Long Shot

by David Mack

  Terrell and the others followed him inside the command center. It was spacious, with a lofty ceiling above four slightly curved tiers of workstations. Two flights of deep, short stairs flanked the workstations, which faced a window several meters wide and nearly four meters tall that looked out on a dim sprawl of complex machinery. Above and on either side of the window were large, flat-panel display screens, all of them dark.

  Hesh eyed the control center with a curious frown. “Doctor Kavalas? I recall you saying this facility was remotely controlled. Why, then, are there workstations here?”

  “It was originally planned as a manned facility. Because of a belated safety evaluation, we added the remote command-and-control site after construction was nearly complete.”

  Ilucci took a look around, then turned toward Kavalas. “Where’s the ‘on’ switch?”

  “That, I fear, is part of our quandary.” He started up the nearest stairs and beckoned the engineer to follow him. “All systems in this facility were remotely operated through our interface with the master console, which is located on the uppermost tier, in the center position.”

  As the pair climbed the stairs, Terrell summoned Hesh with a nod. He waited until the science officer had hurried to his side, then instructed him in a confidential register, “Run some scans with your tricorder. Check out the machinery on the other side of the window and see what you can learn about the systems in this room.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “And silence your tricorder. Let’s keep this discreet.”

  “I understand, sir.” Hesh adjusted his tricorder and stepped away from Terrell. He took up a position in front of the enormous window and its view of industrial hardware.

  Terrell looked around for Taryl. He found her stalking the room’s far perimeter, with her eyes piercing its shadows and her hand resting nonchalantly on her phaser. Satisfied she was on top of her duties, he left her to them and climbed the stairs to catch up to Ilucci and Kavalas.

  At the top of the stairs, he found the engineer and the scientist staring, wide-eyed and silent, at the so-called master console. “What’s the problem, gentlemen?”

  Ilucci reached out and passed his hand through the console as if it were a hologram. “You tell me, Skipper. Apparently, it’s not supposed to do that.” He waved his hand through it again, and this time the console flickered and faded like a ghost losing its grip on the material world.

  “Stop.” Terrell looked toward the window and lifted his voice. “Mister Hesh! We need you up here! On the double.” Hesh held his tricorder away from his hip as he sprinted up the stairs. Once he was at Terrell’s side, the captain pointed at the spectral console. “Scan it and tell me what we’re dealing with. Was the console removed and replaced with a hologram?”

  It took several seconds for Hesh to run a series of scans with his tricorder. “No, sir. I think the console is still there, but it appears to have shifted out of phase with this reality.”

  His observation made Kavalas recoil and blink in wonderment. “It’s done what?”

  Hesh looked at Terrell. “Permission to explain, sir?”

  Not wanting to confess his own failing recollection of advanced physics, Terrell granted Hesh license with a wave of his hand. “By all means, Lieutenant.”

  The diminutive Arkenite faced Kavalas. “Are you familiar with the premise that all matter is composed of energy particles vibrating in a multi-dimensional matrix?”

  “I’ve read some papers on the notion, yes.”

  “Well, one aspect of that theory holds that the reason we are able to interact with our physical universe is that the particles that constitute our bodies, and those that constitute the universe around us, all vibrate on the same quantum frequency. However, it is possible, using precisely calibrated fields of subspatial distortion, to shift matter and energy into differing frequencies of phase. If those differences become great enough, particles that exist at one frequency would become invisible and intangible to those existing at another.”

  Kavalas impatiently flapped his long-fingered hands. “Yes, yes. This was part of our premise for how to extract dark energy from the universe—that it was out of phase.”

  “Well, if the phase variance is subtle enough—say, a few millicochranes—then an object might still be visible, and even subject to such effects as gravity, while becoming intangible.” He nodded at the ghostly console. “Like this, for instance.”

  Ilucci extended his hand toward Hesh. “Sir, can I borrow the tricorder for a moment?”

  “Of course, Master Chief.” Hesh handed it to him.

  Holding the tricorder, Ilucci activated its scanning functions and began a slow perambulation of the control center. “Doctor Kavalas, I notice that window is made out of transparent steel. Is that a common material on your planet?”

  The question seemed to exacerbate Kavalas’s discomfort. “No, we had it fabricated by special order for this facility.” He watched Ilucci stalk the room’s perimeter. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.” He pointed the tricorder at a bank of workstations. “Back in your tribune’s office, you said you were racing against a competitor that’s working on a matter-­antimatter power system.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  The chief engineer stopped. “For what? Even where we come from, most planets get by just fine on fusion power. Why the rush to harness dark energy or antimatter?”

  Kavalas wilted under the heat of scrutiny. “To power a faster-than-light star drive.”

  “So, you don’t currently have FTL technology?”

  “We have ideas. But most require more energy than we can generate.”

  Ilucci marched back up the steps and handed the tricorder to Hesh, then he confronted Kavalas. “Then I’d like to know why half these consoles have subspace coils in them.” He looked at Terrell. “Sir, shifting matter out of phase is a possible side effect of a miscalibrated warp coil. We use miniaturized subspace coils to speed up our computers and make FTL computations. No other technology I’ve seen on this planet suggests the Austarans should have this kind of science. But all the workstations in this room have FTL processors.” He pointed at the phase-shifted master console. “And here’s the kicker: I can’t think of a single way for one of these coils to malfunction that would produce an effect like this—not unless it was designed to do so. But since there’s no good reason the doctor or his partners would put in a feature like this, I have to wonder if maybe they built it without realizing what they’d done—and, if so, how.”

  Persuaded that he and his crew had uncovered something that Kavalas and his peers had hoped to keep secret, Terrell faced the scientist. “Doctor? How do you explain this?”

  Kavalas slumped against the wall like an exhausted boxer collapsing into the ropes. “Your engineer is correct. We didn’t design these systems. A secret cabal of government scientists stole its schematics from the computers of an alien vessel that crashed on our world more than a century ago.” His voice quavered with embarrassment. “It took us this long to develop the materials science and fabrication technology to build this facility.” His eyes swiveled toward the great window, and his countenance darkened in shame. “Only after we’d turned it on did I realize . . . it had been a trap all along.”

  15

  A blur of motion on the edge of her vision made Theriault look at Razka, just as his overzealous swiveling of his chair nearly threw him from it. He glossed over his momentary failure of grace with pure excitement: “Commander! We’ve made contact with the landing party!”

  “On speakers.” Out of habit she turned her eyes upward in anticipation of hearing the captain’s voice filter down from the overhead.

  Captain Terrell’s baritone cut through a harsh crackling of interference and some high-frequency oscillations. “Terrell to Sagittarius. Do you read me, Sagittarius?”

  She
raised her voice to pierce the noise. “We read you, Captain. Go ahead.”

  “Things keep getting stranger by the minute down here, Number One.”

  Theriault frowned at the image of Cavino’s turbulent heliosphere. “Trust me, sir. We sympathize. Are you and the landing party all right?”

  “So far. We had a rough brush with some locals, but no one got hurt. Now we’re at the dark energy research facility, and we’ve learned some new facts about its construction. For starters, the Austarans stole its design from an alien vessel that crashed here over a hundred years ago. And it seems those plans were booby-trapped.”

  That lifted Theriault’s brow. “I don’t suppose it’s still under warranty?”

  “I doubt it, Number One. And even if it were, the Austarans wouldn’t know who to ask for service. Mister Hesh and the Master Chief have made some detailed scans of the components and materials used to build this place. Have Dastin run them through the ship’s computer, see if he can scare up a match from the databanks.”

  Dastin stepped away from his console to join the conversation. “Sounds like a long shot, sir. This far from explored space, there could be any number of starfaring civilizations. It’s just as likely those plans came from one we’ve never met as from one that we have.”

  “We won’t know until we look, Lieutenant. Hesh and the Chief are sending up their scans on the data subchannel. As soon as you have them, start your analysis.”

  “You got it, Skipper.” Dastin nodded at Theriault, then retreated to his post.

  Theriault noted the flashing lights on Dastin’s console, which indicated the upload of data from the landing party had started. “Sir? Do you and the landing party have a plan for shutting down the generator any time soon?”

  “Not yet. I’m hoping Mister Dastin might scare up some fresh leads for us.” A pause, and then he asked, “Why? What’s gone wrong now?”

  She was loath to compound the pressure on the captain and the others by heaping more bad news onto them, but they had a right to know about the threat that faced them all. “There’s a major disruption on the surface of Anura’s star. Sensors indicate it’ll cause a huge coronal mass ejection in under two hours. Based on its size and projected trajectory, it’s gonna cook Anura down to sterile glass. And we’re sitting directly in its path.”

  “In that case, forget about analyzing our scans and get the ship to safety.”

  “We can’t. The warp and impulse cores both went cold without warning, and it’ll take more time to jump-start them than we have. So unless we help you shut down that generator, we’re as good as fried when that CME hits us.”

  To her surprise, she was sure she heard Terrell laugh. “Never rains but it pours, eh?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Number One . . . have you briefed your astronaut guests about the CME?”

  The question made her uneasy. “Not exactly. I had Babitz and Tan Bao show them how to use the escape pod, but we haven’t told them why. I wasn’t sure it’d be good for their morale.”

  “Let their commander worry about their morale. Your responsibility as their host is to keep them informed of events relevant to their situation. The potential destruction of their homeworld definitely qualifies.” His affect took a turn for the somber. “I know you don’t care for doling out bad news, Number One. You never have. But it comes with the job.”

  It was a simple truth but one Theriault had hoped to skirt. “I understand, sir. I’ll inform their CO immediately.”

  “Thank you. But don’t rob them of all hope. After all, I’m still optimistic enough to think that Hesh and the Master Chief might have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

  “That makes two of us. We’ll let you know if we find anything useful.”

  “What more could a captain ask? Godspeed, Number One. Terrell out.”

  The channel closed, and the sudden absence of its undercurrent of howling static left an eerie lacuna in the ambience of the bridge. Charged with a promise to keep, Theriault stood and turned aft. “Mister Sorak, you have the conn.” He moved forward and took over the command chair as she left the bridge—and wondered every step of the way aft what she was going to say to the eight stranded astronauts in the Sagittarius’s mess hall.

  • • •

  The landing party and Doctor Kavalas huddled around the semi-transparent master console. Ilucci scratched his beard, Hesh continued to run scans with his tricorder, and Terrell stood back with his arms crossed, considering their dilemma. Given their dearth of options, the group had stood in quiet contemplation for over a minute. Kavalas repeatedly flexed his hands into fists as if he were kneading an invisible wad of dough, while Taryl remained the farthest from the console, with her hands folded in an at-ease pose behind her back.

  Terrell broke the spell of silence. “We need to start somewhere, people. I want to hear suggestions, no matter how outlandish they might seem.”

  Awkward glances traveled around the huddle. Hesh lowered his tricorder. “I would feel more confident making a recommendation after we see the report from the ship’s computer.”

  “As would I,” Terrell said. “But we can’t be sure there’s anything in our databanks about this technology. It certainly doesn’t look Klingon to me, and that’s the only inter­stellar power I can think of that might have had a ship operating in this sector a hundred years ago.”

  Taryl unfolded her hands and faced Terrell. “Sir, we might want to consider that the most useful course of action available to us would be to transmit a warning to the galaxy at large. To tell anyone who can hear us to avoid this technology because of its inherent dangers.”

  “A noble sentiment, Ensign, but we can barely get signals to and from the ship. And without main power for the transceiver, they can’t get a signal out on subspace. Besides, we could do more harm than good by broadcasting news of this technology.” Terrell shook his head. “No, we can’t count on the ship’s computer to save us, and we can’t even send out a call for help. But I’m not prepared to throw in the towel. Not yet, anyway.” He stared at the phantom console, as if peering into its phase-shifted ghost would suddenly reveal the truth of its inner workings. “If there’s going to be a solution to this mess, it’s going to be found here—and the five of us need to do the thinking and the grunt work to make it happen. So think, people.”

  Ilucci shook an accusatory finger at the console. “Whatever we need to do, this panel is the key to the whole thing. Otherwise, why booby-trap it to shift out of phase?” He squatted in front of it and sucked air through his gritted teeth. “The trick is making this hunk of junk solid again.” He looked up at Hesh. “Any idea how to make that happen?”

  The science officer shook his three-lobed head. “I ­regret that I do not, Master Chief.”

  Kavalas asked, “How was it moved out of phase?”

  Hesh thought for a second. “Its subspace field coils were designed to exceed the necessary strength for processor acceleration, and their flux capacitors appear to have been deliberately underpowered so as to permit a phase-state instability to occur.”

  Nods of comprehension from Ilucci. “Okay, the key is the field generated by its subspace coil. What if we pull one from another station and rewire it to generate an inverse field? Could we cancel out the phase-shift and force this console back into sync with the rest of the universe?”

  “Let me enter some variables into a simulation,” Hesh said, keying data into the tricorder. “Theoretically, yes. But we might risk affecting the phase states of adjacent systems unless we are able to tailor the field to precise specifications.”

  At the risk of robbing them of their momentum, Terrell interjected, “There’s something else you ought to consider.” He waited for Hesh and Ilucci to face him. “The people who designed this system were smart enough to build in one booby-trap. Who’s to say they didn’t build i
n another? For all we know, attempting to force this console back into phase might trigger another trap—and unleash an even worse cataclysm.”

  Taryl expressed her skepticism with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “Worse than a coronal mass ejection that bakes the whole planet into a radioactive marble?” A disaffected shrug. “I have to admit, I’d be curious to see what could top that.”

  “If it’s all the same,” Kavalas said, “I’d rather we didn’t find out. Captain, as desperate as my people and I are for a solution, I’d urge you and your men to act with caution.”

  His protest drew a dubious reaction from Ilucci. “We offer three flavors of service, Doc: fast, effective, and safe. You get to have two out of three. Now ain’t the time to veto fast.”

  Terrell raised a hand to signal a pause. “He has a point, Master Chief. There’s a difference between acting with dispatch and acting in haste. Before we do something we can’t take back, let’s make sure we know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it.”

  “Point taken, Skip.” Ilucci struck a calmer note with Kavalas. “Doc, do you still have the original schematics for this console somewhere?”

  “Yes, I’m sure we do.”

  “Help Hesh get a copy of it on his tricorder. If there’s a secondary trigger hiding in there, one made to detect attempts at a forced phase correction, we should be able to spot it.”

  Kavalas bristled. “I thought we agreed trying to force-correct its phase was too risky.”

  Ilucci stood from his squat. “No, you made a good case for not attempting it blind. What I want to do is eliminate that uncertainty. Now, I’ve worked on a lot of ships and a lot of bases. And every one of them had a backup plan for what to do when things break. Because things always break. So, would I be correct if I guessed that somewhere in this gray pit of concrete and steel, you have a big room full of spare parts, surplus wiring, and extra tools?”