Synthesis - James Swallow [120]
The order gave the other man pause. “Very well… I see…”
“And you’re to initiate an immediate isolation of all critical computer systems from the ship’s main network. Red-Gold has drones aboard, and it won’t just attack our crew.”
“It will go after our infrastructure as well, yes, indeed. I’ll see to it, Captain. Ra-Havreii out.”
The avatar was reaching out, her expression tightening with fear. “Wait.”
With a whisper of light, she ghosted and was gone.
Xin jerked as the avatar materialized in front of him. “Wait, Doctor, please,” she began, speaking even before her holographic image was fully formed.
He grimaced at her. “Don’t just come out of nowhere like that. It’s extremely disturbing.” Xin stepped around her and strode out of the alcove into the heart of main engineering, in the shadow of the humming warp core. “Pay attention!” he shouted. “All operators, initiate isolation protocols! We’re locking down the chamber until the captain gives us the all clear!”
Ensign Torvig’s large eyes grew even wider. “Then it’s true, there are intruders onboard?”
“Oh, yes,” Xin replied. “In person and in program. Watch for any firewall breaches. This is going to be a twofront engagement.”
The avatar followed him, and Xin finally stopped and turned to face her. There was such fear in her expression, such a need to be reassured. He sighed, suddenly uncomfortable with the emotions that were turning over inside him. “You should retreat to the deep memory in the main computer core,” he began. “Cordon off sectors in one of the redundant subprocessors, compact and store your primary functions there.”
“You want me to conceal myself.”
He nodded. “You know why. If your program is violated, then all operations aboard this ship will be open to Sentry control.”
She paused. “I do not want to cease functioning.”
“Who does?”
“But I do not want to hide, either.” Xin felt a chill of uncertainty as he saw the expression on the avatar’s face shift. Before he could say anything else, she was gone, and he was staring at thin air.
“I have looked into the face of the Null,” intoned Zero-Three’s rumbling, crackling voice. “There is no respite from it. Destruction and fire. Subsumation and death of self. This is the fate that awaits us.” The great, slow-turning cog moaned as it twisted on its axis. “You will be witnesses.”
“That,” said Lieutenant sh’Aqabaa, “was not the kind of conversation I was hoping for.”
Tuvok hesitated, and in that moment, he saw Ensign Dakal slump against the corroded railing of the vast circular balcony. “I… I need to rest,” he heard the Cardassian mutter. “For a moment…”
Sethe was at the ensign’s side in an instant. The computer scientist took the youth’s arm and studied the biomonitor there. Tuvok saw the same readings on the repeater feed of his helmet display, and his eyes narrowed.
“He’s burning up,” said Sethe. “That Cardassian constitution of his is reaching its limits. Zurin’s injuries are too much for him to handle.” The Cygnian fumbled a hypospray from a suit pocket and applied it to an injector port at his crewmate’s neck.
“Sir,” began Pava, “we need to get him back to the Titan.” Her eyes flicked to the broad, turning shape of Zero-Three’s machine proxy. “Dakal’s fading out, and all of us are low on air. We don’t really have time to stop and listen to the confessional of a computer with a death wish.”
“You have no choice!” Zero-Three’s muttered growl made their visors rattle. “I will be heard. You will be told. Information propagates. Perhaps some can be saved. Processing. Processing.”
Tuvok stared up and pointed at the Cardassian. “This being is my responsibility. This group is my responsibility. You spoke of duty before. You understand that I have mine to perform as well as you have yours.” He took a step forward. The certainty came to him that if he could not persuade the machine to help them, they would all perish here. “You