Disclaimer: Usual (see chapter 1)

The Sound of Silence

by Jazz

~~~

Part 2:

I, Captain

Can a single man lead a hundred, but follow a hundred laws?

At night my mind races to catch up with my days. It is better this way. In the darkness I can be as subjective as I want and no one can know.

In the corner of the room I hear Porthos sigh in his basket, and wonder what dogs dream. Do dogs dream? I smile and let sleep wash over me.

****

The next morning while dressing I look out the window. The nebula fills my area of sight, magnificent and still. So still. We will leave the ship here for a few hours. Yesterday's events jump out of my memory, and I remember Hoshi's claim that she heard singing out there.

When I arrive on the bridge I find her already at work. Earpiece in hand, she has an expression of such dogged concentration that I resist interrupting her. At last she looks up and spies my amused look.

"Sorry, Captain, but I had to try again. It's been disturbing me all night." She bites her lip in annoyance, and adds softly, to herself, "I know I heard something."

"It's okay, Hoshi."

She removes her earpiece and leans back with a sigh. I leave her and move to where T'Pol is sitting, analysing the data from Iona-7. "How's it looking, Sub-Commander?"

Withdrawing from her viewer, T'Pol regards me for a moment before saying, "There is no further information I feel we need from this nebula, Captain." Her hands rest lightly on the console. "It would be unproductive for Enterprise to remain here for much longer."

I think of Hoshi's songs. "I understand. But I kind of promised Hoshi some more time to search for…" Perhaps it wouldn't be good to reveal to T'Pol the particulars exactly. "For an unidentifiable sound she picked up."

At my explanation, I know my Science Officer is thinking disapproving thoughts, but she doesn't speak them. Instead she tilts her head in acceptance. "As you wish, Captain."

"Captain, good morning."

I turn as Reed steps from the lift, and moves to sit at his station. "Sub-Commander. Ensign." This is to T'Pol, who does not reply, and to Travis, who does.

"Morning, Lieutenant."

Reed peers at Hoshi, who has her back turned away, her eyes fixed somewhere unspecific. He gives me a glance and I shake my head gently. Reed takes a quick look at the forward view screen, where the nebula is on display for all to see. "So, how long are we thinking of staying here?" he says. "Not that I dislike the view, lovely and, er, nebulous as it is, but …"

"But you're itching to keep moving," I finish. "Don't worry, Malcolm. I've requested Travis keep us here for another few hours; just to give Hoshi a chance to perhaps pick up the…sounds she heard yesterday again."

"I see." Reed smiles slightly.

"Okay, okay, you've had your fun, gentlemen." Hoshi pulls off her earpiece. She sighs again, rubs at her eyes, and sits back in her chair. "Captain?"

"Yes?"

She adopts a rueful expression and shrugs. "You may as well lay in a course right now. If all you're waiting for is for my mysterious song to reappear, then it's not worth it. I've just about given up hope that whatever I heard in the nebula yesterday is no more. Maybe I imagined it. And if I did, then I'm sorry, and-"

"Hoshi! It's all right." Her words run over one another. "We'll stick to our schedule." And with this I turn towards the lift. "I'm starting my rounds of the ship. Sub-Commander T'Pol has the bridge."

As I wait for the lift to open, T'Pol says, "A 'mysterious song', Ensign?"

I step in, and the doors begin to close just as Hoshi, with a sigh, attempts to detail her conundrum to the Vulcan.

Good luck, Hoshi, is all I can think. Good luck.

****

Occasionally when I have the run of the ship to myself, say, for example, very early in the morning or late at night when all good officers should be tucked up in bed, I like to listen to her hum. With the corridors to myself, I jog the perimeter circuit, Porthos scampering ahead of me, chasing imaginary cats around corners. I take in the sounds she makes, like a well-oiled machine, and think of what my father would have made of her.

Pride, so much pride. Well, I can live this mission for both of us.

I take the route to engineering. Within reach of the doors I slow my step, listening to the warp engines. The day I first encountered one of these I remember that the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. All that power, raw power; it amazed me then, and still amazes me. So you can imagine that I like to know they're working every day. Let the engineers polish and maintain them; only let the captain know they're okay.

Speaking of engineers, I spot my chief immediately upon stepping inside. That is, I spot his boots. Trip is lying underneath one of the cooling towers, speaking in muffled tones to another engineer who is passing him tools. As I move towards them the young crewman sees me and straightens.

"Sam, pass me the number three driver, would ya?"

I take the tool myself and squat down. "Commander," I say.

"Thanks…Ah, Captain." I back up and Trip slides out into view. He suppresses a grin. "I really wish you'd refrain from sneakin' up on a guy like that." He reaches back and makes a final adjustment before standing up. Handing the tool back, he says, "Okay, Sam, you shouldn't have any trouble running those diagnostics now."

We walk towards the warp engines in the centre of the room, Trip wiping his hands on a rag. "We still hanging round this nebula, Captain?" he asks.

"A few hours more, yes."

"I'm only saying, because I'd kinda like to give the engines a run at maximum warp. We haven't had a chance to in a while, and it wouldn't hurt them to burn a bit."

I stop and lean against the railing, feeling the metal hum gently under the pulse of the warp drive. "When we took the pod out yesterday Hoshi claimed she heard the nebula singing."

Trip blinks. "Singing."

"I know, it sounded strange to Malcolm and myself at the time, but she was adamant. So I've given her more time to investigate. To be honest, Trip, I'm a little curious as well."

"Well, stranger things have happened. But a singing nebula," Trip shrugs. "That's gotta get anyone curious."

After Trip has given me his department overnight summary I leave and continue my rounds. I've just finished consulting with Dr. Phlox in sickbay when I get a call from Hoshi:

"Captain, I think you should come up and hear this." Over the comm I can just make out a noise in the background.

Phlox stops what he is doing and listens as well. "Curious sound, Captain," he says.

I nod. "I think Ensign Sato's found our mystery voice, Doctor." And with that I head back to the bridge.

****

The bridge is alive with song.

And it's loud. I have to raise my voice above the sound. "Hoshi?"

"Captain, it just appeared suddenly. It was like I had dropped in on some special frequency." Hoshi is frantically trying to adjust the sound, her hands a whirr on her screen.

There is a painfully high wail, forcing us to cover our ears. "Can you maybe kill the volume?" Travis shouts from the helm.

"I'm trying! Captain, the -" Suddenly the noise drops and Hoshi is left yelling in mid-sentence. She starts again. "Captain, the sound is different to what I heard yesterday, I'm sure of it."

"In what way?"

The wailing is still going on in the background, but mercifully quieter. It is like an atonal whale song. "More urgent," Hoshi says. "If I can put it that way."

I can feel the beginnings of a headache twist in the space behind my eyes. This is getting us nowhere. "Ensign, 'urgent' isn't exactly helpful."

Hoshi frowns. "I mean…whatever, whomever this noise is coming from, it seems to me that it's –" she listens further. "In pain, Captain. Like a wounded animal."

"Some injury," remarks Reed.

From her science station T'Pol regards the communications officer with a raised brow. I notice that she looks as tense as a Vulcan can possibly look, and suddenly think how excruciating the high sound must have been to her superior hearing. "That would not be possible, Ensign," she says. "It is illogical to apply animal characteristics to an aural phenomena."

I sit down, as Hoshi says, "Captain, I do think what I heard yesterday, and what we are hearing now, are coming from the same source; I'm not challenging that. But the nature of communication has changed. This sounds like a distress call."

I massage the back of my neck. "Okay, so if it's turned into a distress call, can we get a source of origin?"

"I am currently trying to establish that fact, Captain," T'Pol says, glancing back from her view port. "But the nebula is making the task difficult. I suggest we withdraw from it and attempt wider range scans from a safer distance."

"Fine. Travis, take us out."

As I wait for T'Pol to finish her scans, I catch something in the wailing which makes me sit up. It is slowing. Noticibly, like a wind-up toy which is losing its spring. Hoshi picks it up immediately. "The farther away we get the slower it becomes."

"What's the UT making of it?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "I've been trying that all this time, Captain, but to be realistic, we don't yet know if this is a language at all. For all we know it could be of machine origin."

"What do you think it is?"

Hoshi shrugs. "I think it's someone trying to communicate." She then transfers the sound to her console, and we return to the familiar murmur of the engines.

When we have distanced ourselves far enough, I order the ship to stop and turn to T'Pol.

Vulcan eyes raise themselves from lines and numbers on the monitors. "I have located the source of the noise, Captain." T'Pol brings up a starchart on screen and I stand closer to see her point at a corner of the nebula. "There appears to be a ship. Precisely, the remains of one."

"Why didn't we pick this up when we were scanning at close range?"

"There are sections of this nebula which are particularly dense. It is highly likely that our scanners were unable to penetrate them."

There are times when I feel like all we do is move in circles. The question forms in my mouth as to why, then, are we seeing clearer from a distance than in close…but I decide against voicing it. I am reminded by this just how experimental our technology is, how we must adapt with what we have while we strive to better things. "Hoshi, any progress?"

Hoshi doesn't answer. Eyes closed, she is leaning forward, I assume listening intently. I touch her shoulder and she looks up with a start.  

"Captain." Her eyes are bright, but she looks grim. "I've got a translation."

She touches her console, and the noise returns, in english:

"- Need help. We have a breach in both sections and are rapidly losing air. I repeat, if there are any vessels in close range, please assist us. We have casualties and need help. We have a breach –" Hoshi stops it mid-sentence. "That's all there is. It just repeats itself."

Casualties. A word I dread to hear, especially now, as the knowledge of death will certainly place many of the crew on edge; as captain I have to resist this, but it's difficult. I place myself far away from the synthesised english which runs in a loop through by head. T'Pol said remains. Remains almost certainly mean no survivors.

But I can't be certain until I have assured myself of this with my own eyes.

I order Travis to return to the nebula, and the strands of colour shimmer closer, a wreath of petals upon a stormy headstone.