Synthesis - James Swallow [98]
“A hive mind?” suggested Troi.
“Negative,” White-Blue replied. “We do not believe it is self-aware, but it does demonstrate intellect on an instinctual level. It is predatory, it has cunning, perhaps even other primitive emotions in some fashion. It is unpredictable and highly lethal. Many hundreds of Sentry cores have been destroyed during the incursions.”
“But it’s not from our universe,” noted Pazlar. “The spatial distortion, the subspace radiation effects. All that points to something from another dimensional continuum. A form of protomatter evolved under an entirely different set of physical laws.”
“Correct. Conjecture on the origin of the Null indicates that it is likely the product of a parallel subspace domain, one that should not normally intersect with our spatial dimension. From what the FirstGen have been able to determine, in its native region, the Null is a seething ocean of energetic metamaterial, a quasi-viral life-form capable of consuming everything it comes into contact with.”
Pazlar nodded slowly. “That fits with what our sensors registered. Sariel was right when she said the Null was consuming the wreckage of the orbital refinery. It was converting the local matter into something more closely resembling itself, like a cancerous tumor forming neoplasm from healthy living tissue.”
“As you surmised, it has been penetrating our dimension through the zones of subspace instability detected by Lieutenant Commander Pazlar.” White-Blue paused. “It is, in the most literal of senses, anathema to all life in this dimension, organic or otherwise.”
“Starfleet’s encountered hostile extradimensional lifeforms before,” said the captain. “A race of beings known as Species 8472, from a pocket universe of fluidic space, tried to mount an invasion of our dimension. But they were nothing like this.”
“No,” agreed Troi. “They could be reasoned with. When the Null attacked, I couldn’t sense anything like a coherent mind in there. Just a wall of noise. Like a raging storm. A force of nature.”
“And you can’t make peace with a hurricane,” Riker concluded.
“What happened to you?” Pazlar asked the machine. “Before we found you? Didn’t Red-Gold say you were thought lost?”
White-Blue’s head bobbed. “I ignored several directives that suggested I remain closer to the home system,” it admitted. “I was convinced that the rate of Null incursions was on the rise, and so I set out to take a series of readings in order to validate my theory. This involved venturing out beyond safe range.” It paused again. “I found what I sought, but a minor incursion took place, and my shipframe was critically damaged. System malfunctions caused me to become trapped in a recursive program loop. I estimate that my core would have lost all functionality within one thousand clock cycles, had your away team not arrived.”
“You’re welcome,” said Troi.
The machine came forward, rising slightly on its pistons. When it spoke again, the AI seemed emboldened by the choice it had made, to be open with Riker and the others. “Understand this. The Sentries exist to cordon and destroy the Null wherever and whenever it appears. But we have been losing ground with each passing solar cycle, as the enemy comes ever closer to our home. The attack on the refinery was not the first within the confines of our planetary system. It is merely the most recent in a series of brutal and lengthy engagements. In this battle of attrition, the Sentries are being pressed to our very limits. We are unable to improve ourselves fast enough to defeat the Null’s constantly evolving energy matrix.” It glanced at Riker. “You and your crew, William-Riker, have unknowingly placed yourselves in the middle of a conflict that has been going on since before your Federation existed.”
ELEVEN
Zurin Dakal walked, and as he did, he tried not to think about the pain. He concentrated on placing one boot in front of the other, measuring out his motion in the hard smacks of his footsteps on the scarred metal ground