Star Trek Prometheus - in the Heart of Chaos

by Christian Humberg

  “Why didn’t they link with the database themselves?” Kosinski asked, frowning.

  “How should I know?” Ezra shrugged. “Maybe the connection from the Lembatta Cluster is too weak.” He pointed at the terminal. “I have already entered the data in the query screen. But now that you’re here, you might as well continue.”

  With these words, the Arboreal pushed himself out of his chair. Picking up his cup and a plate covered in crumbs, he nodded at Kosinski, before stomping past him towards the exit. “Good luck. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Yeah, see you later.” Kosinski sat down at his workplace, bringing up the query that Ezra had prepared for him. “Priority one, of course.” Kosinski sighed. That meant many lives were at stake, and he needed to find the required answer as soon as possible. Apparently, the situation in the Lembatta Cluster was critical.

  He took a closer look at the inquiry. Captain Adams was looking for clues regarding a certain stellar phenomenon described by his science officer as a zone with variable radiation.

  Kosinski didn’t consider himself to be an astrophysicist but he knew a little about radiation phenomena. The reference data in front of him didn’t seem to make any sense whatsoever. He was tempted to contact Ezra in order to ask him whether he had mixed up data while entering the query into the system. But despite his jovial demeanor, the Arboreal was usually the epitome of accuracy.

  “Computer, check data packets from the Prometheus for transfer errors,” he said.

  “No errors found in the data packets.”

  Kosinski stared again at the radiation patterns he had been sent. “This is impossible. This is physically impossible.”

  But then he remembered the mission on the Enterprise that had derailed his career. The Traveler, whom Kosinski in his arrogance had believed to be a mediocre engineer from Tau Alpha C, had also been traveling with his ship to a place that shouldn’t exist according to physics. Space, time, and thought had been one in this place. Whatever someone thought about became reality, and the limits of travel were defined by the limits of your imagination. He hadn’t even begun to understand how all that could be consistent with the concepts of the fundamental laws of nature within the universe. But he had realized one thing back then: certain wonders existed among the stars that were seemingly not possible. And this appeared to be just one of these wonders.

  Kosinski shook his head. “Not my problem. I’m just here to find another one of these phenomena.”

  He accessed the central archive, feeding it with the necessary search parameters. The database’s answer came fast: “No matches found.”

  He spent the next two hours accessing every data collection within the various departments of Memory Alpha without success.

  Eventually, Kosinski began to lose patience. He had tried approximately ninety-five percent of all listed knowledge bases within the library. The only ones missing were the physical collection items in the showrooms and storage facilities. But he couldn’t imagine discovering information about chaotic radiation zones on ancient tapestries from Tellar or a burial urn from Bajor.

  “Perhaps on some ancient maps in the cartography archive,” he mumbled. Then he raised his voice. “Computer, requesting access to cartography archive.”

  His request was confirmed with an electronic chirp. “Access granted.”

  A gallery of images with several thousand photos of historic maps waited to be scrutinized by him. Just looking at the sheer number of images made him dizzy. It’s impossible for me to sift through all of them. I need to narrow down the selection.

  “Computer, eliminate all maps with planet surfaces or sections of planets.”

  Two-thirds of the material disappeared. Kosinski wiped his mouth with his hand. “Now eliminate all maps with only suns or planets. Keep only maps with unusual space phenomena.”

  “Please specify unusual space phenomena.”

  “Radiation zones, space rifts, anything like that.”

  This time, only a quarter of the images remained. The number of images was considerably more manageable, but it would still take him hours if not days to sift through all the pictures.

  Perhaps he should trust the heuristic analysis function of the central computer after all. “Computer, apply parameters of the currently running query, and correlate them to the information on the remaining space charts. List probable matches.”

  “Checking data.” After a pause, the computer continued, “Two matches found. Maximum similarity, sixty percent.”

  “On screen,” Kosinski said.

  Two photos of historic space maps stored on Memory Alpha as a permanent loan from the Vulcan Science Academy appeared on the monitor. Kosinski had no idea how to interpret the peculiar manner of representation.

  Grumbling, he pressed the call button of the intercom. “Kosinski to Cartographic Archive.”

  “Cartographic Archive, Lokmay here.”

  Kosinski didn’t recognize the name, which wasn’t at all surprising. More than six hundred people worked on Memory Alpha, and most departments kept to themselves. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter who was on the other end of that connection, anyway.

  “I need your help,” he said. “I have received a query from the U.S.S. Prometheus, and they are looking for a specific radiation phenomenon. According to the computer, it’s possible that this phenomenon can be found on two ancient Vulcan maps. Unfortunately, I don’t recognize anything on them. Can I forward that query to you?”

  “Of course. Send it to my terminal. We’ll take a look.”

  “Thanks. Transmitting data.” He typed the commands into his terminal. The channel remained silent for a while. Kosinski asked himself which species Lokmay might belong to. The name didn’t sound human. The pitch suggested a male being, but even that wasn’t certain. There were quite a few Klingon women who sounded more masculine than any man from Risa. He decided that—like so many other things around him—it didn’t really matter, anyway. He didn’t have any intention to invite Lokmay for dinner, after all.

  “That is… an extraordinary radiation zone,” Lokmay said after a few seconds.

  Tell me something I don’t know, Kosinski thought, but managed not to say aloud.

  “I can tell you with some degree of certainty that the radiation phenomena on the maps from Vulcan are of a much more common nature.”

  “I was afraid you would say that,” Kosinski replied. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Lokmay finished their conversation.

  Kosinski cursed under his breath. Presumably there wasn’t another chaos zone like this one in the galaxy. His research results so far, in combination with physical probabilities, indicated as much. He should simply finish the query with a negative answer and turn to his next task. But this was a priority one. No self-respecting member of Starfleet would push aside such a query without doing their utmost to find an answer.

  Sighing, he got to his feet. “Oh, this is just brilliant.” There was one more chance to find an answer. It was minute, but it existed.

  The listed inventories of Memory Alpha didn’t contain the full extent of knowledge data that was being stored on the planetoid. No one liked to talk about it, but there was the so-called Gray Storage. That term referred to data storage devices of all sorts—hard drives, microchip cards, isolinear chips—that had reached Memory Alpha via obscure routes. Some may have been donated by private explorers, while others could be part of the knowledge base of some insignificant planet on the periphery of the Federation.

  Since the data analysts’ daily business kept them more than busy, these new admissions had been treated with low priority. So they had been stored in boxes deep within the archives of the complex, waiting for someone with a few months’ time on his hands to add them to the general storage listings.

  Kosinski had only been living and working on Memory Alpha for two years, but even he knew that this would probably never happen. Which didn’t mean that this knowledge was l
ost forever. It was possible to go down into the archives on the lower levels, and to read the data storage devices on special terminals. But that was a bear of a job. Finding something specific down there was more difficult than discovering the proverbial needle in a haystack.

  Still, he had to try his luck. The Prometheus was counting on him!

  * * *

  Hours later, Kosinski sat at a terminal with a holographic interface, and he was about to despair. Not only had his shift finished hours ago, it was way past his bedtime as well. He had connected and searched at least one hundred different storage devices with promising labels. He hadn’t achieved anything—apart from a headache and a stiff back.

  Tired, he rubbed his eyes, staring at the shelves full of boxes and crates in the dimly lit basement room deep inside the planetoid. One more memory chip, he said to himself, and his gaze wandered to the small black storage device that lay next to him in an open box. Just one more. Sighing, he picked it up.

  “No, this isn’t getting me anywhere. I’m giving up.”

  “Hello, Mr. Kosinski.”

  The voice made Kosinski jerk. He lost his grip on the memory chip in his hand, and it clattered to the floor. He scanned the barely illuminated storage room with his eyes. “Is anyone there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” A figure emerged from the shadows between two shelves, approaching him. This looked to be a young man. He had a very juvenile face, and wore the plain overall of a civilian who didn’t really care for fashion. He looked somewhat familiar to Kosinski, but he wasn’t able to place his visitor.

  “Who are you?” Confused, Kosinski looked from the entrance to the shelves at the other end of the room. “And how did you get in here?” He hadn’t seen anyone come through the door.

  “Don’t you recognize me?” his visitor asked, without acknowledging the second question. An amused smile flashed across his face. He came a little closer.

  Suddenly Kosinski’s tired mind clicked. “You were that boy on the Enterprise! Wesley Crusher, right?”

  His counterpart nodded. “You do remember.”

  “But what are you doing here?” asked Kosinski. “Are you also working on Memory Alpha now?”

  Again, the young man smiled, shaking his head. “No, not quite. I’m just visiting.”

  “Visiting?” Kosinski squinted in confusion. “What in the world could make you visit me after twenty years?”

  “Has it been that long? Sorry, but time doesn’t really work the same for me as it used to.”

  The young man’s cryptic words confused Kosinski even more. “I don’t get it.”

  “Let me explain,” said Wesley. “Do you remember your assistant, the Traveler?”

  “Of course. He disappeared that day when…” Kosinski hesitated. “…when he got the Enterprise back to normal space.”

  “He reappeared a couple of times after that, including when I was a cadet at the Academy. It was then that I realized I wasn’t destined to become an officer like my parents had been. Instead, I joined him—and became like him.”

  Stunned, Kosinski stared at the young man. “You… what?” He burst into loud laughter. “Forgive me, but are you really trying to tell me that you’re a Traveler?”

  To his surprise, Wesley just smiled. “You don’t have to believe me—as long as you’re prepared to let me help you.”

  Kosinski frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re looking for a specific location in the universe, but you can’t find it. I have the solution to your problem.” Bending down, he picked up the memory chip that Kosinski had dropped and handed it back to him.

  The data analyst accepted it warily. “Are you saying that I’ll find another location with a radiation zone on here?” Wesley nodded. “That would be an incredible coincidence. I’ve been searching storage devices in this storage room for hours.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be a coincidence. I took the liberty to complete the data that you will find on here.”

  “You? But how…?”

  “I’ve seen many things during my travels, Mr. Kosinski,” said the young man. “Terrible things. Beautiful things. And helpful things, such as an energy sphere where all thinkable variations of radiation appear and disappear… a zone in permanent hyperphysical fluctuation.”

  That did indeed sound like the phenomenon Kosinski was looking for. “Let me check.”

  Wesley made an inviting gesture. “Be my guest.”

  Sitting back down at the terminal, Kosinski placed the memory chip on the holointerface and selected a suitable slot. Finally, he read the data on the small black card.

  “Match found,” the computer announced. “Similarity ninety-four percent.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Kosinski muttered. He accessed the data packet, and the research area of a deep-space exploring mission appeared. Kosinski had never heard of this expedition, nor of the species that had undertaken it.

  He looked up, staring at Wesley. “This isn’t a trick, is it? Some kind of belated revenge for me mistreating you twenty years ago.”

  Wesley grinned. “No, Mr. Kosinski, the data is real. I genuinely do want to help you.”

  “But why?” Kosinski still struggled to understand what was happening here.

  “For one, because I don’t want the quadrant to end up in another war. But also because I think you’ve suffered enough. You deserve some success.”

  “Success…” Kosinski’s gaze wandered to the report that also contained the exact coordinates of the radiation phenomenon. Slowly it dawned on him that he had really made it. The answer for the Prometheus’s query was on his screen. And Wesley Crusher of all people had helped him find it. He blinked.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” he began, turning back to his mysterious visitor.

  But Wesley Crusher was gone.

  “Hello?” said Kosinski. “Wesley?”

  No answer. Kosinski was alone again.

  He swallowed. “Thank you,” he whispered into the emptiness of the cellar archive room.

  12

  NOVEMBER 27, 2385

  Upper hull section of the U.S.S. Prometheus, Bharatrum system

  “Nothing. No life signs. No signs of artificial structures. This moon is as dead as a dodo.”

  “Thanks, Ensign.” Lieutenant Krish Iniri nodded at Vogel at ops, then turned to the conn. “Let’s fly to the next moon. Ensign Naxxa, set course for Bharatrum VI-Delta. Half impulse.”

  “Aye, Lieutenant.” The female Bolian pilot’s fingers danced across the navigation console.

  The ocher-colored moon VI-Gamma veered off to the left of the small main screen, before the upper hull section accelerated towards their next destination.

  The young Bajoran woman didn’t have command of one of the Prometheus sections often. Generally, she was only in command of a stand-in crew for alpha shift, but now many of the senior officers were on Bharatrum engaged in diplomatic talks, or they were in their quarters, unfit for duty. This had led to one of these rare occasions.

  Captain Adams had separated the Prometheus in order to deal with several tasks simultaneously. While the primary hull and the Bortas continued to orbit Bharatrum, the lower secondary hull with Lieutenant Aduviri in command searched the inner of the eight uninhabited system planets for traces of the Purifying Flame. Krish flew with her crew in the upper secondary hull from one outer gas giant to the next.

  It was a boring and tedious task, since they had to check four planets and thirty-six moons in all, then proceed to the Kuiper belt. It was like searching for a hara cat in the Bestri Woods. At least our sensors work better here than above Iad, Krish thought.

  She leaned back in her command chair. They had been crawling from moon to moon for almost three hours now, and they hadn’t found anything, except an ancient and long-since-abandoned mining facility on Bharatrum V-Beta, which the Renao called Meenoud. If Krish had been anywhere other than the command chair, she would probably have yawned loudly. But being in charge gave her a
mple satisfaction, so she could easily overlook indignities such as a boring search mission.

  Besides, the mission was important. Imagine if they actually were the ones who found the Purifying Flame…

  She turned to the tactical officer at the station to her left. “Bhansali, are you picking up any Renao or Klingon ships? Or any other vessels?”

  “Negative, Lieutenant,” the bearded man from Deneva replied. “Space within five hundred million kilometers is completely empty.”

  “Very good.”

  “Good, Lieutenant?” Bhansali snorted. “I wish we could get our hands on one of these spaceships of the Purifying Flame so I can personally thank these fanatics for their attacks on Starbase 91 and Cestus III. I lost a lot of friends in those attacks.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Krish said gently, aware that Bhansali had also lost most of his family when the Borg destroyed Deneva. “Still, this is not a vengeance raid. We didn’t come into the cluster to hunt down Renao. This is about justice for the dead and the protection of the living. Don’t forget that, please.”

  “Aye, Lieutenant.” But Bhansali was still snarling.

  In her heart of hearts, she could understand him; she even sympathized with his point of view. She had been born on Bajor during Cardassia’s occupation of the world. As an adolescent, she had seen friends die at the Cardassians’ hands. She was familiar with the desire for revenge—including taking revenge on an entire species. It had taken years before she had been able to gain enough inner distance from the past to recognize that individuals had been responsible for these atrocities, and that the majority of Cardassians had never even set foot on Bajor. Today’s generation of Cardassians didn’t have anything to do with the oppression that had ended fifteen years ago, just like the common Renao farmer on Xhehenem had nothing to do with the Purifying Flame’s terrorist attacks.