Precipice

“Excellent work, Xiong,” said Marcus.

Nogura added, “I’ll second that. Well done, Lieutenant.”

Ch’Nayla was less enthused. “Commendable as this may be, it falls short of the practical application we were led to expect.”

Xiong reflexively shot a narrowed stare at ch’Nayla, but forced himself to remain calm in the presence of superior officers. “True,” he said. “And the loss of the artifact means we’ll be relying on simulations until further notice, so we won’t be able to confirm any of our current hypotheses. However, there is one that’s very close to ready for a field test.”

He used the console to call up his latest project. “I had the idea that we could modulate a particle beam using the waveform from the Jinoteur Pattern. Our simulations and early tests on the artifact suggest this would create a signal that would not only pierce the object’s outer shell but also trigger the release of a pulse attuned to the same frequencies the Shedai use to change their physical states. Depending on the specific segment of the pattern we employ, we might be able to use it as bait or as a means of immobilizing them.”

Marcus added, “I’ve reviewed Xiong’s proposal, and I think that if it works, it could have even more significant long-range applications in a variety of sciences, from long-distance subspace communications to tissue-regeneration and beyond. Its possibilities could be effectively endless.”

“Sounds promising,” Nogura said. “How long will it take to weaponize it?”

Ch’Nayla cut in, “There are serious security concerns that need to be addressed first, Admiral.”

Nogura eyed the Andorian. “Such as … ?”

“It is not yet clear whether bombarding the artifact with energy beams utilizing the Jinoteur Pattern would risk releasing the Shedai entity currently trapped inside it,” ch’Nayla said. “If such an event were to occur aboard a starship or space station, to say nothing of on the surface of an inhabited planet, the potential loss of life could be substantial.”

The admiral asked Xiong, “Is that a risk, Lieutenant?”

Uncertainty painted a grimace on Xiong’s face. “Hard to say, sir. None of the simulations we’ve done so far indicates any loss of structural integrity to the artifact. On the other hand, we don’t really have a baseline. It might have a limit to how much energy it can cha

Horrified, Marcus interjected, “You’re all forgetting something very important. The entityinside the artifact is not some abstract concept—it’s a sentient life-form. Before we start ru

Ch’Nayla regarded Marcus with skepticism. “What do you propose we do then, Doctor? Should we gear our efforts toward releasing the Shedai from its captivity inside the artifact?”

“That might be the humane thing to do,” Marcus said.

Nogura’s eyes widened. “And the most tactically dangerous. In any event, I don’t even want to talk about letting it out until we know who put it in there, how they did it, and why.”

Xiong held up his hands and said, “There might be a middle path to consider.”

“Let’s hear it,” Nogura said.

“We know from Lieutenant Theriault’s encounter with the Shedai Apostate that not all of the Shedai are necessarily hostile. At this point, we don’t really know anything about the identity or intentions of the Shedai trapped inside the Mirdonyae Artifact. While I agree with Commander ch’Nayla that releasing it without proper safeguards would be unwise, I think it might be beneficial, from both a scientific and diplomatic standpoint as well as a humanitarian one, to establish contact with it.”

Nodding slowly, ch’Nayla said, “Mister Xiong makes some excellent points. If contact could be established, perhaps the entity itself could answer our questions about the artifact’s origins and purpose.”

“And talking with it might make it possible to defuse tensions,” Marcus said. “So if and when we do release it, it doesn’t go on a homicidal rampage.”

“Okay,” Nogura said. “You’ve convinced me. Xiong, how long will it take to repair the damage in here?”

“About two weeks.” Looking around at the dark and deserted laboratory, Xiong continued, “We can swap out those fragged consoles in a day or two, and replacing the transparent aluminum barrier is another one-day job. The real delays will be fixing and upgrading the security entrance, isolating the ventilation system to keep us from getting smoked out again, and sealing that hatch in turbolift four.”

Nogura nodded. “Very good. Get it done. If you hit any snags, let me know and I’ll make them vanish.”

“Thank you, sir,” Xiong said.

The admiral shook Xiong’s hand, then said to ch’Nayla, “Walk with me, Commander.” The pair exited the lab through the wide-open access passageway, whose far end now was under twenty-four-hour armed guard.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Marcus folded her arms and kept her voice down as she said to Xiong, “Are you out of your mind? Two weeksto swap out four state-of-the-art consoles, replace a grade-ten barrier, rebuild an entire bulkhead, and install a new security module? That’ll take at least a month.”

Xiong smiled at her. “Nope. Two weeks, tops.”

“Not without a miracle,” Marcus said, clinging to her pessimism.

He laughed softly. “Relax, Doctor. For Starfleet engineers, miracles are just standard operating procedure.”

Rana Desai had the best table in Manón’s Cabaret to herself.

Seated in the front row and just left of center stage, Desai had a perfect view of every member of the jazz quartet providing that evening’s musical entertainment. Their set list since her arrival had consisted of low-key numbers with softly plucked bass lines, smooth wire-brush percussion, and mellow back-and-forth riffs by the piano player and saxophonist.

The di

Manón’s served as the station’s de facto officers’ club for a number of reasons: it offered better food and drinks; its interior design was more pleasing; its furniture was more comfortable; and its acoustics were superior to those of the actual officers’ club, a drab gray box with chairs located in the station’s core. Last but not least, the view from Manón’s newly opened upstairs open-air terrace, of artfully lit buildings in Stars Landing, was far prettier than the official club’s view of hangar bay three.

All Desai could see, however, was the empty seat on the other side of her table.

She sipped from her glass of sparkling water and enjoyed the tingle of carbonation on her tongue. Listening to the quartet spin a slow, melancholy tune, she wondered what she was going to say when her guest arrived. It was bound to be an awkward conversation, and Desai admitted to herself that she was dreading every minute of it.

“Mind a bit of company?”

The question freed Desai from her reverie. She looked over her shoulder to see Dr. Ezekiel Fisher smiling down at her.

The gray-haired octogenarian chief medical officer had been a steady and quasi-paternal presence in Desai’s life since they were told of Diego Reyes’s alleged death seven months earlier. She had been grateful for Fisher’s support, especially since Reyes had been one of his closest friends, and she knew the old doctor’s loss had to have been as deep as her own.

But he wasn’t who she was waiting for, and his presence could only complicate an already messed-up situation.

She gestured at the empty chair. “Have a seat.”

He planted one palm on the table to steady himself as he eased into the chair opposite hers. “I should have known I’d find you here,” he said, then exhaled with relief as he settled into place. “This was the table Diego always reserved for you.”