Available Light, page 21
From their vantage point, standing on a catwalk running along the immense chamber’s ceiling, Chen had an unfettered view of the scene below them. She noted that most of the compartment’s space was given over to rows of what she guessed were power generators and other support equipment. Each generator, more than twenty in all, towered above the Nejamri working around them.
“This is the primary power facility,” said Alehuguet. “Each of the other hull sections has its own dedicated plant that can be operated independently if the need arises, but everything is overseen from this central point.”
Chen asked, “And this is the same size as the real plant? I mean, the actual plant?” She shook her head. “It’s enormous, but it’d have to be if you want to drive a ship this size.”
Smiling, Alehuguet nodded. “When the software to represent the Osijemal interiors was being developed, there was consideration given to making these spaces smaller than their actual counterparts. The decision was made to keep everything at the same scale, so that everyone could interact with it just as they would in physical form.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask about that sort of thing.” Seeing Alehuguet’s confused expression, Chen gestured to the scene around them. “What I mean is, given the power requirements to create and maintain all of this, why not take shortcuts for the sake of practicality? Indeed, given the power issues you’ve been having, it seems wasteful to continue running the simulation, or atleast a good portion of it. If your consciousness exists within the computer matrix, why not just communicate directly with one another, without all of this?”
Alehuguet replied, “You are still thinking of the Haven as a simple computer program in which information is transferred from point to point, and that can be deactivated and stored for later use. While that is true to an extent, you and I are very much more than that. We cannot simply be stored. Our minds are far more sophisticated than a piece of software. They cannot be held in limbo or paused, at least not for any significant period of time, before becoming susceptible to irreversible damage.”
“That sounds like our transporters,” said Chen. “At least to a degree. They can hold someone in a dematerialized state for extended periods, but the person being transported has no awareness of time passing, and it’s not something we normally do because of the risk of something happening while that person’s pattern is held in the transporter buffer.”
She recalled the most famous example of such an extended “interruption” of a normal transporter process. Famed Starfleet engineer Montgomery Scott had reconfigured the systems of a damaged vessel so that after dematerialization he and another Starfleet officer could remain in the transporter buffer with no pattern degradation until someone answered their vessel’s distress call. Anticipating a delay in rescue, Scott also had linked the transporter to the ship’s auxiliary power systems, which were undamaged and in theory could operate for decades without interruption. It was a fortunate bit of off-the-cuff contingency planning, as what Scott anticipated to be hours or days at most turned out to be seventy-five years. While the transporter pattern of the other officer had not maintained its integrity, in effect killing that person without his ever suspecting a thing, Scott survived and was found by the Enterprise-D. When he was extracted from the transporter buffer, it was as though he had not aged a day, and had no conscious awareness of time’s passage. So far as Chen knew, the engineer suffered no ill effects from his ordeal, and his experience had been a favorite discussion topic among other engineers in the ensuing years. Recalling the incident made her focus on one particular detail.
Alehuguet cast her gaze downward, as though recalling an unpleasant memory. “There was a time, soon after we began developing this technology, where the process was much more limited. We were able to transition the consciousness of test subjects into those first, experimental simulacrums, but they contained no virtual realm in which to interact. The subjects were aware of their surroundings, at least as they described it, but there was nothing there except darkness and the voices of others participating in the tests, those monitoring the experiments, and the responses from other programs running within that test matrix. We soon discovered even limited time spent in such a state began to have detrimental effects. One such experiment ran into difficulty, whereby the test subjects could not be extracted. They were trapped in there for many cycles as engineers attempted to retrieve them. By the time they were retrieved from the simulation, their minds had been so affected that they required extensive psychological care. Some of them never recovered, and it is an obstacle we were never able to overcome.”
“Stimulation,” said Chen. “A mind transferred into an environment like this still requires constant stimulation, just as it would receive while in a real body. Our senses provide constant input to our brains, most of it without our conscious realization. Take that away, and those parts of the brain begin to . . . atrophy?” She was not certain she grasped the entire concept, or understood the mechanics involved, but she thought she understood it enough to appreciate what Alehuguet described. Perhaps the Nejamri brain was different enough from those of the humanoids with which Chen was familiar that it presented an even greater cause for concern?
“We eventually came to understand that if we do not exist here or in our physical forms, there are inevitable harmful side effects.” Alehuguet indicated their surroundings. “All of this is as much a life-support system as atmosphere and environment would be for our bodies.”
“And you never anticipated a power failure?” To Chen, it seemed an obvious problem. “I know you have backup batteries and you’d normally be able to use your solar collectors to recharge everything, and we’re working on fixing all of that. But, if we hadn’t come along to help you, what would’ve happened?”
“Ordinarily, emergency procedures would have activated, and certain key individuals would be returned to their physical bodies to assess the situation. If necessary, the entire community could be extracted from the Haven, and later returned once the emergency passed.”
Now Chen understood. “But with the damage the Osijemal’s sustained, that couldn’t happen.”
“Exactly.” When Alehuguet smiled this time, it was smaller and tinged with sadness. “If you had not found us, T’Ryssa, it is very possible, even likely, that our power reserves would have dwindled to nothing and our existence ultimately ended, and we would have been unable to do anything about it. You and your companions already have our undying gratitude.”
It was still much to consider, Chen admitted to herself. More than a half million people, powerless to do anything except await their own extinction. What must that have been like?
“In case you are wondering,” said Alehuguet, “this is knowledge we chose not to share with the entire community. We felt it better to allow them to live their lives as though everything was normal. Knowing the truth would have served no purpose and likely would have undermined the social order.”
Chen could see her point. “I have to say, I don’t know that I would want to know something like that. I can’t imagine having to make that decision for an entire civilization.”
Placing a hand on her arm, Alehuguet replied, “Thanks to you, they never will.”
Taurik chose that moment to make his presence known.
“T’Ryssa, the Enterprise reports they are ready to begin the power transfer.” Thanks to yet another of the Haven’s vast array of support features linking it to the Osijemal’s actual physical equipment, the Vulcan’s disembodied voice was all around them as he spoke.
“Showtime,” said Chen.
Standing with her eyes closed, Alehuguet appeared to be in a type of trance, but Chen knew from having witnessed it earlier that the Nejamri leader was in contact with other members of the Conclave as well as those engineers and other technicians involved in the coming activity. Instant communication via dedicated channels was yet another feature of living within the Haven.
Neat trick, but I still want my body back.
No sooner did she entertain that thought than Chen found herself moved from their vantage point. Now she stood alongside Alehuguet on the floor of the enormous energy generation complex. The generators, if that’s what they were, loomed above and around her, arrayed in rows in every direction to the near exclusion of all else. Though they stood silent like soaring guardians, she could sense the power inherent in each one. A ring of workstations encircled each generator, once again reminding Chen in some ways of the Enterprise’s main engineering section or even the bridge. Unlike the consoles she had seen during the away team’s investigation of the Osijemal, here everything pulsed with activity, and Nejamri engineers hovered over many of the workstations. She noted that none of them wore the flowing, brightly colored garments that were the norm for Alehuguet and everyone else. Those were gone, replaced by dark green coveralls with padded elbows and knees, and boots covering their long, narrow feet. Several of the engineers carried handheld instruments and other devices of varying shapes and sizes, none of which Chen could even hope to identify. All of it was so real that for the briefest of moments, she was once more able to forget that everything around her was nothing more than an elaborate computer simulation. So uncanny were the representations that it was easy to fall victim to such a perception.
“The power transfer is beginning,” reported one of the engineers, who stood before a large console upon which was displayed a schematic indicating a progress scale. Within seconds, the scale began shifting its status readings, and Chen thought she even heard a few of the nearby generators start rumbling to life.
Here goes nothing.
23
Picard long ago had learned the often unexplainable art of communicating with the vessel under his command, utilizing his senses to detect even the slightest deviation or variance. Just as he prided himself on being able to read the smallest changes in attitude or emotion from his crew, so too did he place great value on the gift of listening and hearing what his ship told him. From the slightest pitch in the warp engines to the tiniest shift in artificial gravity, or even the almost imperceptible lag in the computer’s response to a question or command, he listened, and saw, and felt. It was not mechanical skill or researched knowledge that provided this ability, but instead simple experience that could come only from the special bond created between a starship and its master, as well as the people it shielded and protected from the stark, unforgiving reality that was space travel.
It was because of this keen hyperawareness of his ship and its particular quirks that while sitting in his chair on the Enterprise bridge, Picard needed no status indicators or reports from his officers to know when the power transfer began. No alert tones sounded, and there was not even the slightest change in the overhead lighting. Instead, with his hands resting on the arms of his command chair, he sensed the subtlest of tremors beneath his fingertips as energy was diverted from the starship’s powerful warp engines to the main deflector array.
“Transferring at one-quarter capacity,” reported Geordi La Forge over the open intercom.
Sitting next to him in the first officer’s chair, Lieutenant Joanna Faur said, “Our systems are reading normal, sir, but I’m not seeing anything from the Osijemal.”
On the main viewscreen, Picard watched as six different beams of white-blue energy lanced outward, away from the Enterprise and toward the mammoth Osijemal. He had ordered the ship to retreat from the ark far enough that the main deflector could target multiple solar collectors scattered across the larger ship’s surface. The image on the screen showed how each of the beams directed itself to a different collector array.
“Geordi?” prompted Picard.
The chief engineer replied, “Everything’s in the green on this end, Captain.”
“Our readings here show no change, sir,” added Worf.
“I’m going to try modulating the frequency, and increase the rate of transfer to one-third power,” said La Forge. “Stand by.”
Now the change in the Enterprise’s power output was more pronounced, as evidenced by the increased reverberation Picard felt in the arms of his chair. The omnipresent hum of the starship’s engines also shifted, albeit slightly, in response to the increased demand. On the screen, the energy beams increased in brightness and intensity, as well as shifting their color so that the bluish tinge became more pronounced. A moment later, the captain heard a series of tones emanating from the science station along the bridge’s starboard perimeter.
“Sir, we’re starting to register feedback from the Osijemal,” said Ensign Oliver Trimble, the junior science officer serving in Dina Elfiki’s stead while the lieutenant was aboard the Nejamri ship. “The collectors are absorbing and directing the energy we’re transmitting to the vessel’s battery array.”
Over the intercom, Worf reported, “Status readings are showing that here too. All indicators are well within operational parameters.”
Acknowledging the reports, Picard said, “The frequency modulation seems to have done the trick, Mister La Forge.”
“I wish it was that simple, sir,” replied the chief engineer. “There doesn’t seem to be one frequency that does the trick, and when it shifts we’re showing some feedback from the transfer.”
“Is there a danger to the ship?” asked Faur, earning her an appreciative nod from Picard for her astuteness.
“Good question, Lieutenant. I’m applying a dynamic modulator to automatically rotate the deflector’s resonance frequency nutation. It’s not perfect, but the computer can make the adjustments faster than I can, and hopefully anticipate any problems with feedback or any other unexpected issues.”
While the strategy La Forge suggested was in service to upholding one of Starfleet’s most inspiring values—coming to the aid of those in distress—like perhaps too many inventions it had its roots in more martial uses. It reminded Picard of similar tactics used to modify weapons and shields, though it was one he had not considered in quite some time. It originally was a tactic born of inspiration, or perhaps desperation, during an encounter with the first Borg ship to infiltrate Federation space on a mission to attack Earth. The previous Enterprise, dispatched to confront the enormous vessel, found itself in pitched battle near the Paulson Nebula, with the starship’s shields and weapons all but useless against the relentless, ever adapting enemy. Elizabeth Shelby, at the time a lieutenant commander as well as a Borg tactical specialist from Starfleet Command and traveling with the Enterprise, hit upon the idea to randomly manipulate the ship’s phaser resonance frequencies in a frantic bid to thwart the Borg vessel’s tractor beam. The unconventional approach worked, giving the ship time and opportunity to break away from the battle and seek temporary refuge within the nearby Paulson Nebula.
Forestalling certain other unfortunate events, Picard thought. He could not help the feeling of helplessness and guilt the recollection provoked, re-igniting sobering memories of his subsequent capture and assimilation by the Borg, and the assistance they had forced from him as the Borg cube decimated dozens of Starfleet vessels before coming within a hairsbreadth of conquering Earth.
Stop it. The Borg are gone. You’ve atoned for those sins.
Shelby’s initial, instinctive gambit quickly became the cornerstone of a whole new series of methods devised to defend against Borg weapons, despite the Collective’s unerring ability to adapt itself to any technology employed against it. None of those had been foolproof, but their use had bought critical time and opportunity that, in the final analysis, contributed at least in part to final victory over what many historians already called Starfleet’s most intractable foe.
Over the intercom, Worf reported, “Enterprise, instruments here are beginning to register a more pronounced feedback reading.”
Before Picard could respond, new alert tones sounded from the science station, and Ensign Trimble turned in his seat. “We’re showing that too, sir.”
“Internal sensors are starting to react to the feedback, sir,” added Faur. “Automated safety protocols are kicking in to avoid potential overloads.”
“Mister La Forge, status?” asked the captain.
There was a lag before the engineer replied, “We’re seeing the feedback too. The modulation routine is attempting to compensate, but there may also be an oversight feature somewhere within the Osijemal’s systems.”
Instead of Worf responding over the open communications channel, it was Lieutenant Commander Taurik. “Commander La Forge may be correct,” said the Vulcan. “According to the Nejamri technicians, their systems are reacting as though this was an unauthorized infiltration of their onboard systems.”
“It might be because we’re pushing the energy at the collectors, rather than allowing them to absorb it passively,” replied La Forge. “I may be able to adjust the deflector’s resonance frequency to compensate for that too.”
Picard waited for an update. Seconds passed, during which he could hear the chatter of both Worf and La Forge along with their respective teams as they continued to work. As was normal during situations like this, he forced himself to remain still, reining in wayward feelings of restlessness and uselessness while allowing his people to work. It was a frustrating sensation, one he had never quite conquered in all his years occupying a captain’s chair, but one he knew must be observed if his crew was to function.
“The feedback is diminishing,” said La Forge after nearly one minute of silence. “I’ve reduced the transfer rate back to one-quarter, and that seems to have evened things out a little. I’m going to keep it at this level for the time being, sir.”
From the Osijemal, Taurik said, “We are being notified that the Nejamri engineers are working to reconfigure processes here. They believe they can override the safety protocols and allow the transfer to proceed unimpeded.”
