SINGULARITY [3]

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CHAPTER THREE

  The past twenty-four hours had been difficult for Geordi LaForge. The work 
itself was, by his standards, straightforward. But reconfiguring the sensor array, in 
this instance, involved long hours working in the cramped Jefferies Tubes, and the 
background static played havoc with his VISOR. He could have asked Data to 
help, but preferred not to take the android away from his bridge duties before it 
was necessary.
  But now he had removed the components he needed to work on, and was helping 
a young ensign to load the parts on a gravity sled for conveyance back to 
engineering. He tapped his comm badge. "LaForge to Bridge".
  "Riker, here. Go ahead, Geordi".
  "We've removed the components we need. The sensor grid should have gone 
down".
  "That's right. We just lost the main screen, and the readouts have gone blank".
  "I'm re-routing power to auxiliary sensors now. Please be advised that we'll be 
sensor-blind for about ten minutes".
  "Understood. Quickly as you can, Geordi".
  "Acknowledged. LaForge out".
  Up on the bridge, Commander Riker stroked his beard and shifted uncomfortably 
in the command chair. He did not like the feeling of hanging stationary in space, 
not knowing what was happening outside. A lot could happen in ten minutes.
  
  The multicoloured predator hung motionless, station-keeping by minute 
adjustments of the lacy projections along its spiny body. It had two functions in 
life; to feed, and to breed. Due to circumstances, the latter was denied it, so its 
total being was focussed on the former. Beautiful and deadly, yet its presence was 
calming and peaceful.
  In a rare moment of relaxation, Picard found watching the lionfish to be a useful 
aid when gathering his thoughts. Leaning back in his comfortable chair, the duty 
roster padd on his desk forgotten for the moment, he let his mind drift with the 
movement of the aquatic plants that shared the fish's tank.
  His reverie was interrupted by a chime from the door. He pulled down his jacket 
and sat upright. "Come!" The door slid aside to reveal Beverley Crusher. She 
walked in, and the captain allowed himself a smile of greeting. "Beverley. Come 
in. Have a seat".
  "Good morning, Jean-Luc".
  Picard got to his feet and approached the replicator. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. Can I 
get you something?"
  "Mmm. Raktajino, please. Medium sweet".
  The replicator produced their drinks, and they sipped the hot beverages in silence 
for a minute.
  "So". Picard leaned forward on his desk, "What can I do for you?"
  "I want to talk about Brenhya".
  "Ah. Our visitor from an alternate reality. A problem?"
  "A potential problem. Jean-Luc, you have extensive historical and archaeological 
knowledge. What do you know about the dark ages?"
  "With regard to what. In particular?"
  "The way people lived. Particularly, the way warrior types lived".
  "Well, things were quite primitive. Warrior castes differed from society to 
society. Some were no more than hired thugs. Others served under specific 
warlords. And yet others were roving adventurers, living from day to day, offering 
their services for reward or lodgings. Why do you ask?"
  "I just wondered. From what you say, I think Brenhya is one of the roving 
adventurer types. She is obviously used to wide open spaces and travel. Being 
cooped up in sickbay is very hard on her".
  Picard knew the ship's doctor, who also happened to be a close friend, well 
enough to know that she was working her way up to making a request she thought 
he would deny. He also thought he knew what the request would be, and steeled 
himself for what he knew would be, to Beverley, a disappointing response. "Is she 
complaining?"
  "No, not at all. She understands why she is being confined, and accepts it". She 
leaned toward her friend to emphasise her point. "But, Jean-Luc, she's like a 
caged tiger, down there. Pacing up and down, unable to sit still for a minute. She 
spends her time exercising; I've never seen anybody exercise so much, not even 
Worf. But it's driving her up the wall. It's hard just to watch her".
  "Doctor". When Picard used her title, Crusher knew he was going to say 
something she wouldn't like. "If you are about to suggest that I allow her freedom 
of this vessel, it's out of the question. I can't have a potentially dangerous warrior 
wandering about the place. Besides, the Prime Directive ..."
  "Jean-Luc, hear me out. I'm not suggesting that she be allowed the run of the 
ship. And I'm not saying she shouldn't be supervised. But if it's potential danger 
you're worried about, I can tell you that keeping her confined is like sealing the 
lid on a cannister of unstable antimatter. Sooner or later, something's going to 
blow".
  "And who do you suggest would 'supervise' her?"
  Beverley glanced down at her hands, before meeting the Captain's gaze again. 
"Worf".
  Picard raised an eyebrow. "Worf? Worf who feels dishonoured from his last 
encounter?"
  "It would be therapeutic for them both. She would have limited freedom, which 
would help release some of her frustration, and Worf would have a chance to 
work out his ...issues. I'm sure you could spare him from his duties for a day or 
so".
  "I could. But ..." Picard pondered for a long minute. Crusher waited patiently. 
"You make a sound argument", he said at last. "But even so, the Prime Directive 
does not allow it. She cannot go back to her own time and reality with any 
knowledge of our technology".
  "I thought of that", Beverley said with a radiant smile. "I could wipe her 
memory. Take her time here right out of her mind. She would have no knowledge 
to divulge. As far as she would be concerned, there would be a tiny gap in her 
memory of no more than a few moments. Given that Geordi and Data say they can 
return her to the exact time she left".
  "And this would have no detriment to her mental health?"
  "None at all. Current methods are quite sophisticated. I can do it without any 
harm to her personality or well-being".
  "And I take it that your medical opinion is that to keep her confined to sickbay 
..."
  "Would be detrimental to her mental health".
  "What if she refuses the procedure? I will not force it upon her".
  Beverley gave a little laugh. "She's not the kind of person we could force 
anything on. But she's pretty level-headed. I think that, when it's explained fully, 
she will understand and accept".
  "You appear to have thought of everything, Doctor". With a deep sigh, Picard 
resigned himself to defeat. "Very well. She may have limited access. Corridors, 
turbolifts, and Ten Forward only. She may have guest quarters, but outside those 
quarters, she is to go nowhere unaccompanied".
  "What about the holodecks?"
  Picard sighed again. "All right. One session a day. Under close ..."
  "...supervision. I know. And Worf?"
  "Ah, yes. Worf. We'd better give him the 'good news'".

  "Riker to engineering. Geordi, how's it coming?"
  "Almost there, Commander". The Chief Engineer's voice came over the 
intercom. "In fact, the auxiliary sensors should be coming on-line just about 
...now".
  As he spoke, the great viewscreen lit up, displaying a panoramic view of the 
starfield. The singularity was still there, showing as a swirling display of cloud 
and light.
  "At last", Riker breathed quietly. He was relieved that the ship could 'see' once 
more. "Well done, Geordi", he said aloud. "Mr Data. Full sensor sweep. Let's just 
make sure we're still alone".
  "Yes, Sir". The android's fingers flew over his console. "All clear. There is no 
significant change". He turned in his seat. "Perhaps I ought to go and assist 
Lieutenant-commander LaForge now?"
  "Agreed".
  Data left his posted and headed for the turbolift. His place was taken by a blue-
skinned Bolian ensign.
  The Ready Room door sighed open, and Picard and Crusher strode onto the 
bridge. Riker vacated the command chair, but Picard shook his head. Beverley 
joined Data at the turbolift.
  "Mr Worf", Picard said. "Will you go with Doctor Crusher, please?"
  "Yes, Sir". Worf handed his post over to another officer. "What is my 
assignment?"
  "I am granting limited freedom to the woman, Brenhya. You are to supervise that 
freedom, making sure she sees nothing she didn't ought to. Doctor Crusher has 
the parameters".
  Riker kept his eyes glued to the viewscreen. He put a hand to his mouth, stifling 
a grin. Worf eyed the Captain suspiciously.
  "Sir. Are you sure you want me to supervise  her?" He stepped up to the Captain 
and lowered his voice. "I would remind you that I was dishonoured by this 
woman".
  Picard replied just as quietly. "I expect you to carry out your assignment, 
Lieutenant. You are my Head of Security. In view of that, I expect you to work 
through your personal feelings, and do your duty",
  The Klingon growled quietly, but inclined his heavy head. "Yes. Sir".

  Matching the big Klingon's long stride easily, Brenhya walked along the 
corridor at Worf's side. They were almost exactly the same height and that, 
coupled with Brenhya's astonishing beauty and physique drew many glances from 
the crew members they passed. Wide-eyed like a young girl, she took in the 
spotless, fresh appearance of the passageways, the subtle but bright lighting, the 
plush carpeting, things she had never imagined.
  Earlier, Worf had led her into a tiny, cube shaped room. There had been no 
sensation of movement, but when the doors opened again there were somewhere 
else. She accepted Beverley's word when the doctor had told her there was no 
magic, but found it quite hard to put thoughts of sorcery and witchcraft out of her 
head.
  They stopped beside a doorway, slightly recessed into the wall. "These are your 
quarters", Worf informed her politely but curtly. He put a hand to a panel, and the 
door slid open. "Lights".
  Soft ambient lighting showed that the room was spacious but spartan, by twenty-
fourth century standards. Two deeply upholstered banquettes stood on either side 
of a low plexiglass table, and a wide divan, curtained off, begged for someone to 
come and sleep on it. A dresser, topped by a wide mirror, seemed to have been 
organically grown from one wall. On the far wall, large windows framed a 
panoramic view of the starfield.
  Brenhya had never seen such luxury. Her delighted face took in her 
surroundings, and she grinned at the, to her, sumptuous furnishings.
  "You may alter the lighting by voice commands", Worf was telling her. "The 
computer will respond to your voice, once it has recognised it. Your replicator is 
here, and your bathroom ..." 
  His deep voice tailed off as he realised she was not listening to him. Her gaze 
was captured by the spectacular view outside the windows. He clasped his hands 
behind his back and rocked gently on his heels for a moment.
  After a while, Brenhya became aware that the Klingon had stopped speaking. 
She turned and met his gaze, face alight with wonder. "This ship is not ...at sea. Is 
it?"
  Worf cleared his throat. "No. I am authorised to tell you that this is a starship, the 
USS Enterprise. We are currently in space. We are very far away from your home. 
More than that I cannot tell you".
  The warrior woman felt her knees wobble as she took in the news. She sank onto 
one of the banquettes. In her experience, space was the sky above the clouds. The 
idea of being further away than that left her feeling queasy. 
  Worf shifted uneasily, as if the sight of human frailty in this magnificent woman 
made him uncomfortable. "You are disturbed. Do you wish me to leave you 
alone".
  "What? Oh. No, Worf. I'm all right. Just taken aback for a second". She shook 
out her glorious mane to clear her head, and got to her feet. "What were you 
saying?"
  "I was explaining the facilities. Your replicator will produce for you any food or 
beverage you desire". He indicated the alcove set into the wall. "You have only to 
ask. Is there anything you would like now?"
  On the face of any other woman, Brenhya's expression would have been 
childish. But with a body and face like hers, there was nothing of the child in her. 
However, Worf's stern expression betrayed just a little of the delight he felt in her 
obvious excitement.
 "Chocolate", she said to the replicator. "I want chocolate".
  Nothing happened. "The computer has to recognised your voice, first", the 
security chief explained. "Computer, recognised the next voice as 'Brenhya'. 
Access level beta five. Authorisation Worf gamma epsilon one. Brenhya, say 
something".
  "What shall I say?"
  "Voice recognised. Brenhya. Access level beta five". Brenhya spun, looking for 
the owner of the disembodied voice.
  "That is the voice of the computer", Worf said.
  "Where is she?", Brenhya wanted to know. Any unseen voice she had heard in 
her past had usually meant danger.
  "It is ...difficult to explain. It is not a 'she', as such. I can only explain it as the 
voice of the ship itself".
  "The ship is alive?"
  "No. But it is very sophisticated. No offence, but you would not understand".
  "None taken", Brenhya said with a small smile. "I probably wouldn't. I don't 
understand most of what I've seen today". She moved to stand in front of the 
alcove. "Hello, replicator. I'd like some chocolate, please".
  "There are currently four thousand three hundred eighty six varieties on file", 
announce the computer. "Please specify".
  Brenhya spread her hands and looked helplessly at the Klingon. He almost 
smiled. "Counsellor Troi often enjoys this variety", he said. "Hot chocolate, 
Andorian style, mocha topping".
  Brenhya took half a step backward as a steaming mug of the sweet beverage 
appeared on the replicator tray. "Goddess! Worf, I'm finding it more and more 
difficult to believe there isn't any magic at work, here".
  "I assure you there is not. It is a technology far beyond that which you know, but 
that is all. There is nothing mystical about it".
  She picked up her mug, rather gingerly, Worf thought. She took a sip. "Mmm. 
Magic or not, this chocolate is wonderful stuff".
  "It is too sweet for my taste". In the presence of this fabulous woman, Worf had 
to remember his scowl, to remember that he was offended by her. He could hardly 
tear his eyes from her stupendous muscular body. He felt it best to leave. "If there 
is nothing else, I have duties to attend to".
  "Of course. Thank you for showing me everything".
  "Is there anything else you require?"
  "Just one thing. A personal question. Will you answer it?"
  "That depends. Ask it, and we shall both find out".
  "OK. Well, I can't help noticing" Her eyes strayed to his sagittal ridges and his 
hawkish features. "You aren't the same as Captain Picard and the others, are 
you?"
  He made a quizzical expression. "I am a Klingon", he replied, as if that was 
enough.
  "Well, you are the first Klingon I ever met. Are you from one of the northern 
tribes?"
  "You do not understand", Worf sighed. Her expression told him that she agreed 
with his assessment. "Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, and many others are 
humans. From the same planet as you. Klingons are from another world entirely".
  "But there is only one world", Brenhya said incredulously. "Isn't there?"
  "Trust me, there is not. If you are with this ship long, you will meet people from 
many other worlds".
  She put a hand to her brow as she sipped her chocolate. "This is giving me a 
headache".
 Another human would have picked up the irony in her voice, but the concept was 
alien to Klingons and Worf looked concerned. "Do you wish me to call Doctor 
Crusher?"
  "No, no", she smiled. "It's just a figure of speech. But tell me about Klingons. 
You're a proud people, aren't you?"
  The Lieutenant growled and turned away, reluctant to elaborate. He was anxious 
not to reveal too much, in case he fell foul of the Prime Directive. "If you wish to 
leave this room", Worf said on his way to the door. "Tell the computer to alert me. 
I am to escort you". The door hissed open. He took a step toward it.
  She had been standing by the replicator, and as long as he lived, Worf would 
never understand how she moved so fast. The first indication that she had moved 
was her hand on his arm. Her grip was light, but firm enough to let the Klingon 
sense the immense power behind it.
  "Just a minute, Worf". Her cool green eyes bored into his dark ones, and he was 
conscious of a crackle of electricity between them. "I believe I owe you an 
apology".
  "You owe me nothing".
  "Beverley and Deanna told me you had been offended by my actions in the sick 
room. They say you operate under some sort of honour code, that I violated".
  Worf's scowl deepened. "We Klingons live and die by our honour".
  "And I offended your honour by taking your, what was it called again, phaser 
from you?"
  "Yes. A Klingon would rather die than allow his weapon to be taken away. But 
that was not all. You gave it back to me, as if I was inconsequential, as if it did not 
matter to you that I was armed". His voice reflected the anger and shame he felt. 
"That is what compromised my honour, and that is what is unforgiveable".
  "I see". Brenhya looked genuinely repentant. "I did not realise. I felt it necessary 
to show that I was not to be taken lightly. And I can see that it would not do to 
simply offer an apology". She gave him one of her most dazzling smiles which, 
despite himself, made him feel a warmth inside. "If you know of a way I restore 
your honour, let me know".
  "The only way is in hand to hand combat".
  "If that is what is necessary..."
  Worf appeared to consider it for a moment. "Hmph. Captain Picard would never 
allow it. But I will give the matter some thought. If you will excuse me". He 
turned abruptly on his heel and left, leaving Brenhya with the same smile on her 
face.
  As the door hissed closed and she was left alone for the first time since coming 
aboard, she tried to assess her situation. But thoughts of the big Klingon kept 
encroaching on her mind, and she felt herself go moist at the thought of him. She 
had rarely met a male that was close to her physical equal, or that had an air of 
such ferocity about him. Or that was so ...male.
  And, she was sure, no matter how good a job he did of disguising his emotions, 
he harboured similar feelings toward her.

  Worf strode down the corridor toward the turbolift, leaving the guest quarters 
behind him. But after a few metres, he stopped, and had to force himself not to 
turn back. Thoughts of the magnificent female creature filled his head, and he felt 
a tingling in his loins, knowing that he would see her again.
  His lip curled up, showing his teeth in a snarl of anticipation.