Intolerance - Part Two

Woah! The bridge crew silently agreed, awed at the gleaming white and blue orifice directly ahead. The Ranger appeared to be facing the orifice at an angle relative to the Voyager. The Ranger's small running lights along her dorsal and port side flashed sharply and intermittently at regular intervals. Aaen's original bridge station assignment revealed nothing about the wormhole as yet. He already had a recommendation for the next course of action, beyond the obvious of contacting the Ranger for a situation update. The bridge was already abuzz with crew members rushing printed mission materials to here and there. The air was getting a little stale. It's ok, Aaen kept to himself, the CO2 scrubbers are being repaired. So far no reports of anyone getting light headed. Damage Control was methodically hard at work trying to repair the mechanisms, thus keeping such reports from reaching the bridge. Good, Aaen thought, admiring the crews' persistence and perseverance under the circumstances. Aaen looked to his right at the first officer, who already looked like he had made a decision. Time to start calling him 'Captain,' Aaen remembered protocol. 

"Captain, I suggest we launch a probe into the wormhole and begin conducting scans of its composition. If this wormhole is as stable as the one near Deep Space Nine, we should document it, and then report back to Spacefleet Command, along with any other readings we get that might indicate a warp-capable civilization." Aaen said. 

"Not that important right now. Short-range: open a channel to the Ranger." 'Not that important right now?' Are you serious? Aaen thought. A shortcut to who-knows-where and that's 'not that important'? That's not worth investigating? How do we know if there are unknown extraterrestrials on the other side? If there are, how do we know if they are a threat to us—or the Alpha Quadrant in general? That possibility isn't worth investigating? Maybe you missed that lesson during the academy. Aaen kept to himself. 

The order was carried out quickly and decisively. 

Two series of digital rings in rapid succession, and then another series of beeps. The tactical screen displayed two Federation symbols connected by a seeming waving double-helix—"Line Connected" displayed below the double helix'. 

"This is the captain of the USSC Ranger. Who am I speaking with?" the question came sharply. 

"This is the first officer of the USSC Voyager. We're here to—" 

"So you're the one that nearly crashed into my ship! My goodness, Captain! I've got darn near every alarm goin' off on my bridge! Half my crew is holding onto their stations for dear life! Stand down from red alert.  . . . Captain, are you aware of the distance between our ships?" 

"Quite close." 

"Yeah! Another half-second and you'da stopped just in time to scrape some paint off my hull!"

"Look, I'm sorry we didn't stop sooner. We are here in response to your request for a replacement ship to take over your part of whatever's going on here. Can you give us more information?"

The Ranger captain gasped. "I'll tell you, Captain. This is by far the most perplexing situation I've ever encountered in my career as a starship captain. Our sensor scans of the wormhole have resulted in inconclusive results. Many of our sensor readings of the wormhole don't make any sense. Our sensor array almost burned out after our second attempt to analyze it. We tried multiple times to scan the object drifting out of the wormhole–it's like the object's there, but it's not there. That object's hull deflects our scans like a wall deflects a tennis ball. We're detecting the object on our primary sensor array, but our attempts to get a deeper reading have failed since we initially detected the object."

"Understood." the first officer looked at Aaen with a confused look. Aaen remained calm; his attention focused on the main viewscreen.

"Maybe you'll have better luck, Captain since your ship's sensors are much more powerful than ours."

"Probably. What have you learned about the occupant of the object?" 

"That's what gets us the most, Captain. We were able to establish communication with who, or whatever's on board–but, as you may have already been told: the conversation didn't last long. Frankly, Captain, the fact that object couldn't maintain a solid comm-line doesn't surprise me—it looks like a piece of Swiss Cheese!" Aaen observed the bridge crew grinning at the comment, but remained focused on doing their jobs. 

"We know the occupant's name, but nothing else at this point." the first officer said. 

"Captain, my communications officer thinks the occupant is using some kind of voice distorter. We haven't been able to determine the exact age of the occupant, or if it's male or female. All it kept sayin' was that it was in trouble, so we asked how we could help. It told us that there are five or six others like it on board, much older than it is, but they're all asleep, and they won't wake up. From lookin' at the object, Captain, I'd say that craft got in a fight with something big–something that didn't want that object to get to wherever it's goin'." 

"That's a sensible theory." the first officer replied. 

"Wherever that object came from, Captain . . . " 

"Agreed." The first officer looked at Aaen. "What do you think?" 

"I think it's time for us to take over this investigation." Aaen lowered his eyebrows slightly. "Something doesn't feel right." 

The first officer nodded. 

"Do you have any additional information, Captain?" 

"No, Captain. My ship's runnin' dangerously low on fuel at this point. We're going to head to the nearest starbase to refuel." 

"Understood." 

"Good luck, Captain." 

"And to you." 

"The situation is now under your jurisdiction, Captain. Ranger. Out." 

Three beeps in rapid succession indicated the line closed on both ships. The tactical screen showed two Federation icons in the upper-left-hand corner of the screen. One was stationary; the other moved toward the lower-right-hand corner of the screen at a quick, steady pace.

"USSC Ranger is leaving the area, Captain." said the sensors cadet. 

"Understood." 

The main viewscreen showed the Ranger's twin impulse engines glowing brightly as the ship started seemingly drifting to starboard, it's heading shifted, and then the ship accelerated out of the area at a low angle. The deck plating vibrated firmly under the wake of the engines' thrust. The main viewscreen image changed to show a jagged mass drifting towards the Voyager while seemingly somersaulting. The tactical screen showed passive scans of the object in progress. 

Aaen's gut was in a knot. "Scanners: What are the dimensions of the object?" 

"Standby.  . . . Captain, the object's dimensions read as ten meters long, five meters tall, and eight meters wide." 

"It's some kind of shuttlecraft," Aaen concluded, speaking softly.

"That's the weirdest shuttlecraft design I've ever seen." said the first officer. 

"Now might be a good time to launch a class-three probe into the wormhole, sir," Aaen said.

The first officer wasted no time following Aaen's suggestion. The order was given immediately. 

"What equipment payload, sir?" asked a cadet first to the last on the end of the left-wing. 

"Sensor package, a radio transponder, and an extra fuel cell." Aaen quickly replied. "Launch probe when ready." 

"Aye! Probe away!" 

A black oval-shaped dart with a flaming tail soared into the center of the wormhole, quickly out of sight. 

The bridge was almost silent for several seconds of observation of the main viewscreen. 

"Sir! Our sensors have penetrated the object's outer hull! Detecting one life form on board. The occupant's life signs are faint! The alien shuttlecraft is venting atmosphere! Life support on the alien shuttlecraft is failing!" 

"Red alert!" the first officer yelled. 

"Life support on the alien shuttlecraft will fail in fifteen seconds, sir!" 

A diagram of the humanoid shape next to an oxygen meter appeared on the tactical screen.  

"Teleporters! Get a lock on the life form and beam it to decontamination, immediately!" 

"Aye!" Said a cadet sitting first from the end on right-wing. 

"Warning: alien life signs fading. Life support on the alien ship will fail in ten seconds." Said the computer. 

"Could the computer be any more obvious," Aaen said quietly.

"Transporters!" Said the first officer. 

"Captain! We have no idea what kind of germs or viruses that alien might be carrying. The alien is completely unknown to us! Our biofilters might not protect us. For all we know, we get exposed to whatever the alien might be carrying. We might grow a third arm or something!—" 

"Thank you, Tex!"

"Transporter sensors are–"

"Six. . .five. . .four!" The computer announced the countdown. 

"I've got a transporter lock!" 

"Energize!" Aaen said. I really hope Tex is wrong about that 'third arm' stuff, he thought, watching with a determined look as the cadet inched the trio yellow lines to the top of the transporter control screen. C'mon! . . . C'mon! Aaen thought. 

"Two. . .One. . ." 

"Transporters activated!" The bridge filled with the glistening sound of the mechanism at work for five seconds. 

"Warning: Biohazard alert. Unknown life form in decontamination. Detecting unknown airborne bacteria." 

"That's just a risk we'll have to take." said the first officer. "Stand down from red alert. Alert condition three." A series of subtle chirps told the bridge, and the rest of the ship, that all was now well. 

Aaen was becoming increasingly curious as to what happened to the alien shuttle. He looked at the image on the main viewscreen. The damage to the alien shuttle couldn't have been as coincidental as a collision with a space rock. The visible damage is too specific. Too deliberate. Space rocks don't leave burn marks and perfectly shaped holes an adult male could crawl through with ease. So, who, or what would have attacked a shuttlecraft–and why? What about that shuttle was so darn important? Was the shuttle attacked as a means of trying to recover some kind of technology? Who, or what would take such risks damaging what they're trying to recover? Or was there something—or someone—that wasn't supposed to. . . Wait a minute. . .

Aaen looked to his left. "Security, go find the alien. Take the alien out of decontamination and then bring the alien to the bridge." The duo retrieved their sidearms, stepped down from their stations, and then hastily carried out the order. "Sensors, increase scan intensity on the alien shuttlecraft. What inner workings can you discern?" 

"Increasing scan intensity to level five." Good, Aaen thought. Scan intensity level ten would have caused scan results to include everything from the scan target's molecular composition, to how many hairs were up one of the given occupants' nose. "Scanning, sir." Ten seconds later. "Sensor readings are mostly indeterminate. I'm only detecting negligible power readings." 

"Tactical analysis." 

Five seconds later. "Tactical sensors can't make heads or tails of the alien shuttle's armaments if it ever had any. I'm only detecting two low-output shield generators on the shuttle's fore, and starboard sides. Both offline. Shuttle's power source and power type are unknown. The alien shuttle's hull plating composition is unknown, but it's three times denser than Voyager's hull plating." 

"Who or whatever caused all that damage was really powerful but careful not to destroy that shuttle." the first officer said.

The sensors cadet's screen flashed. "Captain, lots of new sensor information coming in from the probe." 

"Record all data in the main computer memory core. Long-range, standby to send a copy of the data to Spacefleet Command." Aaen said. 

Both cadets replied in the affirmative in turn.

"Captain! I—"

The first officer looked at the Sensor Cadet. "What?" 

Aaen looked at the sensor cadet with a puzzled look. He walked to the sensors station and looked at the cadet's screen. 

"Aaen?" the first officer asked. 

"We just lost contact with the probe, sir. We're not getting any telemetry, whatsoever. No readings indicating a malfunction, or that the probe as reverted to safe mode. There's no data coming back to us." 

"What about the radio transponder?" 

Aaen turned his head. "Negative on the transponder, sir. All current instrumentation readings show negative on the probe. The probe doesn't exist anymore." 

"Could it have collided with an asteroid or a meteor?" Adam asked. 

"Good question," Aaen replied, looking at the sensors cadet. "Pull up the last sensor readings the probe sent back before we lost contact with it."

The order was carried out quickly. Aaen scanned the probe information, and then looked at the first officer over his left shoulder. 

"What happened to the probe?" The first officer stood up, looking concerned at Aaen. "What happened to the probe?" 

"Yellow alert!" Aaen said. 

*****

Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."

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