First Impressions, Second Opinions, Third Options

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“First Impressions, Second Opinions, Third Options”

Cdr. Scott Coleridge

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Main Engineering on Sky Harbor Aegis wasn’t like Main Engineering on a starship. In the latter, the warp core dominated the main chamber, its dull throb and gentle glow a constant companion throughout one’s duty shift. Two or more massive EPS conduits jutted from the core to carry power directly to the ship’s nacelles. It was a constant reminder that engineering’s duty aboard a starship was, above all else, to keep the ship moving. Aboard a station, the opposite was true. Aegis seldom went anywhere, and so its engines—such as they were—needed little attention. Instead, Main Engineering was like a second Control Tower, a nerve centre where engineers congregated to receive orders, make reports, and gather resources before heading out to the far-flung reaches of the station on missions of maintenance and good will.

 

As duty shifts changed, different faces came and went. Engineering was never deserted, even during the night shift. By the same token, it was almost never very crowded, except on the slowest or busiest of days. Scott enjoyed the atmosphere of Main Engineering, and he enjoyed working there. He liked having access to the station’s systems at his fingertips. Engineering had some dedicated consoles for key systems, but most were multi-purpose workstations to be used for whatever needs an engineer had. Scott had all but permanently commandeered one such station for his own personal use, littering it with PADDs, esoteric subspace communications equipment, and customizing the user interface beyond recognition. He had made a nice nest for himself in engineering, and for the most part he found it a peaceable place to work.

 

His coworkers didn’t always think so. Commander Coleridge was notable among the lower-ranking engineers for the conversations he held with himself. Working late into the night, long after the faces he most commonly recognized had gone home (or wisely chosen to work elsewhere), Scott would begin pacing around Main Engineering, working on the problem of the day. He would work it through, arguing all the sides himself, until he struck upon a solution or ran up against a wall. Usually, it was the second outcome, and then Scott would reluctantly close up shop and call it a day.

 

He was doing just that, arranging for one more computer analysis on the Athra data before he retired, when his combadge chirped. “Commander Coleridge? You have an incoming subspace transmission from Deep Space Nine.”

 

“DS9?” Scott wondered briefly who would be calling him from there—then recognition sparked and he said, “Right, I’ll take it here.”

 

He sat back down and tapped to open the comm channel. The Federation logo briefly flashed on screen before being replaced by a redhead with a smile that could have been described as pleasant, were it not at the moment being corrupted into a scowl that Scott knew was all too habitual. “Penny,” he said, “good to see you too.”

 

“You’re lucky I responded at all, Coleridge.” Penny Howell held up a PADD. “What do you call this?”

 

“I call it a puzzle worthy of your formidable talents.”

 

That earned Scott not just the renowned scowl but a round of derisive laughter as well. “Oh, that’s what it is. For a moment I thought someone had sent me data on slipstream technology with all the interesting bits carefully redacted.”

 

“What can I say, Penny? You chose conscience over clearance.”

 

“You know how I feel about Starfleet and the military-industrial complex.”

 

“Look, I’m sorry I sent you only tidbits, but that’s probably enough to get me a stern lecture as it is. And that’s before they discover I sent it to Charo as well. He’s no longer on any blacklists—or so he assures me—so technically it’s just as legal as sending it to you. Except, you know, he has a criminal record a light-year long.”

 

This news broke the storm clouds on Penny’s face, provoking genuine amusement. Penny and Charo had been close friends of Scott back in their Academy days—except Scott was the only one of them who graduated. Penny decided by the end of their second year that Starfleet was too militaristic for her tastes, and despite offers of advanced training from both the Corps of Engineers and Starfleet Intelligence, she walked away from San Francisco and became an independent contractor. Charo had the matter decided for him, expulsion following swiftly once the Academy discovered the gambling ring he had helped organize.

 

Both were innovators in their own way, though, and Scott had been bashing his head against this slipstream communications problem long enough to recognize he needed help. “I’m working on a project that should properly take the resources of a fully-equipped laboratory at the Daystrom Institute and require an army of people like you.”

 

“It looks to me like you’re trying to construct a viable way of carrying on two-way communication with a vessel in quantum slipstream transit.” When Scott made surprised sounds, she added, “I can read between the lines, Scott. You didn’t send me anything that wasn’t already in the public sphere, but the specifics are enough to point to a communications problem. So my next question is why.”

 

“Why am I doing this? Or why am I doing this?”

 

“The first one. I know why you’re assigned to it. You’re the only one crazy enough to think you could actually do it. Because you can’t, you know.”

 

“The Borg can do it.”

 

Penny snorted. “Don’t tell me you think transwarp is similar enough to quantum slipstream that you could bootstrap Borg communications technology. You of all people know that the PDEs have entirely different boundary conditions. You can’t just substitute one for the other and expect the same eigenfunctions to work.”

 

“It’s all I’ve got for now—well that and access to the remains of a symbiotic fighter craft I can’t tell you about—and it’s of great interest to my superiors here on Aegis. I know I’m grasping at straws here, but it’s all I can think of … unless you have any brilliant suggestions.”

 

“As it so happens, I do.” Penny gave a self-satisfied smirk. “Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it yet—you were the one who taught me about this back in first-year. You and your interest in history.”

 

Scott tried to think what Penny meant. How did his interests in history have bearing on this project? Unless she meant there was some kind of principle or praxis that had been in vogue in the past but was now, for one reason or another, no longer common knowledge. But the possibilities were vast, and Scott was tired. “I give up. What did I miss?”

 

“Quantum entanglement, my dear Mr. Coleridge.”

 

Those two words jolted his consciousness back to alertness. Suddenly her earlier remark made sense. Quantum entanglement had, centuries ago, been hailed as the solution to faster-than-light communication. Entangled pairs of quantum bits would allow parties to communicate over vast distances. But limitations of bandwidth and decoherence had slowed R&D to a halt—and then warp drive came along, and with it the marvels of subspace communication. Subspace radio made the entire project obsolete, and it had been shelved.

 

“You think it could work in slipstream?” he asked. He had built a primitive quantum communicator in his days as an undergraduate. The basics of the device were easy enough for a skilled engineer, but scaling it was another matter—and that was before one took into account the challenges posed by slipstream.

 

Penny shrugged. “It all comes back to the boundary conditions, right? But in theory all the matter is still fermionic while in slipstream, so provided it doesn’t intersect any alternative manifolds, you should be able to do it. In theory.” She leaned closer. “Are you telling me you have access to a vessel with a working quantum slipstream drive, Scott?”

 

“Maybe. Let’s say I can probably do more than run simulations. But I’ll run some simulations first. And this opens up some interesting experiments I can conduct while on the Aegean.”

 

“Ah yes, the famous Romulan–Federation starship, with a black hole at its heart. I would dearly like to get a glimpse at that.”

 

“You’re welcome to enlist any time, Penny. Aegis could always use some more engineers. I don’t why you’re slumming it on DS9 when you could be here, cleaning plasma conduits! Why are you on DS9 anyway? Don’t tell me you’re studying something as boring as the wormhole.”

 

“You have your secrets, and I have mine. You have no idea what sort of strange chatter I hear from your region of space … the things you must be doing…. sometimes I admit to a twinge of envy—just a twinge, mind you. But I have no deluge of dull moments myself.”

 

“Whatever it is, I look forward to reading your paper about it. Maybe I’ll even come to the conference this time. I was held up by the unexpected return of the Breen the last time around.”

 

Penny said, “Tsk, tsk. Those Breen and their sense of timing.” He expression softened, “I took the liberty of doing a few preliminary calculations. I hope they help. Take care, Scott.”

 

“You too. And thanks for contributing an idea to yet another impossible project.”

 

“Just like old times!”

 

The screen went back to the Federation emblem, and Scott leaned back in his chair. Around him, the complement of engineers who made up the night shift were coming on duty: checking work orders, drawing supplies, and running diagnostics. He could hear the chatter of old friends greeting one another at the beginning of just one more day on the job, their routines established and easy. That was what Scott liked about Main Engineering. As the hub of their huge department, it was a second home to Aegis’ engineers, providing both continuity and stability. Each day he could arrive at the start of his shift knowing things here would be much like the day before. The challenges might be different. The faces might change. But that pattern of enthusiasm and activity would always be there to greet him like a warm and welcoming embrace.