A Pin-Prick In Space

Posted on Apr 03, 2017 @ 2:56am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: In Place of God

"A PIN-PRICK IN SPACE"

(Continued from "The Secret Life Of Major Thytos")

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Captain's log, supplemental - with our brief stop in the Bolian system now behind us, we have set a new course for Starbase 56 and the Neutral Zone...

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Location: USS Phoenix, en route at transwarp to the Neutral Zone
Stardate: [2.17]0402.2256
Scene: Main bridge - deck 1, saucer section


When Jake Crichton reported for duty that morning, he had no idea what sort of a day it would be for him. His thoughts had stubbornly lingered on Xana Bonviva last night, and he had been woken up several times by the feeling that she was near him - sometimes just in the next room, sometimes lying warmly in bed beside him - and on those times he had paced the floor of his quarters like a restless soul in limbo. Daylight had chased away the spirit of his ex-wife, however, and a good breakfast had set him up nicely for a new day.

On the bridge and all over the ship at oh-right-hundred, Alpha shift reported for duty. The department heads assumed their stations, and the ship's day watch began. Still a long way out from Starbase 56, the ship had been running well since her departure from Spacedock some weeks ago, and there was nothing to do now save the routine of shipboard life.

Jake was three minutes early for duty, but most of the senior staff were already working. Cantor Von was sitting at Ops, Stavik was at the conn, Jasmine Yu was at Tactical. At the rear of the bridge, Arak Schad and Asta Elgin were sitting beside one another at the bridge's science and engineering stations. Jenny Montgomery, a pretty blond crewman from the Ops division, was running calibration tests on the bridge's sensor palette, and there was no sign of Captain Kane. Everyone was busily doing their thing, and the sight of it pleased Jake no end. Nobody needed direction, everyone was well-employed. They were running as smooth as whipped cream, all veterans now, working as one unit.

Jake nodded a greeting to Arak and Asta as he passed them by, and stopped by Jasmine's station. "Captain reported yet?" he asked.

Jasmine nodded. She lifted a finger and pointed at the ready room.

Jake winked and nodded back. If Kane was in the ready room, he wasn't on the bridge making everyone feel nervous. Kane wasn't the drillmaster that, say, Malin-Argo was, but he was irascible enough, and distant enough, to keep the ship's company from seeing him in a friendly fashion. Many commanders acted as if they were your best friend, like you could just ignore their rank pips and pretend it was all one big laugh, but not the captain of the Phoenix. He seemed to cultivate the image of the disciplined authority figure - never went to the Vulgar Tribble, never fraternised with the crew, never addressed anyone by their names, kept it all professional and clinical. Pure psychology, of course, and it all only worked up to a point, but nobody quite knew just where that point was, and that was why Kane was viewed such with a weird mixture of both respect and diffidence by the crew. Jake knew his own command style was markedly different to that.

A series of alert tones sounded from the Ops station. Immediately, Cantor Von began to read the data stream, brown furrowing like a worn field as he interpreted it.

Jake came down from the Tactical station and moved towards Ops. "Report."

"Sensors are detecting intermittent bursts of electro-magnetic energy crossing our course ahead," reported the Betazoid.

"Source?" asked Jake. Energy was never created or destroyed, according to the thermodynamic maxim he had learned in school - it was merely changed from one form to another. Therefore, spontaneous creation of energy was not possible.

Yet Cantor Von was still frowning. "I can't tell, Commander." His fingers danced over his controls. "They seem to be emanating from a point in space seventeen light years coreward - bearing zero-zero-nine, zero-two-six." He looked up at Jake. "But sensors are not showing anything at that point, sir. It's empty space."

"Confirmed," called Jasmine from Tactical after checking her own console. "The signals are coming in steady, repetitive micro-bursts. Each burst has a different number of pulses."

Jake looked up at Arak, seeking an explanation. Like his colleagues, the Aamazzarite was poring over the sensor data stream, but eventually stopped what he was doing and beckoned Jake over. "I can offer no explanation as to the signal's origin, Commander Crichton, but look at this."

Jake made his way back up to the rear of the bridge. As Asta and Jenny Montgomery looked on, Arak pointed to a display on his work station. "Commander, there is a repeating pattern in the number of pulses in each micro-burst. Look here, and here - two pulses in this burst, three in this, five, seven, eleven, and thirteen in the rest. Then it loops back to the beginning again."

Jake inhaled deeply, realising the significance. "They're all prime numbers."

"Could that be a coincidence?" asked Asta.

"No," said Arak definitely. "It is possible, but unlikely, that the pulses in each burst are random. However, it is far more likely that they are being generated by someone, or something, with a knowledge of mathematics, and therefore potential intelligence."

Jake turned and pointed down to Cantor Von. "Confirm that there are no starships or unmanned vessels of any kind at the signal's origin point."

The Betazoid checked the readings again, but came back with his former answer. "Confirmed, sir."

"It looks like we have a mystery, folks," said Jake. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded to Stavik. "Change course to the signal's origin point."

The Vulcan made the adjustment quickly. "Aye, Commander. Estimated arrival time - twenty-four minutes and nine seconds."

Jake moved to the ready room door. A course change needed to be reported to the ship's captain, and Kane was likely to want a full update on what was happening. But then again, thought Jake as he reached out and touched the door panel to request entrance, nobody knew what was happening yet.

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The Federation Role Playing Game Presents
A Mind's Eye production of a Collective Film

STAR TREK PHOENIX: IN PLACE OF GOD

Starring
Sarah Albertini-Bond as Iphigenia Bonviva
Peter Aspinall as Lieutenant Stavik
Shawn Collins as Commander Jake Crichton
Alix Fowler as Major Kassandra Thytos
Jamie LeBlanc as Dr. Aerdan Jos
Susan Ledbetter as Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Justin Owens as Ensign Arak Schad
Tiffany Reeve as Ensign Sofia Andersson
Marko Sertic as Lieutenant Cantor Von
Ranjani Sabarinathan as Lieutenant Jasmine Yu
Phillip Wright as Ensign Lynette Ryan
Jerome McKee as Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

FEATURING A CAST OF HUNDREDS

WRITTEN BY THE CREW OF THE USS PHOENIX

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The Phoenix emerges from warp, the starfield solidifying down from streaks to spots, freezing in place as the enormous dreadnought decelerates from unimaginable speed to suddenly just being *there*. Over the zephyrs of the interstellar wind come a series of signals, data-bursts that sounds like the superfast clickings of a giant invisible insect...

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Scene: Main Bridge - deck 1, saucer section


"This is the location, Captain," said Stavik, as the helm answered his controls. "All stop."

Michael Turlogh Kane looked out into the long night and saw nothing. The stars had long ago lost their lustre for him. If Humans had moved into space to be closer to God, then they had failed - the emptiness of the void consecrated the emptiness he felt whenever he looked out into nothing.

Jake Crichton, who was standing beside him now, had delivered a succinct and interesting report - mysterious signals from deep space, with no obvious source. There were no star systems around here, only the yawning gulf of darkness between suns, and no sign of a space station or ship nearby that might have been the originator of the signal. The Phoenix was well within her timetable for arrival at Starbase 56, so Kane had concurred with Jake's decision to investigate. After all, they were explorers, were they not?

"Initiate high-resolution sensor sweep," ordered Kane. Leaving Jake to the fore, Kane moved backward to where Arak Schad and Asta Elgin were working. There was a female crewman manning one of the other stations - Kane didn't know her name.

Cantor Von got on it. All the data that he was seeing was streamed through the Phoenix's main computer and relayed to both Tactical and the bridge science station. "High-res sweep underway," he said. "The signals are clearer now. They're being beamed out into space in all directions from a central point."

"Concentrate scans on that area," said Kane, leaning over Arak's shoulder to see what data was coming in. He felt a mild disgust at the close proximity of the Aamazzarite - of all the non-Humans he worked with on a daily basis, Arak Schad was one of the the more alien of the lot. Their ability to spin everything they needed from specialised organs within their own bodies - food, clothing, even organic building materials - reminded him too much of a bug from a hive. Although Arak wore a Starfleet uniform while on duty, his skin was always glistening an odd pale yellow colour that looked unhealthy, and his hands moved in short quick jerks, not the smooth movements of a Human.

Cantor Von was continuing his commentary. "The range of the signals is not very far. They're fading after a few thousand kilometers." Suddenly, the tone of his voice changed. "Captain! I've pinpointed the source!"
Kane watched as the data came through onto Arak's screen.

The Betazoid was working busily to interpret and relay the new data. "Source of transmissions is a wormhole two thousand kilometers off our bow. Incredible - the wormhole is tiny! The diameter of its opening is less than one metre on this end!"

"A pin-prick in space," commented Jake as he watched over Von's shoulder.

"Space-time," corrected Arak. "A wormhole connects two points in space-time through a subspace conduit. They never last long, but those that do not collapse suddenly can degrade over time. A wormhole of the type we are looking at is known as a micro-wormhole."

"Is that what is happening to this wormhole?" asked Kane. "It's degrading?"

"Yes, Captain!" called Von from Ops. "Diameter of the opening is now down to ninety-seven centimeters and closing slowly!"

"Are those signals still coming through?" asked Kane.

"Yes," nodded Arak. "See here, and here - they have looped back to the beginning of their five prime-number cycle. They are losing cohesion because of the narrowness of the exit point."

Kane moved to Tactical from where he could see the whole bridge. There was nothing on the main viewer, but all the ship's sensors were indicating that something was out there. A micro-wormhole sending artificially-generated electro-magnetic signals into space. Did that mean that the signals were emanating from somewhere on the other side?

He looked around at his senior officers. "Theories."

Everyone left it to Arak to speak first. The Aamazzarite got to his feet. "It is not unreasonable to say that there is intelligent life on the other side of that wormhole, sending messages through it. The fact that they are sending a mathematical message may indicate that we are dealing with a sentient intelligence much like our own."

There was silence of the bridge for a moment as everyone digested that. It was what the past few minutes had been leading up to, and it was something that Kane had suspected himself, but the Chief Science Officer had put it into words for everyone to hear. Someone on the other side of the microwormhole was sending micro-bursts of data into this part of the galaxy, and ecelaring that they were intelligent by parsing the signals into a mathematical construct.

"Is there any way to determine the location of the *other* side of the micro-wormhole?" asked Jake.

"No," said Jasmine Yu, shaking her head quickly. "And we don't have a probe small enough to find out either."

"Wormhole diameter now down to eighty-nine centimetres," reported Cantor Von.

"Can we send a transmission through?" asked Kane. It wasn't something that he was immediately thinking about - after all, they knew nothing about who was transmitting from the other side, and First Contact protocols were active, at least for now.

"No, Captain," said Arak apologetically. "The alien data-bursts are blocking the way through. If we attempted to transmit through the wormhole, both signals would interfere with each other and we would end up receiving static."

"Wormhole diameter down to seventy-eight centimetres," reported Von. "It's beginning to collapse."

Kane moved down to stand beside Jake. The situation was moving quickly towards a point where a decision would be needed - the wormhole was collapsing, but there was something so plaintive about a call from the dark like this. If there was intelligent life on the far side of the wormhole - wherever in the universe they were - did the possibility exist for First Contact?

"Your recommendation, Commander," said Kane.

Jake shrugged. "I hate to leave a mystery hanging, Captain. I think we should listen a little longer, at least until nature takes its course." He gestured out the main viewer, out to where the micro-wormhole was rapidly closing down, choking the life out of the voices from the dark.

"Wormhole diameter down to sixty-six centimetres," reported Cantor Von, pressing the issue.

Kane turned back to them. "Can we shore up the wormhole, slow down its rate of collapse?"

Arak stepped forward. "A constant gravitron stream into the wormhole would temporarily halt its rate of decay, and would not interfere with the emanating signals."

Kane glanced at Jake. They nodded to one another. "Do it!" said Kane, as they both moved to their seats.

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From the Phoenix's forward-mounted main deflector dish, a silver beam of gravitrons appears, lancing across space to play over the dying wormhole. The gap, ever smaller, stops closing, buttressed by influx of new subatomic particles into its structure. As the starship, gigantic by comparison, continues to feed in gravitrons, the wormhole remains stable.

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Scene: Main bridge - deck 1, saucer section, as before


"It's working!" exclaimed Arak from the rear of the bridge. "The wormhole has stabilised!"

"Gravitron stream is holding steady," reported Jasmine at Tactical. "We should have no problems in generating enough gravitrons to temporarily halt the wormhole's decay."

"You said temporarily," said Jake. "How long until its final collapse?"

"Its ultimate decay is unstoppable," said Jasmine, "but we can push this out for a week or so if needs be."

"Captain," said Cantor Von in a warning tone, "the signals have suddenly stopped."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Stopped?" exclaimed Jake.

"Confirmed," reported Jasmine. "We are no longer receiving anything."

Kane sat in his seat and cursed himself. Had they done the wrong thing in attempting to keep the wormhole open? What had gone wrong at the other end? Maybe there were only supposed to be a finite number of transmissions through the thing, timed to coincide with its decay? Then an idea struck him.

"Is it possible," he asked, "that whoever is on the other side of the wormhole can detect our gravitron pulse?"

Arak thought about it, then slowly inclined his head in a gesture of agreement. "It's possible."

"New signals emerging from the wormhole!" called Cantor Von. "They're different this time, much larger than before! I'm seeing pictures, blueprints, mathematical equations - there's a lot of data coming through now!"
Kane was on his feet and gestured to Asta Elgin. "Be very careful when downloading this new data, Ensign," he said quickly. "Ensure those files are isolated from the main computer, understood?"

"Aye, Captain. Isolating our relay network now." Asta moved quickly even as the data was coming in - thousands of images, diagrams, specs were blinking rapidly across her screen. The wormhole was disgorging hundreds of thousands - no, *millions* - of bits of information. "New data parsed into protected database. We're safe, sir."

"Put it up on the main viewer," said Kane, and as one, the bridge crew turned to see what had come through.

The first image was strange - it looked like a holograph taken from the upper atmopshere of a planet. Nearby, a moon or asteroid hung in the sky, but beyond that, looming over the whole picture, was some sort of gigantic cosmic phenomenon. It looked ike a black hole, but on a scale Kane had never seen before. The next image showed a strange creature - it looked like a flea, but it stood on long spindly legs, and it was moving over the white sands of what looked like a blue-water beach. The next image was a jumbled mass of garish colours that he could make no sense of.

The bridge crew looked at each other in wonder. These images were being transmitted through space-time by parties unknown - was this some sort of attempt at First Contact? What could these images mean? Why were there no sounds to accompany them?

"The data packet has stopped transmitting," said Cantor Von. "It's looping back on itself, sending them same message."

"We still can't reply?" asked Jake.

"No, Commander."

The First Officer shook his head in amazement. "They must really need to be heard to send this much unsolicited information through a wormhole."

Kane looked around. "Senior staff meeting, ten minutes."

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The Phoenix hangs in the dead space between stars, violet nacelles blazing an iridescent glow over her gunmetal hull, the silvery stream of gravitrons shining out from her bow, tapering down like a needle to a tiny point, infinitesmal in the vast gulf of space.

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NRPG: It is suggested you now take a moment to look at the 12 images that are attached in the separate NRPG entitled "Story Handouts".

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Scene: Conference Room - deck 1, saucer section


Ten minutes later, the command crew of the starship Phoenix had assembled in the conference room. The long, rectangular-shaped table had enough space to seat twenty people, but even with the additions of Sofia Andersson, Aerdan Jos, Eve Dalziel, Malin-Argo and Kassandra Thytos, the seats weren't full. Someone had replicated a jug of water and several glasses, but nobody was drinking - even now, word was spreading through the ship of this strange new First Contact situation.

Some people were murmuring quietly to one another - Sofia Andersson kept her own counsel at the bottom of the table, Aerdan and Eve were whispering to one another, and Jake was giving a quick summation of what had happened on the bridge to everyone else.

Kane stayed by the viewing port of the conference room, looking out into the blackness that was broken by the silver spear of gravitrons. On the wall next to him was a computer screen that was slowly cycling through the various images downloading from the alien data packet, and they were getting a lot of attention from the assembled officers.

Starbase 56 and the Romulans would have to wait a few days, at least until they figured out what was happening here. He made a mental note to enter into his log that he was taking full responsibility for this decision, in case anything happened in the time they were delayed. Admiral Stiles in Starbase 56 would probably report to Rear Admiral T'sen on Earth of the Phoenix's delay.

But this was why they were out here. Starfleet wasn't just about shooting at Romulans, they were out here for higher philosophical reasons than mere geopolitics. Seeking out new life and new civilisations had always been a maxim for the Federation, and here and now, they had the chance to put that into action. It may have been one-sided, but this was still a First Contact situation, no matter that the Phoenix could not respond to whoever was on the other side of the wormhole.

Eventually, he moved to his seat. "This meeting will come to order," he said, and everyone quietened down. "We're here to discuss and analyse the present situation and determine a course of action. All opinions are welcome. Comments."

"Whadda we know about the far side o' this here wormhole?" drawled Kass.

"Nothing," Arak told her, "but we have some theories. All of the mass of the wormhole, which must remain relatively constant for it to remain in existence, is not concentrated at this side. If our gravitron pulse was not keeping it open, the wormhole would have collapsed some time ago. Therefore, it seems to logically follow that the wormhole may, in fact, be funnel-shaped, with a much larger opening on the far side." The Aamazzarite didn't look hopeful. "Unfortunately, that theory changes nothing. We can only affect *our* side of the wormhole. Whatever intelligence sent through the data will remain unknown and unknowable to us."

"Yes, about this data," said Aerdan Jos. "I think we can assume that the insectoid aliens we see in these images are the ones who sent the data packet? Is it a 'First Contact' folder full of images of what they look like, where they're from, representations of their technology, their culture?"

"That seems to be the case," nodded Jake. "We won't know more until we start to disseminate it and go through it."

"The aliens must have realised that there was someone on the other end of the wormhole when we activated out gravitron pulse," said Kane. "If Ensign Schad's theory about the wormhole being funnel-shaped is true, then they may be able to have means of detecting what we cannot. Either way, since we cannot communicate back through the wormhole, and we cannot remain here forever, and we *also* cannot hold this position to wait for the arrival of a science ship, this alien communication is not likely to get very far beyond our own databanks, at least in the short term. Once we leave, the wormhole will close, and these alien voices will be silenced forever."

"Maybe they know that," suggested Eve. "Perhaps they know the wormhole is closing because they opened it? Maybe it's how they communicate, by beaming messages like this out into random parts of the galaxy and hoping for a hit?"

"An interesting hypothesis, Counselor," said Arak.

"That's why you're all here," said Kane. "We're going to take this mass of information and study it from three perspectives - scientific, cultural, and technological. Each of you will be paired up with two of your colleagues to analyse the data and come up with a report relevant to your expertise."

Everyone shifted in their seats in general agreement, waiting to see who would be called out.

Jake picked up a PADD and read from it. "The scientific team will be Dr. Jos, Ensign Andersson, and Ensign Schad. Tell us everything you can about these creatures - speculate how they might have evolved, how they might reproduce, what their internal biology might be like, what environment they live in - everything you can."

Kane continued. "The cultural team will be Major Thytos, Counselor Dalziel, and Lieutenant Wu. Make a study of what kind of society these aliens might have - everything from their military through to their art, their writing, their way of living, how they treat one another. You'll have to do some extrapolating based on the images, as this is likely to be a difficult task."

"Lastly," said Jake, "the technology team will be Commander Malin-Argo, Lieutenant Von, and Lieutenant Stavik. Analyse the images for any clues as to the aliens' technological level, what they use for tools, if they're warp-capable, what their technology might look like."

"Excuse me, Commander," said Malin-Argo, holding up a huge, meaty hand. "As Chief Engineer, I would best be utilised running engine efficiency tests and maintenance of our propulsion systems. I recommend you choose another officer to take my place."

Kane raised an eyebrow. "Who would you recommend, Commander?"

"Ensign Ryan," rumbled Malin-Argo.

Kane looked at Jake, but the ExO shrugged and nodded. "So be it," said Kane. "You're dismissed, Commander Malin-Argo. Notify Ensign Ryan of her new duty."

"Understood, Captain."

"Does everyone understand what is required of them?" asked Kane, looking around the table. "Study the alien data packet and construct an overview of them, something to send to Starfleet once we leave. We'll stay here for a time, then move on." Looking around, he saw purposeful face. "Alright, then. Dismissed."

As one, the command crew of the Phoenix rose to their collective task.

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NRPG: So this is the start of the 'cerebral' story that most of you wanted. Please note that there is NO BACKPOSTING from this point on, and all your writing should be set after this post. If you want to refer to a scene or reference a tag from someone else in a previous post, it should be written as already having been resolved off-screen before this post started.

We're not faced with any hostile parties and there's no immediate conflict. There's also no immediate danger, as the alien information has been isolated in our computer system where we can study it safely. Instead, you've been split into teams to work on compiling a report on a different aspect of the aliens' transmission.

You're free, of course, to do some swapping around - for instance, science and technology are often inter-changeable, so your characters might consult one another for their expertise in certain areas. The aim of the story is to paint as complete a picture as possible of this new alien species, while developing your character's relationships with her colleagues.

There is an NRPG accompanying this post entitled 'Story Handouts'. It contains a dozen images that your characters will be studying. Feel free to extrapolate from them any aspect of the aliens that you need to.

Not all your work will be done on the bridge on in a lab. When puzzling over a particularly confusing image, maybe you should do it over dinner or breakfast with your team-mates in the wonderful surrounds of the Vulgar Tribble?

If you get stuck, which really shouldn't happen because your collective imagination is pretty fertile, then simply write a character interaction post, or JP with one of your neighbours.

Finally, if anyone has seen any of the images we're using for the story somewhere else in real life or on the Internet, then please don't say anything. Just suspend your disbelief and engage your typing fingers!


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117
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