Star Trek: The Next Generation

Hugh and Me Against the World

Chapter 4: Game Theory

…

I don't own any part of the "Star Trek" franchise.

…

Jenny spoke up, not knowing if the security detail could hear her, and, right then, too worried to care. "What's wrong with her? Can you tell?"

Riker, however, heard her quite well. "Security, can you tell me anything about her condition?"

"No, sir. We summoned Medical; they should be here any second now. We haven't moved her—*"

"Good. Where, exactly, is she?"

"In what I'm guessing is her room, sir. Looks just like a typical little girl's room…stuffed animals, you know."

"Yes. Well, wait for medical, and keep me apprised." He looked at Jenny. "She's got family here who are very concerned about her." He broke off the connection. Not to mention a Captain and an Admiral who're both getting more concerned by the minute.

Someone signaled for entrance. Barely thinking about it, Riker said, "Enter." With that peculiar ESP that came to leaders of men, he could already guess who it was.

"Jenny?" Hugh stood in the doorway. "Jenny? What is wrong? I sensed your distress over the relay."

"Hugh!" She moved over towards him, not running, but definitely determined to reach him. What with all the shocks she'd had lately, she didn't even notice Mickey's expression. "Hugh, it's awful, it—*"

"No, wait," he said, grasping her shoulders, "Don't try to tell me. Show me, through the relay." She opened up her recent ROM memory files and sent them his way, with his particular code. They wouldn't show up to any other Borg. He was right; right then, she really didn't trust herself to speak.

The file transfer only took a few microseconds. "I…see." He turned his attention to Mickey. "It seems I have you to thank for saving the life of someone who is…very special to me."

Jenny had just thought Mickey's eyes were large back in Ten-Forward. They looked large enough now to be in danger of falling out of his head. "I…I, you…you're, you're—*" What was all this stuttering for? She'd expected him to be frightened, but this didn't sound like fear… "It's really you! Hugh! Hugh the Borg! I mean, o-of course it is, I—*" Then he seemed to straighten up somewhat and shook Hugh's hand. "C-could I get your…autograph?"

Holy crap!—thought Jenny. So that's what this is!

That's what that look in Ten-Forward meant!

Hero worship!

She didn't even notice Cathy sidling up to her. "So…. Someone very special to him, hmm?"

Jenny shot her a glare. "Don't read too much into that."

"How much should I read into that? Jen-NEEE! You're blinding yourself! Just wait 'till you're alone, and GRAB the guy, fa' god's sake! That's what I'd do! That's what any of us would do! After all," she continued, to Jenny's intense discomfort, "Ya gotta admit: he is kinda… cute. In a puppy dog sort of way." Hugh was blissfully unaware of the whole conversation, signing a piece of paper Riker had presented him with. He'd had to access the relay through the Vinculum in order to know how to write his adopted name. Borg, being largely inorganic, and permanently synched into their tridigital computer system, typically didn't have the custom of actually writing. "And besides," she continued, in a low, dangerous tone of voice, "If you don't, then maybe I will." At Jenny's shocked expression, she continued, "I confess: I'm curious as to just what he has below the waist. She looked back at a pale Jenny. "Just thought I'd give you first crack. But if you don't want it…" And she rolled her eyes theatrically.

"His personal shields would bounce you right off." But she shifted nervously.

"Wanna take that risk?"

Without answering, Jenny stormed over to Hugh, and grabbed him by the arm. He looked startled. "Hugh," she said, "We need to talk. In private." She glared at Cathy, who just giggled. Her Evil Plan was working out perfectly.

But at that exact moment, Riker's personal communicator beeped, a signal that indicated a private message. "Excuse me," he said, sitting back down and putting the earpiece to his head. He listened a moment, and an expression of shock spread across his face. "Are you sure?" they heard him say. "What's his condition?" His face paled somewhat, then solidified in anger. He disconnected and turned to them, addressing everyone in the room. "That was about Geordi. He's been shot."

…

"Apparently, he was shot with a Varon-T disruptor. It was a glancing blow, so he's alive, but in great pain. But he's getting the best medical care, and the medics think he'll pull through. But I can't imagine—*"

"I can," said Picard. "Number One, put a call through to Admiral Mallay. Priority One." He turned to the others. "I'm sorry, but this is official Starfleet business. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Certainly, Admiral," replied Hugh. "Feel free to call on us if you need us." And they turned and left, Jenny still hanging onto Hugh's arm. Mostly to keep Cathy from doing likewise. At least, that's what she told herself. Then.

The outer corridor: "Hugh, I can tell you're worried, even without the relay." The four other humans clustered around them. There is something in the human soul that seeks, and seeks to give, companionship in times of trouble.

"Geordi was the first friend I ever made. Yes, I am worried about him." He paused a moment. "But I'm even more worried about this apparent assassination attempt. For so it must be; there is no other reason why the assailant would be armed with a Varon-T disruptor."

"What's that?" asked Ashley.

"A weapon of terror, of torture, even. It kills slowly—relatively slowly—by disrupting the body from within." His expression was thoughtful. "There is no reason why such would be used, except as a weapon of terror. According to the Federation's files, only five were in existence, and all five have been accounted for. That can only mean one of them—one or more—has been stolen, or another has been manufactured.

"Manufactured for the express purpose of terror."

The door behind them swished open. "Ah, good, all of you are still here. Come in, come in. I'm afraid this concerns you all." Picard ushered them into Riker's ready room. "I've just spoken with Admiral Mallay." He sighed. "The news he shared with me was not good. Apparently, there's been a widespread rash of attacks on Federation citizens."

Hugh held up a hand. "If you'll permit me to guess…these citizens all had biomechanical implants of one sort or another."

Both Riker and Picard nodded. "Good guess. You've a splendid deductive mind, Hugh." Picard's face was grim. "And most of their biomechanical implants stemmed from technology adapted from Borg technology."

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. "And Geordi has biomechanical eyes…so. A concerted attempt to 'purify' the human race?"

"That's our best guess at this point. Which means you could be next."

"If we know something about these weapons—especially these Varon-T disruptors—we can modify our personal shields to nullify them."

"We'll give you those specs. However, Varon-T disruptors will probably not be the only weapons used."

"Maria!" shouted Jenny. "She—she had a, a screen in her brain, designed to filter serotonin!"

"We've checked, and she seems to have been exposed to some variation of trilithium resin. It wasn't immediately fatal, thank God, and Dr. Crusher seems to think she has an excellent chance of pulling through. But it won't be an easy journey."

Jenny felt numb. "I, I can't believe Dad would, would do such a thing."

Now Hugh took her arm. "Jenny," he said gently, "It may not have been him. Or, conversely, it may be that he was controlled somehow. You remember your brother saying there was something odd about his behavior."

This elicited a smile from her, but it was a smile tinged with sorrow and, yes, fear. She did remember what Mickey'd said. She put her arms around him, completely unaware—and uncaring—of Cathy's approving smile. Finally! "Thanks, Hugh, but I've a strong hunch it was him."

Nobody can hurt you worse than family.

At that exact moment, Riker's desk communicator beeped. "Captain?" said a calm, controlled voice.

"Yes, Data, it's good to hear from you. Ah, Admiral Picard is with me, too, just so you know. Are you well?"

"I am quite well, Captain, Admiral. And I gather that you're calling about the spate of attacks on Federation citizens."

"As a matter of cold fact, we are. There's been an attempt on Geordi's life. He'll pull through, but we're told the weapon used was a Varon-T disruptor. That's highly unusual, as I'm sure you know."

"Indeed. It has all the marks of a deliberate assassination attempt. And I could scarcely be unaware of the connection between Geordi and the other victims: all had some form of mechanical enhancement."

"Yes. We've had one such incident here, and one that was foiled by-*" and here he glanced at Mickey, "*-a very astute and courageous young man." Mickey relaxed somewhat; perhaps things weren't so bad, after all. "But what do you know of Varon-T disruptors? I thought they were all accounted for."

"In the Federation, that is true. One moment, please." There was a brief pause while Data, using his security clearance, scanned Federation files. "None seem to be missing. Someone went to a lot of trouble to use a terror weapon. The Romulans would be my best, first guess, followed by perhaps some faction of the Klingons. You might wish to contact Admiral Worf, at least to see if there have been similar assaults on Klingon personnel."

Riker breathed out a sigh. "We were about to. But all these assaults, using whatever weapons-*" remembering Maria Wong's exposure to trilithium resin, "*-appear to have been coordinated. We wanted to make sure you were unharmed."

"I am unharmed. It may be that I was not considered organic enough to warrant any purification process."

"That is possible." That someone would consider Data to be "just a machine," and therefore unworthy of their attention, made his blood boil a little more. Still he admitted, the day wasn't over yet. More and worse could happen. "Well, anyway, if you see or hear, or otherwise find out anything-*"

"I shall certainly not keep it to myself." A few exchanges of pleasantries, more for the humans' sake than for Data's, and he disconnected. Almost immediately, his communicator beeped again. He looked up, briefly considering ordering the others out, then seemed to shrug slightly. What th' hell. They were all neck deep in this, anyway.

It was Admiral Mallay. "Captain, is Admiral Picard there?" He looked to the side, noting Picard's presence, as well as the presence of the others. "Who're they?" Riker introduced them. He'd already told them of their involvement. Mallay smiled ever so slightly. "So you're Jenny. It's good to meet you. And you're Mickey. Well done, young man. I normally don't approve of breaking rules, but in this case, I'll make an exception.

"And it could easily be that your breaking that rule might've saved more than one life. Something seems to have forced the Purifiers' hand-for so we're calling them-and it could easily be that your parents missing that stolen phaser might've caused the conspiracy to move their plans up.

"You may as well all hear this, because you're all involved, whether you like it or not. These attacks, albeit somewhat clumsy, appear to be coordinated-and on more than one planet. There's no word from the Romulans, of course, but I've spoken to the Klingon High Command-and they were just about to call us, asking for information on this very thing. So it's happened there, too.

"And the MO appears to be the same. The victim-invariably one with biomechanical enhancements or replacements-was targeted for assassination, and almost always by someone close to them. Thanks to your information, we've been able to block and capture a few of the would-be assailants, and the results have been…interesting. And horrifying.

"Some-most-appear to be simply convinced of the rightness of their cause, but a few appear to have been…well, 'brainwashed,' isn't too strong a term. A few so drastically that their brains literally shut down when they were caught, and it became apparent they would be unable to fulfill their programming. How, we don't know. The technique is beyond us, even the Vulcans have no clue. There's no evidence of physical tampering with their brains-their wetware just isn't working the way it used to. Our psychotechs suspect some form of direct brainwave alteration, perhaps via induction or some similar process. If so, I don't have to tell you that's bad."

"Admiral," Hugh spoke up, "What you are describing…in some respects it almost sounds like the very process of assimilation I and my colleagues are all too familiar with. While the Cooperative's files are not as extensive as those of the Collective, they are, of course, open to you, should you desire access to them. Perhaps some way can be found to undo this alteration. Or, at least, prevent it from happening to anyone else."

Mallay sighed, smiled. "Thank you, Hugh. I was, in fact, about to make that very request."

"If it is not classified…has any pattern been detected in the…selection…of those altered?"

"None we can detect so far. It appears to be completely random."

"There may be another way we can assist you. I was just explaining to Captain Riker and Admiral Picard that, were you to share the specifications of this Varon-T disruptor with us, that perhaps we could adjust our personal shields to deflect it. That need not be only for our own benefit: we may be able to offer the Federation the design specs for individualized personal shields, wearable by unaltered humans. The power requirements would be significant, however, but if it could be done, it might serve to give Starfleet personnel an increased level of protection, at least for a brief time." On the screen, Mallay's face registered a pleasant surprise. Personal force fields? That wouldn't protect against everything, but it would go a long way towards protecting Starfleet personnel in what was shaping up to be a terror campaign. "But there is a problem. One no shield will defend against."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Geordi and I discussed this on several occasions during my initial stay. Game theory. Are you familiar with the principle?"

Mallay's face fell, his previous elation departing. "Unfortunately, yes. One cannot discount danger from any source, no matter how familiar."

Hugh was looking pretty miserable himself, in his own way. "Yes. In short, you can truly trust no one, not completely.

"Including, I'm afraid, us."

To be continued…