Space Graffiti

Posted on May 18, 2017 @ 7:43pm by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on May 18, 2017 @ 7:43pm

Mission: In Place of God

= Space Graffiti =
(cont’d from “What Do Space Mites Eat?”)

LOCATION: USS PHOENIX

SCENE: Bridge

STARDATE: [2.17] 0518.1519

Jake Crichton stood in front of the CO’s chair, his eyes on the images displayed across the main viewscreen. He rarely sat in the chair, even when Kane was off duty and asleep. It still felt strange, taking the weight of responsibility for the whole ship onto his shoulder, and sitting in the big chair was a way of formalizing that authority, and that still made Jake feel a little weak in the knees. So, he usually stood. Jake had never been much of a “sitter”, anyway; he’d always thought better on his feet and moving around.

On the main viewer, a magnified image of the wormhole, rippling black on black except for the occasional pulses from the gravitron stream that held it open. On the other side, in some other universe, beings quite unlike himself were broadcasting a message that the PHOENIX crew had only started to tentatively piece together. Theories were coming fast - the realization that the aliens saw in an expanded spectrum of color, as well as Ensign Andersson’s idea that the images the PHOENIX had received might have originally been three-dimensional - but as Jake stared into the rippling wormhole, he supposed that it didn’t make much difference, in the end. There was no way for them to send anything back through the wormhole, no way to let the creatures on the other side know their message had been received and understood. Based on everything they’d extrapolated about the alien’s tech level thus far, it seemed that they must know this kind of communication could only be one way. Not for the first time, Jake couldn’t stop thinking about what the point of it all was.

Turbolift doors hissed open behind him, and Jake turned to see Lt. Byte stepping aboard the bridge. The android nodded at Jake as he headed for the Ops position, and the officer seated there vacated her seat to make room. Jake waited until Byte had gotten settled, then walked over to him.

“How did thing go with Ensign Schad?”

Byte turned to look up at Jake. {{It was a most productive session, sir. Ensign Schad and I have theorized that the alien planet’s obvious proximity to a black hole may explain their arthropod evolution.}}

“Makes sense,” Jake said. He didn’t really understand what the android was talking about - he was an engineer, not an exobiologist, after all - but he’d come to trust Byte’s judgment on things like this. From what he’d seen, Ensign Schad was also no beginner.

{{Ensign Trimble also posited a possible explanation for this transmission,}} Byte said.

“What is it?”

{{The proximity of the black hole suggests a bleak future for these creatures,}} Byte said. {{Ensign Trimble theorized that the transmissions could be a cry for help.}}

“Not the clearest distress signal I’ve ever seen,” Jake said. “If the transmission is a call for help, why include all that… whatever it is?”

{{That was our conclusion as well,}} Byte said. {{The nature of this wormhole precludes two way transmission, it is far too small for a ship or probe to pass through, and too unstable even if it were big enough to accommodate such a thing. Then there is the transmission itself, which appears to be some sort of cultural primer. None of these suggest a distress call.}}

“So we’re back to square one,” Jake said. “Why send a message that can’t possibly be comprehended or responded to? Why expend the energy? What’s the point?”

{{We should consider the likelihood that their motivations will be forever unknown to us,}} said Byte. {{We can only speculate as to the meaning of the data they sent us, and as such we can only speculate as to why they chose to send it.}}

“So for all we know, we’re wasting our time reading some jokester’s space-graffiti,” Jake said.

{{That seems unlikely, sir,}} said Byte, but Jake wasn’t listening. As soon as he’d said “space-graffiti”, his mind had conjured the image of the phase “CRICHTON WAS HERE”, etched in durasteel in the engineering section of half a dozen starships. It had been a custom of Jake’s, upon taking over as chief engineer, to scrawl that legend in some out of the way place near the warp core. He told himself he did it for luck, but there was more than that. It was a way of, quite literally, leaving his mark. Subsequent engineers might eventually stumble across it, and the curious ones might even look up who “Crichton” was. It was a way to leave something behind.

{{Are you alright, sir?}} Bye asked. Jake blinked, and realized he’d been zoning out.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I might know why they're sending this transmission.”

Byte tilted his head. {{You do?}}

“It’s like you and Ensign Trimble said: that black hole’s a death sentence for that planet, sooner or later, and probably sooner based on the images we have. The aliens know they’re doomed, so they want to make sure some kind of record remains after they’re gone. Something that lets the universe know they were here.”

Byte considered this, then nodded. {{An interesting hypothesis. There are records of many such species attempting to preserve their legacy in a similar fashion. For example, on stardate 45944.1, a Federation ship encountered a probe in the Parvenium system--}}

“Either way,” Jake sighed, cutting off the android’s history lesson before he could really dig his heels in, “...it doesn’t get any closer to understanding what they have sent us. If this is supposed to be the last testament of their entire species, it doesn’t do them any good if we botch our reconstruction of it.”

{{Ensign Schad said something to Ensign Trimble,}} Byte said, looking back up at Jake. {{When she expressed distress as to the nature of their planet’s fate, Ensign Schad reminded her that we do not have the ability to help them. He said that all we could do is ‘bear witness’. Perhaps that is enough, to know that they were heard, if not wholly understood.}}

“I guess that makes us feel better,” Jake shrugged. “Doubt it does much for them, though.”

=[/\]=

NRPG: Not very long and mostly just repeats what you guys wrote in other, better posts, but now nobody can say it's been forever since I posted! Been real busy these last couple weeks but things should settle down some now that we're creeping into summer.

Shawn Putnam
a.k.a.
Jake Crichton
Executive Officer
USS PHOENIX