Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic (36 page)

“You say the nicest things . . . but I wonder what sort of wakes mental slipstream leaves, and what damage it does?”

“Let’s try not to find out.”

G
uinan was waiting for La Forge in his ready room when he came on duty, which surprised him. He could only remember her coming up to the bridge once or twice during all the years she had spent on the
Enterprise.

“Guinan . . . Is there some problem?”

“Actually, I came up here to ask
you
that.”

La Forge allowed himself an understanding smile. “Ah, you’ve heard about our assignment.”

“Looking for the trans-slipstream wakes. I won’t presume to ask if you’re sure it’s something that the
Challenger
should be doing. You’re the captain.”

“I can hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“But . . . just let me ask you one thing, Geordi.”

“Anything, go ahead.”

“Are you looking for the source of these wakes, or are you looking for the
Hera
?”

“You think I’m using the wakes as an excuse to . . . what? Indulge in wishful thinking?”

“I just remember a time when you were a little . . . eager to find the
Hera,
for very understandable reasons.”

“Truth to tell, Guinan, I’m not entirely sure. I think . . . I tell myself that there are a lot of good reasons to find out what’s causing these wakes, and what we can make of it, and I think I make a pretty good case to myself. But at the same time, I remember how I felt when the
Hera
first disappeared, and I wonder if maybe there isn’t some subconscious urge at work.”

She smiled warmly. “It sounds to me like you have a good balance of motives.”

“And it’s not just us. Not just
Challenger
. Starfleet has distributed a general call for reports of sightings of these kinds of events. It’s become a pretty important issue.”

“Then I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see how things turn out.”

“For me, or for Starfleet?”

“Both. Starfleet’s in the history-making business, but it’s always good to see friends get the good stuff too.”

“The good stuff! Well, that’s one way of putting it. Reg will probably see it that way . . .” He rose. “Which reminds me, I have to go talk to him.”

“Then I’ll see you later, Geordi.”

“Nelson’s does have something of a monopoly on board.”

She leaned in conspiratorially, as if to impart a great secret. “That’s the way I like it.”

Barclay was seated at the ops console, so Geordi didn’t have to go far to make his appointment. “Reg, how’s the search for the wakes looking?”

Barclay brought up a sensor calibration display on his console. “I’ve reprogrammed these sensor nodes to register
the waveform of the wakes, and trigger an alert if any are detected.”

“Distance?”

“They’re scanning subspace up to three light-years. I figured it was best to use the long-range sensors, since these wakes are dangerous to be around.”

“Good thinking.”

“Captain La Forge,” Nog said from the back of the bridge. “We’re being hailed by the
U.S.S. da Vinci.
They’re asking . . . This is weird . . .”

“Out with it, Nog.”

“They’re asking if you want hot chocolate.”

Geordi laughed. “Tell them yes, and arrange a time.” He doubted that anyone else aboard the
Challenger,
with the possible exception of Guinan, would have understood the reference.

A few minutes later, the
da Vinci
dropped out of warp beside the
Challenger
, and both ships cruised side by side. “You have the conn, Carolan,” Geordi said, and went down to transporter room two to greet the visitor from the
da Vinci.

Still curvaceous and vivacious, Sonya Gomez had matured from a slightly clumsy engineering officer to the captain of the
da Vinci,
and one of the mainstays of Starfleet’s Corps of Engineers. “Sonya! Long time no see!”

“Geordi! So you finally made Captain.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll try not to spill hot chocolate on you.”

“Very wise. You know Captain Picard’s been plotting the same fate for you since you took command of the
da Vinci.”

“I still have nightmares about that day, you know.”

“So does he.” He didn’t add that it probably had more to do with Q introducing him to the Borg than with an
embarrassing spill. “Why don’t you come on down to engineering and tell us what’s brought you to our door.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Engineering wasn’t busy, and both Scotty and Vol looked delighted to see Gomez. La Forge knew that Scotty had a hand in making her captain of the
da Vinci,
but had no idea that she knew Vol as well.

“Scotty originally asked you to look for anything weird in G-231 . . .”

“I don’t know if I’d call what we found weird, but definitely unusual.” She gave Vol an isoliner chip, and he brought the data on it up in the holographic display that filled the center of main engineering. It showed a subspace map of a star system, with a strange gritty pattern to it that La Forge had never seen before. “There’s an elevated background level of subspace distortion there. It’s a sort of subspace granulation on a quantum level.”

“Have you seen anything like this before, Scotty?” Geordi asked.

“Never.”

“Me neither. Is there any specific pattern or location to it, within the system, I mean?” Vol asked.

“Not that we can determine,” Gomez said. “It looks like it’s some kind of long-term effect that’s built up over centuries. We were wondering if there might be any correlation between your waveform and this general subspace granulation?”

“It doesn’t look like it to me, but anything’s possible,” La Forge said.

“Our thoughts exactly, so we ran some comparisons. We compared the subspace granulation and your trans-slipstream waveform, and there is a connection.”

“Excellent! What’s the link?” Scotty asked.

Gomez pointed to the way the grit elements of the pattern
lined up. “Our granulation is a diffraction pattern. When we overlaid the waveform on the granulation we could see points lining up. The granulation is the hangover from lots and lots of wakes crossing each other over a long period of time.”

“Just like wakes from boats crossing and making peaks in the water?” Scotty suggested.

“Exactly. Whatever’s causing these wakes, either there are a lot of them, or it’s been through G-231 a lot of times. Gradually the repeated crossings of these wakes have caused a quantum granulation in subspace across the whole system.”

“Why there?” La Forge wondered. “Is there any strategic element to it?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it looks as if the black hole in the Bolus Reach is being used as a navigational buoy,” Vol said.

“That’s a hell of a buoy,” Scotty added.

“That’s our opinion too.” Gomez yawned. “Anyway, it’s been a long day, and we’re on our way to build a planetary deflector shield against a gamma ray burst, so I’ll have to dump data and leave.”

“Thanks, Sonya,” Scotty said, with feeling.

“Don’t be a stranger,” La Forge added.

“Make good use of the data,” Gomez called back, as she headed in the direction of the transporter room.

Scotty, Vol, and La Forge looked at each other, and at the holographic display. “What do you think?” La Forge asked Scotty after a few long moments.

“I think I’d like to hear Leah’s opinion on this.” That was a request with which La Forge heartily agreed.

La Forge looked out through the window in his ready room just in time to see the
da Vinci
bank away and leap to warp.
Across his desk, Leah leaned forward, going through the data.

“This subspace granulation doesn’t
quite
say slipstream to me, but there is an element . . .”

“You’re the expert on quantum slipstream. If you don’t think it’s that, then I guess we have to look at other explanations.”

Leah held up one hand in a “halt” gesture. “Like I said, there’s an element of the slipstream matrix that’s . . . hinted at by this granulation. But a slipstream drive as we understand it couldn’t have caused this. Certainly not on its own, and certainly not over time.”

“That’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

“The time scale?”

“Yeah.” La Forge sat down behind his desk. “If it’s damage that’s built up gradually over two hundred years, I’m wondering if it could actually be a buildup of damage from warp engines of a couple of generations back.”

“Definitely not. As you can imagine, the symptoms of that kind of subspace damage are something that’s deeply ingrained in those of us who design and develop starship engines.”

“What about some kind of natural phenomenon?” Geordi asked.

“I don’t know. There’s a lot about subspace that we still don’t know. Anything’s possible.”

“What would you think best fits the facts?”

Leah was silent for a long time, and La Forge knew that, given the choice, she’d prefer not to jump to any conclusions, but to arrive at them logically and correctly. “Traffic of an unknown type, with an unknown engine profile.”

“Unknown?”

“And totally new.” She pushed the screen away, and met his eyes. “You were right. This looks like a totally new form
of propulsion, and the traffic powered by it uses the Bolus Reach for navigation.”

La Forge had already come to the same conclusion, and it seemed obvious what his next move should be, if he wanted to learn more about the wakes and what caused them. He moved to the communicator switch on the table. “Bridge, this is the captain.” Damn but it still felt unreal and disturbing saying that. “Set course for the star system G-231. Warp six.”

C
aptain K’Vadra stomped onto the bridge of the
I.K.S. Iw’Bat
, a
B’rel-
class Bird-of-Prey, and received the salutes of his tactical officer and helmsman. “Report!”

“Sir,” the tactical officer growled, “a subspace distortion has been reported near a pulsar in the Garath system. It seems someone is probing our borders.”

K’Vadra licked his lips hungrily. “Intercept course!”

The
Iw’Bat
banked, her wings dropping into a combat configuration, as her crew probed the source of the mysterious energy ripple in subspace. As they drew closer, the ripple faded, rather than growing stronger, which puzzled K’Vadra.

“Whatever it was has gone,” the tactical officer confirmed.

“Or has cloaked?” Cloaking probably meant Romulans, and K’Vadra hadn’t fought a Romulan for years. It was a pleasure he missed.

“Possibly.”

K’Vadra paced the bridge, too excited to sit in the
command chair. It wasn’t long before they reached the coordinates where the distortion had originated. There was nothing in sight, except for a strange reading at the very edge of sensor range. It was almost as if the sensors were passing through something; as if whatever it was wasn’t just hidden by a cloak, but wasn’t really there. Whatever it was was also huge, but K’Vadra didn’t mind that, as he knew the Romulans had some very large ships.

“What is that?” He hoped for the name of a Romulan ship class.

The tactical officer wasn’t giving the results he hoped for. “Unknown, sir.”

K’Vadra scowled, more disappointed than anything else. “Check the tactical database.”

“Checking . . .” She straightened, spitting a curse. “Impossible!”

“What is impossible?” He wanted facts, not opinions. Whoever was out there was in Klingon space without permission, and would learn the error of their ways at the earliest opportunity. He didn’t want to hear how unlikely the situation was.

“The computer says it is a Chariot of the Fek’lehr.”

K’Vadra spat. “I said check the tactical database, not the literature—”

“This
is
the tactical database.”

K’Vadra leapt over to the tactical console and pulled her aside so that he could enter the query himself. “Idiot! I shall—” He broke off, as the computer responded to his own question with the same result.
“Qu’vatlh!”

He let go and stepped down to his command chair, overlooking the helm and ops pit. “Well, if it’s the Chariot of the Fek’lehr, he’s in the world of the living without my permission, or that of the High Council, so let’s send the
bastard back to Gre’thor where he belongs.” He pointed a finger at the screen. “Helm, intercept course.”

The
Iw’Bat
swooped down upon the distant vessel. K’Vadra took the tactical console himself. “Give me a mark when we’re in firing range.”

“Firing range in nine thousand,” the helm reported. “Closing.”

On the angular main screen something suddenly appeared, but the stars were still shining through it. “Firing range!” K’Vadra loosed a single torpedo and a short burst from the wingtip disruptors, neither willing to waste energy at this range, nor to wait until he was closer. The torpedo ran true, and went clean into the heart of the shark-like form ahead.

To K’Vadra’s amazement and delight, the leviathan disappeared in a flash. His pleasure lasted only a moment, however, as he realized that the torpedo had gone straight through it without detonating, and would soon self-detonate.

He thumped the console with both fists. “Where did it go?”

“Unknown, but that subspace distortion is back, and off the scale. It’s as if there was a waveform or . . .”

“A slipstream ship? Federation?”

“No, but . . .” The tactical officer looked up, her face a mask of puzzlement. “There is some similarity to slipstream spoor, but far beyond anything we know is possible. There’s something else. The computer reports that any sightings of this type are to be reported to the High Council immediately.”

K’Vadra thought about that for a moment. Perhaps there was some kind of new Romulan ship, one with its own slipstream drive . . . That would certainly be of great importance to the High Council.

“Report it, then.” He turned to the helmsman. “Return to our patrol course.”

La Forge didn’t know who to expect when his door chimed. “Come in,” he called. He was off duty and in civvies, ready to take Leah to Nelson’s for a proper meal, but he had a few minutes to spare while she got ready.