Five Months Ago
Enterprise Pursuing an Unidentified Vessel
Pike departed the ready room for the bridge asking as he went if the planetary government had been informed of Enterprise's departure from Varia's orbit; Aalin left for her quarters. Lights, computer screens small and large, as well as the public address system announced the ship's alert status. Hallways were crowded; the crew bustled with efficient purpose, like a large troupe performing an intricate quick-paced dance.
When Aalin entered the turbolift, a dark-haired junior lieutenant with an engineering designation on his uniform nodded. "Ma'am."
She smiled in return. "What's happening? I mean why all the extra people in the corridors?"
He answered, "Under yellow alert, the next shift reports to duty immediately making sure backups are present in the event of trouble. They'll also handle the information overflow and any extra tasks. This double staffed rotation will continue until the alert is lifted. Damage control teams start preparing. All of this is precautionary."
The overhead lights blinked twice when the ship quaked but remained illuminated. He reached out a hand to steady Aalin; she gripped the lift's handle with more force than necessary.
"Dinnae fash. Shields were up so that was just a wee swat. This is likely much ado about nothing," he assured. "The Captain'll soon sort it out."
On reaching deck 3 Aalin retreated to her rooms; with hostilities looming it was unsettling to be uninformed. Tidying did little to ease her anxiety. She then resolved to concentrate on her most important priority, learning the Varian language, and document all she'd learned while roaming the capital city that morning.
Work proved a poor diversion and her thoughts kept shifting, questioning what and who Enterprise was facing. Let the professionals worry about that, you have your job to do, and they have theirs, she reminded.
The ship quaked.
Stay focused!
Enterprise careened sharply to the right, items placed on tabletops dropped onto the floor with a thud; Aalin flung her arms over the materials littering the desk; once the inertial dampeners kicked in and the ship leveled, she stowed the PADDs and papers in a drawer for safe keeping.
The alert indicators switched to red. Aalin ran to the window. The view remained a tranquil starfield masking whatever events triggered the ship and crew's move to combat readiness. Sitting on the sofa she hugged a pillow to her chest. Deep breaths moderated a racing heartbeat. OK. Remember the security briefing. Stay in quarters. If a local evacuation is ordered, go to Sickbay. Your assigned escape pod is on deck three; the alternate is on deck seven.
Enterprise remained stable. There were no announcements of fire, damage, or ordering an evacuation. The alert siren stopped blaring. Quiet held. She exhaled slowly and thought with growing hope, Maybe it's over.
Minutes passed. She exhaled again. Feeling calmer Aalin retrieved a PADD from the floor and recited the vocabulary words she learned that morning.
Over the public address system an unfamiliar voice issued a summons to the bridge.
There's another Aalin Matthews on board. What are the odds?
A pause.
Oh.
She means me.
Not possible.
The call repeated.
Confused Aalin peeked into the hallway. The engineer she met earlier jogged over. In answer to her unspoken question he said, "I oversee damage control teams on deck 3." He pointed to the end of the hallway. "That turbolift is direct to the bridge. Come on."
He seems to think they meant me. Aalin shook her head. I must be dreaming.
The engineer hurried her along. "Don't wanna keep the Captain waiting, do we?"
This is surreal, Aalin thought. She said in an unconvincing tone, "No, I guess not."
ooooo
The doors opened into the circular command center. Aalin had visited the bridge once during the ship's low-key approach to Varia. Then it felt busy. Now it swarmed with movement, voice, and sound. Overhead light was lowered. The alarm klaxon remained silenced, but blinking red lights reminded danger was near and probable; their reflection cast an eerie quality on people and equipment.
Aalin shrank against the far wall of the lift.
Pike stood facing the wall-sized viewscreen in front of the helm, his manner alert and focused, his legs slightly apart, his posture without tension. He listened as multiple officers simultaneously reported updates. Replies and orders were given in a tone of voice radiating equanimity and down-to-earth confidence. Pike handed a tricorder to a waiting yeoman and walked towards Aalin.
Does he have eyes in the back of his head? she queried silently.
Pike flashed a reassuring smile. With hand raised and fingers curling inward to his palm he beckoned her onto the upper level of the bridge; after three of these signals Aalin hesitantly approached. He leaned down and said softly, "The universal translator can't process their language." Straightening he added at normal volume, "Nicola, queue the clips." After the last recording finished playing, he asked Aalin, "Do you recognize it?"
"No," she whispered with an accompanying head shake. "Sorry."
"It was a high fence to jump and a big ask, but you never know, sometimes luck prevails." Pike pointed to the station beside communications. "Please keep trying, talking is likely the best way out of this situation."
Aalin looked at Spock and his superior the ship's chief science officer Lynn Lucero, her gaze moved to Number One standing by the helmsman and the navigator. Her eyes then rested on Nicola and the two additional communication officers standing behind him. With sinking feeling she asked herself, These are the best and the brightest, if they can't unravel the problem … what can I do?
In a discrete nudge Pike tilted his head in the direction of the empty station. Aalin gingerly sat on the edge of the chair in front of its console. Nicola gave her a brief orientation to the instrument panel. Placing a wireless transceiver in her ear, she began querying the computer and searching for clues.
Damn, she thought and reversed a recording for the third time before replaying it. How do they concentrate in this ceaseless jumble of activity with weapons primed, ready, and aimed at them? She frowned. Nothing. OK. New approach. "Computer, compare recordings A, D, and F to known languages in the next quadrant. Any similarities?" This proved a dead end.
"Display assumed noun/verb parings." Another dead end.
The unidentified vessel fired on Enterprise at random intervals. The shields absorbed the bulk of the energy, but here and there the ship shuttered or lurched. Aalin failed to notice the seasoned crew kept a hand braced across the edge of their consoles or a nearby railing, fingers on top, thumbs below. No one appeared concerned over these phaser hits and damage remained minimal.
"Attempt sentence diagrams. Assume bimodal structure," Aalin instructed the computer.
"Try unimodal."
"Try the Hoshi meta matrix."
Each failure snipped away at her confidence. Enterprise slammed to the left. Caught unprepared Aalin tumbled out of her seat onto the floor knocking her head against the instrument panel during the fall.
Spock offered a helping hand settling her back into the chair. "Are you injured Ms. Matthews? Do you required medical attention?" he asked.
Pike turned in their direction. His slight frown was accompanied by narrowing assessing eyes.
"I'm fine," Aalin reassured.
"Anything?" Pike queried.
Aalin tugged a ripped sleeve over the long scrape on her arm. "Nothing. Sorry."
Spock injected. "I believe our opponent is using a translator scrambler using real-time subspace field fluctuations for randomizing language syntax. A matched synced receiver is needed for reordering. Neither our computers nor Ms. Matthews can provide an interpretation."
Pike crossed arms over his chest then restated, "So their communications are encoded."
"Not exactly," Spock explained. "Muddled beyond recognition, like eggs beaten with a whisk. This fits the data. And therefore extrapolation supports the conclusion our opponent has understood every message Enterprise transmitted."
"They're toying with us," Pike mused aloud. "Clever … almost." He turned to tactical on the opposite side of the room. "Enough playing patty-cake."
Spock's eyebrow rose.
The Captain continued, "Isak, take out their engines and weapons."
"Aye sir." Four phaser shots from Enterprise's saucer section hit precise targets concurrently. "Done."
Aalin slipped into the turbolift. No one noticed.
"Nicola, ask if they require assistance," Pike ordered.
Ten minutes passed. "No response, sir."
"Very well. Take us back to Varia, resume geosynchronous orbit. Number One, stand down from red alert and assess damage. Lucero, find out who they are. Isak, set up a standing patrol, say 25,000 kilometers, standard grid and put extra resources on the long-range sensors in the hive. I don't want any more surprises." Pike scanned the room for Aalin.
ooooo
Back in her quarters Aalin paced rapidly but the frenetic movement didn't help. Her nervous energy stubbornly refused to ebb.
"Brilliant," she said to the empty room while circumnavigating it.
"One, how did you miss the translation scrambler?"
Her thoughts countered, Because you've only read about them in theory, you've never encountered one.
"Two, if you can't identify the lack of any sustained pattern, which by the way was a big clue pointing to the scrambler, you'll never sort out a language as unique as Varian!"
You're comparing apples and oranges.
"Three, well done, getting knocked on your bum."
You have no experience on a ship under attack, avoiding the turbulence when taking fire was unlikely, it happens even to the seasoned crewmembers, logic argued back. And hello? Where are the seatbelts?
"Four …" She plopped on the sofa and continued in a sad tone, "I let Chris down." That drained all anxiety remnants leaving her weary, disheartened and feeling rough. The door chime rang. "Come."
Pike entered. "Do you ever ask who is there?"
"I had a feeling it was you," she answered.
Pike motioned at an opposite chair. Aalin waved her consent.
He said, "I should not have thrust you into …." At the same time she said, "I'm sorry …"
"Let's let it lie," he suggested. "You're sure you're okay? No bumps, no bruises?"
"Really, I'm fine."
He nodded. "The frequent apologies, they are … unnecessary."
While murmuring a reply she hugged herself, pulling her body inward and visibly shrinking.
Accepting that in this moment Aalin would brush aside valid counterpoints Pike stood. "I should get back to the bridge."
"Of course. Thank you for checking-in."
After he left Aalin squared her shoulders, retrieved her Varian language notes from the desk drawer, and resumed her work promising, I won't disappoint Chris again.