Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [49]
The architecture had a vaguely serpentine look to it, with repeating patterns of twists and scales. It was made of what appeared to be metal, but in the glow of their palmlights it had the iridescent sheen of oil in sunlight.
None of them had ever seen anything like it. They said so, freely commenting on what they observed.
Certainly, the level of insight would have been greater if Ben Zoma were exploring the ship with a team of exobiologists. However, Starfleet security officers weren’t exactly slouches when it came to understanding alien cultures. They usually knew exactly what they were looking at—or could at least make an educated guess.
Ben Zoma knew that as well as anyone, having served as the Stargazer’s security chief once upon a time. It was Picard who had promoted him to first officer when a Nuyyad attack unexpectedly made the slot available.
“This is one hell of a structural integrity field,” Garner said, running her tricorder over the bulkhead.
“It has to be,” said Horombo. “As big as this thing is, the stresses on it must be enormous.”
“The technology seems about the same as ours,” Chen observed.
“Seems that way,” Ramirez agreed. “But they’ve got many more emitters per meter.”
Every ten meters or so, they came to another collection of supply containers. Each one was different. In one, the containers were tall and thin, in another short and wide. Sometimes there were just a few of them, and sometimes there were dozens.
Their contents varied as well. In most cases the tricorders registered machine parts, but they also came across what appeared to be foodstuffs, or perhaps medicines.
“I’d rather have a replicator,” said Ramirez.
“They might have those too,” Paris pointed out. “This could just be raw material—something they break down and use.”
“Or an alternative,” said Garner.
“Or a supplement,” Chen suggested.
Only McAteer remained silent. In fact, he hadn’t said a word since they put on their suits back in the shuttle. His expression, visible through his faceplate, was clearly one of discomfort. Quite possibly, he was having second thoughts about remaining in the vessel with the rest of them.
It wasn’t too late to amend that decision. They could still recall the Livingston. However, Ben Zoma couldn’t suggest the idea. It would have to come from McAteer.
And as time went on, it didn’t. The admiral just explored the interior of the ship with the rest of them, keeping his feelings to himself—whatever they were.
“I think I’ve located one of their data nodes,” Paris announced after a while. He checked his tricorder again, then used his palmlight to point across the chamber. “It’s that way.”
“Let’s check it out,” said Ben Zoma, allowing the ensign to take the lead.
Paris led them to a diamond-shaped projection situated about two meters off the ground. Finding a hinge, the ensign swung open a cover to reveal a configuration of illuminated ovals.
Garner ran her tricorder over it. “It’s a data node, all right. And it shouldn’t be hard to gain access.”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” said Ben Zoma.
It only took a couple of minutes for Garner to download the contents of the node. Obviously, the invaders hadn’t expected anyone to board their supply vessel, or they would have paid a bit more attention to security.
Of course, the information Garner collected was in an alien language. However, their Starfleet-issue tricorders were equipped to deal with that kind of problem. In fact, translating a written language was a lot easier than translating a spoken one.
Ben Zoma took a quick look at the results. There wasn’t much in the way of tactical data, since the supply vessel was only programmed to follow the warships. But there was plenty of valuable information in the areas of propulsion and communications.
Not to mention a complete set of cargo consumption projections. With a little work, they could figure out which containers were slated to be off-loaded next, and by which warship.
“Nice going,” said Ben Zoma.
Up until that point, the aliens had known a lot more about