Free Force and Motion by Jeffrey Lang Page B

Nog cried. “What? The spiders—”
    â€œArachnoforms,” Finch corrected.
    â€œâ€”they’re what?”
    Sabih paused the presentation, but did not—could not—roll it back to show Bharad and her creations. Finch explained, “They’re artificial life-forms. Arachnoforms. They’re really quite . . . unique?” He was momentarily at a loss for words. “Really remarkable. Highly intelligent. Mildly telepathic or empathic, the doctor can’t decide which it is. She believes they’d be very useful for assisting disabled individuals or working in low-gravity environments. Actually, the applications are endless if you can get past the fact that . . . well . . . . Really, only some people have problems with the fact that they’re . . .”
    â€œThey’re remarkable,” Nog said. “I’d have to get a better look at them. Can we meet them?” The engineerlooked back and forth between Finch and O’Brien, eyes bright.
    â€œReally?” Finch asked.
    â€œYeah, really ?” O’Brien whispered. “I mean, Nog, come on. They’re giant spiders , for mercy’s sake. I mean . . .” He shuddered.
    â€œThey remind me of a dhara I had when I was a boy, back before we came to the station.” The Ferengi held his hands up, wrists together, so that his fingers dangled to each side. He wiggled them. “You know . . . a dhara? No?” All of the humans, Sabih included, shook their heads in the negative. “Well, they’re adorable. And so affectionate. Their suckers can . . .” Nog intuited he wasn’t going to receive the reaction he expected. “Never mind.”
    â€œI’m sure Doctor Bharad would be happy to have you meet her creations,” Finch said. “Thank you, Nog, for your enthusiasm. Your response has confirmed a belief I’ve had since we met—you truly are able to appreciate what we’re attempting to accomplish here on the Hooke .”
    O’Brien cleared his throat while putting down his pint. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry. Never mind. Carry on.”
    â€œYes,” Finch said. “I will.” He stood, attempting to convey his excitement. Sabih cleared the holodisplay, but now Finch was lit dramatically from below. “I think, Nog, that you would take a keen, keen interest in my work: a project that has consumed me for the better part of the past five years. Allow me to demonstrate. Sabih, show us Deneva. First, as it was.”
    Light from the holodisplay dimmed, then flared. An image coalesced: a blue and green world as seen from high orbit, its northern pole crowned with an iridescenticecap. Bands of cirrus clouds streamed over the verdant continents. The lights of mighty cities twinkled far below. “Home to five billion souls. Long considered the most gracious, the most cultivated, the kindest world in the Federation. Deneva was a jewel, a beacon of civilization and civility, an abode of balance, humor, and grace.” Finch paused meaningfully.
    The edges of the blue and green world blurred and faded into a soft gray. When the image sharpened again, all color had disappeared. Deneva was now nothing more than a chunk of charcoal, all but indistinguishable from the sea of black in which it floated.
    â€œAnd then the Borg,” Finch intoned. He watched as expressions hardened and lines appeared around the Starfleeters’ mouths and eyes. Not desk jockeys. They were, if not warriors, soldiers. “Now Deneva is nothing but a memory,” he continued. “As are many other worlds.” The cinder that was Deneva disappeared and was quickly replaced by fleeting glimpses of a half-dozen other planets, some completely stripped of life, others only partially ravaged.
    â€œDespite the best efforts of the Federation and her allies, Barolia, Acamar, Ramatis, Korvat, and Deneva were