Chapter

9

Stardate 53676.2

"I'm hungry," Bart Faulwell said as his stomach growled for the third time in ten minutes.

Involved as he was with his work at the main computer station of the Senuta ship's compact command deck, Soloman nevertheless paused to regard his companion. "I have noted the indicative sounds emanating from within your torso."

Faulwell chuckled at the perfect deadpan delivery of the statement. In his experience, the Bynars as a species weren't normally given to frivolous wordplay. They preferred instead to concentrate on ensuring that any communication was restricted only to what was essential to the accomplishment of a given task. This was especially true with verbal interaction, which was typically employed only when dealing with other species that did not possess the Bynars' fantastic ability to communicate at speeds rivaling the most advanced computer processors. Like other members of his race, Soloman much preferred interacting with machines instead of living beings, as it freed him of the need to slow down the process of giving and receiving information.

However, he had been taking infrequent, tentative steps of late to engage various members of the da Vinci crew in verbal discussion when it related to the assignment at hand or, more recently, in more casual conversation. Faulwell wouldn't categorize Soloman's attempts as "banter" or "chit chat," but it was a departure, and a most welcome one at that, from what had once characterized the Bynar's normal behavior.

"Well, if you know what it means," Faulwell said as he continued to study the array of computer display screens dominating the rear wall of the command deck, "then you also know that it's not something I'm going to want to ignore for too much longer."

Despite his teasing comment, he knew he only had himself to blame for being hungry. There had been plenty of time to grab something to eat prior to beaming over from the da Vinci, but Faulwell had elected to spend that time writing a quick note to Anthony. He'd spent thirty minutes painstakingly updating his partner on their current mission, composing his thoughts on paper by hand as he always did before transcribing the missive for transmission via subspace communication. The handwritten letter, like all of the others that he wrote to Anthony, would be saved until such time as Faulwell could deliver them in person. The intimate ritual was one of his few private pleasures, and he had become so engrossed in it that he had nearly lost track of time. When the reminder to report to the transporter room came from his computer terminal, Faulwell had been forced to leave the note unfinished until he returned from the Senuta ship.

And after I get something to eat, he reminded himself. Sorry, Anthony.

Looking up from his console, Soloman said, "You will be pleased to know that I have nearly completed restructuring the interface to the operating system and providing a simpler means for the Senuta crew to interact with the computer. It will not give them the entire range of capabilities the original interface possessed, but it will be sufficient to make up for the loss of the ship's computer technicians." His brow furrowing slightly, the Bynar added, "There is a great deal of security integrated into the various applications software, not unexpected for a vessel originally constructed for military use. In order to affect the interface, it was necessary to deactivate or bypass much of those protection schemes. I am preparing to run a final diagnostic to ensure the interface functions properly before instructing the Senuta on its operation."

"Sounds great," Faulwell replied as he glanced about the command deck. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more than ready to get back to the da Vinci." Once again he had to shake off the feeling that the room's bulkheads were closing in around him.

I think it's going to be a while before I complain about how cramped my quarters are again.

This room, like everything else on the ship, had been constructed to conform to the physiology of the comparatively smaller Senuta crewmembers. It had taken Faulwell more than a few minutes to adjust to the smaller-scaled equipment, which had been designed for a more diminutive body type. In contrast, Soloman had found the accommodations as comfortable as the furnishings of his own quarters on the da Vinci.

From behind them, a soft voice asked, "Have your repair efforts been successful?"

Faulwell turned to the two Senuta crewmembers. Each regarded him with what the linguist had come to recognize as their typical wide-eyed, expectant expression. Ircoral and Tkellan, as the two female Senuta had introduced themselves earlier, were part of the Senuta ship's engineering staff and had been assigned to assist Faulwell and Soloman by providing information about the systems overseeing the vessel's propulsion systems. Their expertise had allowed Soloman to craft the new interface to the ship's computer, giving the crewmembers more direct control of the automated systems than they had previously enjoyed. Though Ircoral and Tkellan had been intensely curious in the beginning, peppering the da Vinci engineers with a myriad of questions, once Soloman had gotten down to the serious work of reprogramming the computer they had been content to remain quiet, working at other stations, until they were needed again.

"Yes, Ircoral," Faulwell replied. "It looks as though we're almost done here. Thanks to your help, Soloman is nearly finished repairing the damage the storm caused to your computer and its software."

Soloman had been working steadily for the past two hours, his attention only rarely wavering from the bank of computer displays. Most of his attention had been focused on the subsystems overseeing the ship's engines and propulsion, which had borne the brunt of the storm's effects. It had been slow going at first, with the Bynar encountering more than a bit of difficulty in understanding the computer languages responsible for the software running the Senuta computers. That's where Faulwell had been able to help.

As a linguist and cryptographic specialist, Bart Faulwell had not set out to become anything resembling a computer expert. Called upon to perform more demanding assignments as his experience grew, such as deciphering enemy communications codes and encryption schemes, it soon became apparent to him that understanding the nuances of discourse used by living beings was not enough. Therefore, Faulwell had expanded his knowledge into the world of computers and the languages used to transform instructions into the actions carried out by machines.

In this case the work he had already done to translate the Senuta's spoken and written language had allowed him to assist Soloman in understanding the alien ship's computer system. Once the language barrier had been broken, the Bynar was able to interface with the Senuta computer easily. The only remaining obstacle was the level of technology itself, which Soloman had likened to that used by the Federation during the early to mid-twenty-third century.

"This degree of self-sufficiency is comparable to that of modern starships in several respects," Soloman said as he continued to work. "The major difference of course is that the Senuta are more easily inclined to entrust themselves to their computers than many of the humanoid species I have encountered."

Noting a quality in his companion's voice that didn't seem to be a ring of approval, Faulwell glanced momentarily in the direction of the two Senuta engineers. Neither of the aliens appeared to have heard the Bynar's words, though. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked. "I figured that if anyone would appreciate the Senuta's reliance on technology, it would be you."

The Bynar regarded him with an almost amused expression on his pale features. "My people have fashioned a society that embraces an interdependence on computers, yes, but the idea that we are slaves to automation is a misconception shared by many who do not understand us."

"Fair enough," Faulwell replied, now even more relieved that the Senuta had not overheard their conversation. After all, it would not do to offend these people so soon after establishing first contact. Though such initial meetings with new races usually caused Faulwell no small amount of concern, he still undertook the inherent responsibilities during such momentous occasions with all the seriousness that they deserved.

Besides, Carol will kill us if we find a way to screw this up.

The lights on the bridge flickered around him and Faulwell became aware of a steady thrum resonating through the deck beneath his feet. The engines had come back online, he realized, thanks no doubt to the efforts of Kieran Duffy and his repair team from the da Vinci.

Turning in his seat, he saw the two Senuta engineers watching him again, anticipation dominating their features. Smiling, he nodded in their direction. "I think you're back in business."

Nodding excitedly, Tkellan replied, "Yes, it appears as though your companions have succeeded in helping our technicians. Your crew is very skilled."

Faulwell began to offer a response but was cut off by a voice from his combadge.

"Duffy to Faulwell."

"Go ahead, Commander."

"As you may have noticed, Bart, we've finished our repairs on the engines. She'll run well enough to get them home. All that's missing is the link to the propulsion management subprocesses in their main computer. How are you coming up there?"

The fatigue was evident in Duffy's voice. No doubt the repairs to the damaged engines had been extensive, as they had begun their work hours before Faulwell and Soloman had started their investigations of the Senuta's computer.

"We're almost finished, sir," he replied. "Soloman is preparing a final test of his reprogramming before we hand things over to the Senuta."

"Outstanding. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get back to the da Vinci and stretch out in my luxurious, oversized bed in my luxurious, oversized room."

Faulwell laughed at that, looking around once again at the bland, cramped confines of the Senuta ship's command deck. "I hear you, Commander. I'd estimate another ten minutes and we'll be done here. See you back on the da Vinci. Faulwell out."

Severing the connection, he returned his attention to the two Senuta engineers. "With the engines fixed, all that's left is the computer, and we'll be ready to return control of it back to you."

"I do not know how we will be able to repay your generosity," Ircoral replied.

Shrugging, Faulwell tried to smile humbly as he thought of how Carol would want him to handle this. "Perhaps if our two peoples spend time together after this, we can learn more about each other and you'll be able to better understand our motivations for helping you."

Ircoral considered that for several moments. "A most excellent idea. I will be sure to pass it on to Daltren when he returns from your ship."

Nodding in approval, Faulwell turned his attention back to Soloman. "Anything else I can do to help?"

"No," the Bynar replied simply. "I've finished my preparations and I'm ready to begin my diagnostics." He tapped a final series of commands into the workstation's oddly configured manual interface. In response to his instructions, graphics on the array of computer displays began to shift and scroll information, almost too fast for Faulwell to follow.

And then the alarm sounded.

It did not have the droning, piercing wail of a red alert klaxon, but it nevertheless echoed across the compact command deck. Harsh red illumination promptly replaced the more normal soft lighting, and flashers began blinking frantically near the two doors providing exits from the room. An audio message also began to play from the internal communications system. The message was spoken in the Senuta's native language, so it took Faulwell a second to understand the words.

"Intruder alert. Activating countermeasures."

"What's happening?" he called out over the alarms as his attention was drawn to the wall of computer displays. One by one, the monitors were blinking out, the various graphics and information being replaced with a single line of Senuta text.

This station is deactivated.

His fingers almost a blur on the consoles, Soloman did not look up as he answered. "My diagnostics have triggered some type of security protocol. The computer is closing out access to systems all across the ship."

Trying to keep his growing apprehension under control, Faulwell swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "I thought you said you disabled or bypassed the security protocols."

"I apparently missed at least one."

At any other time, Faulwell might have thought the straight delivery of the simple statement humorous, but this was rapidly becoming anything but one of those occasions. Rising from his chair, he turned to face the Senuta engineers. "Ircoral, what sort of countermeasures is the computer activating?"

Already studying their own display monitors, the Senuta did not immediately reply. After several seconds that seemed like an eternity to Faulwell, Tkellan turned to look at him.

"Our computer is proceeding as if combatting an unauthorized access by an enemy during wartime. There are a number of security procedures that were installed to prevent such an occurrence, as this was once a military vessel. Though onboard offensive weapons were removed years ago, the computer protocols were simply deactivated, as it had proven too expensive and time-consuming to completely remove those components from the computer system."

Ircoral added, "The protocol that has been activated was only intended for use if the crew is incapacitated and the ship has been boarded by enemy invaders."

His sense of dread continuing to worsen, Faulwell asked, "So what happens then?"

Ircoral turned to face Faulwell, her own expression one of near horror. "The computer's instructions are to prevent access to its systems at all costs, to include destroying the ship if necessary."

Pausing only long enough to look at Soloman, who was still working feverishly to salvage any kind of access to the Senuta computer system, Faulwell did the only thing that made sense to him at that moment.

He tapped his combadge.

"Faulwell to da Vinci. We've got a big problem here."

To be concluded

in Star Trek: S.C.E. #19: Foundations Book 3