William Shatner: Captain's Blood

The crew of the Monitor had also been afraid, Soren knew. To see the need for that transmission, to carry it out, knowing that their ship would then be adrift in intergalactic space—that was the action of a desperate crew. But a crew who had stayed true to their duty as Starfleet officers.

“I don’t care how much power they had,” the admiral objected. “Over that distance, there is no way a subspace signal wouldn’t spread out to the point where it could not be distinguished from normal subspace static. Especially static from extragalactic sources. It’s the Romulans up to their old tricks.”

Soren wondered what it would feel like to take the admiral by his shoulders and shake him. To tell him he was missing the point of this gathering. The technology of the signal’s transmission was not the issue. It was the signal’s content that had led the commander of Starbase 499 to call this extraordinary meeting at Soren’s request.

But, instead, the science officer calmly said, “The signal was relayed, sir. By at least one of the Kelvan Expeditionary Return Probes currently presumed to be en route to Andromeda.”

The admiral was not one to be contradicted. “That probe is more than a century old.” He appeared to have more to say, but one of the civilians interrupted.

“Commander Soren, could you show us the transmission?”

Just that one, brief request from the thin pale man in the black suit was enough to silence every other voice at the table.

“Certainly,” Soren answered. “As noted in your briefing padds, this is a reconstruction based on a severely degraded transmission. Almost three months of effort has gone into restoring it to this stage, using existing engineering plans of the Monitor and images of the crew from their personnel files in order to create—”

“Show it,” Meugniot ordered.

Soren nodded to the admiral, then turned again to the civilian, for she knew that if there were to be a defense against the threat described in this transmission, it would come from Starfleet Intelligence—the only part of Starfleet that dared consider the unthinkable.

“The majority of the signal consists of text and instrument data which is proving almost impossible to reconstruct, due to lack of redundancy. But the last one-hundredth second of the transmission included the following visual images, which represent the last moments of the Starship Monitor, reported lost on a routine transwarp engine trial mission, Stardate 52027.4.”

She touched the playback control on her own padd. And because she had seen the transmission once, she did not need to see it again. She did not want to. Instead she watched the audience. The admirals, the captains, the science officers, the civilians. The last hope of the Federation.

The table lights dimmed, then Captain John Lewinski spoke to those people, giving his final captain’s log. Their upturned faces were painted by the flicker of subspace static, and the rippling lines of distortion that could not be removed for fear of losing any scraps of information still hidden in the signal.

Soren’s processing engineers had obtained recordings of Lewinski’s other logs, so they could be guided in the recreation of his voice. But it still warbled, an eerie effect, as if this really were a ghost now speaking to them across the years and the light-years since his death.

Lewinski told them about the Distortion.

It had made contact with the Monitor in intergalactic space, near the debris field of the first Kelvan Expeditionary Return Probe.

Lewinski’s investigation of that debris revealed the probe had been deliberately destroyed, by a process that appeared to alter the fundamental constants of space-time, making it impossible for complex matter to exist.

The other revelations were even more outrageous, more unnerving.

The Monitor had mapped a transwarp tunnel that had been constructed between the Andromeda Galaxy and the Milky Way. The Distortion traveled along that tunnel at a near-instantaneous speed, approaching the theoretically impossible warp ten.

The few seconds of sensor scans the Monitor had been able to make revealed that the Distortion was an artifact employing dimensional engineering, one part existing in normal space while the rest of it was in warp space at the same time. Another impossibility.

And then the Distortion responded to Lewinski’s hails by firing a dimensional weapon at his ship.

The Monitor’s sensors recorded its approach.

Lewinski waited until the last possible second to transmit the five-second subspace pulse that had drawn every last erg of energy from his ship’s warp core.

What had happened after that, there was no way to be certain. But Soren’s specialists had created a simulated engineering model of the ship. It showed how every system on the Monitor would have been burned out by the burst of power transmitted through its forward sensors.

The model showed the point-by-point destruction of the Monitor’s subsystems. It showed the warp core ejecting.

The analysts suggested that if any of the crew had survived the shock of the ejection and sudden drop out of warp, then they would have had, at best, three hours of residual heat left. Provided the air was still breathable, uncontaminated by smoke from the fires on every deck, some crew might have survived as long as ten hours. But no one would have lasted longer than a day.

To Soren, though, those estimates were pointless. The crew had survived less than five minutes.

She knew that because she had seen the analysis of the dimensional weapon that had been fired at the Monitor. The last few seconds of the Monitor’s sensor records had not been as compressed, and had arrived in better condition, more easily reconstructed.

Thus the last few seconds of the transmission being shown on the viewscreen now contained crisp images of that weapon, coming closer.

And more than impossible, that weapon was incomprehensible. Because every bit of data told the analysts on Soren’s team that they were looking through that bright blue point of light, into another universe.

The flickering stopped, telling Soren that the final frame of the transmission report was being displayed, listing the key conclusions of her team.

She knew them well. The Monitor had discovered evidence of an alien intelligence that could travel at near-instantaneous warp ten; that had engaged in galactic engineering; that could construct artifacts that existed in two different dimensional realms at the same time; that could use weapons that altered the fundamental constants of this universe; and that could open doorways into other universes.

There was nothing in Federation science that could grapple with such capabilities.

There was nothing in the lost histories of the first civilizations in this galaxy that came close to suggesting that any culture had attained what the Monitor transmission described. The Iconian gateways, the Guardian time portal, even the Q Continuum, all had some tenuous connection to the laws of multiphysics that described the rest of the universe, and governed known science.

But there was no branch of knowledge that could make sense of what the Monitor had discovered.

And what so disturbed Soren was unequivocal evidence that whatever the Monitor had discovered, it was hostile.

And it was coming this way.

The final viewscreen image faded and the reading lights glowed brightly again.

Except for the three civilians, every person at the table was involved in conversation. Soren’s sensitive ears picked up suggestions for forming task forces, for sending out more probes, for calling general meetings of the Federation Council, for holding secret meetings.

It brought her comfort to hear the explosion of ideas. Perhaps the Federation could withstand this new threat. Perhaps there was no reason to be afraid.