the spectrum, diffracting through the dust cloud that surrounded both the object and the Voyager. The bar graphs on the display bounced up and down like so many hyperactive kittens.
The Array had pulsed with energy, almost like a heartbeat; this thing was sputtering like a roman candle.
“Maybe the companion is in trouble,” Paris suggested. It was obvious to anyone that this sort of output wasn’t normal or healthy.
“Maybe it’s not the companion,” Janeway replied. “Maybe it’s something else entirely.”
“But, Captain,” Kim protested from his station, “what else could be throwing around that sort of power?”
“I don’t know,” Janeway said. She glanced at Chakotay, who shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” the first officer said. “The energy signature isn’t anything like the Array’s—but it isn’t like anything else, either. Not even itself; notice how it changes?”
“Any idea what that means?”
Chakotay shrugged again.
“It’s got to be the Caretaker’s companion,” Kim said.
“We have insufficient data to choose any one hypothesis,” Tuvok remarked.
Janeway glanced up at Neelix, who was still there, now standing well aft at the primary ship’s-status display.
“I never saw anything quite like it before,” the little alien admitted.
“But I could make a guess…”
“So could we,” Janeway said, cutting him off. “If that’s all you can say about it, then I’ll thank you to stay quiet for the moment, Mr. Neelix.” She took her seat and called, “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Torres here,” came the reply.
“We’re reading something ahead, B’Elanna, something very large and energetic,” Janeway said. “We’re pretty sure it’s a construct of some kind, not a natural phenomenon. Assuming someone built it, we’d be interested in your opinion of what they might have built it for. ” “I’ll take a look,” came the reply.
Down in the engineering section, B’Elanna Torres had been cheerfully immersed in fine-tuning the Voyager’s warp core.
After years of making do with whatever decrepit equipment the Maquis could beg, borrow, or steal, it was a delight to get her hands on Starfleet’s latest model, even one that had gotten banged up by the Caretaker’s displacement wave.
Machines, she knew, didn’t look at her warily because she was half-Klingon and known for her temper. She found them much easier to deal with than people. And a modern warp drive was so wonderfully delicate and complex—she could easily have spent months or years tinkering with it, getting it tuned to the absolute peak of efficiency.
The outside world wasn’t about to let her have those months, though; the Voyager’s chief engineer had plenty of other duties to attend to.
This particular interruption was annoying, but it wasn’t until she had switched on the nearest available display that it struck Torres just how odd it was.
Since when did the captain, herself a top-notch science officer, need help in identifying anything?
Torres hadn’t thought about that when she gave her initial response; she had still been thinking about core pressures and resonance frequencies. Now, though, she took a look at the screen and muttered, “What the hell is that?” And although she didn’t say so aloud, she did wonder why in the galaxy Kathryn Janeway thought she, B’Elanna Torres, might do a better job of identifying it than anyone on the bridge.
She began scanning the readings, and then she thought she understood.
That thing out there wasn’t anything a scientist could be expected to identify. Science dealt with the natural universe, and the object ahead did not look natural at all. Science made sense, and that thing out there, with its wild discharges of energy, didn’t.
Engineering made sense too, of course—but sometimes the sense wasn’t immediately obvious. Engineering dealt with the created universe, rather than the natural one, and sometimes sentients
The Array had pulsed with energy, almost like a heartbeat; this thing was sputtering like a roman candle.
“Maybe the companion is in trouble,” Paris suggested. It was obvious to anyone that this sort of output wasn’t normal or healthy.
“Maybe it’s not the companion,” Janeway replied. “Maybe it’s something else entirely.”
“But, Captain,” Kim protested from his station, “what else could be throwing around that sort of power?”
“I don’t know,” Janeway said. She glanced at Chakotay, who shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” the first officer said. “The energy signature isn’t anything like the Array’s—but it isn’t like anything else, either. Not even itself; notice how it changes?”
“Any idea what that means?”
Chakotay shrugged again.
“It’s got to be the Caretaker’s companion,” Kim said.
“We have insufficient data to choose any one hypothesis,” Tuvok remarked.
Janeway glanced up at Neelix, who was still there, now standing well aft at the primary ship’s-status display.
“I never saw anything quite like it before,” the little alien admitted.
“But I could make a guess…”
“So could we,” Janeway said, cutting him off. “If that’s all you can say about it, then I’ll thank you to stay quiet for the moment, Mr. Neelix.” She took her seat and called, “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Torres here,” came the reply.
“We’re reading something ahead, B’Elanna, something very large and energetic,” Janeway said. “We’re pretty sure it’s a construct of some kind, not a natural phenomenon. Assuming someone built it, we’d be interested in your opinion of what they might have built it for. ” “I’ll take a look,” came the reply.
Down in the engineering section, B’Elanna Torres had been cheerfully immersed in fine-tuning the Voyager’s warp core.
After years of making do with whatever decrepit equipment the Maquis could beg, borrow, or steal, it was a delight to get her hands on Starfleet’s latest model, even one that had gotten banged up by the Caretaker’s displacement wave.
Machines, she knew, didn’t look at her warily because she was half-Klingon and known for her temper. She found them much easier to deal with than people. And a modern warp drive was so wonderfully delicate and complex—she could easily have spent months or years tinkering with it, getting it tuned to the absolute peak of efficiency.
The outside world wasn’t about to let her have those months, though; the Voyager’s chief engineer had plenty of other duties to attend to.
This particular interruption was annoying, but it wasn’t until she had switched on the nearest available display that it struck Torres just how odd it was.
Since when did the captain, herself a top-notch science officer, need help in identifying anything?
Torres hadn’t thought about that when she gave her initial response; she had still been thinking about core pressures and resonance frequencies. Now, though, she took a look at the screen and muttered, “What the hell is that?” And although she didn’t say so aloud, she did wonder why in the galaxy Kathryn Janeway thought she, B’Elanna Torres, might do a better job of identifying it than anyone on the bridge.
She began scanning the readings, and then she thought she understood.
That thing out there wasn’t anything a scientist could be expected to identify. Science dealt with the natural universe, and the object ahead did not look natural at all. Science made sense, and that thing out there, with its wild discharges of energy, didn’t.
Engineering made sense too, of course—but sometimes the sense wasn’t immediately obvious. Engineering dealt with the created universe, rather than the natural one, and sometimes sentients
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