by Dayton Ward
“Well, would you look at that,” a male voice said from somewhere to his right. “I think he’s finally snapped.”
Another voice, also male though possessing a slightly higher pitch, replied, “What do you mean snapped? He seems perfectly normal to me.”
“Can’t you see?” the first man asked, his tone now clearly one of jest. “He’s walking the wrong way.” Then, his voice rising in volume, he said, “Lieutenant, if you keep that up, you’re going to wear through the deck plating.”
Unable to keep from smiling as he halted his inspection, Xiong turned to look at the two men standing at the entrance to the U.S.S. Lovell’s secondary cargo bay. “Mister Anderson. Mister O’Halloran. Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” replied Anderson as he and O’Halloran made their way into the cargo bay.
“Says you,” O’Halloran countered. “This was supposed to be my day off.”
Anderson shook his head. “You big baby.”
The verbal banter helped to ease Xiong’s mood as the engineers approached. Both wore Starfleet uniforms with red tunics bearing a lieutenant’s stripes, though neither officer appeared old enough to be more than a week out of the Academy. Xiong figured that their apparent youth in large part could be attributed to the jocular, almost irreverent manner in which they engaged nearly every conversation that was not directly related to their assigned duties. He was aware that such behavior was a hallmark of nearly every member of the Lovell’s crew, in particular the contingent of specialists assigned to the ship’s detachment from the Corps of Engineers. However, having seen the crew work on several occasions, Xiong knew from experience that any unconventional antics they might exhibit disappeared when duty or necessity called. In this regard, he likened the men and women assigned to the Lovell to Captain Adelard Nassir and his crew aboard the U.S.S. Sagittarius. That eclectic, tight-knit group also was rather unorthodox in its methods, but no one could argue the results they achieved.
The same could be said for the Lovell itself, being an all but ancient Daedalus-class vessel. A relic of the previous century, it and two sister ships had been pulled from deep storage at the Qualor II shipyards and refurbished for use by the Corps of Engineers, offering its crew of specialists and miracle workers ample opportunity to tinker with every onboard system to the point where the Lovell now performed almost as well as any ship built within the past three decades. Given the irregular nature of what Xiong and this vessel’s crew were about to attempt, “unorthodox” was just the sort of character trait that was needed here and now.
“Well,” Xiong said, offering a wry grin, “I appreciate you being here, even if you’re not supposed to be here today.”
“No problem, Lieutenant,” Anderson said. “Commander alKhaled prefers to have us on hand when there’s a possibility of something blowing up, or ripping open the fabric of space-time.”
O’Halloran’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to happen today, though. Right?”
“I can’t predict what might result from this test,” Xiong replied, “but I’m fairly confident the space-time continuum is secure, at least for the moment.” Even as he spoke the words, Xiong considered his answer. If Operation Vanguard had taught him anything, it was to anticipate the unexpected, the unlikely, or even the impossible.
“Good,” Anderson said, making his way toward the row of workstations that had been installed in the cargo bay and configured to act as the center of operations for the forthcoming series of tests. “I hate to mess with that kind of stuff, at least before lunch.” Settling into one of the seats positioned before the consoles, he ran his hand along one set of controls and nodded. “Everything shows green.” Gesturing toward the container, he asked, “I take it our guest is behaving itself?”
Xiong replied, “So far.” Moving to stand next to where O’Halloran had seated himself at another of the consoles, he tapped a control, and one of the workstation’s monitors flickered to life before settling on the image of a now quite familiar crystalline polyhedron. Somewhat larger than a human head, the Mirdonyae Artifact—one of two currently held by Xiong and his team of researchers on Starbase 47—emitted a pulsing, violet glow, just as it had since he had used the mysterious crystal to capture the Shedai entity that had attacked the station months earlier. Whether the energy emitted by the crystal originated from the object itself or the mysterious being it now held within its confines, Xiong did not know. Weeks of intensive sensor scans of the artifact as well as its companion, which remained in its own secure containment facility within the Vault aboard the station, had yielded nothing in the way of tangible information.
“Is it me,” O’Halloran said, “or does that thing just look pissed off?”
Anderson leaned back in his chair. “I think you’d be feeling the same way if somebody stuffed you into a fishbowl.” Then, he asked Xiong, “We’re sure this thing is safe?”
“As safe as it’s going to be,” Xiong replied. Given the awesome power already demonstrated by the Shedai entities since his first encounter with them on the planet Erilon, the young archeology and anthropology officer had his doubts that there existed one place or containment system that would render the artifact and the being it held “safe.” The last attempt even to connect either of the artifacts to an external power source in order to affect sensor scans had evoked the wrath of a Shedai entity, presumably attracted by some signal or other energy emission from the mysterious crystals. That attack had been halted, but not before the entity had inflicted massive damage upon the station. Since that near-disastrous day, the artifacts had been held in isolation, first in the cargo hold of a Starfleet support craft while the station underwent repairs from the Shedai attack, and later within a special chamber installed in the Vault and constructed for the specific purpose of housing the alien objects. However, the protective measures had done nothing to ease the concerns of Admiral Nogura with respect to station safety, prompting this latest course of action. Even this isolation chamber—a twin of the one in the Vault devised by Xiong with the assistance of the Lovell’s Corps of Engineers team leader, Lieutenant Commander Mahmud al-Khaled—offered no guarantees.
“Once we activate the damping fields,” Xiong said, “the chamber will be completely self-contained.” Even the couplings connecting the unit to the Lovell’s power systems would be deactivated, and the chamber would rely on its own compact impulse generator, which al-Khaled and his team had taken from one of the ship’s shuttlecraft. “In theory, at least, the chamber can remain active for a year without interruption.”
“I should’ve taken bets,” Anderson said.
Xiong ignored the remark as he studied the status displays before him. All power readings were nominal. All that remained would be to activate the additional layer of damping force fields al-Khaled and his team had designed to act as a buffer for the series of sensor and communications scans to which the artifact would soon be subjected. If they were lucky, they would be able to examine the enigmatic object, and perhaps even the equally mystifying entity it contained, without threat of another attack.
And if we’re not lucky, Xiong mused, it could be a bad day for everyone.
The sound of the cargo bay’s hatch opening drew his attention, and Xiong turned to see al-Khaled entering the room. The commander was followed by Doctor Carol Marcus, the civilian supervisor of Starbase 47’s Operation Vanguard research team.
“Good morning, everyone,” Marcus said as she and al-Khaled approached. Exchanging smiles with Xiong, she added, “Lieutenant, I trust everything is ready here?”
Nodding, Xiong replied, “Just about, Doctor.” He paused, offering a small smile. “I just wish Nezrene was here.” Operation Vanguard’s Tholian benefactor, Nezrene, had defected and sought asylum aboard the station, and her knowledge and assistance had helped Xiong and the Vault research team to better understand the artifacts of Shedai technology they had encountered and acquired on a handful of planets throughout the Taurus Reach. Nezrene
had also helped Xiong and his people to better comprehend the Shedai themselves, offering a much-needed yet terrifying perspective on the ancient race and the incredible power it commanded. Present at the time of the Shedai’s attack on Starbase 47, the Tholian had been killed when the powerful entity tore its way through the station and penetrated the Vault in search of the Mirdonyae Artifacts to which it had been drawn.
Marcus reached out to place a hand on Xiong’s shoulder. “Me, too, but I like to think she’s here, after a fashion.”
Comforted by her words, Xiong smiled before turning his attention to al-Khaled. “Are we in position?”
“Yes,” said the head of the Lovell’s Corps of Engineers detachment. “We’ve established orbit at the limits of Vanguard’s weapons range. If anything goes wrong, they’ll be ready.”
“Why don’t I find that comforting?” O’Halloran asked.
Marcus replied, “Relax, Lieutenant. We may not be the Corps of Engineers, but we have a few tricks up our sleeve.”
“Exactly,” Xiong replied. “The damping fields may not be able to fully block any signals or energy the artifact might emit, but they should at least weaken and scatter them, thereby preventing a repeat of the last time we tried this.” Eyeing Marcus, he added, “After all, I really don’t think we want another of those things coming after us.”
“I can certainly live without it,” the doctor said. “What about sensors and communications?”
Al-Khaled answered, “That’s where we’re still shooting a bit in the dark. Since we’ve had no apparent success contacting the Shedai entities within the artifacts, we’ve decided to go back and start from scratch. We’ll begin with low-intensity scans and work our way back to the levels that triggered your prior … incident. At each step, we’ll reexamine the findings and see how they measure up so far as this new setup is concerned, and make the appropriate adjustments before continuing.”
“Even after all of that,” Xiong said, “there’s still no guarantee we’ll learn anything new, much less make actual contact with the Shedai entity.”
“And we might just irritate it all over again,” Marcus added.
Nodding, Xiong said, “That is a possibility, Doctor.” It was this scenario, above everything else, that was behind the extraordinary lengths to which he, al-Khaled, and their teams had gone to prepare for this round of experiments. Despite all the precautions, Admiral Nogura had been reluctant to see the research continue, but had relented when offered the idea of using the Lovell as the test bed rather than the station itself. That the suggestion had been presented by the ship’s captain, Daniel Okagawa, after he had explained the situation to his crew and they all—to a person—had supported the plan, had convinced Nogura to allow the effort to proceed.
“Well,” Marcus said after a moment, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working with Starfleet, it’s that risk is part of the game. Let’s do this.”
As al-Khaled oversaw the chamber’s final preparations, Xiong moved to the console that had been configured for monitoring the artifact. On the workstation’s main monitor, the image of the crystalline artifact continued to emit its purple-white glow. Despite the physical distance and the very real barriers separating him from the object, Xiong could not help thinking he had still felt the odd tingle across his entire body when he had held the artifact in his bare hands. He tried to dismiss the strange sensation as a figment of his imagination, concentrating instead on the cold, precise data being fed to him by the container’s network of internal sensors.
“Baryonic array, chroniton gauges, and tachyon scanners are all online and standing by,” he said. “How are we looking?”
“All containment field readings are green, Ming,” al-Khaled replied from where he had taken up station at an adjacent console. “Disabling main power and switching to internal systems.”
Another of Xiong’s console screens indicated the transfer to the containment chamber’s independent power source. All of the other status indicators remained steady, and he nodded in approval. “Transfer complete. Everything looks good.” Turning in his seat, he regarded his companions. “Only one thing left to do.”
Al-Khaled nodded. “Initiating scans.”
“All systems reporting active,” Anderson noted, pointing to one of the screens at his console. “Internal sensors at optimum, and the telemetry’s already coming fast and furious. Look at it.”
Returning his attention to his workstation, Xiong glanced over the various status gauges and graphics as the chamber’s internal sensor feeds sprang to life. Three of his screens began to cascade data at a rate too fast for his eyes to follow, but the lieutenant knew everything they were seeing was being recorded and stored within the Lovell’s main computer. He would have plenty of time later to review the information they were collecting.
“Commander,” O’Halloran called out, “I’m getting some unusual readings here.”
“Prepare to power down,” Marcus said.
“Stand by to abort,” Xiong ordered, a split second after the doctor. As they exchanged knowing glances, the lieutenant wondered if the tension he felt mirrored whatever feelings of anxiety she might be experiencing. To her credit, Marcus appeared calm and controlled, though he noted the slight tightening of her jaw line as she kept her attention focused on the scene before her.
Shaking his head, O’Halloran said, “No, wait. This doesn’t look threatening. It’s just … unusual.”
“Feel free to elaborate,” al-Khaled said.
O’Halloran, already hunched over his console, frowned. “It’s just that … okay, now there’s nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?” Xiong asked. “You’re not receiving?”
“I am receiving,” O’Halloran replied, “but the artifact seems completely unresponsive to any external stimuli. There’s no signal wave response, no high-energy particles, no communications signal. Nothing.”
“Is it dead?” Marcus asked. “Could the intensity of the scans have killed the Shedai inside the crystal?”
“No, Doctor,” Anderson replied. “We’re at least getting that much. It’s still very much alive in there.”
“And the scans are reaching it?” al-Khaled asked, frowning in confusion.
Leaning forward in his seat, Xiong pressed a sequence of controls that allowed him to scroll through the data collected during the past few moments. He noted that the sensor arrays recorded the scans’ penetration of the artifact’s crystal surface, and even their examination of whatever it was that lurked inside. The Shedai was, in essence, noncorporeal energy even though it had demonstrated the ability to assume physical form, particularly when angered. It also had shown a propensity for occupying and controlling physical objects of massive size and power, such as the beings that Xiong had encountered more than once.
“According to this,” he said, “the scans are hitting it, as are the communications signals.”
“Maybe it doesn’t know how to respond?” Marcus said.
Reclining in his chair, Xiong released a small, tired sigh. “That, or maybe it just doesn’t give a damn.”
11
Something intruded upon the Shedai Wanderer’s slumber and she awoke with a start, confused and irritated at the disruption. How long had she been sleeping? It seemed to her as though time had ceased to have any meaning within this gulf of energy in which she languished.
What was it? Reaching out with her consciousness, she listened for whatever unidentified presence had sought to make itself known to her. She was convinced it was an attempt at communication, though she was unable to locate its source. The signal, if indeed that was what she had detected, was brief and weak, though still sufficient to upset the energy fields contained within her crystal prison. What was the signal’s origin, and what was its purpose? For a moment she considered offering some form of response, but restrained herself. The fields gripping her had sapped her strength, leaving her all but defenseless. Though the Wanderer loathed the very ide
a of refusing to stand before an enemy, the simple reality was that here, she held no power.
Her own anger and lack of discipline had brought her to this place, this pocket of existence fashioned specifically to contain those of her kind. There were tremendous energies in play here, and she knew they were not natural phenomena. It had not taken her long after becoming ensnared within these odd fields to discern the artificial nature of their ebbs and flows, a product of the crystal that contained such unbridled chaos. Who could possess the power to create such a construct? Could it possibly be a creation of some long-dead species of Telinaruul? She had, after some time and reflection, dismissed such an unlikely possibility, though she forced herself to admit that the particular parasites that she had confronted with increasing frequency prior to her capture had succeeded in surprising her during their past encounters. However, she attributed that more to their adaptability and innovation rather than any real power they might command. She might even find them amusing, if not for the nuisance and—yes—the threat they had become.
As for the enigmatic crystal that held her, the Wanderer had probed and examined her surroundings and found no flaw or other sign of vulnerability that might be exploited. Not that it mattered, as what little strength and abilities remained to her had proven insufficient for making any real escape attempt. Her every effort on that front had failed, leaving her even more weakened and frustrated. She was at the mercy of her captors, whoever they were and for however long they saw fit to keep her in this place.