Synthesis - James Swallow [30]
The captain nodded. “That’s right. I’m a human, from a world called Earth.” He pointed out some of the other people in the chamber. “Betazoid. Trill. Pak’shree. Cardassian. Cygnian. Andorian. We have many species working together onboard Titan. It’s a tenet of our culture.”
“The Sentries have encountered other organic societies. All were monospecies, of lesser technical development. Not space-capable. Your… grouping is interesting.”
“We believe there’s strength in our diversity,” said Deanna.
“That assumption is valid,” said the machine. Little by little, the synthetic voice was beginning to even out, the tonality of it shifting. It seemed to be drawing not just from her husband’s voice but also from hers and Keru’s, even Dakal’s, Chaka’s, and Sethe’s. It was weaving its own vocal identity from a mixture of theirs.
“White-Blue,” Riker addressed the machine formally. “Can you tell us what happened here, what happened to you and your vessel?”
For a long moment, the device remained silent. “Incursion event,” it finally replied.
“We are concerned that whatever attacked you could still be nearby,” said Deanna. “The safety of our ship and crew is of great importance to us.”
“Negative,” came the emphatic reply. “The Null retreated. System failure. Contact lost. My termination… certain. If the Titan had not intervened.”
She sensed a chill pass through her husband as the machine-mind spoke. “The Null,” Riker repeated, the name cold and disquieting on his lips. “Is that the name of the force that attacked you? Do you know why?”
“Because we exist,” said the machine, its colors ebbing, becoming muted.
Riker turned to his wife, but Deanna’s mind was suddenly elsewhere. She gasped as a wash of alarm reached down through the decks to touch her thoughts. On the bridge. Christine! Something’s wrong—
The sensation formed in her at the speed of thought. She grabbed Riker’s hand and said his name, but the word was drowned out by the keening cry of warning sirens.
“Vale to all hands!” The commander’s voice called out over the intercom. “Red Alert, battle stations!”
FOUR
“Proximity alert,” announced Tuvok as a warning tone chimed from the tactical-station console.
Vale turned in her seat to look up at him. “Company?”
“It would appear so,” he replied. “A single vessel approaching off the starboard quarter, on the far side of the debris field. It appears to have emerged directly from a region of spatial shear…”
The commander got to her feet and strode to the middle of the bridge. She glanced toward the science station, where Ensign Y’lira was standing a duty shift. “Modan? Give me a visual.”
On-screen,” reported the Selenean. “Sensor sweep is running.”
The main display shifted to show Vale the view of an asymmetrical craft that moved swiftly, turning about its length to push though the outer rim of the wreckage zone. She couldn’t determine a bow or a stern; it resembled a group of pipes and cylinders of different lengths and diameters clustered in a bundle. As Vale watched, the craft altered its shape, the component modules of it extending outward on armatures and pylons.
“A variable-geometry hull,” noted the tactical officer.
“Confirming that,” said Y’lira. “Also, I’m reading the same alloy compounds in the structure that the away team detected in the wreckage… although the configuration of the fuselage is markedly different.”
“So it’s another one.” Vale nodded to Lieutenant Lavena. “Aili, hold us here. We’ll maintain a nonthreatening posture for the moment. Let’s hail them.”
“Aye, Commander.” At the ops console, Sariel Rager brought up the subspace radio grid and composed a message.
“Shall I summon the captain?” said Tuvok.
Vale shook her head. “I don’t think he’d appreciate me interrupting a first contact. We’ll see how this plays out.”
On the screen, the new arrival was moving swiftly through the debris field. The wide-open area between the hull segments grew a glittering tractor field