XII

"The Boogey Man doesn't have life signs."

"I am unconvinced." Data shook his head as his eyes ran over the blurring text that moved across the screen.

"But?" Geordie probed, and although he did not expect Data to say more he thought there was more to be said.

Data pressed a few controls quickly and stopped the screen, "I am glad that Lore's presence on the Enterprise has not been very disruptive. I am also pleased that he has shown no desire to harm the ship or the crew, but I still find myself unwilling to trust him, or to encourage anyone else to do so."

Geordie sighed, "Trust me, Data, there aren't very many objecting to that. I just wish you wouldn't worry so much about it. It can't be healthy."

"Geordie, I do not have physiological responses to stress as humans do."

"That might have worked with Dr. Crusher, Data, but it isn't working with me. I think everyone can relax, at least a bit."

Data sighed. He knew Geordie was right even if his words were not entirely accurate. Data did not suffer from physical illnesses due to stress, but he knew it had been affecting him in other ways. Several days before, an officer from engineering had asked him if he knew how long Lore would be onboard. His response had been a terse 'no', and the incident had immediately amazed him. He was never short with others or impolite and he did not like the change in himself.

He focused back on the conversation, "Has the crew in engineering 'relaxed'?"

Now it was Geordi's turn to sigh, "Not exactly. I mean, the stress level has gone down, but that's only because no one has to worry about working with him. He won't."

"Does he still not speak to anyone?" Data asked for the tenth time in a week.

Geordie shook his head. "Except for yes and no."

"But he speaks to Lt. Hall?" Data said, almost hopefully.

Geordie shrugged, "Maybe. That's the general assumption."

Data tilted his head, "Assumption? You do not know?"

It wasn't the first time Geordie had been laid siege by Data's worried questions, for although his friend was unendingly worried and curious about Lore's activities in engineering, he did almost everything he could to avoid Lore himself. Geordie sighed and pressed several controls on his console, "I've never seen them talk. I give Hall her engineering assignment and Lore goes with her. They usually work alone." He thought for a moment, "I can't imagine what they would have to talk about anyway. What would Hall of all people have in common with Lore?"

Data continued the streaming text on the screen, but his eyes fell away from it, distracted. "I do not know." He replied, "I…I do not know very much about Lore."

"What?" Geordie said, turning fully away from his screen now.

"Geordie," Data began, "do you believe that my decision to disassemble Lore was wrong?"

"Wrong? Data, he tried to kill you. He tried to kill us. And that's just the one incident. Why would you think you had done something wrong?"

Data's expression was serious, "I have asked myself if my actions would have been the same if Lore had been a human criminal, and I cannot say that they would have. I had already incapacitated Lore. He was no longer a threat. I did not have to—."

"Data." Geordie stopped him, "Don't do this to yourself. In a perfect world, a human with Lore's past might have been arrested, tried, sent to prison, but not in the real world. In the real world, the shot that brought Lore down would have killed a human."

Data shook his head, his thoughts undeterred. "I cannot allow my estimation of my own actions to be based on a likely alternative outcome. I can only base them on what should have been the right outcome. Geordie, I do not believe that I should—."

"Commander?"

Both Data and Geordie turned at the summons and looked up at Worf. He was frowning over his console in a way that indicated no good news.

"I have attempted to transmit docking procedures to the science station for our arrival." Worf reported, "There has been no response. I have tried multiple frequencies."

Geordie turned to Data, "Our supply run has been scheduled for weeks. If they were going to conduct any communications maintenance, they would have told us."

Data stood quickly and moved to his place at the Captain's chair, "Increase to warp seven and continue to hail the station, all frequencies." By the armrest display on the Captain's chair Data drew up the full schematics and mission profile of the Corona Six research station, the remote observatory to which they had been on route for hours. It was small for a station, roughly a quarter the size of the Enterprise, and had a total crew compliment of only four researchers and one engineer. The bulk of the funnel-shaped station housed the massive inertial dampeners and shield emitters used to protect the station from the harsh environment of the pulsar it orbited.

Little more than twenty minutes passed when Worf reported, "Coming into visual range. Should I inform the Captain?"

"Not yet." Data replied, "It is possible that their failure to return our hails may be a technical error."

"Aye, Sir. In visual range now."

The cascading starscape vanished as the view screen magnified, bringing the striking blue-white light of the pulsar into the room. While many on the bridge squinted at the washed-out dot in the center of the screen, Data could see clearly the alarming sight of a station adrift. The Corona Six station maintained no galactic positioning, and spun end over end in a strange orbit.

"Maximum magnification." Data instructed. The image zoomed forward, and curious expressions on the bridge took on a stern disapproval, for all could see what Data already knew. Not only was the station clearly adrift, there were obvious gaping wounds on its exterior where it appeared that sections of it had been carved out. The station turned slowly, allowing the crew to see the port side and the wide open doors of the main hangar bay.

Data tapped his combadge, "Data to Captain Picard. Sir, please report to the bridge."

There was hardly a pause, "On my way, Mr. Data."

Data turned to the young man at ops and spoke hopefully, "Life signs?"

"None, Sir."

Data lowered his eyes for only a moment before forcing them back to the screen. He was a Starfleet officer, and as such maintained the exterior calm required of him, but there were times when he suspected that such control was harder for him than for others. His fellow crewmen were emotional beings too, but they had had decades to perfect the art of composure, that flat pond that covers the rip currents beneath. In the first year of his emotion chip being activated, such news as the likely death of six people would have been like a crushing shock, forcing him to deactivate his emotion chip within minutes. But that was a long time ago now and he had discarded that crutch, for he had learned that to take the good without the bad was to take nothing.

After a few minutes, the turbo lift doors hissed open and Picard entered the bridge. His expression already held the gravity of the situation, for Data never called him off shift without the best of reasons.

"Report." Picard said as he moved toward the center and looked on the viewscreen.

Data stood, "Sir, the station has returned none of our hails and we detect no life signs."

"Mr. Worf, any other ships in the area?"

"None within sensor range." Worf reported.

Data relieved the ensign at ops and initiated a series of scans, for the sight of the Corona Six station's open hanger bay left him with a horrible suspicion.

"What kind of research-."

"Captain." Data interrupted. The tone of his voice drew Picard's immediate attention and he approached him. "Sensors detect no energy readings from the station. None."

"No residual signatures?" Picard took a step toward the screen, "Even if the station lost main power, the core would still emit some latent energy readings."

"It would be the case, Sir, but the core is gone." He looked up at the dark cloud that passed over Picard's eyes and continued, "And that is not the only thing. The last positioning report sent by the station indicated their calculations for a stable orbit around the pulsar, but it is currently not in the correct orbit."

"Can you account for the change?" Picard asked, stepping closer still to the view screen.

Data nodded, "The station has lost more than twenty-three percent of its total recorded mass. The core alone accounted for seven percent of the total."

"It's been gutted like a fish!" Worf proclaimed.

Picard walked back to his seat and pressed the comm., "All senior officers report to the bridge. Mr. Data, do you have any theories?"

Data glanced at the object on the screen, for the term station no longer truly applied to it. "The recorded mass of the station was exact due to the precarious nature of its orbit. Since the exterior damage alone would not account for the percentage loss, I would surmise that Worf is correct, Sir."

Picard's eyes flashed to the screen again, "With zero energy readings I suspect we won't be just casually dropping in." Picard turned as the lift doors opened and Riker entered the bridge, "How up to date is your zero-G training, number one?"

Riker frowned, "Current, unfortunately."

"Mr. Data will bring you up to speed."

The years of working together had fostered a silent understanding among the bridge crew so precise that it hardly required a look. Data stood and walked toward the lift just before Worf joined them. The Klingon's brow was knitted in stern anxiety, for it was no secret how he felt about space walks.

"Look on the bright side, Worf." Riker smiled as the doors hissed shut, "At least there won't be any Borg this time."

0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 00000000000

Data activated several light wands and released them into the black vacuum. The harsh blue light cast floating rays over the dark walls, creeping over them like specters.

"Everyone doing okay?" Riker's voice flowed through the comm system of their environmental suits, and each flashed their lights on one another to make sure all was well. They each wore the standard zero-G environmental suit, a light grey, rubbery garment with a bulky fit and high chin helmet that forced everyone to keep their face unnaturally upturned. Even Data, who knew no such thing as discomfort, appeared as if he would rather be elsewhere.

Riker glanced at Data with a short smile, "Wishing you had opted out of the suit, Data?"

Data shook his head, although the bulk of the suit barely transferred the motion, "I would not have been able to communicate, Commander. Although, I can…imagine how uncomfortable it would be."

"You have no idea." Worf grumbled.

"All right." Riker continued, "I want to circle the main deck and meet in the control center. Usual comm protocols apply, we'll be on channel two. Worf, you're with me."

Data and Geordie nodded and turned to face the black length of the corridor. Their steps were slow and heavy, the awkward result of walking in gravity boots, and they shined their lights in slow sweeps over the unfinished walls. The station was utilitarian in nature, much of the piping and other access ports running exposed along the ceiling. Geordie swatted at one of the light wands to send it further ahead. It struck the wall and floated around the corner.

"There's just something creepy about it." Geordie mused. "I think it's the silence of a vacuum that gets me."

Data considered the vibration as his heavy magnetic boots fixed another step on the deck. "I did not think that silence was considered particularly ominous. It has been my experience that in literature feelings of foreboding are often associated with particular sounds, such as approaching footsteps, or the creak of a door hinge."

Geordie laughed, "yeah, maybe in literature. But silence…that means you can't hear anything coming."

Data consulted his tricorder, "There are no life signs aboard."

Geordie smiled at his friend through the glare of his face shield. "Come on, Data. You know the boogeyman doesn't have life signs."

Data gave Geordie an amused look and continued to run his flashlight over the walls in front of them. "The main laboratory should be just around the corner. From here there should be no more separating corridors."

"Mmm…." Geordie considered the walls around him, "I'm glad Starfleet abandoned this design. It's efficient, but not very convenient. I mean, you have to interrupt everyone just to pass to the next room."

"Spatial designs that do not separate rooms with corridors are often found in use by species that do not consider personal privacy to be very―" Data stopped his flashlight on the room they had just entered and frowned at what he saw. The far wall was a dark blemish marked with disconnected cables and broken fixtures. He ran his light to the floor where the mark continued, a near perfect outline of the equipment that had once been there.

"This is the main lab." Geordie confirmed as he too ran a sharp beam of light through the black void. The walls of the large room were all a jumbled mess of hastily cut and torn connectors. Geordie flinched back as a spindly chair suddenly floated close, tapping his face plate.

"What the hell happened here? All the equipment is gone."

Data lifted his tricorder, "According to the current schematics of this station, the primary data transfer block should be directly behind this bulked. We may be able to download the last internal scans." He crossed to the wall and fixed his tricorder and flashlight to his belt. The panel dislodged easily under Data's force and he pushed it away.

"Well, no hope there." Geordie frowned at the dark, empty space that should have contained a data transfer block nearly six feet tall and three feet wide. Once more, the attaching connectors hung lose like the limbs of some mangled creature.

"Geordie," Data said as he took his flashlight up again, "If the station's loss in mass is a reflection of its equipment loss, we would have to assume that transport signatures―" Data turned as he spoke, the sharp beam of his flashlight illuminating only what fell before it. The gray, cracked face of a human corpse floated not a foot from his face.

"Agh!" Data pulled back, attempting to escape, but his mag-boots did not cooperate with his speed. He clenched his eyes shut and waved his hands. The flashlight spun away and bathed the grotesque corpse in a violent swath of light.

Data gasped again and turned his face down. He closed his eyes against the irrational panic, for his mind told him there was no reason to be afraid, yet something very different told him to run.

"Data!" Geordie called and shined his flashlight through the black chaos. The body drifted high to the ceiling, forcing Geordie to duck under its sprawling legs so he could come to his friend's side. Data was standing still and upright, for there was no other choice in zero gravity. But his eyes were still clenched shut, and held both fists tight and close. "Data, are you all right?"

"I am sorry, Geordie." Data strained, his eyes still closed. "I did not mean to panic."

"Hey, you're only human, right?" Geordie said as he captured Data's escaped flashlight. "Are you really okay, Data? Are you…do you think you should deactivate your emotion chip?"

No. Data lowered his hands to his sides and opened his eyes, "No, Geordie. I will be fine. Thank you."

"Okay." Geordie said hesitantly and took a few steps back to look at the body above. It had come to a slow drift against the ceiling with its face down. Data forced his eyes up and was relieved when his composure did not break. He took a deep breath, for his emotions sometimes forced such unnecessary actions, and tapped his combadge.

"Data to Commander Riker. Sir, we have discovered a body in the main science lab.

"You're not the only one, Data." Came Riker's weary reply, "We have three here in the control center. Can you speculate on a cause of death?"

Data examined the body again. It was a man, although the severe disfigurement to his face caused by exposure excluded a guess at age. He wore a Starfleet issue environmental suit minus the helmet. When Data attempted to use his tricorder to read for toxicology, the instrument did not respond.

"The pulsar's radiation field is interfering with tricorders." Data said almost absently as he continued to stare up.

"But visual inspection alone suggests that this man died of exposure to a vacuum." Geordie supplied.

Data looked up now, aware of his preoccupation, and was embarrassed. It had been nearly six years since he had first activated his emotion chip, and still there were moments when he could not rein it in.

"It looks almost the same here." Riker replied, "They may have been attempting to reach the escape pods, but they couldn't beat the sudden decompression. We're going to check the escape pods."

"Sir," Data said, resolved that he was now all right, "if the pattern we have seen here is consistent, I would surmise that the escape pods are gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, Sir, as well as every other piece of useful equipment."

A long, agitated sigh came through the comm. "I was hoping that wasn't the case on your side. This place has been stripped to the bone. The computers, tool lockers…they even took the CO2 scrubbers right out of the wall. Transport the body to sickbay and meet us in the control center. Maybe we'll get some answers there."

"Aye, Sir." Data tapped his badge closed and retrieved a transporter tag from his utility belt. He only hesitated a moment, then placed the tag on the body above him. The body drifted away before disappeared in the blue haze of the transporter beam.

They left the empty room and headed for the control center.

There was silence for more than a minute while Data reflected―or 'harped', as Geordie would say ― on his embarrassment.

"I am sorry, Geordie." He said again, "My reaction was not behavior becoming a Starfleet officer."

"Data…." Geordie sighed heavily, "You need to be a little easier on yourself. Anyone would have had a serious reaction. I would have if I hadn't seen it coming."

"You are attempting to make me feel better."

Geordie laughed a bit, "Yeah, Data. I am. But that doesn't make it untrue. You've come a long way. It's not as if this is Belok Three again."

Data glanced soberly at his friend, "No. It is not." Data fell silent again as he recalled the unpleasant events on Belok Three. It had been a former Cardassian space station that fell into Federation hands under the Cardassian-Federation treaty, only to be taken by force when the dominion war broke out. The new inhabitants, colonists mostly, were taken prisoner by Cardassian forces for over a year until the Enterprise and several others liberated the station. What they had found there was….Data did not like to think about it. All of the men and children had been killed, and the women had been kept in deplorable conditions, severely mistreated. After only a few hours of searching the station for all the prisoners, Data had come across a Cardassian Captain hiding in a storage locker. Needless to say, Data's greeting had been less than kind, and the official report called it 'unnecessary force'.

He looked up, actually feeling a little better, "I do not regret my actions on Belok Three."

Geordie nodded, "Good."

They crossed yet another stripped room, so bare that its actual purpose was hard to figure, and came to the control center. The harsh blue-white light of the pulsar filled the room and Data's suit announced an unsafe increase in radiation exposure.

Riker turned in their direction, covering his eyes, "Yeah, I know. We can't stay here long."

Geordie immediately moved toward a chair that was drifting across the room, virtually the only item left, and held his tricorder to it, "Commander. With the station's shields down, everything here is getting a pretty high dose of stellar bombardment, but this chair is still relatively sound. If I had to guess, I'd say the shields on this station couldn't have been down more than…six hours."

"The last communication we had with the station was eight hours ago." Said Worf, and his tone suggested his suspicions.

"What the hell happened here?" Said Riker, "How could anyone strip an entire space station in that kind of time?"

"There is transporter technology that allows objects to be tagged on site." Data noted, "The Tal'Shiar would often fabricate public executions by using disruptor blasts to mask transporter beams."

Riker nodded, "So, fire at something, and instead of being disintegrated it's just transported to a predetermined location. That might explain the basic how, but it doesn't explain why the station appears to have sustained no external damage from an assault or why we never received a distress signal."

"Enterprise to away team."

Riker tapped his badge, "Go ahead, Captain."

"One of the station's escape pods just appeared on sensors with one life sign aboard. Maybe we'll get some answers after all."

"Understood, Sir. Riker out." He took a last long look at the barren, sun-bleached room, "Let's get the hell out of here."