White Rabbit - Part 3

Mistry straightened up. “Did you see that?”

S’Li and the others glanced at her, the old Caitian asking, “See what, Dear Captain?”

She blinked, looking up at the statue’s blank features, the way the bay lights overhead reflected as she-

Ah. That made sense; reflections as she moved about below, illusions from the corner of her eye. “Never mind.” Feeling foolish, she knelt and continued scanning, her tricorder tied in with S’Li’s, combining their data as he performed an identical function as well. “Seeing any patterns yet, Professor?”

He was grunting as he shifted himself around. “Sadly, not yet. But then one has to learn to crawl before one pounces.” He ducked as one of the floating probes dipped down. “Do you mind?”

Colossale was grinning. “Ignore us, Professor. Captain, this is a treat indeed! Neutronium is rare enough in its natural form, but to find evidence of it having been shaped into an object! Imagine having a fleet of ships with neutronium plating! They’d be invincible...”

Beside him, Thizheris made a sound. “I’m frankly shocked that your precious First Federation didn’t come up with the means yourselves. After all, you apparently ruled the Galaxy for twelve millennia, as you’re so fond of informing us.”

“We didn’t need neutronium hulls,” the Fesarian corrected, sounding more amused than offended, “We ruled with charm and finesse.”

“And giant worldships,” Thizheris muttered, frowning. “Are you detecting interference with our sensor beams?”

The diminutive figure beside him made a curious sound. “Yes… it’s like the beams are being deflected now. Strange. Switch to the subspace bands...”

Mistry barely heard them. Her heart was racing, and she felt sweat bead on her brow. What was wrong with her? It-

Before her, the script was wriggling, like clumps of worms in the mud.

And she looked up again. It moved! It definitely moved! It was happening again!

She rose, turned and walked away, adjusting the settings on her tricorder to Biological, and running a scan… on herself. Accelerated pulse, temperature, excited neural activity, increased levels of acetylcholine and psilosynine, no external biological or biochemical inclusions or imbalances-

“Captain?”

Mistry spun on her heels, eyes wide. “What?”

S’Li had followed her, grasping his cane in one hand and his tricorder in the other, concern creasing his muzzle. “Is there something wrong, Dear Captain?”

She looked at him, aware of similar expressions on Colossale and Thizheris, still back at the Rabbit, and focused once more on the Caitian. “I- I think I’m letting Mr Kramer’s stories get to me. I’m seeing…” She lowered her voice. “Seeing the statue move. And the Iconian script.”

She expected him to scoff at her confession. Instead he made a sound of understanding. “Actually, it’s quite plausible.”

She smirked. “What, that the statue and the script is animating?”

“No, that you’re seeing these. You’re looking at the statue from your peripheral vision, looking upwards, into light; much of what we see from the corners of our eye is in fact manufactured by our own brains, extrapolating what is expected to be seen. There is nothing wrong with you.”

She frowned now, both grateful for the explanation, and annoyed that she needed one in the first place. “But what about the script? I’m looking directly at the script, not peripherally. And I’ve seen it move!”

He smiled. “Motion Illusion: an optical trick in which static images appear to be moving due to the cognitive effects of interacting colour contrasts, redundant object shapes, and position. The Iconian syllabary appears intricate, but their individual structures are all minor variations on the same shapes and number of dots, lines and line breaks. It’s easy for the eye to pass over them, and for your visual neurons to get confused.”

Mistry wiped her lips with her hand. “You think that might be it? Have you been experiencing it?”

“Ahh, no,” he admitted. “Though that might be due to my Caitian brain geared to prioritise audial or olfactoral data over visual… or maybe because, unlike you, my hips won’t let me get down so close to the writing to be affected.” He grunted, tapping his side with his cane. “I’m getting old, Audea… well, older.”

Mistry stopped and regarded him. He was one of the first of the Shack Pack she had recruited to live and work onboard, and one of the few she had worked with previously, on projects involving First Contact and Romulan signal decryption prior to the Tomed Incident. In many ways, he had been as much a mentor to her as Admiral Uhura. The thought that he might not be around forever should have been obvious, but it was still disquieting. “You’re not thinking of retiring soon, are you?”

S’Li smiled, using the tip of his cane to push his spectacles back up his snout towards his eyes. “Not as long as you still need me, Dear Captain… and as long as your food synthesizers are still generous. Now, shall we continue?”

She smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder as they returned to the Rabbit.

*

In contrast to a starship Bridge, the Operations Centre of Nerva was rectangular, compact, with stations and chairs lining the outer perimeter, leaving the central area open and without any place for a commander to stand. There was a large viewscreen on the upper half of one wall, but instead of an image of the outside, it presented sets of schedules of ship arrivals, departures, maintenance and repairs, and the launch of waste modules from the catapult into the Rabbit Hole.

T’Shak remained the font of composure as she walked beside Haluk, following the Rigelian named Bunol as he showed them around. “Most of these stations were designed to assist in Nerva’s functions as a navigation beacon, but are now redundant. Our crew of twelve is typically more than enough to manage the periods when a vessel arrives, and we never need more than one person in here now… like Mr Venner here.”

He indicated a large-framed, bald, pale-skinned human wearing a communications headset and appearing focused on a display screen, but still offering the visitors a wave. “The interfaces have long since been converted to Federation Standard, but the underlying software is still Arkarian, and they send us periodic updates. We like to monitor their installation, or reschedule it as required.” He smiled. “It’s probably all so primitive compared with what you and your assistant are accustomed to, Ma’am.”

It took T’Shak a heartbeat to comprehend the reason behind Bunol’s statement: because she wore a Starfleet uniform, as opposed to Haluk’s dark purple civilian suit, she was considered to be in charge. She straightened up formally. “The technology is comparable, Mr Bunol. We appreciate your cooperation in complying with our regulations.”

He nodded, his braids rattling as he indicated a pair of adjacent stations and seats. “Full access to our logs has been made available to you both. I will be in and out, tending to business, but Mr Venner will be at hand to answer questions or provide refreshments.” He bowed, before moving back to Venner, speaking to him in a language that T’Shak’s Universal Translator did not explicate for her.

She took a place, opening her tricorder and familiarising herself with the keyboard… and trying to maintain calm as Haluk sat beside her, performing in a similar fashion. “I would prefer to examine the station logs for the two weeks prior to the alleged incident, to get a baseline reading of events, power consumption, computer resource allocation and so forth.”

“That is logical.” She followed his lead, trying to appear focused and professional… and not be caught glancing in his direction. “I must beg your pardon, Mr Haluk.”

He never looked away from his work. “For what?”

“Mr Bunol assumed that I was in charge. I made no effort to correct him.”

“No effort was required. I am listed on the manifest of the Harken as a Civilian Advisor; you are a Crewman, First Class. Technically, of the two of us, you are in charge. And if you are begging my pardon because you believe my pride may have been injured-”

“That of course would be unnecessary.”

“Indeed. I am a Vulcan.”

“Yes, very much so,” T’Shak confirmed, quickly diverting to, “And regardless of rank, I will endeavour to assist you to the best of my abilities.”

“No doubt your prior work will serve you more than adequately.”

T’Shak paused and looked to him. “My work?”

Haluk looked back. “Indeed. Crewman Brice informed us of your expertise, performing security and operational audits on the Weytahn Spacedock, when she recommended you assist me instead of herself.” He paused. “Was she inaccurate? Should I request another to assist me?”

She hesitated. It would be logical for her to clarify the situation – that her ‘expertise’ consisted of 6.84 hours in the role, as part of a work experience exercise her parents had arranged for her when she was fourteen – so that Haluk might consider a replacement for her.

Yes, it would be logical.

“I believe we are not employing our time efficiently by continuing this conversation,” she finally announced.

She faced her display again. Pretending not to look inexperienced. Feeling him still stare at her.

Then he faced his own display once more. “Agreed.”

*

“Oh.”

Mistry had been sitting cross-legged on the bay floor, rereading the script and improvising several translation algorithms, when she looked up at S’Li’s exclamation. “What is it?”

The Caitian was standing back, staring hard up at the figure. “This is interesting.”

Quickly she rose. “What is it? Have you worked out some of the base symbols?”

He shook his head. “Those remain strangely incomprehensible, Dear Captain. No, my remark was made because I have experienced something similar to yourself.”

She looked up at the statue as well, feeling strangely comforted in not being the only one. “You saw it move?”

“No… but I’m hearing it move.” His snout twitched. “And smelling... something.”

On the other side of the Rabbit, Thizheris and Colossale paused in their recalibration of their probes to come around, the Andorian quipping, “Are you certain it’s not your own flatulence you’re detecting?”

S’Li continued to stare up hard at the Rabbit, walking around it warily. “I am familiar with my own exudations, thank you very much – and yours, too, so don’t act all impeccable – and this is not it. I cannot pinpoint exactly what I am hearing or smelling… but it is definitely something.” He raised his cane, pointing it at the head of the Rabbit. “And it’s definitely coming from our friend here.”

“We have not noticed anything,” Colossale confirmed, looking up warily at the Rabbit now, and then at Thizheris. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Maybe because both of you have been focused on viewing the Rabbit indirectly,” Mistry conjectured. “S’Li and I have been studying the writing… wanting to understand it.” She began to pace around, her mind racing around even faster, like a puppy after its own tail. “You’re still having problems with the probes, right?”

“Yes,” Thizheris replied, sounding annoyed, as if waiting for her to blame them for the failure. “We switch from multispectral to subspace to quantum resonance… each time, the sensor beams are soon quickly reflected back to us.”

“Is that a side effect of the neutronium?” S’Li asked.

“There has only been one large source of forged neutronium known and studied,” Colossale responded. “The automated Planet Killer fought and destroyed by the Enterprise over fifty years ago. There were reported dampening field properties to that device, though it may have been a side effect of the element rather than part of the mechanism...” He paused, frowning in thought. “I wonder if the Planet Killer was actually a weapon of the Iconians, and not, as originally conjectured, some extragalactic artefact?”

“An idea for another time,” Mistry decided, her mind racing ahead at warp speed, tapping the fingers of her left hand against her thumb, recalling the piano note sequences of a favourite Chopin sonata, while trying to assemble her thoughts into coherent words. “Professor, I remember a classified report from the USS Shearwater in the 2260s at, uh, Delta Something Or Other, near the Galactic Barrier. Contact with the Barrier triggered psionic abilities in certain individuals… but the Shearwater found evidence of the energy suffusing inanimate objects-”

The Caitian nodded with recognition, his tail twitching excitedly. “Yes! Psychometric Impression! You think we have something like that here?”

“Yes! This could be a possible example! A means of communication not requiring obvious technology!”

“But the circumstances are radically different-”

“How can we be sure of that? Look at the neurological effects we’re experiencing? That Kramer and some of his people have also experienced?”

Thizheris ground his teeth. “Anyone care to enlighten the Ignorati here?”

Mistry smiled as she looked to the Andorian. “After the properties of the Galactic Barrier were discovered, numerous attempts were made to try and duplicate these under controlled conditions. They failed – and cost yet more lives, and the region is now generally avoided – but one feature noted was that some ordinary objects that were exposed to the Barrier energy… radiated thoughts, memories, of those who had previously been near them, handled them.”

“‘Memories’?” Thizheris sneered.

“Yes! For instance, the Shearwater found the wreckage of the SS Valiant, the first vessel to study the Barrier in the late 21st Century. They found tools, jumpsuits, even the mummified remains of some of the crew, and on close proximity to these, members of the Shearwater team had… visions... could vividly see and experience echoes of those Valiant crew who might have used the objects… or been the remains...”

“Ahhh,” Colossale breathed, nodding. “Some species with psionic abilities can psychometrically ‘read’ these impressions off of objects-”

“Yes! But in the case of these objects, those affected didn’t have psionic abilities! Didn’t need them! These objects emanated the impressions!” She indicated the Rabbit. “What if the Iconians were able to duplicate this property, but to impress specific communications that could be picked up telepathically by those who encountered them?”

“Impossible,” Thizheris declared with a sneer. “Telepathic messages for the non-telepathic? Why haven’t Colossale and I have felt what you and the Caitian have felt?”

“I… I’m not sure. Perhaps your brains aren’t configured to pick up the impressions as easily...”

But S’Li was slowly circling the Rabbit, staring up at it intently. “Or perhaps because you and Colossale were focused on your probing of the Rabbit itself, whereas the Dear Captain and I were focused on deciphering the writing? Perhaps the desire to directly understand what the Iconians wanted to tell us is the key?”

“Impossible!” Thizheris repeated. “What you’re describing is something akin to magic! How would these so-called impressions even know someone was there, trying to understand it?”

Colossale stroked his chin. “How does an electron know it’s under observation, and to behave like a particle and not a wave? Existence on the quantum level is an exercise in absurdity when one tries to explains it.” Now he frowned, glancing warily at the statue, before making adjustments on his probe control PADD. “Thizzy, no sensor technology can detect psionic energy, but ours can pick up neurogenic energy. Tell me if you’re detecting what I’m detecting.”

The Andorian complied, his antennae twisting as he looked up at the Rabbit. “Precision is impossible to obtain, but… this seems to be giving off neurogenic energy! Only lifeforms generate neurogenic energy! This is an inanimate object! Impossible!”

Mistry smiled. “‘Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.’”

S’Li looked to her, smiling as well. “Lewis Carroll, Dear Captain?”

She nodded. “I devoured it… as an adult, after hearing a Twentieth Century Terran popular song that heavily referenced it. You?”

“I read it to my granddaughter. Quite whimsical. Didn’t care for the Cheshire Cat, though. Too grinny. When Caitians bare their teeth… watch out.” He sobered, his tail growing still as his snout twitched. “Captain, my senses definitely tell me that this thing is alive...”

*

In a room below the bay, positioned immediately below the Rabbit, Malik Kramer paced behind a humanoid male with mottled yellow-brown skin, small horns along the centre of his face and at corners of his mouth, sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose, staring at a set of screens depicting the current activities in the bay above. In contrast to the focused demeanour of the humanoid, Kramer was a bundle of nerves, alternating between anger and anxiety. “Well? Is it working?”

The humanoid breathed in slowly, never taking his dark, intense eyes away from the screens before replying, “The Human and the Caitian were reached first, easily; I’m focusing on the Captain’s mind. I have not encountered the other races there before, and they are proving elusive. The little one is hesitant. The blue one is suspicious and hostile.”

Kramer drew up, reaching down and giving the humanoid’s shoulder a shove. “Then force it, Seirren! You can’t let them back down-”

The humanoid made an annoyed sound, before looking over his left shoulder. “Bunol! This is difficult enough without your husband’s belligerence!”

Nearby, the Rigelian drew up to Kramer, taking him by his hands and gently leading him away. “You’ve had too much to drink, Malik. You should have taken your Melorazine instead before they arrived. You’re far too jumpy.”

Kramer stared accusingly at his partner. “I hate that stuff. Besides, my nerves helped sell the story.” His expression jumped to Panic at Warp Nine. “Didn’t it? Everything’s going to be alright, won’t it?”

Bunol smiled, hugging him. “Yes, Darling. Yes, it will. Seirren will stay focused on our friends uptop, Venner is keeping an eye on the Vulcans in Ops, and the Starfleet vessel is dancing around the Singularity, while Bridger and Caine are on standby in the Catapult… just in case.” He drew back and patted the human’s face. “We’ll be fine, so long as we keep our heads.” He glanced back at the screens, and the Harken specialists around the Rabbit. “And we feed theirs…”

*

Mistry was pacing animatedly around her colleagues. “So, the Iconians somehow imbued the Rabbit with neurogenic energy, which reacts to the proximity of biological organisms who have the… the mental configuration recognised as an attempt to learn or communicate. Professor?”

The Caitian was nodding more absently. “Perhaps… we’ve certainly not detected any biological or chemical agents in here that could otherwise account for the symptoms we’ve experienced...”

Colossale was nodding. “It’s bizarre… but sounds plausible.” He looked to Thizheris. “Thizzy?”

The Andorian was glaring up at the Rabbit. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s no argument, you don’t like anything.”

“Well, then, I’ll create a new category of dislike for statues of big-eared humanoids you tell me are some sort of inanimate telepathic communications beacon.”

“Whatever it is,” S’Li surmised, sounding more amused by the grousing than offended. “I expect you’ll agree to the purchase, Dear Captain?”

Mistry was going to respond, when her attention was caught by the script on the pedestal crawling over each other. “Bloody Hell...”

“Mother’s Cubs,” S’Li intoned softly, lifting up his tricorder to begin recording.

“You’re seeing it?” Mistry asked, her heart racing. “The letters? What about you guys?”

Colossale made a sound, the tiny Fesarian stepping back and frowning. “How remarkable.”

Thizheris’ antennae twitched, and he seemed unable to take his eyes away.

The letters were crawling down from the pedestal, scurrying along the bay floor, the individual streams merging into a single current that rose, rose and expanded, coalescing and thickening into a humanoid figure, of approximate shape and proportion to the statue.

And it seemed to perceive the four of them, its faceless head moving from one to the next, before settling on Mistry.

But the voice she heard in her head was heard by all of them. “Greetings, Captain Audea Mistry of the Harken. Greetings from the Iconians...”