The New Ones

by Michael Marek

 

Believe me, a thousand friends suffice thee not;

In a single enemy thou hast more than enough.
 

 -- translated by Ralph Waldo Emerson and

inaccurately attributed to Omar Khayyám

  

Stardate 60142... 

Captain Michael Marek of the USS Crazy Horse rarely got visibly angry.  He fumed.  He was sitting by himself in his ready room, at the moment, fuming quite efficiently. 

Crazy Horse was as far from Federation space as she had ever been, almost 60 days voyage at high warp into the Beta Quadrant on a vector no other recorded Federation ship had followed, far beyond Alinca III, even farther beyond Minos Corva, skirting near the rim of the galactic arm.  The ship was serving as the Beta Quadrant anchor for an interferometer with an almost unimaginably long baseline.  Over 20 ships in three quadrants were coordinating their data for an array capable to probing to the literal end of the universe and the beginning of time.

All well and good, fumed Marek, tapping his fingers on the desk, but while the main deflector dish is "interferometing," we're sitting ducks.  Now only 14 minutes until we can bring the sensors back online.  The signals sought by the interferometer were so weak that other sensor scans would ruin the run.

To pass the time, Marek pulled up a document he had already reviewed several times, as if one more reading could extract more information.  The document file had been obtained during a stop at the university world of Alinca III.  The Crazy Horse was becoming familiar to the scholarly community there who would occasionally pass on interesting tidbits.  This particular document summarized the spotty information about a new species, reportedly known as the Valwer, which had appeared in recent years, rarely seen but with a reputation for aggressive behavior.  No one could confirm their origin.  They were humanoid, apparently mammalian, and reportedly covered with fur, but no source of the reports could be cited.  They had ships that were fast and powerful, lurking here and there but rarely answering hails.  Those rare occasions of active contact, however, often resulted in conflict.

They could be just out of our passive scanning range, Marek thought, and we'd have no idea they were there.  Now only 12 minutes until we can bring the sensors on line.

"The Valwer," said an exobiologist in the report, "exhibit signs of pronounced xenophobia.  Care should be taken to avoid overt confrontation."

Not very helpful advice, thought Marek.  So how do we deal with them?  Certainly not by playing helpless.  Demonstrate strength but don't use it, maybe?  Gain their respect, but not their animosity.  Eleven minutes.

Being "on the edge" is not the problem, Marek was confident.  We were on our own enough during the Cardassian War to not worry about being in unexplored space, as such.

During the war, now seven years past, the Crazy Horse under Marek's command had been behind enemy lines more than most Federation ships, gaining a level of experience in working in unknown or hostile territory that had, in part, earned the ship this assignment.

But there are protocols to follow, thought Marek, that are crucial to success, those we developed for ourselves plus the Voyager protocols, developed by the plucky crew of the little science ship that got thrown all the way across the galaxy, that we helped welcome home.  You especially stay extra alert on sensors to spot trouble before it spots you.  Eight minutes and counting.  If you go out to the bridge now, they'll think you're nervous.

He picked up his coffee cup, still half-full with his favorite Orion Blend, stood from his desk and walked to the replicator.

"Reheat," he ordered, after touching the appropriate contact on the panel.  The transparent aluminum mug shimmered for a moment, and then rematerialized.  He paused by the tall, narrow window near his desk, gazing out on the surrounding star field.  The Crazy Horse was relatively close, only a couple of score of light years, to what was commonly but inaccurately called the edge of the galaxy, leaving the stars sparse in the direction he could see.  The shipboard lights, of course, hindered the visibility, but Marek resisted the temptation to extinguish the lights and allow his eyes to become dark-adapted. 

Reflected in the glass and interfering with his view was his own image -- a man of medium build in his late 40s, not in bad shape but not as good as before he'd started flying a desk for several hours a day, red hair starting to lighten as a few hints of grey infiltrated.

Marek was still stargazing when his communicator chirped.

"Sir, the scan will be ending in 90 seconds," reported Lieutenant Commander Samantha Neal, on late night duty on the bridge.

"Thank you, commander.  I'll join you in a moment," replied Marek, crisply.  He tugged at his uniform top to straighten it and headed for the bridge, at a deliberately casual pace.

 

By habit, Marek scanned the perimeter of the bridge as he entered, checking to see who was on duty.  It was after midnight and the bridge lighting was dimmed for the night shift.  Samantha rose from the center seat as he approached, tacitly acknowledging that Marek was the senior officer. 

"The interferometry scan will be ending momentarily, sir," she briefed.  "As per your orders, we will conduct a full external tactical scan as soon as the main dish is clear.  Uh, the science officer has been in Stellar Cartography for all eight hours of the scan, monitoring it and keeping everything perfectly aligned."

That was a reference to Commander Charlotte Marek, wife of the captain.

"She doesn't pay much attention to time when she's in a heavy project," Marek smiled.  Rather than sitting, he walked up the far ramp of the bridge, ostensibly to observe the conclusion at the scan at the upper level science station, but also to be close by the tactical station, where the tactical scan would be run.  The overnight tactical officer was a lieutenant named White.  He was competent, or he wouldn't be on bridge duty, but Marek was on pins and needles to learn the results.  After a few more moments, the kaleidoscope of colors on the science station displays went dark.

"Stellar Cartography signals that the interferometry scans are complete, sir," announced White as he manipulated controls on the "arch," the gracefully curving console that contained the tactical controls at the front of the upper level of the bridge.  "Beginning tactical scan now."

Marek nodded and sipped at the coffee he still carried with him, surreptitiously eying the tactical panel. 

"No subspace fields within three light years," added White, and the readings came in.  "Within five light years..."

Marek signed with relief and began to walk back down the ramp, but came up short when White cleared his throat.

"Um, sir?" White said.  "I'm reading a decayed transwarp conduit.  Not in use now, but decaying from a transit maybe five hours ago.   Closest tangent to us was about two light years away, but it's on an odd vector.  In one direction it's aimed almost at the center of the galaxy, but in the other there's...nothing."

"Space is mostly nothing, lieutenant," Marek said, deliberately adding a smile so as to not be to harsh.  "Tell me more."

"Well, sir," White began, "when I project the path outward, it appears to terminate at a point about 37 light years from here.  There is no star system there, but it's darn close to where the energy barriers at the edge of the galaxy would kick in.  No wonder the conduit stops where it does.  If the energy of a transwarp conduit hit the galactic energy field..."  White shrugged, as if to say that would be that.

"Was it a Borg ship?" asked Samantha, coming up the ramp.  "Some of the former Borg ships have repurposed themselves into cooperatives, still partially linked mentally.  They're even doing things like long-haul freight between star systems."

"Good question," Marek said, turning back to White.  "Do you have enough data to answer it?"

"I don't think so, sir," White said, shaking his head.  "Any remaining signature from the engines would be much weaker than the remains of the conduit itself.  We'd have to be a lot closer to get any kind of reading like that."

Samantha shrugged at Marek.  "We don't have anything better to do, sir," she grinned. 

"Well," Marek said, stretching out a decision he had already made, "we have some flexibility in our itinerary, now that the interferometry project is wrapped up.  Have Helm, get coordinates from Tactical and lay in a curse for the closest segment of transwarp conduit.  Keep us, say, a tenth of a light year away from it."

"Yes, sir," acknowledged Samantha smoothly.  She was still in technical command of the bridge because it was her shift and it was appropriate for operational orders to flow through her.  "We should be in a better position for scanning shortly after the morning watch comes on duty."

"Very well," he approved with a nod.  "In the meantime, I'll be in my quarters."

 

"So, looking to rack up another first contact?" a disembodied voice asked as soon as Marek entered the turbolift.  It was Commander Moira, first officer of the ship, an artificial intelligence inhabiting the ship's computers.  Their friendship went back to Starfleet Academy and they were informal when away from junior officers.

"It appears you were eavesdropping on the bridge?" he grinned.

"Of course," said Moira's hologram as it appeared in the capsule, a slender woman with long dark hair in a Starfleet Red uniform. 

"If there is a new set of bad guys out here," Marek said, "the Federation needs to know about it.  The reports about the Valwers are...unsettling."

"You're right," she said.  " But we don't know that they even know the Federation exists, or what they might think of it.  On the other hand, if they're really using transwarp conduits, they could be in Federation space before we realize it. "

"Maybe you can figure out how to make conduits work with our technology," Marek joked.

"It's already on my list," she answered, with a frown.

The turbolift door opened and the two exited to walk down a curving corridor toward the Marek quarters. 

"If this really is the Valwer, we need to find out what they're doing at the energy barrier," Marek said.  "I hope you'll be at the top of your form in the morning for analyzing the energy readings."

"You get a good night's sleep," she said, as her hologram began to dissolve.  "I'll defrag."

 

Charlotte was already asleep when Marek entered their quarters.  He told her about the transwarp conduit the next morning over breakfast.

"You realize," she said, "that by the time we get there, there will be little trace of the conduit left."

"Yes," he replied with a grimace. "But I think it's important to collect what intelligence we can on these guys."

"We'll see what we can do," she promised. "Moira's pretty good at backtracking entropy."

 

"There wasn't much left to analyze," reported Moira.  We were in the briefing room, the morning after arriving in the vicinity of the transwarp co.  Marek had gathered his senior staff to review options.

"I can confirm that it was NOT a Borg craft transiting the conduit.  What it was, I can't say," she added.

"But wait," spoke up Charlotte, "there's more.  Projecting to the intersection of the conduit and the edge of the galaxy, we are reading occasional energy flashes.  A wide range of energy particles, including tachyons, tetrions, and psions."

 The list of particles didn't mean much to Marek, so he waited for his wife to explain her point.

"The probe we deployed at the energy barrier six years ago is still working like a charm, reporting back to Earth regularly," she continued.  "Whenever an object transits the energy field...extra-solar asteroids and dead comets do, occasionally...well, whenever that happens, there's a discharge of tachyons, which move faster than light, and psions.  Psions have been shown to alter brain functions in certain humanoid creatures, given sufficient intensity and duration, which is why until recently it was a bad idea to go close to the barrier."

"But I've seen science reports that say we know how to program our shields now to keep the psions out," noted Marek.

"Yes," agreed Charlotte patiently, "and if we can figure it out, other folks probably can, too."

"We could be seeing evidence of unidentified spacecraft transiting the energy barrier," summed up Moira, simply.

"Right," nodded Charlotte.  "The tetrions.  They're released when a metaphasic shield is hit by a phased ion pulse.  Tetrions are clearly not naturally occurring, ergo somebody is crossing the energy barrier, or at least trying to."

"For what purpose, commander?" asked Samantha, who had been listening intently.  Charlotte and Moira just looked at each other for several seconds.

"There have been allegations made, over the years, of extra-galactic intelligences," Charlotte said, implying that she wasn't convinced about them.  "The robot device that destroyed the Constitution Class USS Constellation was on a course that appeared to have come from outside the galaxy.  Over 120 years ago, Starfleet dispatched a probe to the Andromeda Galaxy because of a report that there was a civilization there, one dieing of radiation poisoning.  It should be arriving at Andromeda in 45 years, or so, but it is not clear whether it can punch a tight enough subspace signal for us to be able to receive a report back. As a test run, Starfleet is already making plans to try to receive a signal from M-33 that the Enterprise-D sent when it was thrown there about 20 years ago..."

"Wait a minute," Marek said, holding up his hand.  "Tell me what happens if somebody tries to cross the energy barrier and the psions get through."

"The psions," said Charlotte carefully, "affect specific centers of the certain humanoid brains, accelerating any latent psychic abilities that may exist.  The acceleration does not end when the psion source is removed.  Pronounced growth of telepathy and telekenesis has been documented, cascading to the point that the victim rapidly becomes a danger to others.  Think 'Q' but overwhelmingly less ethical."

More than one person around the conference table raised eyebrows, or blew out air in a "whew."

"Vulcans seem to be immune, by the way," Charlotte concluded.

"If the barrier is regularly being crossed," said Moira, "particularly by a transwarp-capable culture, Starfleet should know about it. We are not positive that's what's happening, but it seems likely."

"How long?" Marek asked.

"Six days, nine hours, 18 minutes at best speed to the approximate point where we would trigger the energy barrier ourselves," reported Moira.

Marek nodded.

"Moira," he said, "have a course laid in and engage when ready.  Charlotte, please prepare a detailed report for Starfleet science.  I'll append it to the report I make to the admiralty. Engineering, make sure the metaphasic shield configurations are ready to go."

He already knew it would take three days for the message to reach Starfleet and another three for the soonest possible reply.

 

The USS Crazy Horse, six days into its journey, zoomed along at warp nine, once considered too fast for prolonged flight but now possible for sustained travel, with certain engineering precautions not required for slower warp factors. With hardly more than five light years from its destination, ship's scans were beginning to reveal a few details about what awaited them.

"There's some kind of artificial construct there," said Charlotte, seated at Science Station One, at the back of the bridge.  "Not far from where the energy barrier would activate.  We don't have the resolution yet to say more about it."

Marek's brow furrowed.  The edge of the galaxy was a nebulous concept for most purposes.  Matter density slowly dropped with distance from the various spiral arms of the galaxy.  But the energy barrier was something else again, bewildering by most science.  Marek had found numerous hypotheses.  Many suggested that it was artificial, constructed by some god-like ancient alien species, either to keep some evil out of the galaxy or to keep something in.  No data supported such claims, however.  The barrier shouldn't exist, but it did.

"The ship, or whatever it is that we are watching, isn't moving, within the accuracy of our scans," continued Charlotte.  "Three times we've seen energy discharges from the barrier, almost perfectly centered on the object, but not quite by a fraction of a percent."

Marek made his way slowly back down the ramp to the command seat, occasionally checking the PADD he always carried, but mostly wrapped up in his thoughts.  Even on shifts he commanded he often spent significant blocks of time in his ready room, allowing other members of the watch command time.  Now, however, he felt the obligation to be on the bridge full time.

"Captain," said White, at tactical.  "We're reading a new transwarp conduit forming, headed this way."

"Helm," called out Marek.  "Stay clear of it."

"One object, coming fast...and a terminus is forming really close."

"All stop, maximum scan as it arrives, all sensor bands," ordered Marek.

"There's something coming out," reported White, and then a ship appeared, as if it had just streaked from infinite distance to a local stop.

The craft was like nothing Marek had seen before.  It was dark with what appeared to be huge engine pods flanking an irregular body. The hull could have been various modules, knitted together, some spheres, some rectangular blocks, and even one pyramidal shape.

"Red alert," said Marek after a moment, and the ship's klaxon went off.

"Uh," stuttered White, startled by the apparition.  "No shields, no active weapon systems obvious.  They're scanning us."

"Scan back," ordered Marek. "Raise shields the instant you see weapons arming."

The turbolift spewed forth people, rushing to red alert stations on the bridge.

"Transmit linguacode," added Marek after a moment. 

"Sending," confirmed Samantha, who had stepped into the Operations seat, forward of the command chair. 

Linguacode, in theory, provides other species a database with which to program a universal translator system, assuming they have one similar to that of the Federation. 

"The scan reports typical impulse, low-grade warp engines - probably no faster than warp 4 - and another engine system that appears to be the transwarp drive," reported White.  "Hard telling about weapons until they fire."

As if the other ship's crew had heard him, the vessel emitted a dazzling display of particle beam weapons fire, all of it perpendicular to the line between the two ships. 

"They're basic disruptors," reported Samantha.  "It's like they're being careful to NOT hit us."

"It's a threat display," said Moira from the upper deck of the bridge.  Her simulacrum body had just exited the turbolift and she was striding down the ramp.  "Tribal cultures often greet each other with displays of aggressive behavior.  It may represent ritual, not hostility."

The same thought had occurred to Marek.

"Reply in kind," he said after a moment.  "Thirty second phaser barrage at, oh, 70% power at right angles to the line of the ships."

"Firing," affirmed Tactical.

The Crazy Horse phasers emitted an impressive light show, forming an almost perfect disk bisecting the plane of the saucer.  Marek noted that his sentient ship's computer had caused each emitter to send out a different color of phaser energy.

The display ended, the two ships floated there, 10 kilometers apart.  Two minutes passed.  Three.

"Come on, it's your turn," murmured Marek, rubbing his chin and staring at the ship on the view screen, as if that would tell him more. 

"Sir," ventured White.  "I didn't get to finish my report on the scan.  There's a relatively standard Oxygen-Nitrogen atmosphere on board, a bit less oxygen than Earth normal.  A bit heavier artificial gravity.  About 50 individuals on board with carbon-based DNA.  Ten are in the pyramid structure.  The rest are in groups of two or three around the ship."

"Comment?" asked Marek, his way of inviting the others on the bridge to offer ideas or suggestions.

"The ship is technically advanced, in that it uses transwarp, but other systems on the ship aren't anything special," said Charlotte, who had been reviewing the scan results at the science station.  "We could out fly their regular warp drive with one nacelle disabled.  I don't see any evidence of transporters.  The atmosphere contains some trace gasses that I'll bet are impurities, or at least evidence of poor air recycling."

"Notice the surface of the ship," observed Moira.  She caused the viewscreen to zoom in, expanding a tiny patch of the other ship's hull to wall sized proportions.  It's been in space a long time, and not all of it under drive with deflectors protecting it."

"How long?" Marek asked.

Moira held up a hand and moved her fingers slowly, as if caressing the other ship and squinted. "Order of magnitude 80 years," she stated after a few seconds.

"Sir," spoke up Tactical.  "Linguacode coming in.  It's, uh, not perfectly matched to our system."

"Allow me," volunteered Moira, moving immediately to the first officer's chair.  She sat, folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes.  Her eyes blinked back open after a few seconds.  "There," she said, just a bit smugly Marek thought.  "That should take care of it."

"Translator programmed and ready," advised White, with a smile.

"And 'tag, we're it,'" mused Marek, standing and moving forward a couple of steps.  "Hail them."

 

The viewscreen, which had been fixed on the other ship, went blank, and then slowly rebuilt the image to show a figure on the other ship, from the mid-chest up.  The being was brownish in color.  As the image cleared, Marek saw that it was generally humanoid with smooth facial and skull structures, and long brown hair merging into what appeared to hair or fur on its shoulders and chest.  The jaw and mouth protruded somewhat, giving the face a narrow look, but its large eyes looked fully forward for true stereoscopic vision.  The eyes seemed to have a double set of eyelids, one nested inside the other, so that it blinked with a curious double-action.

"I am Rovien, Patriarch of Tross Pack of the Laeon Lineage, Bawaur Haven, Twelfth Band, S'Valweri," the being said, speaking slowly with a deep voice, his eyes scanning the Crazy Horse bridge. "I am the emperor's third cousin, thrice removed."

"I am Michael Marek.  My title is 'Captain,'" Marek said.  "It is not our custom to state our heritage as you have, however I command this vessel."

"You approach a Lair of the Laeon," Rovien rumbled.  "What is your purpose?"

"We are explorers from far away," Marek explained using the standard Starfleet first contact protocol.  "We were...curious...about your transwarp conduit and about your...facility ahead."

"An unlikely explanation," retorted Rovien, darkly.  "With over 1,000 individuals on your ship, it appears more likely that you seek a colony world in this area."

"Most definitely not," vowed Marek, immediately sensing the Valwer's defensiveness on the point.  "You have scanned our ship.  Review those scans and you will see that we have no colony supplies on board, and this region is too far away from our home space to allow regular resupply."

Rovien snorted at that, his nose wiggling a bit.  "This space is owned by the Assembly S'Valweri and you are not of the people.  We do not tolerate outsiders in our space.  Leave now."

As Marek pondered how to respond, Charlotte hissed in the background, "Get a map."

"Patriarch Rovien," he said.  "Can you advise me of the scope of your territorial claim?  That way we, and others of our kind who may come this way, will know."

"Captain Michael Marek, the Orphan," said Rovien.  "Your ship is clearly powerful, with a civilization behind it, although you are unable to cite your own lineage.  You expect me to give you information that would allow you to attack us all the better?  Will you, then, give me the coordinates of your home world?"

"It would not be my first choice, Patriarch," said Marek, with a smile.  "I see that we are both sensitive to the safety of our people.  But tell me, sir.  Are there no other species, no other peoples, with whom the Valweri have friendly relations or consider allies?"

"We have battled many," said Rovien with a sideways motion of his head, "conquered some and destroyed others.  How could outsiders, who are not of the people, yet be considered to be of the people?  This grows tiresome.  Will you leave, or will you fight?"

"A moment, please," said Marek, turning his back to the screen and signaling for the audio to be killed.  When he had turned far enough that Rovien could not see, Marek also rolled his eyes.

"Mike," said Charlotte, quickly.  "That ship's been through the energy barrier.  There are residual tetrions embedded in its hull. We REALLY need to find out what they're doing out there."

"Agreed," said Moira, succinctly.

Marek nodded slowly in resignation, clenching his teeth for a moment.

"Helm, stand by to resume course, exactly as before," he said.  "Moira, make sure the metaphasic shield program is ready." The first officer nodded. "Wish me luck, everybody. Audio on," Marek said and turned back to the view screen.

"Captain, my patience grows remarkably thin," snarled Rovien.  "Are you going to retreat or are we going to engage in combat?"

"Patriarch," began Marek.  "I believe that you are an honorable individual, doing your duty to your people."  Rovien nodded slightly to acknowledge the compliment. 

"I furthermore," continued Marek, "hope that you believe the same about me." Rovien moved his head in another direction that was ambiguous to the humans.

"One last thing I want you to know before we leave," added Marek.  "It is not our custom to boast, but I trace my lineage back...66 generations.   Do you know how I do that?"

"How do you manage to trace your lineage for 66 generations?" asked Rovien in a flat voice and squinted eyes.  Was there a chance that he was envious?

"Time travel!" Marek exclaimed.  "Be seeing you.  End transmission.  Engage!"

The USS Crazy Horse jumped to warp nine, resuming course dead on target for the Valweri station.

"That was interesting," said Moira.

"ETA at the station, or whatever it is?" asked Marek.

"21 hours 36 minutes, present course and speed," replied the lieutenant on helm. 

Marek nodded and returned to the captain's chair.  "Marek to engineering," he said, knowing the circuit would be automatically opened.

"Aye, Skipper," answered the chief engineer, Ray Brown. 

"In about 20 hours, I'm going to need flank speed," said Marek.  "Probably for an extended period of time, including crossing the barrier. Moira's working on the metaphasic shields, too."

"It's always easier when we've got advance warning," replied Brown.  "We'll be ready. Engineering out."

"Sir?" said Samantha, frowning as if to ask what are you up to?  "They'll be waiting for us."

"With standard disruptors," Marek countered.  "We can fly rings around them in subspace.  Charlotte, am I correct in my understanding that in transwarp conduits, they can't fly SLOW enough catch us?"

"That would be true," she said, with a smile of understanding.  "The conduits aren't very maneuverable either.  They kind of have to decide where they're going before they start."

"So, we can duck faster than they can dodge," Marek suggested.  "We go take a look at whatever that thing is we're pointed at.  Then we pop through the barrier to see what's interesting on the other side."

There was pause as the people around the bridge digested the plan.

"Well, then," said Moira, looking around the bridge and taking up her first officer's management role.  "We can drop back to Yellow Alert until the morning watch tomorrow, unless a transwarp conduit terminus forms in our immediate area.  Continuous scanning of the target with speckle interferometry analysis until resolution increases, then switch to broad spectrum scans.  Advise science labs to expect heavy turbulence beginning tomorrow morning.  Advise the crew that our last packet transmission home before action will be at 0600."

 

Marek spent the evening in his ready room, composing a report to Starfleet.  He was almost done when the door chirped and Moira entered.

"A transmission just came in from Starfleet, including, I believe, a reply to your initial report on the Valweri," she said.

"As if you didn't know for sure," Marek said with a smile.  It's hard to hide anything from a self-aware computer.

"As you know, my programming does not permit the conscious me to read confidential traffic, unless so authorized," she said, repeating the wording of some formal policy.

"Moira," Marek said with a smile, "you don't expect me to believe that there is ANY programming prohibition that you can't crack, if you put your mind to it."

She made a face but said nothing.

"Have a seat," Marek said with a chuckle.  Let's listen together."

The transmission from Admiral Janeway was brief and to the point.  Proceed as intended.  Exercise caution.  Stay alert.  Report regularly.   She added a private comment.

"Watch your back, Michael," Janeway cautioned.  "I know as well as anybody what's it's like to be out on the edge like you are, beyond chance of help.  Remember, the most important things are taking care of your people and bringing your ship home. Janeway out." 

"Good advice," said Moira.

"What do you think of my plan?" asked Marek.

"Oh, it's all good," she answered, nodding her head.  "We'll be moving too fast for them to target and we shouldn't have too much trouble shaking them afterwards.  I'll keep an eye out for nebulas."

That was a private joke.

"But?"

"We won't really find out anything about the Valweri."

"Can you hack their computers?"

"I've been thinking about that," she mused, drawing on the desktop with her finger.  "Reviewing our contact with Rovien's ship, there were some...vulnerabilities that might be exploited."

Marek sighed.  "So did you exploit them?"

Moira looked up with a smile.  "Of course."

"So when were you going to tell me this?"

"I'm here, aren't I?  Not much to say, unfortunately.  They don't have much of a cultural database in ship's memory, although I know how their transwarp drive works in abundant detail."

"But you can probably do a similar hack when we get to whatever that is?"

"Yes," she answered.  "And that's the other thing I wanted to tell you about.  Our scans are making it more and more clear that we are approaching a large space station with as many as a dozen ships either docked or in close station keeping.  My guess is that it's a way station for ship crossing the barrier."

"That implies quite a bit of traffic," Marek ventured.

"Yes," she agreed.  "That, or a need for a significant staging base."

"Staging for what?" he asked.

"The latinum question," she said, standing. "I've got to get back to the bridge."

"I'll be going to my quarters shortly," he said, picking up his PADD.  "Have a good watch and stay frosty."

 

"90 seconds to Encounter," counted down Samantha.

"Metaphasic shields at maximum," ordered Marek, following a checklist that had been carefully worked out, and receiving a confirmation from Moira, sitting in the first officer's seat beside him. 

"Helm, confirm previous orders that you will increase speed to flank automatically at 30 seconds and implement evasive pattern X-1, approach the barrier, drop to impulse for the barrier transit, and be prepared for immediate evasive on the other side."

"Aye, sir," said Helm.  "It's laid in and ready to execute."

"They're hailing us," reported Samantha. 

"On screen."

Rovien appeared on the viewscreen, clearly in a state of agitation.

"What are you doing?" he almost screamed.

"It would have been SO much easier," replied Marek, in a carefully casual voice, "if you had just invited us in for a visit.  That's what most of the galaxy does when FRIENDLY aliens show up.  But because you wouldn't be FRIENDLY, we've got to do this the hard way."

Ruvein was almost sputtering and Marek let his voice grow harder.

"This is an act of reconnaissance, Ruvien.  We are not attacking.  We'll take a close-up look, then leave, just as you want."

"Marek!  How do you travel in time?  Our theoretical physicists say it is impossible."

"No time to talk now, Ruvien.  Maybe next time we meet, it will be on a friendlier basis." 

Marek signaled to close the connection.

"Increasing speed...now," announced Helm.  The Crazy Horse was now screaming along at an astounding 7800 times the speed of light.

"Hacking," murmured Moira, her eyes shut.

"Sensors at maximum resolution, broadband," added Samantha.

The closest approach passed almost too quickly for the human eye to detect and certainly too fast for the Valwer ships to respond. The viewscreen showing the space station zoomed out rapidly, tracked the station as the angle from the ship changed, then zoomed in again as the distance increased to keep  the image fairly well centered. 

"Approaching the barrier," reported Helm.  "Dropping to impulse...now.  Full impulse."

The ship rocked as the swirling colors of the barrier sprung up around it, but the inertial dampeners kept the worst of the turbulence at bay.  The lights flickered a few times, and several indicator tallies on Marek's PADD flashed an agitated red.  He could feel the engines straining through the fabric of the ship.

"We're doing it!" shouted Samantha, and other voices around the bridge joined in celebration.

"Pipe down, people," Marek called, grinning nonetheless.  "Keep your eyes pealed."

The barrier took 147 seconds to cross, until unexpectedly the colors faded behind and clear space appeared ahead -- clear except for a gleaming space station and several ships.

"Did we get turned around?" called Marek, turning to look over his shoulder at Tactical.

"No, sir," replied Samantha immediately from Operations.  "That's not the same station.  They've got another on this side."

Simultaneously Marek barked, "Evasive! Go to warp." Samantha shouted, "In-coming." Moira said, "Hacking." And the ship rocked.

"At warp seven," confirmed Helm a moment later.  "That's the best she'll do, at the moment.  No pursuit. Course is 90 Mark 90, straight out, as planned."

"Scanning," reported Charlotte.  They had agreed that she would manage the scan on this side of the barrier.  General science as well as tactical intelligence was now a priority.

"Bridge to Engineering," signaled Marek.  "What's your status?"

"Mopping up," reported Brown.  "It'll be a while before I'm comfortable above warp 7.  In fact, wrap 5 would make me happier, at the moment."

"And...oh, boy.  We shouldn't be on this course," added Charlotte.

"I agree completely," chimed in Moira, giving the helm a new warp 5 course to which Marek gestured his consent.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Moira," asked Charlotte.

"Most certainly," said Moira. "Remarkable, isn't it?"

"This is going to make a GREAT article in the Federation Journal is Xenology," gloated Charlotte, mostly to herself.

"Ladies," said Marek, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.  "Is there anything the rest of us should know?"

"No danger at the moment.  Give us twenty minutes and we'll see you with the senior staff in the briefing room. Sir," said Moira, heading up the ramp to collaborate with Charlotte.

 

"The Valwer come from outside the galaxy," Charlotte told the senior staff gathered in the briefing room.  The statement drew her several strange looks.  "When we scanned on this side of the barrier, we found multiple overlapping transwarp conduit traces, all going exactly to the same place."

She pressed a contact on her PADD and an image of the galaxy appeared holographicly above the conference table.  At the edge of one spiral arm, a red dot appeared.  "We are here," she said, pointing.  She touched another contact on her PADD and the galaxy shrank, while a red line streamed outward from the red dot, stretching maybe the equivalent of a tenth of the width of the galaxy.  After a moment, the hologram zoomed in on what at first appeared to be a dot of white light at the far end of the red line, but it soon expanded to fill the space above the table.

"A star cluster," concluded Marek.

"Yes," confirmed Charlotte.  "An open cluster.  This is a remnant of the Zeus dwarf galaxy that was broken up and absorbed by our galaxy a few hundred million years ago.  In another few million years, this cluster will merge with the Beta Quadrant.

"But how do we know for sure that the Valweri came from there?" asked Samantha.  "Maybe they were just exploring."

"Radio," said Charlotte.  When she got blank stares, she continued.  "Sublight electromagnetic radiation using amplitude and frequency modulation, from at least 100 individual transmitters."

Moira stood and joined Charlotte.

"This open cluster is roughly 2,000 light years away," continued Charlotte, "so we are hearing signals that were transmitted 2,000 years ago.  The signals are so jumbled and mixed that even Moira can't pull out any coherent content, but this is clearly the footprint of an intelligent species."

"Plus," added Moira, "the information I downloaded from the two station computers makes clear that they are colonizing the Beta Quadrant.  The Valwer -- Valweri is a possessive form, by the way -- the Valwer are tribal and highly xenophobic beings.  They began traveling the interstellar space within their cluster 1,500 years ago and populated at least 40 planets.  They first spanned the gulf to our galaxy 100 years ago, but retreated due to a powerful enemy."

"The Borg," someone murmured.

"They returned seven years ago, with more powerful ships," Moira continued, "and understand that the old enemy is no more, for all practical purposes, opening the door to fairly aggressive colonization efforts."

"The Federation is going to have to watch these guys really carefully," mused Marek.

"Not easy," added Samantha. "They won't like us basing ships in what they think is their space."

"Don't worry," said Moira, acting a bit smugly.

"What did you do?" asked Marek suspiciously.

"Me?  Oh, well, I left zombies in the two space station computers," she replied.  When the people around the table looked quizzical, she continued.  "I left stealth computer programs to monitor and record Valwer files and messages and forward them periodically to the Federation using the stations' own subspace transmitters."

"If they find these programs, they're not going to like it," cautioned Marek.

"Don't worry," she repeated.  "These programs aren't sentient, but they're pretty smart, if I do say so myself.  They'll hide very effectively and transmit when nobody's looking."

"Howe close will we have to be to receive?"

"For a ship like Crazy Horse, maybe 200 light years," estimated Moira.  "But for something like the Argus Array, or a modest starship interferometry network, we can monitor from the near sections of Federation space.  We won't have ANY trouble keeping track of them."

"Any questions?" asked Charlotte.

 

It was the end of a big day.  The Crazy Horse was arcing along the galactic arm to a point, a few days travel time away, where she would run the barrier and reenter the galaxy, proper.   Moira had joined the Mareks in their quarters for a synthehol nightcap.

"Good work, you two," said Michael after his first sip.

"It'll make a great article for the Federation Journal of Xenology," said Charlotte, half-heartedly.

"But what?" asked Marek.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but WHY did you have to tell them than we can travel in time?" asked his wife.  Marek shrugged.

"I thought it would confuse them," he said, shrugging slightly.  "Is it a problem?"

"Remember how we read tetrions in their hull?"  Marek nodded.

"Well, Crazy Horse almost certainly still has a few chronitons stuck on its hull, from when we traveled in time a few years ago.  If they know what to look for, they'll have absolute proof that this ship HAS traveled in time," Charlotte explained.

"Oh."

"The databases I downloaded didn't say much about their knowledge of particle physics," noted Moira.  "But if they know about chronitons, I think they'll be VERY interested.  You unknowingly struck a nerve when you talked about heredity.  Each one of them measures descendency from emperors. The closer their lineage is to some emperor or emperors, the more power and influence they hold.  The ability to travel in time could be very intriguing to them."

It was a sobering thought, that the Valwer might feel motivated to seek out the Federation actively.  As Crazy Horse drove on through the extra-galactic night, Marek began thinking about how he would break the news to Starfleet.