The lights flicker, go out entirely. The emergency circuits cut in, and the bridge is lit in a dim reddish haze, barely sufficient even by my standards. The console display is showing gibberish, the communications channel only static. "What is happening?" I snarl.
"That data spike - it was an adaptive virus," says N'aina. "It's in our systems -"
"Our systems should be secure!"
"I see the loophole," N'aina says tersely. "We can fix it - afterwards - and report it to the Flotilla. Once we're back online -" Her fingers are flying over the engineering console. "Network is partitioned. Shutting down sector by sector, sterilizing and re-initializing." She shoots a quick troubled glance at me. "Question is, how much damage can it do in the meantime?"
As if in answer, the deck shudders suddenly beneath my feet. "RCS thrusters firing," E'Maon reports. "And a burst on impulse. Safeties tripped. Impulse is offline, needs restarting." He, too, is working feverishly. "Isolated warp drive, shut it down already. Trying to calculate what that surge did -"
"Elements!" shouts Kaxath from the ops board. "The thing's infected internal security - shutting down systems now - but it's bad."
"How bad?" I demand.
In the dim light, I see him shake his head. "It's triggered the anti-mutiny protocols in main engineering. Flooded the chamber with anesthezine gas."
"Uh," says E'Maon. "That's... not good news. The impulse burst cancelled our orbital velocity. Currently, we're in free fall towards the planet. We need to get drives back online very soon -"
And that will be difficult, with our engineering staff unconscious on the floor. I stand up, and grab my breather mask. "Do what you can to purge the atmosphere. And continue fighting this thing. What about the Dechenchholing? Do we have communications there?"
"Sorry, sir," says N'aina. "Automated comms defence protocols tripped as soon as the virus was detected. I can try to override them, but -" When our computers were compromised, our communications shut down - so that we cannot infect any other ships. Necessary, but annoying.
"Concentrate on purging the virus. When this is over, then we will contact the Talaxian." I head for the door of the bridge. "Contact as many of the off-shift engineering staff as you can raise. I am going to main engineering, to take charge of this situation."
---
The lights flicker, on and off, as I make my way down the corridors. Sometimes, I reach doors that do not slide open at my approach - fragments of an overall security lockdown, imposed by the virus. I use accessways and service ducts to move between decks; I dare not risk the turbolifts.
So far, the virus is... annoying. Internal communications are snarled, my wrist communicator relays only snatches of gobbledygook from the bridge. But my personal access codes still serve to override the security locks, and though the lights flicker, the gravity grids and the life support systems - as yet - do not.
I am still two decks away from main engineering when the deck gives a violent lurch beneath me. I stumble, and catch at a stanchion to stop myself falling. My communicator bleeps at me, and I answer. "Who is it?"
"Bridge." N'aina's voice, speaking rapidly. "Don't know how long this channel will last. The virus is all the way through our KDF comms modules, it seems to reinitialize backup copies of itself as soon as we clear them. We might need to disconnect those from the network and wipe them completely."
Thrang's work, it must be; evidently, KDF data security is hopelessly compromised. "Do it." Losing our ability to talk securely to K'Men and J'mpok, against losing the ship: not a decision at all, really. "What else?"
"Still can't raise any engineering staff. And that last jolt - might have been a surge in the singularity core. Sir -"
The voice cuts off in a random surge of noise. I snarl, and redouble my speed. If the virus is compromising control over the singularity core, then problems such as dropping onto the surface of the planet become trivial by comparison.
Main engineering is one vast chamber, built around the endlessly spinning core. The secure door snaps at my heels as I run in. I look around, and my heart sinks. I can see the ring armatures wobbling as they circle around the core. And I can still see a faint mist of anesthezine gas in the air. The engineering crew are lying in slumbering heaps on the deck. Even if I revive one, they will likely be so groggy from the after-effects of the gas, they will be unable to work effectively.
I head for the main control console at a run. Simple enough to punch in the commands to restart impulse... but impulse will not restart without a power surge of some kind. From the core, or from the auxiliary fusion reactor - I could start up the fusion reactor without difficulty, but that will not solve the problem of the core. I can see the graphs for its power output, and they are already well outside permitted variations. My fingers stab at the console, initiating safety protocols, trying to invoke whatever measures I know about core control - but I am not an engineer, and I cannot contact the bridge, and my engineering staff are unconscious -
Wait. N'aina mentioned something, a while ago now. And it might just prove our salvation. I hit the console again, open the voice command channel.
"Computer! Initialize the emergency engineering hologram!"
A pause, perhaps of a fraction of a second, feeling like an eon to me. Then a column of air glows, and a figure solidifies -
The photonic engineer looks bland, almost unfinished; dressed in neutral garments, it could be any species or gender, or none. It turns to look at me, and it smiles.
"Hello! You look like you're - trying to restabilize a compromised singularity core! Would you like to - get some help with that, or - carry on by yourself?"
N'aina has evidently not modified it from some Starfleet default interface. That won't matter. I hope it won't matter. "I need help!"
"OK!" The hologram walks briskly to another console. "Your recommended options are - one, to eject the unstable core, or - two, to shut down to zero-output mode and re-start the control armatures from default. Which option do you prefer?"
Ejecting the core, at the moment, leaves the ship dead in space and falling powerless to the planet. Shutting down and re-initializing - will take hours, during which time we are, still, powerless. "Neither option! The ship needs power restored, urgently!"
"OK! You want to pursue options outside of normal safety procedures. This is not recommended! Please confirm that you want to proceed on this basis."
I swear I can hear the unstable control armatures, a grating, keening sound as they spin around the core. "Confirmed!" I screech.
"OK! Your other options are - one, to rebalance the central ring armatures while they are operating, or - two, some other option. Which option do you prefer?"
"One!"
"OK! You want to - rebalance the central ring armatures while they are operating. This is not recommended! Please confirm that you want to proceed on this basis."
"Stop asking me to confirm things!"
"OK! You want to - stop asking for confirmation when you pursue options outside recommended safety procedures. This is not recommended!" I think I am going to scream, when it adds, "Confirmation request protocol has been suspended."
"Good! Now get to work!"
"OK!" The thing taps rapidly at its console. Its fingers are moving faster than mine could. "You want to - rebalance the central ring armatures while they are operating. Do you want to start with - one, ring armature one, or - two, ring armature two, or - three, ring -"
"Start with number one!" I scream. I have to start somewhere, and this idiot machine will ask me questions until I am dead, at this rate.
"OK! Now editing command and control parameters for ring armature one. Please monitor the theta and eta bands on the control output display. Are those readings - within normal parameters, or - outside normal parameters?"
"Outside." I can see the wavering lines, and the warning icons beside them. "Well outside."
"OK! Implementing control variations now. Please tell me if these changes make the readings - better, or - worse."
It taps in a sequence of commands. The lines on the graph swing wildly upwards, and the core shrieks, a weird unearthly howl of protest. "Worse! Much worse!"
"OK! Adjusting. Please remember that this procedure is not recommended!"
The lines on the output graph swing down, steady themselves. The warning lights change, some of them, from red to amber. "Better!" I gasp.
"OK! Locking command and control protocols for ring armature one. Do you want to - proceed to ring armature two, or - proceed to ring armature three?"
"Die horribly and in pain!" I snarl at the idiot thing.
"I do not know how to - die horribly and in pain! Would you like me to - consult an online reference on this topic, or - carry on with what I'm doing?"
"Proceed to ring two!"
"OK! Now editing command and control parameters for ring armature two. Please monitor the delta and zeta bands on the control output display. Are those -"
"Outside normal parameters! We may have only minutes! Get on with it!"
"OK! Implementing control variations -"
This time, the lines on the graph smooth out, and there are no ominous sounds from the core. "Better!"
"OK!" Is it my imagination, or does the thing sound hurt by my interruptions? "Now proceeding to ring armature three. Please monitor the beta and gamma -"
"Beta and gamma outside normal parameters!"
"Please also monitor the overall alpha band and tell me if it is - within normal -"
"Outside!"
"OK! Editing command and control parameters for -"
"Get on with it!"
"OK! Implementing -"
"Shut up!"
The lines on the output display seem to buck and skew for a moment - then settle into the normal range. I breathe a sigh of thanks to the Elements. "Better!" I snap at the hologram.
"OK! Please remember that this procedure is not recommended. Safety procedures are there for our benefit! They should not be ignored!"
"Restart our impulse drive!" I snarl at it.
"OK! Restarting impulse. Power is now - on. Do you want to -"
"No. No to whatever it is." The wrist communicator bleeps. "Yes?"
"We're regaining control," N'aina's voice says. "Killing the KDF modules worked, we are purging the virus from essential systems - we have helm control, and are heading back up to orbit -"
"What of the Dechenchholing?"
"They moved out-system, chasing - something. They seem to have lost it, they're heading back now. As soon as we can confirm comms is clean of the virus, we'll raise them."
"All right. In the meantime, get every engineer and medic available down here. Check out the singularity core, make sure the quick-fixes haven't damaged it. Also -" I glare at the vacuously-smiling hologram. "Also, Subcommander, you and I need to talk."
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