Delta Gracilis is... much as I remember it. The research facility looks intact enough.
The station is at the centre of an asteroid cluster - some proto-planet, I think, destroyed by gravitational perturbations half a billion years ago. The scattered fragments are gradually drifting back together; another hundred million years, and there will be a single rocky planet here. In the meantime, it's an ideal place for risky high-energy research - everything within light-years is already destroyed.
Our readings show life support still functional over most of the station, so we beam over... with emergency life-support belts for backup, because I'm not ready to take chances.
The station's reception area is cool, bland and anonymous - except for the scars on one wall: marks of plasma fire, left by an unexpected squad of security holograms. I see Klerupiru wince a little as she remembers the incident, too. The Ferengi computer expert knows the station's systems better than anyone.
"It all seems secure," T'Pia observes. Klerupiru scurries round to the reception desk, starts tapping on a console. Her face wears an abstracted scowl of concentration.
"Let's see what we've got," I mutter. "EV control is... one level down, and over that way." I point.
"No need, sir," says Klerupiru. "I still have the command codes... never know when you're going to need things like that... can hack the system from here." She tugs at here collar with one finger.
"Efficient," T'Pia says.
"Indeed," says Saval.
We've put together a team from all three of our ships; me and Klerupiru, T'Pia and a Trill medic named Lishin... and Ronnie has sent two science officers, Saval and a mask-faced Rigelian named Haloy. Saval's bewhiskered face is impassive as any Vulcan's as he looks around.
I stroll to one side of the room, and look up through the transparent dome of the roof. At first, there is nothing to be seen but stars - then, a shape comes into view, the rakish triple-dagger shape of the Tapiola. I find it vaguely reassuring. The Tholian science vessel might not have the raw power of the King Estmere or the Falcon, but it makes up for it with its range of sensor arrays and exotic weapons... Orb Weavers are dangerous ships, and I'm glad this one is on my side. The phaser pulsewave slung across my back, too, is a comforting weight, even though I'm sure it won't be needed. Fairly sure.
My combadge chirps. "Shohl."
"How's it going, kiddo?" One thing Ronnie hasn't learned in two hundred and eighty years, apparently, is patience.
"Still getting into the main computers. We'll call you when we've got anything," I say.
"Right. Right. Make it soon, though, huh? I'm not getting any younger out here." She closes the channel before I can reply. I shrug.
"Vice Admiral Grau is often anxious for results," says Saval.
"So I've noticed," I say. I study Saval's emotionless face. "I've sometimes wondered why you put up with her. Why you don't get a transfer somewhere else. She must be difficult to work for."
If I was hoping for a reaction... well, I knew better than that, anyway. Saval simply says, "I feel a certain responsibility to the Vice Admiral due to the circumstances of her final encounter with the Rift. I cannot help but feel that, if my settings on the main deflector had been correct on the first attempt, we might have avoided some undesirable consequences, such as the encounter with the Borg. Besides that -" He actually does blink, a couple of times - it's an emotional display by Vulcan standards. "I have always felt a certain curiosity about the Rift, and about how Vice Admiral Grau perceived her encounters with it. Logically, one would assume that the temporal dislocation should have passed unnoticed by those caught within it - I certainly was not aware of it myself - but the Vice Admiral seems to have sensed something, somehow."
"And you want to know what, and how," I say.
"Yes," says Saval simply.
"Scientific inquiry into an anomalous phenomenon," says T'Pia. "It is a logical motivation."
"So it seems to me," says Saval.
I nod. "It even makes sense to an Andorian," I say.
"One notes that you yourself associate freely with Vice Admiral Grau, sir," says Saval. "Are your motivations an issue?"
"Me?" I'm taken aback by that. I have to think for a minute. "Well, we worked together well enough during the Bercera business... and she was, umm, kind of on the spot when the Hegemony thing blew up... and, well...." I think harder. "She's interesting company. Maybe not restful company, but... things happen around her."
"That is undeniably true," says Saval. I suspect this, very strongly, of being Vulcan humour.
"Got it," says Klerupiru from the console. "That is, umm, I'm in, sir. We have control."
I stride over towards her. "All right. Let's see what we've got."
Klerupiru enters a sequence of commands, and a schematic of the station appears on the console screen. "Power systems." Lines of white describe a labyrinth around the bulk of the station modules. "Looks like two of the backup fusion plants have full generating capacity," says Klerupiru, "and the EPS system is intact... within tolerances. Life support." Sections of the station appear, blocked out in green, yellow, and red. "Nominal in the green sections... um, about forty per cent of the base as a whole. Yellow is borderline, support is marginal or non-operational there, but there are no active hazards. Red is uninhabitable due to temperature, radiation hazard, or depressurization. Not as bad as we thought, only, umm, about fifteen per cent of the sections are red."
I frown and lean in to peer at the display. "There's... what's that little spot of red right there?" I point.
"Let me get the map coordinates," says Kleripiru. She taps out some more commands. "Oh. It's Dr. Tamik's lab. Wouldn't have thought... I mean, the surrounding systems are operational...." Her voice trails off, and her fingers dance on the interface again.
"Perhaps the system has marked Dr. Tamik's device as a hazard?" says T'Pia.
"I doubt it. It's not the sort of thing internal sensors should look for... and, anyway, I disconnected Tamik's machine. Pulled the power supply. It was dead when I left that lab," I say authoritatively. I hope I'm convincing myself, though.
"Huh," says Klerupiru. "Looks like if you hadn't left the lab quick, sir, you'd have been dead too. Tamik engaged some sort of lockdown - disconnected the data feeds, locked the doors, and depressurized the lab."
"An extreme precaution," says T'Pia. I'm rather inclined to agree.
"Does that imply that the raw data from Dr. Tamik's experiments is not available over the computer network?" asks Saval.
Klerupiru tugs at her collar. "Holographic systems are still up," she says, "I could maybe backdoor into the lab's server nodes through that... maybe...." She starts muttering to herself.
"We will, presumably, need access to that data," T'Pia says.
"Well, before we start talking about backdoors in the holographic systems," I say, "let's go and have a look at the problem. There should be a simple way to reset the security lockdown from the outside, right?"
"That is logical," says Saval.
"Huh?" says Klerupiru. "Oh. Oh, yeah. I guess so."
---
It's quite some distance from the reception area to Tamik's lab. The security doors all open at Klerupiru's magic touch, though, and life support is functional all the way. Sometimes, there are marks on the walls or the floors - relics of the unreal battles that were fought in the station's corridors. Otherwise, though, the place is bright and bare, sterile, functional... the lights still burning, even though no one is home.
Tamik's Laboratory Alpha is... I can't say I remember it with any great clarity. There is a transparent aluminium panel in the sliding door, and I can just about see the columnar shape of Tamik's machine through it, but the tricorder scans confirm Klerupiru's readings - the lab is in hard vacuum.
"This need not present a problem," says T'Pia. "There must be a manual release for the door; all that is needed is to engage that."
And stand well clear as the air rushes in from the corridor... I check the schematics. "Something isn't right," I say. I study the wall. "There should be a panel here, and an emergency override lever...."
But I'm pointing at a stretch of blank metal. Saval steps forward and scans. "Intriguing," he says. "The hydraulic line for the door is there, but there is no sign that the manual override has ever been connected."
"A result of Dr. Tamik's reality tampering, evidently," says T'Pia. "A structural inconsistency introduced when the world-lines merged."
"Whatever it is, it's not much help," I say. "I guess we'll have to cut our way in with phasers."
"Actually, sir," says Klerupiru, "I've got an idea." She, too, has a tricorder in her hand. "I can see a release lever on the inside...."
"Is it somehow accessible from here?" asks T'Pia.
"No... but, well, the holo-emitters are online. Now, the matrices for the station's own holo-programs are all corrupted - crashed from data reduplication - but, well, if we can bring one of ours over -"
"I think I see." I hit my combadge. "Anthi, Amiga. Prep Mr. M, will you, and brief him for transfer to the station's systems."
T'Pia quirks an eyebrow at me. "MACO holographic reinforcement package," I explain. "We call him Mr. M. Actually, he could come in pretty handy here."
T'Pia nods. "A photonic officer would have certain advantages, at least in those regions not actively hazardous."
"Right, yes. Too much hard radiation or thermal effects can damage his matrix. But a little thing like vacuum -"
"MACO Holographic Reinforcement online," a new voice interrupts. The hologram's voice is quiet and mild, a contrast to the military brutalism of his appearance. "I am in a depressurized laboratory. Please advise."
"Mr. M. Welcome," I say. "You need to look for a manual override lever - Klerupiru can guide you in."
"Receiving telemetry on my tac visor now," says Mr. M. "Interesting setup we have here. Looks like plenty of room in this holo-network, once we've cleared all the junk out. I have the manual override. Stand clear, there will be turbulence as the pressure equalizes."
We step back. There is a creak, and then the unmistakeable shriek of air being sucked into vacuum - a sound calculated to send shivers down the spine of any space traveller. Mr. M has cranked the lab door open just a crack, and air is screaming in from the corridor. I feel the wind whistling past my antennae, ruffling my hair....
"Pressure is equalizing," says Mr. M. "It will take a few minutes for the process to complete. This place is interesting. I don't recognize most of this equipment. There's a cylindrical thing with an inscribed plaque -"
"'Ex uno plures'," I say, sourly. "Someone's idea of a joke."
"I don't understand," says Mr. M.
"I guess it's a bit recondite. There was a federated nation-state on Earth, once, that adopted a motto from a dead human language - e pluribus unum, one out of many. Tamik's device works the other way round. Many out of one." The shrieking of the air seems to be dropping in pitch and volume; the pressure is equalizing.
"Rather abstract intellectual humour," Mr. M comments. "I believe it is now safe for me to open the doorway further." Slowly, the door panel slides back. The screaming drops to a soft sigh, the rushing of wind slows to a gentle breeze, finally stops. The air is very cold - I find it pleasant; T'Pia and Saval obviously don't. I walk through the open doorway, into Tamik's lab.
Mr. M is standing by the wall, one hand still on the manual release. He is a grim, massive figure in silver-grey MACO armour, his face - if he has a face - perpetually hidden behind the reflective dome of his helmet. "Please come in, sir," he says graciously.
"Thank you, Mr. M," I reply.
"None of the items in this room seems to be sensitive to vacuum conditions," Mr. M continues. "I have not verified that the computers are still functional, but there is no reason to suspect otherwise."
Klerupiru bustles past him, starts to work on the consoles. "Looks fine," she says after a while. "Most of the running logs will have been copied to Tamik's main console anyway... just a matter of capturing the last set of updates...."
While she works, I turn to regard the cylinder: Tamik's machine. T'Pia, too, seems to be studying it intently. "A possibility has occurred to me," she says.
"What?" I ask.
"Q's purpose in sending us here," says T'Pia, "remains unclear - if, indeed, we are correct in interpreting Q's phraseology to indicate this location. However, this device is clearly the only significant feature at issue here. I am inclined to speculate -" Her blank Vulcan forehead creases in a slight frown. "Q's purpose may be, somehow, to require us to reactivate this device."
I shake my head. "That would be a spectacularly bad idea."
"From our viewpoint, yes. From Q's, who knows? Especially as Q's behaviour suggested some cognitive impairment."
"Well, then," I say, "at least we've got a remedy to hand. Klerupiru, have you downloaded everything?"
"Huh?" Klerupiru looks up. "Oh, yes. Done and dusted. Sir. All data records fully up to date."
"In which case -" I unsling the phaser pulsewave from my back. "Stand well clear, everyone."
I left an inspection cover open on the machine when I pulled its power supply. Now, I take careful aim at that, work the action of the gun... and trigger the grenade launcher. The photon grenade flies true, through the open panel, rattling into the bowels of the device.
There is a brief pause. Then there is the thunderclap sound of the grenade's detonation, and the metal casing of Tamik's device bulges and splits open. The plaque with the Latin motto comes loose with a ping, and clatters to the deck. The broken cylinder sags, listing to one side, a thin haze of smoke rising from its demolished contents.
"Problem solved," I say, with feeling.
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