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  Stepping closer to al-Khaled, Farber said, “The sensors aboard the Lovell have been modified with modern components like those aboard newer and larger ships, and our teams have also enhanced them to a significant degree beyond their normal operational limits.”

  “A consequence of hauling a shipload of engineers traveling from assignment to assignment and looking for ways to pass the time,” Okagawa added. “Welcome to my world, Commodore.”

  Nodding, Reyes even smiled a bit at that. “Nice card to have in your deck, though.”

  “Even with our sensors,” al-Khaled said, “we detected nothing until we made additional recalibrations, and then we only just barely picked up the signal.”

  “And you believe this to be the source of our technical problems?” T’Prynn asked. The thin eyebrow over her right eye arched as if to punctuate her question. Not waiting for a response, she turned to Reyes. “An interesting hypothesis.”

  “I don’t understand,” the commodore said, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together as he rested forearms atop his desk. “If this signal, wave, or whatever you want to call it is so weak, how can it be causing all of this trouble, not only to my station but also the Lovell, that damned Orion’s ship, and anybody else wandering through this area?”

  Al-Khaled replied, “We’re only just starting our analysis, Commodore, but our preliminary theory is that this carrier wave is like a hailing frequency, intended to be received and processed through a device operating along specific parameters similar to that of the carrier wave’s source. The signal is cyclic, repeating approximately every twenty-four minutes, but it lacks any real complexity. Based on what we’ve learned so far, it seems that sensitive equipment such as computer interfaces, sensor arrays, and communications networks are susceptible to minor disruption.”

  “In some respects,” Farber added, “it’s not unlike the distress signals utilized by civilian transport ships several decades ago, which were designed to interfere with the navigational systems of passing ships and attract attention in the event the signal itself was too weak to be interpreted by proper communications systems.”

  As his colleague provided his analysis, al-Khaled glanced toward T’Prynn and saw that the Vulcan’s attention appeared focused on the viewscreen and its representation of the carrier wave.

  She noticed his scrutiny and cocked her head in his direction before asking, “Lieutenant, have you been able to locate the carrier wave’s origin point?”

  “No, Commander.” Al-Khaled pointed to the image on the screen. “So far, all we’ve been able to determine is that it comes from somewhere in the Taurus Reach. According to the information at our disposal, the area where we believe the signal originates has only been charted by automated probes, and even that was done in the most cursory manner. Our analysis to this point also suggests it may only have been transmitting intermittently during the past several weeks, corresponding to the time you began experiencing stationwide malfunctions. We hope to learn more as we continue our research, of course.”

  Sitting back in his seat, Reyes said, “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.”

  Though taken aback by the abrupt statement, al-Khaled still noticed the quick glance the commodore exchanged with T’Prynn. It was no doubt intended to be subtle, something shared only between them, but there was no mistaking the look that flashed only briefly in Reyes’s eyes.

  We just stumbled onto something interesting.

  “Commodore,” Okagawa said, “I don’t understand. It seems my people are into the middle of something here.” Though the statement did not reveal anything, al-Khaled was familiar enough with his captain’s mannerisms and thought processes to know that he must have caught the look between the Vanguard officers as well, and was doing some fishing of his own.

  “Don’t get me wrong, gentlemen,” Reyes said as he rose from his chair. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to this point, including what looks to be finding the source of our problems. What I need from you now is your expertise in figuring out a way for my station to operate in spite of this interference, sooner rather than later. We do have a rather compressed schedule to keep.” He looked to Ballard. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” the engineer replied.

  Reyes nodded, then glanced at T’Prynn again before continuing, “As for the signal itself and where it might be coming from, I have a whole staff of scientists I can task with that. Transfer all information you’ve gathered to this point to Commander T’Prynn, and she’ll take it from there.”

  The commodore was smooth, al-Khaled decided, so practiced and polished was his delivery that he almost certainly was a consummate poker player. His instructions were of course completely proper and—on the surface, at least—lacking any hint of ulterior motive. Still, there was no denying the swiftness with which he had reassigned responsibility for determining the source and content of the mysterious carrier wave.

  What are they worried about?

  Rising to his feet, Okagawa nodded. “Understood, Commodore. I’ll have my engineers get back to helping your teams right away.”

  After departing Reyes’s office and making their way across the operations center, it was not until al-Khaled, Farber, and Okagawa were in a turbolift heading back toward the docking bays and the core of the station that anyone said anything.

  The captain broke the silence. “Is it just me, or did we just get hustled?”

  Farber nodded. “Not just you, sir.”

  “I’m thinking I’m going to be very busy after dinner this evening,” al-Khaled said. “I want to get another look at the data we’ve collected so far.”

  Okagawa held up a hand. “Not so fast, Lieutenant. For now, we play it the commodore’s way. Transfer everything we’ve got on that signal to Commander T’Prynn. You and your team have a job to do. Let’s help get this station up and running the way it’s supposed to be.” Shaking his head, he added, “Besides, after that mess with the environmental control system, I don’t want my ship coming down with any serious troubles of its own.”

  Though he acknowledged his captain’s orders and started turning the thoughts running through his mind toward his primary assignment, al-Khaled could not shake loose the feeling that there was much about the mysterious carrier wave in which to be interested.

  He also was certain that Commodore Reyes and Commander T’Prynn held similar opinions.

  It’s as though they were waiting for something like this to happen.

  Chapter

  6

  Lieutenant T’Laen preferred to work the overnight shift.

  It was not that she was antisocial, of course. In fact, and though it was an action she herself would never undertake, she believed that an informal survey of the rest of the Lovell’s crew would show that—by Vulcan standards, at least—T’Laen was more than genial toward her shipmates. However, she long ago learned that she preferred to work in relative solitude, freed from as many potential distractions as possible while going about her duties as the ship’s primary computer systems specialist.

  Gamma shift on the bridge offered her that environment, particularly now with the ship docked within the safe confines of Starbase 47. Captain Okagawa had granted shore leave to all personnel not currently assisting the station’s engineering teams to resolve their spate of technical issues, a relative distinction considering that fully two-thirds of the Lovell’s forty-two-person crew were involved in that effort, and assorted members from the remaining third had pitched in as helpers and assistants wherever they might be useful.

  As a result, the bridge was deserted except for her, with only the omnipresent sounds of workstations set to passive or automated modes to keep her company. With the exception of her station and those displaying vital information about critical onboard systems, even the array of status monitors and viewscreens ringing the ship’s nerve center were inactive. T’Laen had volunteered to “mind the store,” as the captain had put it, f
reeing Commander zh’Rhun and other bridge officers to enjoy some well-deserved shore leave and allowing the lieutenant herself to concentrate on her current task: continued analysis of the mysterious carrier wave emanating from deep within the Taurus Reach.

  While Lieutenant al-Khaled had been tasked with figuring out how to nullify the signal’s puzzling effects on the Vanguard station as well as the Lovell—which T’Laen had experienced as occasional disruptions in the ship’s main computer—she had taken it upon herself to learn as much as possible about the transmission’s origin.

  Though she had spent several hours seated at the bridge’s library computer workstation studying the odd frequency and patterns of the communication, she had gleaned precious little in the way of new information. Breaking down the signal was easy enough, given its relatively simplistic construction. What she had so far been unable to fathom was whether she was dealing with an alien language—one that simply defied even the persistent efforts of the universal translation software—or an elaborate form of encryption.

  A thorough search of the Lovell’s databanks had found nothing on record as resembling the signal, and her request for a similar search to be conducted through Starfleet Command’s larger and far more comprehensive repository of information was still waiting to be processed. If that failed, she had already drafted for the captain’s approval a request for computer access to Memory Alpha, the vast storehouse of scientific and cultural information gathered from all of the Federation’s member planets. T’Laen did not expect to find anything resembling a match to the carrier wave, but due diligence required following all available avenues of investigation.

  “Any luck, Lieutenant?”

  It required physical effort on T’Laen’s part not to jump at the sound of Okagawa’s voice from behind her. Swiveling her chair away from her workstation, the Vulcan saw the captain regarding her with the small, knowing smile that always seemed to highlight his features.

  “Excuse me, Captain,” she said as she rose from her chair in deference to her commanding officer. “I apparently did not hear your arrival.” How had he managed to get on the bridge without her noticing it? She had not heard the turbolift doors or the captain’s footsteps as he stepped onto the command center’s upper deck. Had her work really been that engrossing? Or was she simply tired?

  “I’m stealthy that way,” Okagawa said, his smile broadening. “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.” Waving her back to her seat, he indicated one of her station’s display monitors. “Still chewing on it, I take it?”

  It took a moment for T’Laen to comprehend the meaning of the captain’s words before she nodded. “I have attempted to augment the computer’s translation subroutines to invoke a host of atypical search parameters in the hope of facilitating a conversion matrix. The efforts have yielded some progress.”

  “Do you still buy Mahmud’s idea that it’s a hail of some kind?” Okagawa asked.

  “In a manner of speaking, sir,” the Vulcan replied. “Based on what the translation software has accomplished so far, I believe the signal to be an advisory message of some kind. In other words, a warning.”

  Okagawa’s eyebrows rose at that. “A warning for whom? More importantly, a warning about what?”

  Turning back to her station, T’Laen said, “I am afraid that is still unknown, sir. However, there is something else of interest.” She entered a string of commands to the library computer via the rows of multicolored controls arrayed across her console, each button press emitting its own telltale sound and the sequence sounding almost lyrical as the computer processed her commands. A moment later, the rightmost of the two screens situated on the upper bulkhead above her station flared to life, displaying a cross section of the Taurus Reach, with Starbase 47 positioned near the upper left corner. A light blue wedge overlaid the map’s gridlines, its narrowest point near the lower right corner and expanding upward and toward the computer’s representation of the station.

  “The carrier wave is not omnidirectional, as first theorized,” she reported. “According to our analysis to this point, the transmission was intended for something or someone in this general direction with relation to the origin point, at least at the time the signal was initiated.”

  “That explains why every ship in the region isn’t having problems like the station’s,” Okagawa said as he began to pace the bridge’s upper deck. “But it certainly raises a host of new questions, doesn’t it? So far as Starfleet probes have been able to determine, there’s never been anything of consequence in this area, unless someone is curious about the station itself.”

  T’Laen nodded. “An intriguing theory, sir. The station would, of course, be of interest to many parties in this region of space.”

  Releasing a mild sigh, Okagawa said, “One more mystery for Commodore Reyes and his people to solve, I suppose.”

  T’Laen nodded. “Indeed.” She had heard from al-Khaled about the meeting in the station commander’s office, whereby Reyes had all but shut down discussion about the signal’s possible origin and purpose, directing the Lovell crew to continue their efforts at annulling its troublesome effects on the station. She knew that Okagawa had in effect defied orders to leave the investigation to Reyes’s own people, but she also understood that the captain was more than capable of handling that matter if and when it became necessary.

  Still pacing the perimeter of the bridge, his brow furrowed in concentration and his arms folded across his chest, Okagawa said, “All right then. Assuming your theory’s correct, what if we sent back an answer?”

  The abrupt suggestion almost caught the Vulcan off guard. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  Okagawa shrugged. “If you and Mahmud are right and the thing’s nothing more than some kind of automated transmission, we might get some kind of programmed reaction if we send a response.”

  “We have no way of knowing what form such a reaction might take, Captain,” T’Laen replied. On the surface, the idea seemed to be fraught with recklessness, though she could not deny that it also carried with it a degree of logic. “However, if it is a warning, then a response that the message has been received may well engender a benign reaction, if not one which offers us new insight into the signal’s originators.”

  Smiling again, Okagawa offered an approving nod. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. What will it take?”

  T’Laen entered a new string of commands to her console, pausing to examine the results of her request on one of her workstation monitors. “I believe I can take what the translator has provided and craft a crude reply which essentially will communicate that we have received the message and are awaiting further instructions. I will also require Lieutenant al-Khaled’s assistance to reconfigure our communications array to transmit on the signal’s original frequency.”

  Okagawa clapped his hands together, a gesture the Vulcan recognized as one the captain made when he was satisfied with a proposed plan and was ready to see it put into action. “Excellent. Do it, and let’s see what happens.”

  Nodding, T’Laen nevertheless held reservations. “Sir, you realize that Commodore Reyes will almost certainly express disapproval at your decision.”

  “Almost?” Okagawa countered. “Don’t be silly. The commodore is going to be three kinds of irate with me when he finds out about this.” Once more, he smiled. “That’s the beauty of commanding the lowliest vessel in Starfleet, Lieutenant. There’s no worse place left for me to be transferred.”

  “What the hell did you do, Captain?”

  For a brief moment, despite his earlier comment and as he regarded Reyes’s stern, clouded features, Daniel Okagawa wondered if perhaps he might have underestimated the commodore’s response to the report he had just been given.

  “It appears,” the captain replied, “that my computer specialist has inadvertently solved our respective technical issues.” Seated once again in one of the two chairs facing the station commander’s desk, Okagawa watched as Reyes’s expression seemed t
o grow even darker as he digested the answer.

  Sitting next to him, Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn turned to regard him with cold eyes, her own features fixed and neutral. “Your crew’s orders were to leave the study of the transmission to starbase personnel.” The statement was delivered in a taciturn manner typical of Vulcans, he knew, but it also was a tone he was unaccustomed to hearing directed at him by a subordinate.

  “Actually, Commander,” Okagawa said, hearing his voice hardening, “my orders were to turn my people’s expertise toward finding a solution for the transmission’s effects on starbase systems. Lieutenant T’Laen’s areas of proficiency include computer and communications systems, which she employed to arrive at the theory she then executed on my authorization.”

  “And all she did was create a simple response message?” Reyes asked, his mouth curling into a questioning frown. “As a test?”

  Okagawa nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, before explaining in broad strokes the gist of how T’Laen had studied the mystifying signal’s syntax and created what she believed to be a short, straightforward reply that essentially communicated, “Message received.”

  “According to the lieutenant’s status report,” T’Prynn said, “the Lovell’s sensors detected the apparent termination of the original signal seven hours, forty-one minutes, twelve seconds after she transmitted her message. Based on reports subsequently submitted by starbase department heads, no further disruptions in onboard systems have been detected.”

  “You’re welcome,” Okagawa replied.

  Clasping his hands atop his desk, his face still a scowl, Reyes said, “Your lieutenant’s reports said she thought it was a warning of some kind. Now that you’ve attempted to acknowledge it, has there been any indication that any sort of response to your message is forthcoming?”

  “No, sir.” The captain had not expected any such reaction. “It’s our belief that the original signal is automated, and that our response triggered another preprogrammed reaction.” It seemed the likely explanation, given that the message’s behavior indicated a predetermined protocol of some kind. Whatever technology was involved, its creators might even be long dead, and it was entirely possible that nothing of any consequence even remained of their civilization.