Perchance To Dream Part 8

Wesley swung his lamp around in a wide arc, getting his first really good look at the cavern. From outside the Onizuka, it looked and felt even more confining than it had through the shuttle windows. The dimensions of their rocky prison obviously hadn't changed-it was still configured like an uneven cone, varying from ten to fifteen meters in diameter, with an angled ceiling of dark, jagged stone and dripping stalact.i.tes ranging from a low point of just over four meters along one end all the way up to thirty meters at its asymmetrical peak.

To the human mind, however, the cave's actual size was only one factor in the equation. No matter how hard he tried, Wesley couldn't divorce those measurements from the knowledge that he and his companions were deep inside a planet, presumably surrounded by an unknown amount of more or less solid rock. Even in the unlikely event that they were able to get the engines and navigation systems up and working again, there was absolutely no way to fly the stranded shuttlecraft out of there. It seemed depressingly apparent that if the away team was going to escape, it would have to be on foot.

As Wes looked around, his lantern flashed past several tunnel openings. "Where should we start, Commander?"

Data scanned each tunnel with his tricorder, then paused. "This one appears to spiral upward." They started out, their tethers unreeling behind them.

"Uhh, Data, I-umm-I heard what you and Counselor Troi were talking about just before," Wesley said as they left the main cavern and entered the confines of the tunnel, s.h.i.+ning their beams ahead to light the path.

"Oh? Do you have some thoughts you wish to share?"

"Yes, I do. Even though kids my age aren't supposed to be worried about their own mortality yet, I do think about death sometimes. Maybe it's because of my father dying when I was so young ... when he was so young, too."

"Based on my research into human behavior, I believe that to be a natural reaction on your part, Wesley. Having to deal with death in such a direct manner is an experience that most of your peers do not share."

They ducked beneath a rock outcropping. "I sometimes wonder if my father had already reached that age where awareness of your own mortality starts to affect the way you see the world, whether it made him stop doing some of the risky things he did as a kid."

"From my reading in human psychology, that is likely."

Wes nodded. "That's what I figured. But then sometimes I wonder-if he knew he could die, why didn't he leave Starfleet and do something safer?"

"It is not possible to eliminate all risks, Wesley. His desire to serve in Starfleet and explore s.p.a.ce must have outweighed his fears and concerns."

The tunnel narrowed, funneling them into single file with Data in the lead. As they moved forward, their lanterns cutting into the chilly, damp darkness, Wesley listened to the scuffing of their boots echoing off the rocks. He had to make a conscious effort to suppress his own fears.

He heard something behind them, like the groan of weakening rock ... pebbles skittering down from above. He half-turned, expecting to see the start of a rockslide that would seal them in. He swept his lantern up, down, sideways. Nothing ... great imagination, Crusher ...

He jumped when an icy drop of water fell on his forehead. Then he realized he'd fallen several strides behind Data and he hurried to catch up. This is no place to get left behind.

Somehow, his childhood dreams of exploring the final frontier had never seemed quite this claustrophobic. He felt the walls pressing in on him. He needed to hear his own voice.

"Data?"

"Yes?"

"What if ... what if there's no way out of here?"

"If there was a way in, Wesley, there must also be a way out. It may not be this way ... but there is a way, and there is no reason why we should not be able to find it."

Never in his life had Wesley Crusher wanted to believe anything as much as what Data had just said. "Do you really think so?"

"Indubitably."

Chapter Seven.

"GINA! Look out!"

Inside the shuttle, Troi's heart raced as she heard Ken Kolker's bleat of alarm bloom into an explosion of echoes. Though strange caverns on alien worlds could scarcely be guaranteed as risk-free, she and Data had deemed the immediate area around the stranded shuttlecraft to be safe enough for limited exploration. And she knew it would be good for morale to keep the young away team members as busy as possible.

At the sound of Ken's warning shout, however, Deanna popped through the open hatch, fully expecting to see the aftermath of some horrible accident.

Instead, she saw Gina glaring at her companion, hands on her hips. "What is with you, Kenny?"

"I thought you were about to get crushed by a cave-in," Ken said, head hung in embarra.s.sment.

"Cave-in?" Gina noticed Troi poised on the hatch sill and cast an annoyed glance toward her. "I'm chipping out some rock samples, a little dust and two pebbles rattle down from above me, and he thinks it's a cave-in."

"I was just being cautious," Ken protested.

"Cautious?"

"Yes, cautious-and I don't think there's any such thing as being too cautious, considering where we are right now."

Gina turned away, rolling her eyes. "Oh, pleeease."

Satisfied that no disasters loomed, Counselor Troi went back inside the shuttle. She wondered if Data and Wesley had found anything. Their hour of scouting was almost up, and Data was never late. They'd be returning soon.

With a bewildered shake of his head, Ken retreated to his own sample collection, concentrating on drippings from an impressive array of stalact.i.tes hanging down like fangs from the roof of some monstrous mouth.

"I'm sorry if I overreacted," Kenny muttered after a wordless stretch of five minutes or so.

"Forget it."

"You're probably thinking, 'Wesley wouldn't have gotten hysterical.' "

Gina glanced at him, genuinely caught off-guard by what seemed like a complete non sequitur. "Why would I think that?"

"I don't know. Because all the kids on the s.h.i.+p look up to him."

"Why shouldn't they look up to him? He's smart, he's responsible, he works harder than almost anybody in our cla.s.ses. But he's not perfect, and he never claimed to be. Who knows how he would've reacted? But the truth is, I wasn't thinking about Wesley at all ... until you mentioned him. All I was thinking about was these samples ... and getting out of here." She tossed a handful of mineral chips into a collection bag.

Ken blinked in surprise. "You were really thinking about getting out of here? I figured you wouldn't mind being marooned in here."

"Kenny," she said patiently, "I don't mind visiting caves. But I don't really want to spend the rest of my life stuck inside this one."

"Do you think we might ... y'know ... die here?"

"You might, 'cause I may kill you," she quipped, then shrugged in clear discomfort as she realized that Kenny seemed intent on pursuing a subject she'd rather skip. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

"Not at all?" He obviously didn't believe her.

She hesitated. "Well ... maybe a little. But not seriously. Look, I'm sure we'll get out of here."

"But you really did think about it ... about dying in here?"

Gina sighed, wis.h.i.+ng she could somehow take back her tacit admission. Now that she'd been edged into talking about it at all, this was not a topic over which she really cared to linger. "I said I did ... a little. Why are you making such a big deal about it?"

"Because you've said you don't like thinking about death."

Gina stared at him. "Most people don't, you know. Why should I? I'm not as morbid as you."

"I'm not morbid," he insisted. "Death is part of life."

"So is snoring, but I don't spend large portions of my day contemplating that either."

The sound of advancing footfalls interrupted their debate, and Data and Wesley emerged from the same tunnel they'd entered on their search. Data's neutral expression revealed nothing, but the grim tightness of Ensign Crusher's jaw made it clear they'd failed to find a way out. Gina approached them.

"No luck?"

Without a word, Wes just shook his head.

Gina planted herself in front of Data. "Commander, there are lots of other tunnels. I want to be part of the next search team. n.o.body knows caves like I do. If anybody can find a way out, I can."

"I can vouch for that, sir," Wes Crusher said with a nod. "She takes to caves like a Kavarian horn mole."

"Indeed." Data seemed impressed by the testimonial.

"Wesley," said Gina, basking in the unexpected praise, "that's one of the nicest things anybody's ever said about me."

Wesley's mouth twitched in mock horror. "Geez, I hope not."

"Very well, Gina," Data said. "You and I shall make another attempt to find an exit ..."

"Thank you, sir!" She clapped her hands in antic.i.p.ation. "I'm ready to go."

"... after an adequate sleep period," Data said, completing his interrupted sentence. "We have had a long and difficult day and rest is required."

Gina let out a disappointed sigh, then smiled to herself as she remembered what it was like to be a little girl and have her parents tell her she couldn't go out and play because it was bedtime. That's pretty much what Data just did ... Her warm feeling of nostalgia quickly chilled. She caught herself wondering, Will I ever see my parents again?

"Uh, Commander Riker, you're pacing," said Chief Engineer La Forge, watching the first officer cross back and forth in front of the big observation windows in the conference lounge.

Riker knew exactly what he was doing. He also knew why. Simple. He just didn't like to sit still. Not now, not ever. He couldn't begin to count the boyhood scoldings he had absorbed from teachers exasperated by his fidgeting. As he'd grown up, he'd concentrated on harnessing that unquenchable fount of nervous energy, channeling it, learning to skirt the ragged border separating bold action from recklessness. Sometimes the line was hard to find.

With a sheepish smile and a sigh, Riker dropped into a seat. "Geordi, I'm afraid patience is not exactly my strong suit. But I am better than I used to be, believe it or not. You know who's the most patient man I've ever met?"

"Captain Picard," Geordi said without an instant of hesitation, his words declaring a truth, not asking a question. He knew. So did everyone aboard the Enterprise.

"The man is a master," Riker agreed with a grin. "It took me a while to appreciate it, though. Remember when we all started aboard the Enterprise? We'd get into some pretty tight spots, and I would be sitting there on the bridge thinking, Fire the d.a.m.n phasers, and he's sitting there, as cool as you please, like he's got forever to make a decision."

Geordi nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. That imperturbability of his did take some getting used to. Every now and then, I'd sort of remind myself, here we are serving with a living legend."

"I must admit to wondering once or twice whether he was more legend than alive. But I learned something from observing the captain that I never quite realized before."

"What's that, sir?"

"That action doesn't have to be explosive to be effective-and the first solution isn't always the best solution."

Still, times like the present could push Riker's developing patience to the breaking point. The Enterprise had been orbiting Domarus Four for nearly a day. Not only was the shuttle still missing-so was Picard. Riker and his officers were proceeding in logical and orderly fas.h.i.+on ... without result. He would gladly trade patience for a bolt of inspiration.

Unfortunately, there were no such thunderbolts in Geordi's latest sensor report now displayed on the table-top computer screen.

"I don't get this, Geordi," Riker said, staring at the data. "There's no indication of any life down there that bears even the remotest resemblance to human life. Why can't our sensors find the captain?"

Geordi's sigh betrayed his frustration. "Ever since we started searching, there's been an uneven but continuing increase in electromagnetic emissions surrounding Domarus Four."

"Any luck figuring out a source for that?"

"I'm sure it's something on or in the planet. But we can't pin it down to anything specific."

"Why not?"

"Because whatever it is, it's interfering with our scanners."

Riker rubbed his eyes. "Geordi, it's been a long day. As long as Captain Picard's missing, I'm not going to get much sleep. I don't get sleep, I get cranky. And believe me, you do not want to see me cranky."

"I believe you, Commander."

"I'm sure you do. Now is there anything you can do about the sensors?"

"If we can chart a predictable rate of increase for those electromagnetic emissions, we might be able to program a compensation curve. But first we have to try to get a handle on the emissions rate, and that'll take time and-"

"Patience," Riker finished, an ironic glint in his eye. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

It had been dark for almost two hours now, and Picard rolled onto his back, crinkling the leaves he'd gathered as a rudimentary mattress to cus.h.i.+on the hard ground beneath him. A faint breeze whispered through the treetops bordering the clearing, and Picard's crackling fire cast a dancing glow across the campsite. Above him, the stars twinkled with piercing brightness.

The constellations were not those of Earth, but Picard had seen many an alien sky, and he had learned firsthand that the heavens teemed with life. From where he lay now, he might not be able to pick out Orion the Hunter or the crab or the lion or the Great Bear, but he had been a star traveler long enough to think of all the stars-even those he couldn't name-as friends.

Not that he'd always regarded the stars so warmly. With a private smile, he recalled the first time he'd slept out of doors, when he was four-in the yard of the Picard home, with his playmate Louis, brother Robert and Robert's friend Claude.

"Claude ... what a troublemaker," Picard said aloud, addressing the stars with a rueful shake of his head. Claude had told little Jean-Luc that the stars were tiny fireb.a.l.l.s waiting to fall on him and burn him to a crisp while he slept. And what did my big brother do?

Before he could answer his own question, Picard felt the ground shudder beneath him, as if some distant giant had taken one step and paused. Then, stillness.

"Robert went on to convince me that thousands of children were incinerated each year by voracious falling stars," he murmured with a chuckle-a chuckle cut short by a new tremor, more forceful than the first.

This one did not stop. As the distant rumble rolled closer, Picard sat up suddenly and recognized the oscillation of a major planetquake building under him. Loose stones skittered down the hillsides bounding his campsite. Was he about to be buried under a landslide?

He got to his feet, but the quake's wildly increasing magnitude threw him to the ground-ground that heaved and split around him as a sinkhole yawned open, and the quake roared in his ears. With frantic hands, he clawed for a hold on soil and gra.s.s that kept collapsing beneath him, tumbling into the widening rift. Despite his struggle to escape, he knew he was being sucked down, and the dirt falling into the chasm after him quickly began to bury him.

Then, as spontaneously as it had begun, the roaring stopped. Picard forced his reeling mind to orient itself. He was on his back, head pitched down, half-entombed. He opened his eyes and blinked into the soil resting against his face. He could still see the stars. He spat out a mouthful of dirt, and forced his arms up toward the sky, hoping he could dig his way out. But every motion brought more dirt down into the hole, down onto his body. Can't move-can't get out- don't panic!

Then he felt something hard and rough against his outstretched hand, and he heard an insistent voice from above.