War Stories (Book 2) - Keith R. A. DeCandido [9]
“Can I help you guys?” Fabian asked.
“Yellow alert,” the shorter, paler one said. “SOP is that we stand guard on any projects. Core-Breach’s orders.”
Fabian laughed. “‘Core-Breach’?”
“That’s Lt. Commander Corsi’s nickname behind her back,” Okha said with a grin. “Nobody’s had the guts to say it to her face.”
“Well,” the darker, taller guard said with a grin, “not twice, anyhow.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Vance
Hawkins.”
Fabian returned the handshake. “Fabian Stevens. Just came on at the starbase.”
“Stephen Drew. Welcome to the loony bin, Stevens.”
“We have—”
“—found something.”
Turning around, Fabian saw that the Bynars looked excited. At what, he wasn’t sure. They didn’t carry tricorders, and they had spent the time since Drew and Hawkins entered communicating with each other in a high-pitched whine. Fabian asked them what they found.
“We have found—”
“—access to the computer core—”
“—of the golf ball.”
“‘Golf ball’?” Drew said with a smirk.
Okha looked with annoyance at Stevens. “See what you’ve done? Now even the twins are doing it. This is how we wind up with bad names for things.”
Primly, Abramowitz said, “There’s nothing wrong with golf balls.”
Looking at his tricorder, Fabian said, “Maybe, but there’s a lot not to like about this one. Can you guys access the core?”
“Of course,” 110 and 111 said in perfect unison.
Then they went back to their high-pitched whine. Looking at Okha, Fabian asked, “What is that they’re doing?”
“It’s a rapid-fire form of communication in straight binary code, and moving at a somewhat ludicrous speed.”
“Have you ever tried to translate it?”
Okha frowned. “No. Why would I?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Abramowitz said, “maybe to get some insight into another culture?”
“That’s your job,” Okha said with a shrug.
“It should be our responsibility.”
Suspecting that he was opening an old argument between these two, Fabian said, “Never mind.” He turned back to look at the Bynars, who had now placed two hands—one the left hand, the other the right hand—into the opening Fabian had created in the golf ball. “Should they be touching it like that?”
The high-pitched whine got a bit louder, and the Bynars’ eyes seemed to roll up into their heads. Fabian noticed that whatever they were saying was perfectly matched. They were uttering their rapid-fire binary code in perfect unison—which, he realized, was why it seemed louder. He had been recording everything with his tricorder already, but now he set it to make a separate record of just the Bynars’ utterances, and to attempt a translation once they were finished. It was as much for his own curiosity as anything, but he thought it might also provide insight into the golf ball.
“That’s really outstanding.” Fabian looked at Okha and Abramowitz, who seemed less than impressed. “I mean, that level of communication with a computer, it must just be—” He shook his head. “Outstanding.”
Abramowitz smiled. “You said that already.”
Shrugging, Okha said, “We’ve all gotten used to it.”
A very loud, high-pitched wail cut off any response Fabian might have made. He—and everyone else—turned to see 110 and 111 crying out in what looked like pain.
“Get them out of that!” Okha cried.
Even as Hawkins and Drew rushed over to the golf ball, Fabian said, “Wait! We don’t know what separating them will do!”
Ignoring this admonition, Hawkins grabbed for 110.
That was followed by a flash of light, a massive electrical discharge, and Hawkins being hurled across the lab and into a bulkhead, which he hit with a rather sickening thud.
Drew tapped his combadge even as he backed off from 111. “Drew to sickbay. Medical emergency in the lab.”
“On my way,” came Tydoan’s voice.
Neither 110 nor 111 had budged, though they were still screaming. Fabian listened carefully. “I think they’re still screaming out binary code.”
“Who cares?” Okha said. “We have to separate