Perchance To Dream Part 5

Keela smiled. "So do I. And I know that's not juice ... and I won't tell her you drank some."

"Quick thinking, Mr. Worf-and commendable discretion," Riker said as he took a seat at one end of the long curved table in the conference lounge.

"I saw no need for the Tenirans to know that Captain Picard had also been taken," Worf said.

Dr. Crusher raised an eyebrow. "Taken. So we're going on the belief that our shuttle and both captains were ... transported ... intentionally?"

"Until and unless a better hypothesis comes along, yes," Riker said. "Do you disagree, Doctor?"

"No-but we still don't have answers to a lot of key questions."

Engineer La Forge nodded in agreement. "Like who or what grabbed them-not to mention, why, where and how."

Riker scanned the faces of the others. "Anybody have any ideas?"

"I'd bet a week's pay they're all on Domarus somewhere," Geordi said.

"Based on what?" Riker asked, his skepticism revealed by the creases on his forehead.

"Well, for one thing, we don't have any reason to think they're anyplace else."

"I'll agree that's a reasonable starting point," Riker said. "Go on."

"Even though we haven't been able to pin down a specific source for those energy patterns," Geordi said, "I think it's better than even money they're originating on the planet somewhere."

"Somehow, somewhere," Riker said sourly. As much as the fate of the missing shuttle and crew concerned him, Riker had always regarded the safety of the captain as his special trust. Picard's disappearance raised the situation to a whole new level of urgency. "Those aren't my favorite words. We need specifics and we need them fast."

Standing astride the crest of a gra.s.sy knoll, Jean-Luc Picard squinted into the afternoon sun hanging high in the soft blue sky of Domarus Four. At least, he a.s.sumed it was Domarus Four beneath his feet. Whatever force had whisked him off the bridge, he hoped it hadn't had the power to sweep him any farther off than the planet around which the Enterprise had been orbiting.

I hope she's still up there ...

As abductions went, this was proving to be an odd one. Without warning or threat, he'd been removed from his bridge and deposited here ... wherever he was. But there wasn't a soul to greet, berate or imprison him. It seemed he was free to wander.

But wander where? He'd strolled through woods and fields for the better part of an hour, observing, wondering why he was here, wondering if his crew had any idea of his whereabouts. He tapped his chest communicator.

"Picard to Enterprise. Picard to Enterprise-do you read me?" After only an obligatory couple of seconds, he muttered, "Still not working." He had no reason to believe the device would suddenly resume function when it apparently hadn't worked from the moment he'd materialized here. As soon as he'd made that dismaying but not unexpected discovery, he'd proceeded on the a.s.sumption that the communicator's bio-telemetry signal normally monitored and tracked by s.h.i.+p's sensors was also inoperative, or blocked from reception by the stars.h.i.+p orbiting fifty-thousand kilometers out in s.p.a.ce.

If he was indeed alone and stranded, Picard decided quickly that he'd better see about survival needs. The daytime climate was pleasant, not unlike a warm spring day back home in Labarre, in the heart of French wine country-soothing sun, fresh breeze-just the sort of day his family might have left the Picard vineyards for a picnic on the bank of the river that meandered past the village. Though he couldn't be certain, he doubted such a mild day would turn dangerously cold at night, so exposure to the elements probably posed no immediate threat.

Plants grew in abundance here, and he expected he'd be able to find some edible vegetation without being poisoned. This much plant life indicated generous rainfall, and Picard hoped he'd find some open source of water in the vicinity. A pond or stream would fill his needs nicely.

Between the walkabout and the warm sun, he'd become quite thirsty-he'd need to find potable water sooner or later, so now seemed as good a time as any. As he paused on the knoll, the knee-high gra.s.s around him bowing in the breeze, Picard caught the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water nearby.

It didn't take him long to find it-a fast-flowing stream three meters across, perhaps a meter deep, and clear enough to see the bottom. He crouched on the bank, his boots compacting the gravelly sand beneath his feet as he dipped his hands in and let the icy water run through his fingers. Then he cupped them and scooped the water to his mouth, gulping it down. Thirstier than I realized ...

He bent forward for another serving, and noticed some fish at least as long as his forearm swimming lazily past him.

A bit full of themselves, he thought. Presumably the top of the food chain in these parts. Well, that may change if I get hungry enough ...

Picard shook his hands in the warm air and dried them on his pants, then touched his communicator. "Personal log, continued. Starvation does not seem to be a concern here. In addition to the flora already mentioned, I have located a fresh-water stream with plenty of fish ..."

He glanced at a sizable specimen which seemed to be bucking the current just to stare out at this odd creature encroaching on its wet domain. "... Though I am as yet uncertain of how to catch these fish. The challenge may be a welcome diversion. I've been on this planet for nearly one hour, and still have no hint of who or what transported me here-or why. Yet ... I do not feel in any danger. And, though I can't explain the feeling, I believe my presence here will help solve the riddles of this place."

Deanna Troi was no stranger to darkness, which was after all a major environmental component of a life spent traveling through the void of deep s.p.a.ce. But even in s.p.a.ce, darkness was rarely absolute. There were always the stars.

For the past two hours, though, Troi and her companions had been trapped in the shuttlecraft, in some place as dark as any she'd ever experienced. How they got here-wherever here was-they had no idea. With no exterior lights working, all they could see through the windows was virtual blackness, as if the craft had been sealed inside a box. Without operative sensors, they had no notion of what might be outside, so she and Data opted to postpone any exploratory ventures either until they had scanners running again-or until repair work proved totally futile, at which point they would rea.s.sess the risks of reconnaissance.

As Data organized a strategy aimed at most efficiently resuscitating the shuttle's inert systems, the Betazoid counselor concentrated on monitoring the psychological equilibrium of her three teenaged charges. Their feelings and undercurrents had run the expected range, from intense initial fear to a more considered evaluation of their circ.u.mstances once the heart-pounding threat of imminent destruction had evaporated.

Now, the two boys were crammed into the c.o.c.kpit, under Data's supervision, while Gina had been a.s.signed to the rerouting of back-up sensor circuitry, a job that required her to kneel in order to gain comfortable access to the innards of the rear-cabin console. After fifteen hunched-over minutes of determined work on delicate electronic components, Gina slumped and lay on her back, stretching her kinked muscles by the glow of a single lantern.

"Counselor Troi, are you bored?"

"Are you?"

"Is a sun hot?" Gina answered dully as she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "You bet I'm bored. It feels like we've been here for weeks, not hours."

"What else do you feel?"

"Hmm." Gina's face scrunched thoughtfully. "If I don't get out of this teeny-tiny shuttle soon, I might just go stark-raving bonkers-?"

"I see," Troi said with patient amus.e.m.e.nt.

Gina picked up the lack of urgent concern in Troi's voice. "I guess you don't think I'm about to crack under the pressure?"

"I don't think so, Gina. The feelings you're having are entirely normal for anyone in this situation, especially adolescents. In fact, if you didn't have them, then I'd be worried."

"Hyper-hormones, huh?"

Troi let a laugh slip out. "Something like that. Adolescents are still struggling with the childish impulse for instant gratification. You three are much brighter and more mature than many of your peers, so you're much better equipped to deal with those feelings."

"Are you sure about that?" Gina asked, her brows rising into a dubious arch.

"You verbalized your feelings rather than acting on them. That's a sign of maturity and-"

Deanna stopped short when half the consoles and cabin lights flickered back to life.

"Yippeee!" Gina clapped her hands as she whooped, then looked mortified. "That wasn't a sign of maturity, was it?"

"Mmm ... it'll be our little secret." Troi's part of the secret was that she'd felt like cheering, too.

They both looked up as Data appeared at the mids.h.i.+p opening leading to the c.o.c.kpit, a central spot from which he could address all hands. "Gina, Wesley and Ken-you have all been most helpful," the android said as Troi gave him an approving nod. "Main life-support systems and scanner arrays are now restored to stable and fully operative status."

Gina raised a tentative hand. "Should I activate exterior illumination, Commander?"

"Affirmative, Gina. I believe it is time we got a comprehensive look at our immediate surroundings."

As the others pressed their faces to the nearest windows, Gina clambered to her feet, slid into the chair at her console and keyed three of the shuttle's running lights and spots for wide-beam. As the lights flashed on, they revealed that the shuttle had somehow been deposited inside a cavern, high-domed, but little more than ten or fifteen meters across-and for just a fleeting moment, the compact vessel was surrounded by a multicolored swirl, the same as they'd seen in s.p.a.ce. But the ribbons of color reacted as if they'd been frightened by the sudden brightness of the shuttle's lights and they vanished in an instant, quickly enough to make Troi wonder if they'd truly been there.

As the apparent reality of where they were trapped took root, Troi herself felt what she could tell the younger crew members were feeling-dismay, coupled with as yet unanswerable questions. Gina was the first to voice that common reaction.

"Where in G.o.d's name are we?" She peered out the viewport, craning her head from side to side, trying to take in all the eerie beauty of the cavern, with glittering mineral deposits studding its walls and rocky arches-yet hoping to see something other than what was there.

"It would appear," said Data, looking over her shoulder, "that we are in a cavern."

"But a cavern where, Data," Troi wondered. "Are we inside Domarus Four? And if we are, how did we get here?"

"There is no way to be certain. But until and unless we uncover evidence to the contrary, the most likely conclusion is that we are indeed inside Domarus Four. As to how we got here, I believe the phrase is 'Your guess is as good as mine.' "

Wesley poked his head back from the c.o.c.kpit. "Commander, now that we've got sensors working, should we run a scan and find out what's out there?"

"Please do so, Ensign, with Ken's a.s.sistance. We will need to know the atmospheric composition of our immediate environment-particularly whether it poses any immediate risk to us and the shuttlecraft. Gina, I would like you to pay specific attention to spectro-a.n.a.lysis of the cave's geological makeup and structure."

As the young away-team members busied themselves, Troi leaned close to Data and spoke confidentially. "I'm concerned about them."

"How so, Counselor?"

"When those lights came on, I felt fear in all of them, even Wesley."

Data nodded. "Is that not natural?"

"Oh, yes. And though they are too well-trained to be paralyzed by fear, it is not going to disappear. The longer we're here, the more they are going to look to us to help them deal with that fear."

"Ahh." Data paused for a moment's consideration of Troi's prediction. "And what should we do to deal with that?"

"Actually, what you're doing is fine."

"Oh. That is encouraging." Data's eyes brightened with pleasure at the notion that he had provided appropriate support for fragile human psyches. But then his brow furrowed as if he'd run across a previously overlooked gap in his programming. "And ... what is it that I am doing?"

Troi smiled rea.s.suringly. Data was the most guileless being she'd ever known, a characteristic she still found as charming as the day they'd first met. "Keeping them occupied-treating them as important members of this crew."

"I see. Then that will be an easy strategy to continue, Counselor ... they are important members of this crew."

Chapter Five.

GONE FIs.h.i.+NG ...

I'd put up a sign, Picard thought as he hiked back toward the stream, but who's to care where I've gone?

By the position of the Domaran sun, he guessed it to be mid-afternoon. He'd done a bit more scouting of his immediate vicinity and judged it a nice enough setting for a vacation cottage, though he'd have preferred some more choice in the matter than had been offered by the manner in which he'd been whisked off the Enterprise without word or warning.

With no way to figure the eventual duration of his stay here, he'd also picked out a suitable spot for an overnight camp-a crested clearing bounded by woods on two sides and hills on the other two. In addition to being relatively high ground, the campsite offered proximity to a ready supply of firewood-though he didn't have any tree-chopping tools, he'd seen plenty of branches lying on the ground during an exploratory stroll through the woods. There were also some small caves nicked into the nearby rocky hillsides, apparently uninhabited by any native animal life, and more than adequate in case he needed a more protected place to stay.

Next concern-how to catch dinner. He'd considered-briefly-the most basic fis.h.i.+ng method: bare hands. But Picard recognized the reality that he wasn't quite that elemental, and he had a hard time picturing himself swiping at leaping fish like some wild bear. With no sporting goods shops in sight, and nothing likely to be serviceable as fis.h.i.+ng line to attach to a rod, he decided on a reasonable compromise-spearfis.h.i.+ng. He'd never attempted it himself, but he'd seen the age-old technique demonstrated by pract.i.tioners from various human and alien cultures. The principle was straightforward enough. It remained to be seen how that would translate into practice.

He sat on the stream bank, near the water and next to a batch of straight, slender branches, all at least a meter long, collected in the woods to be made into spears. Using a rough stone he'd found, he whittled and filed the ends of the best branches into lethal points. As he worked, he heard occasional splashes of fish breaking the stream's surface.

Are they exercising or doing reconnaissance? he wondered as he watched their acrobatics. Picard couldn't help smiling as he remembered how indifferent a fisherman he'd been as a boy. He'd tag along with his brother Robert when he and the other older boys in their village would go to fish in the river or the lake near the family vineyards. Robert had usually considered little Jean-Luc's presence an embarra.s.sment, but their mother would strongly suggest that he take his younger brother along ... though I'm not sure why I wanted to go.

Picard paused to examine his craftsmans.h.i.+p. Two other spears were done, but this one wasn't quite ready. With smooth strokes, he grated stone against wood, sending fine chips and dust flying. Perhaps I just didn't want to be left out. He chuckled at a rueful memory-Robert mocking him mercilessly because of his distaste for grasping wriggling worms with his fingers and impaling them on sharp hooks-the worms, not my fingers-though a fair number of fingertips were pierced in the process.

Finally satisfied with his third spear, Picard set it down with the others and leaned forward, watching the fish darting about in the clear stream, recalling later trips to the lake without sibling supervision. No longer compelled by peer pressure to fish, he'd learned the joys of just rowing out with a few friends for conversation and contemplation, luxuriating in the tranquil warmth of the sun and the soothing lap of the water against the boat. Ahh ... and there was no more ideal setting in which to woo a young lady in romantic privacy ... as long as obnoxious friends didn't seek you out with the express intention of starting a splash fight.

Picard stood up and hefted the different spears, checking for feel and balance. With a shrug, he decided none of them exactly const.i.tuted a finely tooled weapon and simply chose one at random; he tossed the other two onto the pile of unfinished branches where they landed with a clatter.

If this works, Picard thought as he reached the water's edge, perhaps I might try my hand at penning a novel-The Old Captain and the Stream.

He drew his arm back, waited with the spear head high for an unsuspecting fish to swim within range, then hurled it- -and watched the fish dart away as the spear point split the stream's surface and drove itself into the muddy bottom, stirring up enough silt to thoroughly cloud the formerly clear water. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

He bent down, s.n.a.t.c.hed up another spear and set himself once again. A pair of fish drifted close and his arm snapped forward. The spear cut through the water and missed again.

Third try-arm c.o.c.ked-and a third failure. And all three spears were now embedded in the mud, the ends of their shafts sticking up out of the water. Out of Picard's dry-land reach. He had a choice: make new ones or retrieve the old.

It was obviously more efficient to get the existing spears. He didn't want to get his boots wet and didn't feel like taking them off, so he mapped out a cautious approach to the weapons. All he had to do was step carefully on a few rocks rising partway above the stream's surface.

"Not very good at this, are you, Picard?"

The totally unexpected sound of a voice startled him, but he located the source immediately-the other side of the stream, the edge of the forest, about thirty meters back from the far bank.

"Captain Arit, I presume?" he called across. "So-we were both brought here. Interesting."

"No one said I was brought here."

"Came on your own, then, did you?" His tone, dry and skeptical, made it clear he didn't believe that for an instant. "How long have you been watching?"

The Teniran commander moved a couple of wary strides toward the water, then stopped as if she preferred not to stray from the sanctuary of the forest behind her.

"Your whole sorry attempt."

"Can you do better?" he challenged amiably as he stood on the sh.o.r.e with his hands on his hips.

"Probably."

Picard sensed a careful confidence in her reply. "Care to try?"

"No."

"We'll need food."

"It could be a long time coming at the rate you're going, Picard."

"How long have you been here on the planet?" He waited for an answer that obviously wasn't coming. What was Captain Arit's secret? Hoping to elicit a tad more trust, he answered his own question. "I'd say I arrived about three hours ago. I haven't been able to establish contact with my s.h.i.+p. I'm a.s.suming the facts are very much the same in your case-?"