VOY - String Theory 2 - Fusion (c)

by Star Trek

  But there was no other word to adequately contain the disbelief with which she viewed the latest sensor logs Voyager had compiled as it neared the array. Although she no longer sympathized with the Borg imperative that perfection was attainable through assimilating unwilling individual life-forms, she took a moment to consider the fact that had the Borg ever encountered the array she was studying, and been able to successfully assimilate it, they not only might have achieved perfection, but would certainly have become a force against which no civilization in the galaxy including the Federation could have stood for long.

  Scrolling through the data summarized on the padd she had brought with her to the captain’s ready room, she was almost at a loss to determine where exactly to begin her report.

  “Seven?” the captain asked, her tone clearly communicating the concern awakened by the hesitant confusion plain on Seven’s face.

  “I was able to compensate for the gravimetric interference that was blinding our sensors to the array’s interior,” Seven began, “and have compiled a complete schematic.”

  “Go on,” Janeway encouraged.

  “It is difficult to know where to begin. The array is unlike anything I have ever seen,” Seven continued. “To be more precise, it is unlike anything I would ever have believed possible.”

  Janeway rose from the seat behind her desk and gently took the padd from Seven’s hand, perching herself on the desk’s edge as she began to examine its contents.

  “This has to be a mistake,” Janeway said slowly.

  “I assure you, there are no errors,” Seven replied.

  “You expect me to believe that this array is capable of manufacturing and storing every single element in the known universe…even a few we’ve never seen…and refining them into pure energy sources?” Janeway asked.

  “Belief is irrelevant,” Seven said simply. “One of the two rings that comprise the array is dedicated completely to the accumulation, storage, and processing of atomic particles ranging from the simplest to the most complex. There are hundreds of power transfer conduits which branch out from the central refinery so that energy can be distributed throughout the array’s various systems. In addition, there are forty-seven docking bays equipped with storage tanks and fueling systems which would appear to be compatible with all known starship propulsion engines and power grids.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Janeway said, shaking her head.

  “The singularity that the array orbits, like many singularities of its size, would theoretically contain all of the elements we are reading in some form. Though I cannot speculate as to how they are able to gather, stabilize, and process those elements…”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Janeway cut her off. “Consider the point of view, or the goals and aims of a species of sentient beings who would construct such a thing. Set aside the ‘How did they do this?’ question for the moment. Typically, once a civilization becomes capable of interstellar travel, they utilize the elements that are accessible when they develop their propulsion and power systems. In the case of Starfleet, for example, our matter-antimatter reactors require dilithium to harness their energy, which is relatively common within the Federation. Our scientists are constantly seeking new and more efficient energy systems, and as breakthroughs are made, Starfleet vessels are upgraded to incorporate new developments and the others are discarded. What we are seeing here suggests that the array’s builders anticipated the fact that multiple vessels using hundreds of different propulsion and power systems would, at some point, need to use the array for fueling.”

  “Perhaps many different species participated in the construction of the array,” Seven offered.

  “Perhaps,” Janeway mused, “but that doesn’t change the fact that while this is a marvelous and brilliant system, it is also incredibly impractical.”

  Seven could not argue the point, nor did she wish to. The energy systems she had discovered were only one of the many marvels the sensors told her were present aboard the array.

  “At this time we do not possess enough data to form any complete hypothesis as to the motivations of the array’s designers,” Seven said. “However, I believe there is evidence to support the position that the array was intended to be used by multiple species.”

  “What makes you say that?” Janeway asked.

  “The second ring that comprises the array contains life-support systems for every species contained in the Federation database, as well as every race the Borg ever encountered.”

  Janeway tried and failed miserably to hide the level of shock generated within her by Seven’s characteristically stark and simple description of a technological miracle as Seven continued her report.

  “In addition, the array’s computer core contains trillions of gigaquads of data stored in densely compacted information retrieval buffers. I calculated the system requirements for a core that could contain data including planetary composition, interstellar phenomena, complete astrometric mapping, and life-form analysis for our galaxy alone. This system exceeds those requirements by a factor of ten.”

  “Where to begin, indeed,” Janeway said, as if finally understanding Seven’s initial inability to begin her report. “You said there are life-support systems present,” she continued. “Does that include human life?”

  “There are many areas within the array that currently contain an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere which would allow us to explore without environmental suits,” Seven replied. “In addition, there is evidence that the environmental systems aboard the array are adaptive.”

  “Adaptive?” Janeway asked.

  “There are sensor grids in the airlocks which connect the docking bays to the rest of the array that are set to detect the precise life-support requirements of any individual who comes on board and adjust the internal atmosphere accordingly.”

  “How thoughtful,” Janeway quipped, before asking the obvious question. “What about life signs?”

  Seven’s brow furrowed. “It is difficult to say.”

  “Why?”

  “Voyager’s sensors are calibrated to detect consistent life signs. Even when those signs are faint, they are detectable as long as they remain constant for one second or more. Within the array, there are indications of life, but they fluctuate too rapidly for definitive analysis.”

  “You mean in less than a second, a life-form may be alive, and then dead?” Janeway asked.

  “A more accurate explanation, based on the readings I have collected, would be that in less than a second the potential life-forms I am reading exist, and then cease to exist.”

  “It might be a sensor glitch,” Janeway suggested.

  “It might. The sensors have been operating at maximum since we encountered the array and our systems could be overloading, though every diagnostic I have run suggests otherwise.”

  “So it’s possible the array is devoid of life, at least humanoid life…” Janeway began.

  “Or it is possible that there are thousands of different life-forms currently occupying the array,” Seven finished.

  “What about Tuvok?” Janeway asked.

  “We have pinpointed Lieutenant Tuvok’s shuttle and life signs within one of the docking bays. His life signs are growing weaker.”

  “Dammit!” Janeway vented.

  “We will be within transporter range within the next fifty minutes,” Seven said, softening the blow as best she could. “Even if the lieutenant has sustained serious injuries, we should be able to transport him to sickbay in time for the Doctor to…” She hesitated to finish the statement with the words “revive him.”

  Janeway nodded, eliminating the need for her to find a more comforting phrase.

  “There is one more thing, Captain,” Seven said.

  “What’s that?”

  “One of the other docking bays is currently occupied.”

  “Can you identify the vessel?”

  “It is Monorhan…but…”

  “Go on,” Janeway said
.

  “Its technology does not conform to the specifications of the Monorhan vessels we have already encountered in several significant respects. There are organic components to the design which are unusual, and their propulsion system is somewhat primitive by current standards.”

  “An early transport vessel perhaps?” Janeway suggested.

  “One of the Monorhans I worked with while Lieutenant Torres and I were on the surface told me of a group of Monorhans who left the planet almost fifty years ago. They were members of the planet’s Fourteenth Tribe. They were seeking something known as Gremadia, a city built by their god.”

  “The Key to Gremadia!” Janeway said, apropos of nothing that Seven could see.

  As the ocular implant that almost surrounded Seven’s left eye rose quizzically Janeway explained, “Phoebe was asking me about the Key a little while ago and I couldn’t remember what it was called.”

  “What is your sister’s interest in the Key?” Seven asked.

  “She’s bored and looking for a new subject to paint, or sculpt.”

  “The Key is a perfect sphere,” Seven said as if no further information were required.

  For Janeway, none was.

  “I suggested she find something more challenging,” she replied, before returning to the more interesting and intriguing topic of the array. Finally she said, “If the Monorhans were looking for a city built by a god, based on these readings anyway, it looks like they might have found it.”

  Seven’s face fell skeptically. Surely the captain did not seriously believe that the array was constructed by an alien deity.

  “If this tribe was searching for Gremadia, why didn’t they take the Key with them when they left?”

  “I believe there was a dispute among members of the hara who had the Key. Not all of the members of the Fourteenth Tribe left the planet. Nor do I believe that the Key was required to gain access to Gremadia. Its significance was primarily as an artifact which imparted visions of the true nature of their gods to the ancient Monorhans.”

  “Torres to Captain Janeway,” B’Elanna called over the comm.

  Janeway sighed heavily before tapping her combadge to reply, “Go ahead, B’Elanna.”

  “Are you available to come to engineering, Captain?” B’Elanna asked. “We found something you need to see.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Janeway said, closing the connection and returning the padd to Seven. “For the moment the religious beliefs of the Monorhans will have to be set aside. I want you to show this to Commander Chakotay. I want teams organized before we reach the array to board it and gather as much data as we can.”

  Seven nodded in acknowledgment.

  “And Seven,” she continued. “As long as we’re stopping at the biggest fueling station in the quadrant, we should determine whether or not we can use this technology to replenish our own systems.”

  “Agreed,” Seven replied.

  Only after Janeway had left, en route to engineering, did Seven realize that the captain did not require her agreement. As B’Elanna would no doubt have pointed out to her, a simple “Yes, Captain” would have sufficed.

  Tuvok was floating.

  He moved through the air, held aloft by invisible hands. The pain was still present, but somehow, his mind was no longer engaged in the struggle to overcome it. He hadn’t accepted it. He hadn’t been able to lock it securely behind a door in his mind where it could be ignored. Logic dictated that the severity of his injuries should have rendered him unconscious long before now.

  But he was awake; at least, he felt awake. He could feel his left leg dangling useless, though the hands were careful to hold it in place and prevent it from impacting anything that might cause it further damage as he was carried along. The sensation of movement in the absence of a fixed perspective caused his gorge to rise, so from time to time, he opened his left eye. Bright white light assaulted him the first time he made the attempt but after that he did catch periodic glimpses of a regular pattern of archways. He believed he was moving farther into the structure, but had no sense of direction to indicate where he was in reference to where his shuttle had entered the station. His mouth was filled with a pungent metallic-flavored liquid, which he associated with the taste of his own blood. A dull clanking sound met his ear at fairly regular intervals, possibly the result of a misalignment of some mechanism within the structure.

  With so many of his sensory organs responding to stimuli that related specifically to what he knew of his present circumstances, he had to conclude that he was conscious. This made the fact that he could not see anything of the hands that carried him, or their owners, faintly disturbing. From what he could see, they didn’t even cast a shadow on the walls as they moved silently through the structure.

  Finally, their journey came to an end. Tuvok felt a solid, slightly cushioned surface meet with his back. Slowly, he felt the ambient temperature begin to rise. This small comfort added immeasurably to a sense of peace within him. Unless the owners of the invisible hands possessed advanced medical technology, it was unlikely that they would be able to repair the damage to his body. But their efforts to make the last moments of his life as pleasant as possible seemed generous and well intentioned.

  This belief in their benevolent nature was confirmed when a few moments later a light blanket was thrown over him, adding to his warmth.

  He had not forgotten about the music. And the silence in his mind was as deafening as it had been the first moment he had become aware of its absence. But there was something else. It could not be compared in intensity to the haunting sounds that he had first called “the music,” but nonetheless he felt certain that someone or something was moving through his mind. The connection was not at all akin to a mind-meld. Nor was it a telepathic attack. Rather, it seemed that some external force was gently searching his mind for the clusters of cells which, when activated, produced powerful feelings of well-being. There was no sound associated with their ministrations, but from time to time, a word or short phrase would wash over him.

  Be at peace.

  He could not be certain if he was meant to construe the intentions of those who were tending to him in these words, or if they were a product of their work within his damaged mind and body. Ultimately he did not care. They seemed to be doing all they could for him, and for this, at least, he was grateful.

  Too much damage.

  Growing weaker.

  A gentle hum washed over him. He had never been so near dying that he could say for certain, but this seemed to be the beginning of the release he believed could only end in death. There was no fear. He was no longer troubled by the loneliness. What he was experiencing was both gentle and somehow appropriate.

  He did not believe he would be capable of speaking, or producing any sound that his caregivers would understand. But he did not wish to die without trying.

  Parting his dry and cracked lips, he willed enough air to flow from his lungs over his vocal chords to say all that he could.

  “Thank…you.”

  He surrendered himself to the inevitable long before the next wave of knowledge burst through the failing pathways of his mind.

  Danger.

  The captain entered engineering to find B’Elanna hovering around the diagnostic station where the Key to Gremadia had been encased in a level-ten forcefield.

  Janeway was more than a little dismayed.

  “This thing has been sitting in my cabin for almost two days. Why is it behind a forcefield in engineering?” she demanded.

  “It’s resonating on a subspace frequency that is barely detectable,” B’Elanna replied evenly. “Our internal sensors didn’t even pick up on it until I calibrated them to a precise resonance frequency.”

  Janeway shuddered slightly as the significance of the frequency rose vividly to her mind.

  “Would that be the same frequency that disrupted the Caretaker’s remains?” she asked.

  “Yes, Captain. I completed a thorough investigat
ion of sickbay with the Doctor’s assistance. When I analyzed the debris from the explosion I discovered that even though the particles had been disrupted, the molecular bonds of the powder that remained were still highly resonant. I tested the resonance frequencies of all gravimetric distortion waves present within the system, those emanating from the singularity around the array, and those generated from the microsingularity closer to Monorha. None of them are distorting subspace in the way we anticipated. Of course, there are dozens of anomalous factors which utterly defy analysis, but until I began to search for the precise frequency still emanating from the remains, I couldn’t find anything to account for their sudden disruption.”

  “And now…?”

  “There is a small subspace dissonance field emanating from this sphere. I recalibrated the sensors and was able to see that for approximately fifteen seconds in the last three hours that field expanded to include the entire area of your cabin. That time period corresponds exactly to the moment when the Caretaker’s remains disintegrated.”

  “What caused the field’s expansion?”

  B’Elanna slammed her palm down on the diagnostic table and replied wrathfully, “I don’t know! The two events are linked. They have to be. But I’m missing something.” B’Elanna massaged her forehead ridges with the palm of her hand as if willing the answer to form itself in her mind. After a moment she said, “There was an electromagnetic discharge in your cabin a few minutes later…”

  “That was Phoebe doing some work on my replicator,” Janeway informed her.

  “So the sensor logs showed me. But it doesn’t make any sense. We’re closer to the array now than we were then, so it doesn’t seem likely that our proximity caused the sudden expansion. Phoebe was in your cabin the entire time, and she didn’t report anything unusual. But this…thing,” she spat venomously, “sent out a dissonance field more powerful than any I’ve ever seen given its size and composition, and I can’t tell you how or why.”