Working In The Dark

Posted on May 12, 2017 @ 2:49am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: In Place of God

"WORKING IN THE DARK"

(Continued from "Bloody Way To Do Business")

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Captain's log, supplemental - we continue to analyse the alien data packets in the hope of learning more about this strange First Contact situation. In this situation, there is nothing much for a ship's captain to do, except request occasional updates from his department heads...

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Location: USS Phoenix, holding station near the micro-wormhole
Stardate: [2.17]0511.2250
Scene: Conference Room, Deck 1, saucer section


Michael Turlogh Kane smiled as encouragingly as he could at the three officers facing him. In many respects, they were strangers to him, but that was why he had selected them - one from each team - to give them some face-time with the ship's commander. Cantor Von, Jasmine Yu, and Sofia Andersson had been aboard the Phoenix for a couple of months now, but none of them had had much contact with him thus far, and that was something that he was seeking to rectify.

While Jake monitored the conn, Kane and the three officers had retired to the conference room. Through the viewing port that ran the length of the room, the Phoenix's silver gravitron beam shone out into space, holding the micro-wormhole open as best it could. It would be an ultimately impossible task, since the wormhole was in the final stages of its life, but the beings who lived on the far side now knew that someone was listening to their cry into the dark.

Cantor Von was a full Betazoid, with the dark hair and dark eyes common to his race. There was always something disconcerting about being around a full telepath - you were always worried they were listening to your thoughts, even if only subconsciously - but Betazoids generally didn't go around spying on people. Von himself had a background working with Romulans, and Kane felt sure that he wouldn't have been able to survive almost a decade serving on a Romulan starship if he was that way inclined. Still, the thought was there, lurking down in a dark place, and it never really went away.

Sofia Andersson had found her space-legs now. The former Neo-Essentialist had been working in sickbay for several months, and had been doing an admirable job. The pretty young Ensign was certainly a hit with the male members of the crew, but had yet to come out of her shell. Kane guessed that the memory of Paris would never really leave her - hell, it would probably never leave anyone who had living memory of that awful day - and if Sofia was content to just *be*, then that was alright with both Kane and Aerdan Jos, her immediate superior.

Jasmine Yu was someone that Kane liked simply because of the fact that they shared the same discipline. Kane himself fondly recalled the eight years he'd spent as a Security Chief coming up through the ranks, and Jasmine was a superb department head. She was competent, she was driven, and best of all, she didn't trumpet those facts - she just did a good job without trying to aggrandise herself. Well, that was working to raise her value on a daily basis - Jake had mentioned a couple of times that she was putting her own stamp on the Security department, making it more 'Starfleet' than it had been before her arrival.

They all sat there, waiting for him to say something. Kane looked at them all in turn. "Let's collate what we know so far about the alien intelligence that's been sending the data packets through the wormhole. Each of you are representing a team that is analysing a specific umbrella - their scientific knowledge, their technological level, and what their culture might be like." He turned to the Betazoid. "Mister Von."

"Yes, Captain." Cantor Von activated his PADD and scrolled down through it. "Firstly, I have to point out that we have not yet conclusively determined *anything* about the aliens. We are working on theories and suppositions based on what we know of *this* universe. Needless to say, conditions on the other side of the wormhole may be completely - well, alien."

"Is that how you determined that the aliens might see a different colour spectrum than we do?" asked Kane.

Sofia Andersson leaned forward. "Yes, sir. You see, most humanoid species that we know of see in the same general range of colours. Medically speaking, the cone cells in our eyes are stimulated by electro-magnetic radiation. This EM radiation falls within a certain wavelength range, and that is the range, or spectrum, that we see in."

"I'm with you," said Kane with a nod. "Go on."

Cantor Von continued. "Based on colour analysis of the images that we've received, we think that the aliens see a much broader wavelength range than we do. Therefore, they can see more colours. I don't mean new colours that we can't imagine, however. I mean that they likely can discern subtle differences in colour to a degree that we are not capable of. For example - we can see, say, ten different shades of blue, but they can see fifty, and their brains can discern the difference between each one. To them, the world is likely to be a blaze of wildly contrasting hues and shapes. For a humanoid in this universe, it would be like a constantly melting and flowing kaleidoscope of minute alterations in colour and light. Our brains wouldn't be able to handle it - we'd be overwhelmed with sensory information and fall unconscious."

Kane frowned, trying to imagine it. Perhaps the aliens saw pictures akin to a drug-fuelled vision-quest, full of strange images and bursts of colour. It was hard to put himself into a moment like that - after all, he was trying to imagine colours that were beyond the colours he could see - but he thought he understood, at least a little. "How would that affect their society?"

Jasmine held up a hand. "Assuming that the laws of physics at the other end of the wormhole are the same as here - "

"And that might be a big assumption, because we're unlikely to find out," interjected Cantor Von.

" - then we can assume that their research of science would not be greatly affected," continued Jasmine. "They'd still be able to quantify higher mathematics, for example. However, we do think there would be a significant effect on what they consider art." She activated her PADD and held it up, showing the sharp image that was composed of a wild clash of colours. "We think this is an example of their art. It seems without definite form to us, but to them it might be as familiar as a landscape painting is to us. The colour patterns and repeated shapes might not look like anything that we know, and while we acknowledge that it might be abstract art, it's likely that this is something akin to one of Earth's great works - a Mona Lisa or something similar. It's likely to be a piece of art that is as familiar to them as the Mona Lisa is to us."

Kane nodded. "Interesting."

"That's not all," said Jasmine. "If this image is a piece of art, then we might speculate as to the aliens' attitudes towards colour theory. They may have designated several primary colours, not just three or four, and the colour spectrum they utilise would also have implications for art-related industries, like architecture."

"I see. I suppose I'd never considered how we view the universe had such implications," said Kane thoughtfully. He turned to Sofia Andersson. "If we accept that these aliens see in a much wider colour spectrum, what might that mean for their biology?"

The young medical officer didn't hesistate. "Probably a lot different than ours, sir. We're already assuming that the aliens are the arthropods we saw in the data packets, and those images didn't give us any clear picture of a visual organ. Now, it's unlikely that thery are blind, but it *is* likely that their brains are wired differently to ours - they'd have to be, in order to process the extra sensory information."

"Bigger brains?"

"Not necessarily bigger. Perhaps smaller and more efficient. But with the structural changes required to handle processing the extra colours, we can also assume that *all* their senses are different from ours. They may be deaf, for example, or be able to hear in ranges that we do not. They may have no sense of touch - and indeed it seems from the images they sent that they don't have any appendages aside from those shorter legs to their front. Well, we're assuming they are legs - they might be fingers, or external spiracles, or something completely different. In terms that are practical to us, Captain, it may mean that we do not have the ability to communicate with them, at least not in a way they would understand. The information in the data packets is so very limited. We're working the dark, trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle that we have never seen before."

"I see."

"There's more, Captain." Sofia manipulated her PADD and brought up the image that looked similar to a purple-and-blue double helix. "This image bears a striking similarity to a strand of DNA. You see here? The coiled strands are linked by connecting structures similar to the base pairs we see in our own genetic makeup."

"I see it," said Kane. "Are you suggesting that this is a strand of the aliens' DNA?"

Sofia nodded. "We think so. However, without the data to go along with it - are the coiled strands made up of biopolymer like ours, or are they something else? - the image by itself is next to useless."

Kane frowned. "Is it possible to recreate their DNA in a lab?"

Sofia looked pained. "That's not an easy question to answer. There are literally billions of possible base-pair sequences, assuming the aliens are even carbon-based like us, which they might not be. I suppose it would be possible if we have a few centuries to waste on trial and error, and some kind of machine that was capable of reconstituting DNA."

Kane thought of a certain laboratory on a certain oce-world, and shivered involuntarily.

"Perhaps we'll get lucky and find more data to work with," suggested Sofia.

Kane was impressed, and nodded at Sofia in appreciation. "Understood. I wonder - are we trying so hard to understand them that we're squashing them into our own frames of reference?" It was a rhetorical question, and Kane shrugged. "In any case, it won't matter soon enough. How long until the micro-wormhole collapses?"

Cantor Von checked his PADD. "A few more days. We've reduced the rate of collapse to a fraction of what it was, but the wormhole's structure is no longer viable. It's not easy to predict with certainty, however."

Kane looked around the room. "Thank you for the briefing, everyone. Keep it up. Remember, all this data will be sent back to Starfleet along with whatever your conclusions are. Dismissed."

He watched the trio as they left the conference room, ruminating on unanswered questions.

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Scene: Primary Science Centre, Deck 8, saucer section


Ensign Stephanie Trimble had been in Starfleet for sixteen years - several as an enlisted scientist before winning an officer's commission. She had served on the old Discovery on its five-year mission among the deadworlds of the Beta Quadrant, and had put in her time as a research assistant in Starfleet Science when that Investigator-class starship had been decommissioned. She had been brought back as one of the assistant chief science officers when the Discovery had been reactivated nearly four years ago, and now was in that same position aboard the Phoenix.

She'd seen many strange things, and seen many strange faces in her time in the fleet, but what she was looking at now was right up there. The android Lieutenant Byte had come into the Science Centre a minute ago, marched right up to Ensign Schad and engaged him in conversation regarding the alien data packets. It wasn't that their conversation made no sense - on the contrary, it was fascinating to listen to them both - but to see the diminutive Aamazzarite debate a living robot on the intricacies of astrophysics really brought home to Stephanie the wonder of serving in Starfleet. All species, all genders, all creeds - all were welcome if you were prepared to respect and embrace everyone's differences.

{{I have been devoting much processing power,}} said Byte, {{in considering the black hole we saw in the alien image.}}

Arak blinked languidly. Aamazzarites were distinctly alien, Stephanie thought, not like Humans. It was occasionally difficult to relate to Arak - after all, his species did a lot of vomiting and considered it *normal*. "Indeed? In what respect?"

Byte moved to a nearby workstation and called up a copy of the image it was referring to. It was an image clearly taken in orbit of a planet - was it the alien homeworld? - and showed an asteroid belt, and another planet in the near distance. In the background, however, was a terrifying sight - an enormous cosmic phenomenon, likely a black hole, with a clearly visible ergosphere surrounding it. The imminency of the monstrous singularity gave the picture a terrible foreboding - a black hole of such a size would be so strong that nothing in its vicinity, not even light photons, would be able to escape the gravity well in its centre.

Arak joined Byte at the workstation. The android traced an off-white finger across the black hole's event horizon. {{It is difficult to determine from this image alone, but do you think this picture to have been recorded in orbit of the alien homeworld?}}

Arak inclined his head. "Most probably. There seems to be no reason for the aliens to show us a picture of anywhere save where they come from."

{{Indeed. Ensign Schad, I put it to you that this supermassive black hole is, at the moment this picture was taken, expanding into the aliens' home star system. Furthermore, I also consider it likely that the black hole's rate of expansion is not at the speed of light. Rather, it is much slower, perhaps no faster than the rate of erosion on a terrestrial planet.}}

Arak raised one eyebrow, a Vulcan-like gesture. "Interesting. What brings you to that conclusion?"

{{The aliens are not dead,}} stated Byte matter-of-factly. {{The sudden appearance of a supermassive black hole near a star system that supports life would result in the complete destruction of every planet in that system. Therefore, it is logical to conclude that this black hole is likely to have grown over a period of time - possibly several billion years.}}

Arak looked puzzled. "That would certainly have affected the evolution of life in that star system. The gravitational forces exerted on their homeworld would have grown slowly but exponentially - if the alien homeworld does have a higher gravity as a result of living close to a black hole, then perhaps its explains their arthropodal nature?"

Byte cocked its head. {{Yes. An intriguing hypothesis.}}

"Thank you."

{{You are most welcome.}}

Stephanie chuckled inwardly, but what Byte said next made her catch her breath.

{{If the black hole is expanding, then it seems likely that the aliens who sent us these messages are doomed to extinction. Indeed, their world may have already been destroyed centuries ago - thanks to the space-time distortion caused by the black hole, we may only now be receiving their messages.}}

"I am not so certain of that," said Arak. "If you recall, the format of the data packets changed once it became apparent that the Phoenix was holding the micro-wormhole open. We surmised that the aliens could detect our presence here."

Byte cocked its head again and thought for a moment. {{You are correct, Ensign. If their homeworld has not been destroyed by now, it seems certain that it will be. Based on simple visual observation, the gravitational pull of the singularity must be immense. As the black hole grows and creeps closer to them, their homeworld will be quite literally torn to pieces by earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.}}

"Is that why they sent a message?" Stephanie blurted out. "They're sending out a cry for help?"

Arak and Byte turned to face her. They shared a glance.

"There is no way to know," said Arak. "Even if you are correct, Ensign Trimble, there is nothing we can do for them. All we can do from this point in space-time is simply... bear witness."

Stephanie felt a pang of sorrow. There were so many questions, so little time to find the most pertinent answers.

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NRPG: There's a lot going on, but that's to be expected when building an alien species from the ground up. In any case, it's time to start making some educated guesses now, as the wormhole will be closing in a few days.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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