Synthesis - James Swallow [85]
“Where the blades are we?”
The g-suit felt restrictive and uncomfortable around Melora’s body—more restrictive than normal, she noted—and it was almost as if she could feel her heart hammering through her chest, against the inside of the field-generating garment. In her hands, she gripped the padd containing the downloaded sensor data she had gleaned from the stellar cartography systems. The lieutenant could have contacted the bridge via the intercom, relayed what she had learned that way, but she felt an urge to be up there, to deliver this face-to-face. If she was right about what she was seeing…
The turbolift doors hissed open, and she dashed out onto the command deck—and halted. She had arrived at a moment of silence on the bridge, one of those odd lacunae when everyone speaking halted at the same time.
What she saw on the viewscreen told the story. Every set of eyes was on the same thing, the sight rising before the bow of the Titan.
The starship’s straight-line, fast-burn impulse run from the Demon planet out to the ice world had brought it in toward the day side, then up and over the terminator toward the location of the orbital refinery complex. With the weak sunlight of the binary stars at its back, the Titan’s crew was confronted by the sight of a freakish war zone.
Hanging in a wide, shaggy cloud of gas ice, fragments of metal, and other tumbling pieces of debris, an object roughly ovoid in shape turned and flexed like a massive ocean predator amid a shoal of drifting bait. Sentry ships were engaging it in fast, looping passes, antiproton bursts lashing out in green flares.
As they watched, a massive rope of matter issued from the surface of the mass and clipped one of the AI craft with a cursory flick. The vessel was ripped into pieces and came apart in a flash of detonation. The viewscreen began to flicker and break up, static hazing it as they drew closer.
“Clean that up,” she heard the captain demand.
“Trying, sir,” said Panyarachun. “There’s a huge amount of ionizing radiation on the area. It’s fogging the sensors.”
“Is that thing… ?” At the ops station, Sariel Rager could barely bring herself to ask the question. “Is it actually eating the wreckage?”
Through the corrupted, flickering images on the screen, it was hard to be certain, but the strange alien object seemed to be using tendrils to draw in the larger fragments of what had been the refinery. Melora couldn’t see anything like a maw, however, only more strands of glistening matter weaving together across the metal shards.
Melora moved to the science console, where Ensign Fell was looking pale and drawn. The Deltan threw her superior officer a wary look, and Melora nodded back at her. “Carry on,” she said quietly, and Fell returned the nod.
“Any sign of the Holiday?” Riker was asking.
“Negative,” said Vale. “Short-range communications are thick with distortion, and sensors are throwing up nothing but echoes and feedback.”
“It’s the radiation overspill,” began Melora, but another voice spoke over hers.
“We are entering a zone of multiple energetic discharges and radioactive bleed from subspace incursion aftereffects.” Titan’s holographic avatar stood to one side of the trio of command chairs. “I read ionic interference, high tetryon outputs, and incidences of theta flux.”
Melora glanced at the science console. The same data were there, appearing as the avatar announced them.
“These effects are typical of Null events.” Alone by the far turbolift, White-Blue’s droneframe stood unmoving. “I would advise you to maintain a safe distance.”
“I agree,” added the avatar.
Riker didn’t appear to be considering the advice either of the artificial intelligences was offering. He turned to the counselor, seated at his left. “Deanna, can you sense Tuvok and the others? Are they out there?”
The Betazoid frowned. “I… I don’t hear them. Not silence,