the muscles themselves would show us that stimulation, wouldn't they?”

He nodded, confused. “Then I have no theory,” he said, apologetically.

“Neither do I, not yet. Let's see if the skin tells us anything. Computer, apply the epidermal layers.”

And this was when it always started to get to her. Once you had skin, you had a face, and once you had a face, you suddenly had a person. This face was a sweet one.

“It is a shame she died so young,” said Emmett softly. Lense shared his regret. The girl on the table, eyes closed
softly as if in sleep, was only an adolescent. In human years, Lense put her age at about fifteen. Just a girl, a child. She must have been attractive in life. Large eyes, with greenish freckles on skin that was almost human-colored, but a bit chalkier. Long brown hair with green highlights pooled around her head.

But there was something not right. Something was missing.

“Wait just a minute,” said Lense. She glanced back from the actual body to the holographic replication. “Look at the temples.”

Emmett followed her gaze. “They're not sunken on the actual body,” he said.

“Exactly. Why do you suppose that is?” Without waiting for an answer, she went to the body and gently touched the temples. Her questing fingers found something hard and spherical.

Lense's heart began to race. Firmly, she told herself not to jump to conclusions. “Something has been embedded here,” she said. “The computer didn't replicate it because we didn't ask it to. The good old sense of touch comes through again. Computer, scan the body. What is the source of the spherical nodes on the cranium?”

“Cybernetic implants,” replied the computer, utterly unperturbed by the direness of the words.

Lense swallowed. “Purpose?”

“Unknown.”

“Display on holographic replica. Remove skin layer.”

She caught her breath as the computer complied. The pilot lay before them, devoid of the skin that softened the emotional impact. Two silver spheres were nestled in the carefully cultivated nodules in its skull. The eyes, while organic, had also been augmented with implants. A thin silver wire ran like a shiny nerve along the pilot's body. This, then, was the reason the muscles had atrophied. Artificial constructs had assisted them in doing their job. The missing corpus callosum was present and accounted for. It—and other parts of the brain—was utterly artificial.

She could see now the three cones that had been inserted between the bones of the lower arms. That was why the radius and ulna had separated so much; these metal cones had been implanted, and had forced them to grow apart.

Lense recalled the chair upon which the away team had found the pilot sitting. When the pilot sat in an erect position with her hands on the arms, these holes lined up perfectly. It was almost as if she was plugged directly into the ship….

Sweat broke out beneath her arms, and she started to tremble as the realization struck her. It all fell into place now, and made terrible sense. Even the atrophied digestive system now seemed logical.

“Oh, my God, Emmett,” Lense said softly, lifting her blue eyes to meet Em's puzzled gaze. “I think we've found a Borg.”

Beneath closed lids, 110 saw. Dreamed. Downloaded information.

111010000100100100100000111101101110 …

“Coffee?” asked La Forge, standing next to the replicator in engineering.

“Thanks. Cream and sugar,” replied Faulwell. La Forge returned, carrying two mugs. Bart reached up to accept the one Geordi extended to him. “We're not supposed to have these here, you know.”

Geordi smiled. “Last person I let have a beverage in engineering was Sonya. Picard, as you may have heard—”

“—ended up wearing it,” Bart finished, sipping the hot beverage. “Wish I could have been a fly on the wall that day.”

Geordi winced. “No, you don't. I'd rather have faced a phaser blast than Captain Picard's glare. Poor Sonya just about died.”

“But look how far she's come. She's soared through the ranks.”

“Hmm,” said Geordi with mock seriousness. “Perhaps the secret to advancing in rank is to spill hot chocolate on one's commanding officer.”

“If that's the case, I'll stay where I am,” said Bart, trying to envision Captain Gold's reaction to such an incident.

“You know,” said Geordi, “you are starting to have quite the reputation yourself.”