“Could you select a few key holograms to initiate and still create the new matrix?”
Barclay shook his head. “I’d have to see the final specs on the new hologram. Honestly, without the additional power generated by our warp drive, I doubt it. I would need to bring the new hologram online first in order to accurately gauge its power requirements.”
The Doctor considered the calculus. It wasn’t often he found himself trading in lives, organic or holographic. The last time math like this had been necessary—being forced to choose between saving the lives of two patients, one he considered a friend and one he did not know well—it almost destroyed his program. Only now did he realize how well that experience had prepared him for this moment.
“I want you to begin working on the new holomatrix right away. Do not reactivate the rest of our emergency holographic personnel in the meantime.”
“Commander Glenn ordered—”
“I will brief the captain personally.”
Barclay nodded, then rose from his chair. “I understand.”
“Thank you, Reg.”
Kim hadn’t slept particularly well. After almost an hour of forcing himself to remain still and at least try to rest, fitful sleep had finally descended. He found himself in a particularly vivid and disturbing dream. He no longer remembered the details, only that he and a group of nameless crewmen had battled for their lives, deck by deck. The certainty that failure meant death and the hopelessness that accompanied it lingered even after Kim had shaken himself awake and still clouded his thoughts as he made his way to the bridge.
It didn’t take a counselor to unravel the dream’s meaning. It was one of the more literal representations of his waking fears that his subconscious had offered up in some time. It was, however, singularly depressing to think he would be battling the same demons while waking and sleeping.
Entering the bridge, he found Ensign Michael Drur, Galen’s alpha shift operations officer, already at work. He stood several inches taller than Kim, with salty hair that was clearly going prematurely white. Trepidatious light-blue eyes locked with Kim’s as soon as he arrived.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Drur greeted him. “I mean, I guess it’s morning, right?”
“Works for me,” Kim replied. “What have you got there?”
“Commander Glenn ordered me to start running the light transmissions of the aliens through our translation matrix,” he said with a hint of defensiveness. As far as Kim was concerned, no one ever needed to apologize for doing their job.
“It’s good to have you back on the bridge, Ensign,” Kim encouraged him. “Have you found anything yet?”
Drur shook his head, clearly frustrated. “There’s a lot of data here, sir. And the translator can’t seem to lock into a workable paradigm.”
Kim moved to stand beside Drur at his station. The ensign was running an analysis of every sensor log available with visible images of the aliens through the translation matrix simultaneously, beginning with the records from their initial encounter back in the binary system that contained DK-1116.
“Let me guess,” Kim ventured. “Processing ceases at around two percent, right?”
Drur’s face turned sharply to Kim’s. “Yes, sir. How did you know that?”
Years of experience was the obnoxious answer, so Kim held it back. Volume of data was often a problem, but selection was equally important. “First things first. Have you added filters to these images to account for light along the invisible spectrum?”
Drur nodded. “I did, but that just made it worse. I figured I’d try to isolate the visible spectrum. There are exaquads of data present along those wavelengths alone.”
“Understandable,” Kim said. “But if you’re trying to parse a new language, you need to start with a viable section of the whole thing. Fragments tend to confuse the translation algorithms.” Kim quickly added the appropriate filters. The resulting image was fascinating. “It’s like a damned star going supernova, isn’t it?”
“That’s… interesting,” Drur said.
“In what way, Ensign?” Kim asked, hoping to coax Drur along. He could have completed this work alone in less than half the time it would take the ensign. But that wasn’t the point. Not long ago, Ensign Gwyn had taken Kim to task for the way the more experienced fleet officers dismissed the input of the younger ones. Considering how likely it was that his new crew—how had they become his in such a short time?—was at the very beginning of creating a new life for themselves out here, Kim knew that this was one habit he was going to have to break.
“I guess it just occurs to me that these aliens…”
“The Edrehmaia,” Kim offered.
“The Edrehmaia seem to have an almost proprietary interest in stars, don’t they?”
It was a good observation. Kim filed it away for future consideration. “They really do. Now go ahead and run the same filters with the signals given off by the aliens that approached the ship yesterday.”
“The ones that came for Velth,” Drur said, not a question, just a miserable fact.
Conlon’s words came back to him. I wish I didn’t know how terrified he was at the end.
Kim wished the same. Velth’s death was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. But avoiding the topic with his former crewmates would seem both callous and disrespectful.
“Were you close to the lieutenant?” Kim asked.
Drur shook his head. “He often had the conn in the captain’s absence. He was… I don’t know.”
Glenn had spoken of Lawry’s and Selah’s admiration for Velth. Kim wondered why Drur didn’t seem to share it. But he didn’t want to push. Instead, he focused his attention on the new images populating the display before him. The sheer volume of photonic activity flooding the screen was massive.
“Is it possible that these emissions are just a by-product of the aliens’ propulsion system?” Drur asked.
“Possible, sure,” Kim said. “But they didn’t begin emitting the signals until they came within a certain proximity of the fleet and Lieutenant Velth.” Continuing to think out loud, he
