Rogue

by Michael A. Martin

  “Mon Dieu,” La Forge heard the captain say, apparently to no one in particular.

  La Forge, Data, and stellar cartography specialist Ranul Keru stood on the raised central dais of the cavernous, three-story Stellar Cartography room. Captain Picard and all of the senior officers stood beside the dais, along with Batanides, Zweller, Commander Roget, and Lieutenant Hawk.

  Picard gazed briefly at each of the three officers on the dais. “What definitive information can you tell us about the phenomenon out there?” The captain’s voice echoed slightly in the oversize domed chamber.

  “Based on our probe’s sensor telemetry,” the engineer said, “the object at the center of those cloaked structures is a subspace singularity.”

  “The first one, in fact, ever discovered,” Keru said.

  Batanides’s eyebrows rose inquisitively. “Would you explain that a bit for the benefit of those of us who aren’t physicists or engineers, Commander?”

  “It’ll be easier if we show you, Admiral,” Keru said as he touched a control surface atop the dais’ wide, swooping handrail. Everyone looked upward as an enormous holographic representation of the turbulent singularity—the roiling fireball at the center of the hexagonal Romulan array—suddenly appeared in midair, filling half of the map room’s arch-ceilinged display space. As La Forge studied the spectacular image, he felt his fatigue draining away. Pure, adrenaline-fueled wonder took its place.

  “What you are seeing,” Data said, “is the singularity’s event horizon, the boundary past which all infalling matter or energy—in this case, the solar wind from the Chiarosan star—becomes crushed to infinite density at the object’s center. That region is invisible, since even light cannot escape it. The turbulent band of exterior material which you can see is located on the event horizon’s periphery, where the object’s powerful gravitational field is accelerating it into various forms of lethal hard radiation, such as delta particles and berthold rays.”

  La Forge saw Hawk and Keru exchange a worried glance. “How can a network of cloaking devices contain radiation as powerful as that?” Hawk said.

  Keru shrugged, prompting La Forge to respond to Hawk’s question. “It can’t. The innermost sections of the Romulan facility seem to be doing that. The cloaking network’s function is to keep the whole thing invisible and subspace-silent, along with a large volume of the surrounding space.”

  “In fact,” Data said, “the entire apparatus may have been here for decades. Sensor telemetry shows that it orbits the Chiarosan star at a mean distance of about 800 million kilometers, about 650 million kilometers farther out, on average, than the orbit of Chiaros IV. Given the turbulent atmosphere on that planet, it is unlikely that the Chiarosans ever would have discovered it on their own.”

  “Strange,” Batanides said blandly. “It looks like the event horizon of a typical, garden-variety black hole to me. Albeit a bit more spectacular.”

  “It’s very similar, Admiral, but there’s one critical difference,” La Forge said. “The object’s singularity—that is, its point of infinite compression—lies in subspace instead of in normal space. For the moment, that’s where most of its effects are confined.”

  “However,” Data added, “local space–time curvature measurements show that the object’s tremendous gravitational field has been steadily weakening the boundary between normal space and subspace, perhaps for billions of years.”

  “And now it finally has the potential to have serious effects on normal space,” Keru added.

  Zweller shook his head in apparent disbelief. “If this object has such a strong gravitational field, then why hasn’t it affected the orbits of the planets in this system?”

  “Good point,” said the engineer. “My guess is that the object’s gravitational influence is also largely confined to subspace. Along with most of its radiation output.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why no Federation ship ever detected it earlier,” said Crusher. “Say, from its subspace radio noise.”

  “The singularity’s subspace emissions occur at much higher frequencies than those most starfaring cultures use for communications,” Data explained. “Other normalspace phenomena, such as Chiaros IV’s atmosphere and magnetosphere, generate far more noticeable interference in the communications bands.”

  “The Romulans obviously stumbled upon the phenomenon first,” Picard said. “We’ve just come in a distant second.”

  “Or maybe third,” Zweller said quietly. “The Slayton got here before the Enterprise did.” To La Forge’s broadband visual receptors, the man looked ashen, as though something had just gone radically awry with his cardiovascular system. But other than Counselor Troi—who was also gifted with unusual perceptions—no one else seemed to notice Zweller’s apparent change of mood. Nevertheless, all eyes were now on Zweller, who had lapsed into silence.

  It was Commander Roget who finally spoke up. “A couple of months before the Slayton entered the Geminus Gulf, the Argus Array picked up some unusual subspace distortion waves centered on this system. They were far too infrequent and intermittent to pin down to an exact epicenter.”

  “I am familiar with the Argus information,” Data said with enthusiasm. “It is possible that the Romulans must periodically release some of their excess subspace energy into normal space, energy that manifests itself as subspace distortions.”

  “That might explain those subspace ‘hiccups’ we’ve been picking up over the past few hours,” Riker said.

  “And why the Romulan ambassador seemed so anxious for us to leave the area,” Picard said. “Perhaps she knew that her countrymen were likely to spill some of their excess subspace energy today, and didn’t want us nearby asking questions about it.”

  Roget shrugged. “It’s also possible that the Romulans simply can’t control the singularity as well as they think they can. There didn’t seem to be any regular pattern to the distortions, after all. And the Slayton couldn’t detect them at all—at least, not before she was destroyed.”

  “You think that the Slayton encountered the phenomenon after your shuttlecraft left for Chiaros IV,” Troi said.

  Roget nodded, his expression grim. “And I also think that those Romulan bastards destroyed her for getting too close to their secret energy project.”

  La Forge glanced once more at Zweller, noting that he was growing steadily paler in the infrared frequency band.

  “The Romulans would certainly be highly motivated to keep this phenomenon under wraps until they’ve formally taken control of the Geminus Gulf,” Picard said.

  “And that motivation would seem to implicate them in the Slayton’s destruction,” Data said. “They have found what may be the most powerful object ever discovered; as long as they can keep the bulk of the phenomenon’s radiation and gravitational effects ‘bottled’ in subspace, so to speak, they will have access to virtually unlimited quantities of energy.”

  “And to think that all these years Starfleet believed that the Geminus Gulf was nothing but an empty desert,” Batanides said, evidently to no one.

  “Interestingly,” Data said, “one of twentieth-century Earth’s most desolate regions also held vast reserves of energy, in the form of petroleum. Wars over this substance were fought in the region known as the Middle East, where—”

  “Thank you, Data,” Picard interrupted, his brow wrinkled with concern. “But our primary concern is how to deal with the subspace singularity. First, I need to know if it poses any immediate danger, either to the Enterprise or to Chiaros IV.”

  Data nodded. “That is a distinct possibility, Captain, particularly if the inner containment facility were to suffer a catastrophic failure. The singularity itself appears to generate the very power that the Romulans are using to contain it. However, the malfunction of a critical component of their power grid could allow a great deal of radiation to escape. Far more than either the Enterprise’s shields or the planet’s magnetic field could cope with.”

  “Or,” La Forge a
dded, “a containment breach could allow a lot of gravitational energy to escape into normal space. A large enough graviton flux could create havoc in this system.”

  “Meaning what?” Picard said.

  Keru coughed quietly before speaking. “Meaning that Chiaros IV could be thrown clear out into interstellar space. Or dropped straight into its sun. Or simply ripped to pieces.”

  “How could something that powerful have come into existence in the first place?” Troi said.

  “No one knows for certain,” Data said as he executed an extraordinarily human-looking shrug. “It is possible that only the primordial fireball from which all matter and energy originated could have created such a dense concentration of energy and mass.”

  “The Big Bang itself,” Picard said, the awe in his voice unrestrained.

  Crusher fidgeted. “This all sounds a little too huge to comprehend. What does all of this mean in practical terms?”

  “That’s a fair question, Doctor,” La Forge said. “ Theoretically, this subspace singularity has a gravitational potential millions of times more powerful than that of even the most massive black holes. We’ve known for a long time now that Romulan ships are powered by small artificial singularities. If the Romulans manage to harness this thing, it would yield trillions of times more energy than even their largest singularity-driven warp cores.”

  Batanides whistled quietly, obviously impressed. Picard, too, seemed to grasp the implications immediately. Zweller stood in brooding silence, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “With a power source like that at their disposal,” Picard said somberly, “the Romulans might be able to manage transwarp drive, like the Borg. Their ships could venture from Romulus to Earth in moments.”

  “And that’s only the beginning,” La Forge said. “With that much energy on tap, they could probably build and dismantle stable wormholes at will. They could send their troops anywhere in the galaxy—maybe anywhere in the universe—without even having to bother building ships. They’d make the ancient Iconians look like they were standing still.” He paused while everyone in the room silently pondered the implications.

  Finally, Riker ended the silence. “Well, now that we know why the Romulans want this system so badly, the next question is: What to do about it?”

  “Agreed,” said Picard. “Options?” The captain looked quickly at each person in the room. Another uncomfortable hush descended.

  This time it was the admiral who broke the spell. “I’m inclined to agree with Commander Roget’s interpretation of this thing,” she said, massaging one of her temples. “The fact that this singularity is still belching fire and subspace distortions every so often tells us one thing loud and clear: The Romulans don’t have complete control over it yet.”

  “That may be, Admiral,” La Forge said. “Commander Data, Commander Keru, and I have been wondering all along if the Romulans haven’t bitten off more than they can chew.”

  La Forge nodded to Keru, who activated another control on the railing. Instantly, a multilayered graph superimposed itself over the image of the subspace phenomenon, highlighting it with a series of colored bands.

  Data spoke again. “The amber-colored areas show the pattern of gravimetric stresses that the singularity is bringing to bear on normal space. These stress-patterns seem to indicate that the Romulans are trying to maximize the phenomenon’s energy output by keeping it balanced precisely between normal space and subspace.”

  “This is where things get very dicey,” La Forge said. “If they’ve miscalculated the stress-points between normal space and subspace, then the singularity will rip into our universe directly through these stressed regions. It’ll be like an iron anvil smashing through a rotting wooden floor.”

  “And what happens then?” Riker said, his blue eyes wide.

  La Forge spread his hands and shrugged. “Worst case scenario? All of normal space gets sucked into subspace.”

  “Or perhaps vice versa,” said Data, obviously intrigued with this line of speculation. “In fact, it is possible that all of space and subspace would be drawn into the singularity, precipitating a repeat of the Big Bang explosion itself. Such a phenomenon might even subsequently create an entirely new universe.”

  “After blowing this one to quarks first,” Riker said dryly.

  The admiral spoke up, getting everyone’s attention. “Just before the first atomic bombs were tested on Earth back in the twentieth century, nobody was sure what the outcome would be. Some physicists worried that they might burn up every last oxygen molecule in the atmosphere in a single colossal, unstoppable firestorm. But they went ahead and detonated the first bomb anyway. The worst didn’t happen. Luckily.”

  She looked gravely at every person standing in the cathedral-like room before continuing. “This time, we can’t afford to be quite so . . . callous. Or allow the Romulans to be.”

  Picard stood by quietly as the singularity’s image blazed overhead, eerily quiet. No one spoke for perhaps an entire minute as the captain ruminated, his expression unfathomable as he stared at the representation of the singularity. Finally, he looked away and regarded each and every face in the room once again, settling at last on La Forge and Data, who still stood on the dais beside Keru.

  “If the Romulans were smart enough to beat us to discovering and harnessing this thing,” Picard said, “then surely they’ve also anticipated the risks. They must have a plan to abort what they’re doing. Some means of jettisoning the singularity permanently into subspace.”

  “That would be a rational contingency plan, Captain,” Data said. “A successful abort, however, would involve causing a deliberate and extremely precise collapse of the Romulans’ containment forcefields, while simultaneously sealing the breach between subspace and normal space. There would be no margin for error.”

  “If we could neutralize this new Romulan toy,” Batanides said, “then losing the Geminus Gulf to them would be an acceptable price to pay.”

  “And it would also remove the Romulans’ entire reason for coming here in the first place,” Riker said, smiling slightly at the irony.

  “Mr. Keru, please deactivate the image,” Picard said, signaling that he had come to a decision. Keru touched a button and the singularity abruptly vanished.

  Once again, the captain spoke toward the dais. “Mr. La Forge, Mr. Data, in just under four hours, the Chiarosan referendum will officially conclude. I expect that we won’t be able to remain in this system for very long after that without seriously provoking the Romulans.”

  La Forge smiled. “Data and I already have a plan that we think we can pull off before the electoral deadline.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Picard said, a slow smile crossing his face. “What will you need?”

  “The Romulan scoutship, Mr. Data, a good pilot, and a couple of hours of preparation time. That singularity ought to be back where it came from permanently by the time we get booted out of here.”

  “Hold it,” Batanides said sharply. “You can’t be planning to fly that scoutship into the lion’s den, Mr. La Forge. The lion already has a pretty good idea that we’re coming.”

  “Fortunately,” Data said, “the element of surprise will be entirely irrelevant to our plan. We will need only to stay within the cloaking field long enough to establish a link between the Romulan security network and my own neural nets.”

  “With a little luck, the scoutship will be halfway back to the Enterprise before the Romulans even know what hit them,” La Forge said.

  Zweller was wearing a sour expression. “So that’s your solution? Destroy the most potent source of power ever discovered?”

  “I’m not thrilled about it, Commander,” said the engineer. “But it seems like a better idea than giving the Romulans a chance to use it against us.”

  “Why are you so sure your plan is going to work, Commander La Forge?” Batanides said, sounding skeptical.

  The engineer placed an arm about Data’s shoulders, m
omentarily surprising him. “Because, Admiral, even the smartest Romulan can’t think nearly as fast as the Enterprise’s second officer.”

  Data looked embarrassed. “Why . . . thank you, Geordi.”

  Picard smiled. “Then make it so, Mr. La Forge, Mr. Data. Mr. Hawk, I’d like to have you aboard that scoutship as well.”

  La Forge noticed a slight scowl forming on Keru’s face, though the stellar cartographer said nothing. Hawk beamed, apparently not noticing Keru’s reaction. “ Captain, I’d be happy to volunteer. I’m looking forward to having a go at that scoutship’s cockpit.”

  Picard dismissed his officers, and La Forge and Data were the first to leave the room, nearly at a run. With yet another inscrutable riddle before him, the engineer felt fairly abuzz with excitement. Sleep is overrated anyway, he thought, his agile mind already setting up several new equations as he entered the turbolift alongside his android friend.

  The knowledge that the Romulans were now poised to take over—or perhaps even annihilate—the universe settled uneasily in Cortin Zweller’s gut. Compared to the singularity, Koval’s list of Romulan spies now seemed impossibly trivial.

  Zweller now had to accept the bitter truth that he—and Section 31—had been duped. Taken in by a master deceiver, to be sure. But fooled nonetheless.

  He mulled these self-recriminations over as he watched Lieutenant Hawk and most of the other officers file out of Stellar Cartography. He wondered if Hawk had said anything to Picard or Batanides about their conversation on the scoutship—and which way Hawk’s loyalties would ultimately lead him.