Star Trek (8 page)

Repairs are complete. All systems fully operational.Jaldark is not on board. Accessing search parameters. Searching planet surface … Jaldark is not present on the planet surface. Alien vessel in orbit about planet. Unable to
penetrate shields for search.

Conclusion: Jaldark has been taken by the alien vessel.

Action required: Jaldark must be recovered immediately.

Jaldark, I am coming. I am coming, my Friend. I will notlet them harm you.

Gold was still in a solemn mood from the tragic recording he had just seen as the turbolift doors hissed open. But once he stepped on the bridge, and saw the expressions on the bridge crew, he put his pity aside.

It was tragic that Jaldark had died alone, in pain. And he sympathized with the ship's loss, if it was, as 110 kept insisting, sentient and capable of emotion. But that didn't mean he was willing to make the ship feel better by letting it blast the
da Vinci
to bits.

“Shields up. Red alert,” he snapped. He took his seat and gazed at the image on the viewscreen.

It seemed impossible, but there it was. That ship had been badly damaged when it crashed into the planet, and they'd believed that they had completely knocked out its weapons systems. And yet it looked like they hadn't even scratched the thing. It was, as Mack had said, heading straight for them, and if Gold imagined that the ship was seething with deadly intent and aching for revenge, he knew he wasn't guilty of anthropomorphizing.

“Status report,” he demanded.

“One minute, the vessel was dead; the next, it's completely repaired and heading right for us,” said Wong. “We
can't tell for certain, of course, but I would guess its weapons systems are intact.”

At that moment, a green bolt of energy narrowly missed them.

“I'd say you're right,” said Gold. “But that was obviously a warning shot. If that ship wanted to hit us, it would hit us. Open a hailing frequency. Attention, alien vessel. This is Captain David Gold of the
U.S.S. da Vinci
. We mean you no harm. Let's open a dialogue.”

At once, a metallic voice echoed throughout the bridge. “Omearan Starsearcher 7445 to the
da Vinci
. You have my pilot. Return her at once, unharmed. Then we will open a dialogue.”

Dear God
, thought Gold,
he doesn't know she's dead
.

“Captain,” said Gomez softly, “I don't think Friend will respond too happily if we beam that body over.”

“Agreed,” said Gold. “Wong, mute. Suggestions?”

“Let me attempt to link with it,” said 110 at once.

“110,” said Gold wearily, “that ship might just as soon crisp you as talk to you.”

110 lifted his head and regarded Gold evenly. “As we—as I have told you, Captain Gold, I am already linked with it, though it is not a two-way communication. Its pain is my pain. The only way I will lose that pain is if I can speak with it. And that is the only way Friend will ever accept what has happened to Jaldark. The news must be given to him gently, in a way he can understand. Otherwise, he will attack in anger. When he crashed into the planet—it was
not an accident, Captain. He was in despair, and could not engage his self-destruct mechanism.” He winced a little. “Please. This is the only way.”

“110,” Geordi said gently, “there's no guarantee that you will be able to form a proper link with the computer.”

The little Bynar smiled at that. “There is, as you humans like to say, only one way to find out.”

Geordi and Gold exchanged glances. Gold reached a decision. “Gold to Dr. Lense. Would it be possible to adjust 110's brain and body in order to render him able to link with the ship?”

“I think so. If you'd wanted to do this with a human, the answer would be no, but the Bynar brains are much better candidates for such a link. And, judging by his brain-wave patterns, I'd say that there seems to be some kind of connection established between them already. It would take some surgery, but I—”

“110, get to sickbay right now,” ordered Gold. At once, 110 scampered to obey. “Wong, reestablish link. Attention, Omearan Starsearcher 7445. We would like to send an ambassador to your command center to speak with you.”

“Return my pilot. Then she and I will speak with your ambassador.”

Gold took a deep breath. Time for a little white lie. “Your pilot is unwell.” It was true. Dead was about as unwell as one could get. “She is currently in our sickbay.” Also true. “We have boarded you previously.”

“I remember.” The metallic voice was angry now.
“When you kidnapped Jaldark.”

“We brought her to our ship, yes. But while we were aboard you, while you were inactive, you established a link with one of my crew.”

Silence. “Yes,” said the ship, haltingly. “I remember.”

“We think we can further adjust him so that he may link with you. We can explain everything to you most efficiently in that fashion.”

A long silence. Gold felt sweat gather on his brow. He let this ship take its time.

“I will permit such a contact,” said the ship after what felt like an eternity. Gold briefly closed his eyes in relief. “You should be aware that your crewmember will be vulnerable. If I do not like what I hear, I will not hesitate to kill him.”

Was it a bluff, or the truth? Either way, it seemed as though this was something 110 was intent on doing. And, much as Gold hated to admit it, it seemed as if it was their only hope. The
Enterprise
herself would have a hard time fighting an opponent that was virtually indestructible. And the little
da Vinci
was certainly not equipped to handle it.

“We are explorers, not warriors,” said Gold. “We have no intention of harming you. You will realize that once you link with my crewmember.”

“There is no deception possible in the link,” agreed the ship. “All your plans will be revealed.”

“We have nothing to hide,” Gold declared.

“Then you have nothing to fear.” Abruptly, the ship terminated the transmission.

Gold sank back in his chair, debating. He thought about contacting Starfleet and telling them to cancel the arrival of the
Enterprise
and the
Lexington
. Gold now knew the vessel wasn't a Borg ship, and there was a chance that it wouldn't even prove hostile. What was it Jaldark had said? That she was certain Friend wouldn't hurt anyone unless someone hurt him first.

But if 110 couldn't convince the ship—Friend—that Jaldark had already been dead for weeks before the
da Vinci
found her, then Gold imagined the vessel would consider itself grievously hurt. They'd need the
Enterprise
and the
Lexington
then. Hell, they might need every vessel in the fleet if the repaired ship went on a rampage again. It had done enough damage while still repairing itself. At full strength …

Gold chuckled a little. His father had had a wise saying that he would always trot out when David would start fretting about things that might happen. “Don't go borrowing trouble,” he would say. And Gold realized that's exactly what he was doing.

They had the tricorder recordings Jaldark herself had made. They had the body, which was in an advanced stage of decay. And they had 110. If these weren't enough to convince the ship, then they'd just have to deal with the consequences.

“Lense to Gold.”

“Go ahead.”

“110 is tolerating the implants for the moment, but I don't know how effective they'll be. I also don't know how long it will be before his body starts rejecting them. I'm sorry, sir, but it's the best I can do.”

“Then, as always, Elizabeth, your best is good enough for me. 110, how do you feel?”

“The implants are … uncomfortable, Captain. But it is a necessary pain. Faulwell has given me Jaldark's tricorder. I hope to be able to interface with both it and Friend's central computer system.”

“Good luck, 110.”

“Thank you, Captain Gold. It has been an honor to serve you.”

Gold didn't like the way that sounded. He didn't like it at all. But there was not a single thing he could do. It was all up to the Bynar now.

He only hoped the little guy was not planning to go out in a blaze of glory.

When 110 materialized in the command center of Friend, part of him felt like he was coming home. Odd, since the last time he had been aboard the vessel it had attacked and nearly killed him. He stood for a moment in the command center of the sentient ship, looking around. There was no dull, blood-colored hue. Instead, Friend had given him lighting that was quite comfortable to his eyes and enabled him to see perfectly. The entire scene was
much less sinister than it had been when the away team had beamed over earlier.

Various panels here and there had indentations or spikes. He knew that these were ways to join with the ship if he needed to fire the weapons, or enhance propulsion, or effect repairs. Over there, where he had foolishly begun trying to tap into the ship's computers, he had triggered Friend's angry arousal.

But for everyday operations, for companionship, for nourishment, the chair was the central joining point.

Jaldark had died in that chair—and lived in it. 110 wondered if the fluttering in his insides was nervousness or anticipation. Probably a little of both. He had never joined with a computer the way he was about to join with Friend, and he was uncertain as to what to expect.

“Please sit in the command chair,” came Friend's metallic voice. “It is the most efficient way for us to link.”

Slowly, one hand reaching to touch the buffer at his side for reassurance, 110 climbed into the chair. Even though Jaldark was an adolescent of her species, she had been much bigger than the little Bynar. He had to hold his body in an awkward position for the holes Lense had made in his arms to line up with the spikes on the arms of the chair.

For an instant, 110 knew terrible fear. Then, resolutely, he maneuvered so that the spikes inserted into the arm sheathes.

Information flooded his brain at a speed that even 110
found difficult to process. Frantically, he thought,
Slowdown, slow down!
To his surprise, the ship obliged. It wanted to tell him everything at once, but it tried to curb its urgency. The information came at a rate that would have killed a human, but, with effort, 110 was able to comprehend it.

The ship's designation was Starsearcher 7445, but Jaldark Keniria had taken to calling it Friend. Their people, the Omearans, had just emerged from a bitter and devastating war that had nearly destroyed their planet. Their foe, the Sarimun, were advanced technologically, but lacked the advanced traits of mercy and a desire for peace. The attack had been rebuffed, but the Omearan world had paid a dreadful price.

The strongest advantage the Omearans had had was the Conjoined, the term used to refer to the linking of Omearans with the Starsearcher vessels. It was a position of tremendous honor among their people. Only one in ten thousand was born who was able to withstand the pairing. Rejections of the cybernetic grafts were the norm. Once a child had been identified as a good candidate, the process began, in infancy. The still-forming skulls were carefully manipulated to eventually house the spherical implants. One by one, strands of cables replaced nerves and muscles. The child was weaned to eat food only occasionally, and to take most of its sustenance from the same fuel that propelled the Starsearchers. It was a union of the most intimate sort.

Once a child pilot entered adolescence, it was bonded with the ship that it would have for the rest of its life. Such pilots considered themselves blessed, and the ships, which had also been carefully programmed with emotions and their own intelligence, adored their pilots.

Originally designed for peaceful purposes, the Starsearchers and their pilots had been altered for war. Thousands were lost in the war, and the pilots grew younger and younger, less and less experienced. By the end of the war, only a few pilots were left. They were sent off to various parts of the quadrant, to search for a planet the Omearans could safely colonize.