Strange New Worlds VIII

by Dean Wesley Smith

  I’m assuming the external communicators are still working, but I really have no idea. I could be writing this letter and you’ll never see it. I don’t want to think about that, though. I’m going to hope for the best.

  So, Captain Picard, I hope you get this letter, and I hope you can help me. I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. I’d raise a distress call if I could, but I don’t have that kind of access to the ship’s computers. So please help me, if you can.

  Sincerely,

  Marissa Flores

  “Number One”

  P.S. I was trapped in a turbolift with you when the Enterprise passed through a quantum filament, and you gave me two of your collar pips and made me your acting first officer. Do you remember me?

  * * *

  Jean-Luc Picard looked up at the sound of his chirping communicator. “Bridge to Captain Picard,” Data’s familiar voice said into the captain’s ready room.

  “Go ahead.”

  “There is an incoming message for you, sir.”

  “Route it in here.” Picard marked his place in the book he was reading and moved behind the computer terminal on his desk. Scrolling through color-coded menus, the captain of the Enterprise located the message. He read it.

  “Number One,” he mouthed silently, recalling the incident that the girl was referring to. She must be, what, fourteen now? Picard remembered the shy little girl who had almost certainly saved his life by refusing to leave him behind. He had given Marissa the moniker normally reserved for Commander Riker as a means of getting her and the other children trapped in the turbolift to calm down. They were pretty upset, as could be expected; they were in some real danger that day. Now it seemed that Marissa was in trouble again.

  Picard tapped his communicator. “Captain Picard to Commander Riker.” Riker answered a moment later. “Number One, track the last known location of the Starship Chamberlain.”

  On the bridge, Picard could hear Riker tapping at his computer console for a moment before he responded. “The Chamberlain reported finding a spatial anomaly near the Cheron system. That was five days ago, sir.”

  “Can we pick her up on long-range sensors?” asked the captain.

  “No, sir.”

  Picard paused, scanning back through the letter. “There’s been a terrible accident on the Chamberlain.” He thought about the little girl who had performed so bravely when the ship was in trouble. She was a frail little thing, with bright blue eyes and blond locks pulled back in a ponytail. Pretty, but that wasn’t the first thing he noticed; she had seemed somehow troubled.

  “Captain Picard?” Riker’s voice broke into the captain’s thoughts.

  Picard made his decision. He hated to act on instinct alone, but that was practically what he was doing, ordering the Enterprise halfway across the quadrant over a child’s letter. His instinct was warning him that Marissa was telling the truth, and if her letter could be believed, the Chamberlain was not going to be emitting a distress signal.

  “Set coordinates for the Chamberlain’s last known position,” Picard ordered. “Maximum warp.”

  “Captain?”

  “Engage.”

  The Enterprise turned in a large, sweeping arc, and then disappeared into subspace.

  * * *

  To Captain Jean-Luc Picard, U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D

  From: Marissa Flores, U.S.S. Chamberlain, NCC-56810

  Subject: Theory

  Dear Captain Picard,

  I’ve been trying to figure out why everyone else on board the Chamberlain is frozen and I can still move around. We’ve never covered anything like this in my science classes, but I did find some of my dad’s journals on a padd in our quarters, and I’ve been developing a theory.

  My dad is the Chamberlain’s science officer, you see, and he let me hang out in one of the research labs right before the accident happened. He was on the bridge, but since I could see everything that was happening from the lab, I stayed there. It was a great opportunity, he said, because the ship had picked up some kind of spatial anomaly on the sensors, and we were checking it out.

  I was thrilled, of course. I haven’t really decided what I want to do when I grow up, but I’ve narrowed it down to two choices. I want to be the captain of a starship or science officer. Both seem like great jobs and it’s just so hard to decide. Anyway, the prospect of being there when a new spatial phenomenon was discovered was just too good to pass up. I mean, this is what Starfleet is all about, right?

  It didn’t turn out so well though.

  As soon as the Chamberlain got close to the phenomenon, the thing opened up like a giant flower. I’ve seen some pictures of the Bajoran wormhole; it looked kind of like that, except that it was yellow on the inside. It was beautiful. My dad launched a probe into the wormhole (I’m pretty sure it was a wormhole) to see where the other end came out. The probe was sending back all sorts of data . . . it was awesome!

  I’m not exactly sure what happened next, because I was still looking at the readouts from the probe, but the ship suddenly started shaking really badly. I wanted to run, but I know that to be a Starfleet officer you have to be brave, so I stayed put. Captain Brown gave an order to back off, but I could feel the ship moving forward. I think we were being sucked into the wormhole.

  The next order I heard over my linkup to the bridge was the captain screaming for us to go to warp. The engines were really straining, and I was scared that we were going to explode. Just then, a conduit did explode right next to me. I was thrown from my chair, and I passed out. When I woke up, everything was frozen, and it’s been like that ever since.

  All right, here’s my theory: When that conduit exploded, I think I was covered in some kind of subatomic particles. Maybe even chroniton particles. And those particles are making it possible for me to move around when everyone else is standing still.

  I know it’s just a theory, and it’s pretty stupid. I’m sure Mister La Forge could figure it out in about five seconds, but he’s not here. I wish he were.

  I wish you were here too, Captain. I know you could make everything all right.

  You know what I’ve been singing a lot today? “Frère Jacques.” Remember, we sang that when we were climbing out of the turbolift?

  I hope you get this letter, and please, help me if you can.

  Sincerely,

  Marissa Flores

  “Number One”

  P.S. Ding, ding, dong.

  * * *

  When Picard received Marissa’s first letter, the Enterprise was four days away from the Cheron system at maximum warp—four days away from the last known location of the Chamberlain, and from Marissa Flores, who had saved his life when she refused to leave him behind in a damaged turbolift. She could have left him; she should have, but she didn’t.

  “This is mutiny,” Picard recalled saying at the time. He supposed it was, but that didn’t change the fact that the turbolift broke free from its moorings just minutes after they escaped out of the roof. The captain of the Enterprise smiled. A moment later, his memory turned sour when he thought about Marissa, frightened and alone on board the Chamberlain.

  “Captain?” Riker asked.

  Picard jolted back to reality. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring dreamily at the stars zipping past outside the conference-room window. Staring dreamily while his senior staff stared at him like he’d gone mad. “Number One,” Picard said, wiping away the last vestiges of his smile. “What is our current status?”

  “We’re still two days away from Cheron,” Riker said. “Did you get another letter?”

  Picard nodded. “Computer, read aloud the text of file ‘Marissa—2.’ ”

  “Dear Captain,” said the melodic voice of the computer. It narrated the letter, causing Geordi and Data to nod their heads when it recited the part about the chroniton particles.

  “Geordi,” Picard said when the reading was complete, “is something like this even possible?”

  “It’s possible,”
answered the engineer. “Chroniton particles are difficult to predict, and there’s a lot we don’t know about worm-holes, an awful lot. There’s no way of telling how a wormhole might react if it came in contact with chronitons.”

  “Perhaps,” Data interjected, “the spatial phenomenon the Chamberlain discovered is not a wormhole at all.”

  “What do you mean?” Picard crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

  The android looked up at him with lifeless yellow eyes. “Perhaps the phenomenon is actually a temporal hole,” he said.

  “A temporal hole?” Worf asked in his humorless voice.

  “It is like a wormhole,” Data explained, “except it is shaped like a cone. There is no exit.”

  Geordi seemed to light up. “I’ve read about those,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s possible that if a ship entered subspace inside the temporal hole, it would be moving forward in time at the same rate the phenomenon is moving backward. Thus, it would be standing still.”

  “Why is it called a temporal hole?” Riker asked.

  “Theoretically, a temporal hole moves backward in time, from the moment it opens into regular space-time until it reaches the apex, which is the moment of its formation,” Data clarified.

  “If that’s the case,” Picard interjected, “where is the Chamberlain now?”

  “It is most likely still inside the phenomenon,” Data expounded. “However, I should note that a temporal hole has yet to be discovered. It is only a theory.”

  “But a good one,” Geordi added. “At least it makes some sense. If Marissa were exposed to enough chroniton particles, she might not be affected by her environment.”

  Picard stared at his senior staff, men and women who, in his opinion, were the finest in the fleet. “Data, Geordi,” he said, “I want you to compile everything we know about temporal holes. When we get to Cheron, we may not have a lot of time.” He turned to Counselor Troi. “Deanna, are you able to sense anything?”

  The counselor gazed at him for a long moment before speaking. “Fear,” she said simply. “Fear and guilt.”

  Picard was taken aback. “Guilt? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Deanna said. “I can tell Marissa admires you very much, but there is something hidden beneath her feelings, something she thinks will make you very upset if you find out.”

  Picard nodded. Sometimes it still felt strange to rely on an empath, but the captain had grown to trust Deanna Troi over the years. A few minutes later, he dismissed the meeting. Staring out the window once more, he watched the stars racing by.

  * * *

  To: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D

  From: Marissa Flores, U.S.S. Chamberlain, NCC-56810

  Subject: Guilty Conscience

  Dear Captain,

  I’ve had a lot of time to myself these past few days—a lot of time to think. There’s been something on my mind, and I think

  I ought to tell you about it. Just in case, you know?

  Remember that science fair I won back on the Enterprise? The prize for the winner and two runners-up was a tour of the ship given by you—which was how we ended up in the turbolift when everything went crazy. Anyway, what I want to tell you about has to do with my science project.

  My dad says that it’s best to just tell the truth and let the pieces fall where they may, so that’s what I’m going to do.

  I cheated on my project. That’s why I was able to win the science fair. Before the turbolift broke down, you asked me what my project was about and I never answered. That was why; I was ashamed.

  I’m really sorry, Captain Picard. I know you’re probably terribly disappointed in me, and you have every right to be. You could even hate me. But I hope you’ll still come and try and save the Chamberlain. Captain Brown is really nice, and this is a good crew. Please don’t turn your back on them just because I’m a stupid kid. I only did it because, well, never mind. It’s dumb.

  Regretfully yours,

  Marissa Flores

  “Number One”

  * * *

  The Enterprise dropped out of warp as the Galaxy-class starship reached the Cheron system. Several light-years away, the dead planet for which the system was named hung in space like a rotting tangerine.

  Picard had once again assembled his senior staff to assess the situation. The finest crew in the fleet, he found himself thinking again. If anyone can come up with a solution, they can. The conference room doors whooshed open, admitting him. His senior staff were already seated around the massive table. Beyond the window, the stars seemed stationary once more.

  “Report,” Picard said, taking his seat.

  Geordi shot Data a nervous glance, and then began to speak. “Data and I have been researching temporal holes. There’s not a lot out there, but there is a widely accepted theory among most physicists.”

  “Go on.”

  Data spoke up, the tone in his voice as dispassionate as if he were reading the menu in Ten-Forward. “The theory suggests that any object trapped within the temporal hole would eventually be crushed as it was pulled toward the apex of the cone.”

  “If the Chamberlain is moving fast enough,” Geordi continued, “she would eventually escape. If not, time would catch up to her sooner or later and . . . ”

  He let his words trail off, something for which Picard was eminently grateful. It was bad enough to think about that innocent child and her shipmates being crushed to death; there was no need to say it out loud. “Do you have any theories on how we might get them out of there?” Picard asked, tearing himself away from the dark thoughts.

  “Actually,” Geordi said, “we do.”

  “Well?”

  “If a photon torpedo detonated at the apex of the phenomenon,” said Data, “the temporal hole would, theoretically, begin to collapse.”

  “Wouldn’t that trap them in there for certain?” Picard asked.

  “It would not,” said the android. “The phenomenon would begin to collapse in the past, and work its way forward to our time.”

  “The Chamberlain is moving at warp speed,” Geordi said. “She would break free from the phenomenon’s gravimetric pull, which would decrease as the temporal hole became smaller.”

  “There is one problem I see,” Picard said. “If we fire a photon torpedo into the temporal hole, we run the risk of hitting the Chamberlain.”

  Data and Geordi looked at each other for a moment and then turned back to the captain. It was the android who spoke, his tone as pleasantly curious as ever. “Not if the torpedo were fired from the Chamberlain,” he said.

  * * *

  To: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D

  From: Marissa Flores, U.S.S. Chamberlain, NCC-56810

  Subject: Science Fair

  Dear Captain,

  I know you probably hate me because of what I told you in my last letter, and if you do, I can’t blame you. But if it’s all right with you, I’m going to keep writing. It’s so lonely here, and I’ve been getting pretty bad headaches since this morning.

  I’m really worried about my dad. I’m worried about the rest of the crew too, but my dad especially. No one’s eaten for like four days now. That’s not healthy. Do you think they’ll be okay, if we ever get out of here, I mean?

  I wasn’t going to tell you why I cheated on my science fair project, but I was thinking maybe I should. My dad says it’s best to get everything off your chest, so that’s what I’m going to do.

  My mom, Elista Roth, is a professor at Starfleet Academy. You may have noticed that her last name is different from mine; that’s because my mom and dad are divorced. Anyway, my mom is a science professor, and she’s really busy. Sometimes I don’t hear from her for eight or nine months at a time. When she does send a transmission . . . well, we don’t have a lot to talk about.

  I’m pretty good at science, but probably not good enough to win a science fair. Still, I desperately wanted to win, because I thought my
mom might contact me. So, I cheated. And I won.

  My mom did send me a note. It was only two words long, and she didn’t even sign her name. It said, ‘Good job!’

  I’m not telling you this to justify what I did. I can still remember how I felt when I was on the bridge of the Enterprise. I was so ashamed; I couldn’t even look at you. And you were so nice and understanding and patient. I heard a rumor that you didn’t like kids, so I was kind of afraid of you. But that rumor was obviously just something somebody made up. I think I would have died of fright if it hadn’t been for you.

  There’s one more thing I want to say, and since this might be my last letter, I’m going to say it now.

  I’ve felt a whole lot better about myself ever since that day in the turbolift. I never knew I could be strong before. I’d always had my dad to protect me, and I was pretty frightened of doing anything on my own. But now I’m not afraid anymore. I mean, I get scared sometimes, but when I do, I think about how you called me ‘Number One.’ You had faith in me—something I’d never had before in myself.

  So, I want to thank you, Captain Picard. No matter what happens now, I’m glad I got to meet you.

  Sincerely,

  Marissa Flores

  “Number One”

  P.S. I hope you’re not mad at me.

  P.P.S. My headache is getting worse. I had to stop writing several times because my vision got blurry. If you’re coming, PLEASE COME SOON.

  * * *

  “Found it!” Riker exclaimed as the sensor chirped on his console station.

  “On screen,” Picard ordered.

  The Enterprise had been scanning for the temporal hole for three hours before finally locating the phenomenon. Picard was beginning to wonder if they would run out of time, so he gave out a great sigh of relief when the swirling mouth of the anomaly opened up on the viewscreen.