‘Glendale, this is Starbase 80 Docking Control. We have you on the screen and you are approved for automated docking. State your intentions, Glendale.’
CAPT Richard Pullman glanced at the helmsman, LCDR Adrienne Flynn. Flynn was one of the many volunteers from Starbase Bravo, filling billets so that Glendale was adequately staffed and able to launch with her Displaced passengers. She tapped a control on her station. “Helm disengaged, Captain.”
“Docking Control, Glendale. We request automated docking using our starboard airlock. Our helm is disengaged.” In the rush to launch Glendale from Starbase Bravo, only essential systems, mostly on the starboard side of the ship, were repaired. The port airlock was operational, but most of the passageways on the port side of the ship were sealed.
‘Starboard airlock, aye,’ came the immediate reply, followed by a slight lurch as the station’s tractor beam took over the task of guiding the starship to her assigned berth. ‘Automated docking confirmed. Enjoy the ride, Glendale.‘
“Thank you. Do you know if the station manager got my request for a meeting before we disembark our passengers?”
‘Stand by one, Glendale.’
Twenty seconds passed before the controller responded. ‘A station representative is waiting at your berth and will meet you as soon as the umbilical is secure.‘
Pullman breathed a sigh of relief. The brass was taking this seriously. “Acknowledged. Thank you, Docking Control.”
‘My pleasure, Glendale. Welcome to Starbase 80. DC out.‘
The captain opened a comm channel. “Commander Kaminsky, meet me at the airlock. Bring your materials.”
‘On my way, Sir.‘
Pullman again turned to the helmsman. “Mister Flynn, can you manage things from here?”
Flynn turned in her seat, her bright, green eyes gleaming with mischief. “I don’t know, Captain. It’s been a while.” Pullman had developed a comfortable camaraderie with most of the temporary personnel manning Glendale, especially the bridge crew. His bond with Flynn was particularly strong, as they were about the same age and their careers had followed similar paths–starting on ships and ending up on permanent shore duty.
Pullman failed to repress a smile; he shook his head in mock-frustration. “I know I’ll live to regret this, but you have the bridge, Commander.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. I have the bridge,” Flynn replied seriously.
Pullman exited the compartment into a lateral passageway. Unfortunately for the crippled Glendale, 60 percent of the compartments in the primary hull remained unpressurized. That included the bridge and the top three decks. The bridge crew was running the ship from Auxiliary Control. In this situation, it turned out to be a convenience, as Pullman only had to cut across two other passageways before reaching the airlock. Kaminsky arrived shortly thereafter, and they waited in silence for the docking procedure to complete.
Before the ship completed its docking dance, a frantic ensign and a petty officer arrived at the airlock, carrying the ship’s makeshift podium, preparing to set up a station to process the upcoming flow of personnel to and from the ship.
After a subjective eternity, Glendale successfully mated with the starbase’s umbilical. Pullman pressurized the airlock and opened the hatch. He turned to the ensign. “Log CAPT Pullman and LCDR Kaminsky departing.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
The two officers headed through the airlock onto the station. The ship’s bells, followed by, ‘Glendale, departing; Lieutenant Commander, departing,‘ sounded behind them.
As promised, a lieutenant from the starbase was waiting for the two Glendale officers as soon as they cleared the station’s airlock. “Captain,” she greeted. “LT Gracie Kim. The commodore is waiting for you in the conference room. If you’ll follow me please.”
Kim whisked them through the station to a large conference room filled with eight beings. Commodore Uzoma Ekwueme sat at the head of the table. After the perfunctory greetings were performed, the commodore started the meeting. “Captain, we’ve all reviewed the information you forwarded. Could you please give us an overview and update?”
“Certainly, Commodore. Between our launch from Starbase Bravo on stardate 87331 and our arrival here approximately 10 minutes ago, we believe that 19 passengers and at least one crew member have been erased by the Loom during transit.”
“Those are rather specific numbers, Captain,” pointed out one of the other captains seated at the table. “How did you reach those figures?”
“Glendale was supposed to remain in drydock for another several months. In order to meet the requested launch date, most of the ship remains uninhabitable. Based on the current number of habitable staterooms, whether they are filled to capacity, and the quantum evidence of the erasures, I believe we departed Bravo with 131 Displaced. Only 112 arrived with us this morning. Regarding the missing crewmember, we did not disrupt the existing crew’s berthing, so we can’t tell from that. But, and my chief engineer agrees with me, that despite how short-staffed we are, Glendale would not have left drydock without at least three engineers fully qualified in impulse engine startup and shutdown procedures. Disqualifying myself, Glendale has only two qualified engineers at this time.”
The commodore nodded in approval. “Okay, we’ll accept those numbers for now. Let’s talk about those quantum disturbances. You indicated you detected 15 events that corresponded to 13 unique quantum alternate universes. Did you cross-reference these 13 universes prior to submitting them?”
Pullman experienced a moment of confusion. He looked at Kaminsky who quickly shook her head, ‘no.’ “Commodore,” Pullman responded carefully, “as far as I’m aware, the specific quantum signatures for alternate universes are classified.”
“Yes, Captain, they are. That’s why I need a straight answer. You say these 13 signatures you submitted did not come from cross-referencing or measuring the signatures from Displaced individuals.”
“That is correct, Commodore. Our submissions were derived solely from the measurements and calculations performed by Commander Kaminsky and her team. As requested, we brought the full analysis and the data sets.”
Kaminsky handed two PADDs to Pullman and he started passing them to the commodore. A full commander half-rose from her seat. “Actually, Captain, I’ll take those.” The PADDs were passed down the table to the engineer.
“I’m sure the information you provided is complete, but tell us about the calculations,” urged Ekwueme.
“I’ll turn the floor over to Commander Kaminsky. Commander.”
Glendale‘s chief engineer started with a summary of the quantum effects that were generally known about the Displaced. Quantum measurements were indications of probability, which are well known and usually consistent within our universe. Quantum measurements from the Displaced have different probabilities, which is how Displaced were identified, especially for those who did not realize they had jumped universes. “Where we lucked out was that we were actively measuring and recording quantum data as part of the warp system mapping process. Each event lasted for about 230 femtoseconds, plus or minus three. In a normal operating cycle, the threshold to trigger a warning is five picoseconds, so our events were about 20 times below the normal threshold.”
CMDR Ekwueme paused while he digested the information. He reached a decision. “Let’s go secure,” he announced. The sound of mechanical locks and barriers engaging echoed throughout the conference room. Status panels around the room changed from a subdued red hue to a bright, harsh yellow light, surrounded with a slowly pulsating blue border.
“Captain Pullman, those 13…”
“Excuse me, Commodore!” interrupted a different commander. “They’re not read in.”
Ekwueme slowly turned his attention to the commander. “They just handed us the most specific, probably the most useful information on this phenomenon and you’re worried that they’re not cleared to hear this information?”
The security officer did not answer, but held his position.
“Very well,” sighed Ekwueme. He pointed to the nearest status panel. “Captain, Commander, you see the blue border? You are now being read into a special access program. To avoid the paperwork, you don’t need to know the name of this SAP. You will not repeat anything discussed during this session outside of a similar, authorized SAP session and only with personnel who are appropriately read in. As soon as this session terminates you will be automatically read off. If you have need in the future, you will receive appropriate and proper read ins at that time.” The commodore eyed the security officer. “Sufficient?”
“Sufficient, Commodore. Thank you, Sir.”
Ekwueme continued. “We have a list of approximately 60 affected realities. Of the 13 you provided, five are direct matches with our list. Five are not on our list and a test with the portal indicates that those realities do not exist. The signatures on your report were so precise and exactly match our list that the only conclusion we can reach is that the Loom completely destroyed those five realities.”
The weight of that disclosure hung uncomfortably in the conference room. After a solemn silence, Pullman finally asked the pressing question. “And the last three, Commodore?”
“Perhaps our intelligence on the number of realities involved was incorrect. But the more likely case, the nightmare scenario, is that despite our efforts to restore these universes, it appears this displacement phenomenon is spreading. If that’s true, if we’re losing ground in setting things right, the inevitable consequence is that more realities, including ours, will undoubtedly be erased.”
The commodore’s revelation hit Pullman hard. Decades ago, perhaps even a century or more, contemplation of death often raised fear and anxiety in humans. For most 25th century humans, however, death was no longer an event to be feared, but a transition of contemplation and enlightenment. His death was inevitable. But his wife would continue her life until her time was up. The memory of his life and service would continue through her, his friends and colleagues, and the consequences of all the decisions he made serving on starships and at the ship yards.
Mankind had learned not to fear death. But except for philosophers and theoretical physicists, the sudden non-existence of the universe was not something at the forefront of human contemplation. The primal fear of the unknown asserted itself, giving Pullman an immediate chill while simultaneously starting profuse sweating. To his credit, he remained functional. “How long?” he asked.
Ekwueme shook his head. “We have no idea. Until your report, we didn’t even know we had this additional problem. Until further notice, you and your crew will be assisting starbase researchers in answering that question. We need to determine if this is spreading, and
