“There will come a time when it isn’t ‘They’re spying on me through my phone’ anymore. Eventually, it will be ‘My phone is spying on me’.”

Phillip K. Dick (1977)

It was perhaps strange that, even after living for 200 years and (by grace of her El – Aurian heritage) being effectively immortal, that Taesin Girau still struggled with the stark realities of death.

Of course, she herself could be killed. The longevity gifted to her by her genes did not confer invulnerability any more than omnipotence. She was as flesh and blood as, say, one of the Humans that she outwardly resembled.

Similarly, she was not exempted from the range of emotions that motivated her Human counterparts.

As she looked down at the pale, cold face of Thierry Lavalle, as the late Chief Science Officer lay lifeless on the examination table in the sickbay of the USS Atalanta, apart from the wholly understandable sensations of twinned – grief that came from losing both a member of her own command and also a friend, the main emotion that the CO of the Noble – class explorer struggled with was RAGE.

In a voice carefully modulated to quell the seething frustration that raged beneath her pale exterior, the white – blonde haired woman continued to stare at the body on the slab and when she spoke it sounded as leaden as tombstones.

“Tell me again.”

Dr Zehya Belarr frowned, the motion making the long line that bifurcated her blue features crinkle strangely around her brow, where the lateral motion met a similar horizontal creasing. The Bolian physician looked pained to reiterate the sad fate of the late Frenchman, but she could see that the Captain was in no mood to ask twice, so she repeated.

“His injuries are consistent with a fall of approximately 85.8 meters, which corresponds to around 26 decks.” Dr Belarr opted to lose herself in the professionalism of her calling, rather dwell upon the vacated from of the man who, along with her husband, had hosted her at one of their excellent suppers only four nights ago.

“Extensive and widespread spiral and greenstick fractures to the ankles, legs, pelvis, spinal column and wrists.” The physician sounded like she was reading off a particularly grisly shopping – list of woes. “Internal organ damage to the brain, lungs and spleen, all of which would have eventually proved fatal, given the remoteness of his location and the…”

“Was he conscious…at the end” Taesin interrupted. Her tone hard.

Zehya recoiled in exasperation and tried to dissuade the CO.

“Captain, I really don’t think that it’s constructive to….” She began, but Taesin cut across her again, her own voice equally as cutting.

“Was he still alive and conscious? Answer the question Doctor.”

An uncomfortable silence permeated the darkened sick baby.

Dr Belarr hung her head, trying to master her own grief, but managed to muster her resolve and look the CO straight in the eye when she answered.

“He would have been awake when he was crushed to death by the descending Turbolift car, yes Captain.”

Taesin continued to look long and hard at Thierry’s mangled body, as if trying to conjure up just a wisp of the avuncular, inquisitive and effortlessly suave young Frenchman who had seemed such a predominant feature of daily shipboard life, that she just couldn’t countenance that she would never hear his smooth gallic – tones inhabit her halls again.

Eventually she nodded, as if deciding something and in a quiet voice said.

“Thank you Doctor. That will be all.”

As Dr Belarr drew a modest shroud over the remains of her friend, Taesin raised a pale, slim finger to wipe at the corner of her eye and all the while her rage screamed incandescent beneath her placid exterior.

“I have to speak to his widow.” She said woodenly, steeling herself for the ominous task that was her solemn duty.

“Jonathan’s currently with the Ship’s Councillor.” Zehya apologized gently. “As can be imagined, he’s highly distraught. I have administered a mild sedative, so you may wish to wait awhile until you speak to him. His grief’s not going anywhere.” She added sadly.

Taesin’s face look taut with tension, but she nodded politely.

“Thank you Doctor. I’m sure your people are taking excellent care of both of them. Thank you for your time.”

Zehya nodded diplomatically, so much of her job involved having to deal with people in many different iterations of distress. She smiled neutrally and returned to her many duties.

Captain Girau turned on her heel and indicated to the other woman in the room, as she departed the sickbay with purpose.

“Chief. Walk with me.” She commanded.

Lieutenant Kaye Carver, the USS Atalanta’s Chief of Security, fell smartly into line following the CO’s van.

Taesin’s progress was like that of a battleship as it clove the contesting seas. As a Starfleet Investigator, it was no mystery to Chief Carver that the death of the CSO had lit a fire under the CO. A compunction that Kaye herself appreciated, as the evidence around this unorthodox death aboard ship seemed as confounding and conflicting, when she had come to investigate the circumstances around Lieutenant Commander LaValle’s untimely demise.

“Talk to me Chief. What do you have so far?” Captain Girau asked without looking back, as the pair proceeded down the corridor and the crew members they passed made a respectful hole.

Used to working on the fly, Chief Carver interrogated her mental notes (that a lesser Starfleet Security operative might have had to commit to a tricorder) and she began her rundown as they passed a junction in the corridor.

“I interviewed Thierry’s husband once the body had been found and the XO had informed him of the loss. He was devastated, of course, and obviously was in shock. Jonathan said he had gone to bed and had fallen asleep whilst Thierry was up working late on something on his personal terminal.” The Security officer recanted.

“Do you have the terminal?” She demanded as they took a left at the next junction.

“Secured as evidence. It was un – networked and it appears that the Lieutenant Commander was reviewing the Science Data transcripts recovered from the USS Condalejo.” Carver explained.

Taesin frowned, her pale blonde brows steepling in the middle of her forehead, yet still she did not break her determined stride.

“Is there any possible link between the data he was reviewing and his death, in your professional opinion?” She mused.

Kaye shrugged and conceded.

“Science was never my forte at the Academy, unless you count crime – scene forensics.” She admitted wanly. “It’s hard to infer a causal link, but anything is possible at this early stage of the investigation. To rule that hypothesis out, you’d have to run the data past another member of the Science Division, Ma’am.”

Taesin shook her head. If what Thierry had been looking at had truly placed his life in jeopardy, then she would not risk another member of her crew in such a reckless fashion.

“Have a member of your team deliver the terminal to my quarters.” She decided firmly. “I’ll take up the thread and see if it unravels.”

Kaye did not question the command. “Very good Ma’am. I’ll have Ulvers bring it up shortly.”

They came to the bank of Turbolifts, which at this time of shift were busy and their use in high rotation, so they took their place and waited their turn.

Taesin stared at the doors and tried hard not to visualize what it must have been like for Thierry when those same doors opened and he stepped out into the dark and clamorous void that ended his brilliant life.

“You spoke with Commander Jassal?” Taesin murmured.

The Chief nodded, taking the CO’s enquiries in her stride.

“Affirmative Ma’am.” Kaye was nothing if not thorough. “Chief Jassal’s engineers ran a full range of diagnostics on not only the Turbolift shaft where the incident took place, but all of the Turbolift systems aboard ship. He concludes that he can find no physical malfunctions in the hardware that would cause a misalignment between the timing of the car – track and door – opening, nor any software glitches that might point to a comms error producing the same result.”

Taesin did not reply. She just stood, her gaze seeming to bore a hole in the surface of the doors.

“Sukhram said the system was clean, Ma’am.” The Security Chief allowed a note of suspicion in her voice. “Which just doesn’t add up. How can a man fall to his death down a Turbolift shaft, when there are multiple safeguards in place to prevent such a thing and the computer confirms that no malfunctions took place. I just don’t buy it!” Kaye swore vehemently.

Taesin seemed distracted and continued to stare at the Turbolift doors until they finally opened (happily with a Turbolift care waiting invitingly inside). She stepped in and turned to face the Chief.

“You’re right Chief. It’s all too clean. Keep digging until you hit dirt.” She nodded, her expression unreadable.

“Aye Ma’am.” Kaye nodded with resolve, as the doors closed and she was left wondering in the corridor.

As Taesin rode the few decks upwards, she tapped on her Commbadge and spoke.

“Captain to Ops.”

After the briefest of pauses, the familiar Danish tones of Lieutenant Daniel Bergqvist came over the channel.

=^= “Ops here. Go ahead Ma’am?” =^=

“Lieutenant. Please have Lieutenant Sivak attend me in my quarters.” She requested as the doors hissed gently back into their recesses and she stepped out onto Deck#2.

=^= “He’s on his way, will be with you shortly Ma’am. Ops out.”=^=

Taesin reached the sanctity of her person quarters and stood in the threshold of the room for a moment to gather herself, as the door hissed shut.

A sense of alienation mingled with the rage inside of her as she looked around the familiar space containing all of her personal belongings. Her things. Like the ship was supposed to be her thing.

But was it anymore.

She went to sit behind the small desk that her generous quarters afforded and spent the intervening time going through the usual avalanche of status reports that ever threatened to build up until they dislodged and rushed downhill to devastate the good order of the sleepy Tyrolian skiing village that was her ordered day.

Presently the door chimed, announcing her visitor.

“Come!” She called, without looking up.

The doors hissed open and closed once again and, when she looked up, a tall, cadaverously thin Vulcan officer in the Teal – shouldered uniform of a Starfleet Science officer, stood before her, devoid of pretence, with a neutral look upon his fine features.

Presently she looked up and smiled.

“Lieutenant Sivak. Thank you for joining me.” She greeted the Vulcan politely.

Sivak raised one sharp, canted eyebrow and murmured diffidently in reply.

“Of course, Captain.” He nodded sagely. “Given the unfortunate demise of Lieutenant Commander LaValle and the fact that I serve as Assistant Chief Science Officer, it was logical to surmise that you would call upon me.”

Taesin looked squarely at the Vulcan and, as ever, was completely impressed by both his sincerity and complete lack of guile.

“Quite so Lieutenant. For the time being you are to assume the duties of the late Lieutenant Commander, so let the record show that I am hereby assigning you to the role of Acting Chief Science Officer, until further notice.” Taesin waved her hand dismissively and rose and walked over to the couch near the viewports, where the stars streaked by.

She seated herself and then patted the cushions beside her.

“But that wasn’t why I asked you here. Lieutenant. Please, join me?”

Sivak’s other eyebrow ratcheted up to join level with his peer, but that was the upper extent to which the Vulcan registered his surprise.

“Of course, Captain Girau.” The gnomic scientist blinked, yet nodded politely and did as he was bade.

When he had settled himself on the couch, Taesin looked levelly at him and lied straight to his face.

“Lieutenant. The recent events both onboard the USS Condalejo and our own ship have left me in a state of considerable mental distress. I wonder, would you concede to conduct a mind – meld with me, for the purposes of assisting me find emotional equilibrium once more?”

Sivak looked at Taesin for a long moment and the nodded.

“Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure.” He said and reached out to plant his long fingers at the requisite positions on Tae’s temple and jaw. He closed his eyes.

“My Mind to your Mind.” He intoned. “Your Thoughts to my Thoughts.”

Taesin could feel a delicious calmness begin to effuse her psyche…

…and then she was somewhere else.

All around them was a featureless, perfect black void, yet somehow it seemed well lit from an indistinct and indistinguishable source of light.

Before her Taesin could see the physic – manifestation of Lieutenant Sivak standing in front of her, dressed and presented identically to the real Sivak that still sat on the couch, much closer to her in the real.

The manifestation looked around, as if seeing something for the first time.

“I have never attempted the mind – meld with an El – Aurian before.” The Psychic Sivak commented academically. “The experience of your inherited memories is…. Novel.” He added flatly.

“Yeah, we’re a laugh riot at family – gatherings” The psychic projection of Taesin commented dryly, continuing. “I’m sure you may be wondering why I asked to meet with you in this way?”

Sivak shrugged, effortlessly non-committal.

“You obviously have a need to relate information of a sensitive nature. It is logical to assume that your need for secrecy is likely driven by the assumption that to do so by traditional means risks that information being intercepted, thus you seek privacy.”

Taesin nodded. Here in the adjoining rooms of their melded – psyche, the spectre she feared was at large would have no means to take possession of the truth.

“I will speak plainly, Lieutenant.” The Captain voiced her worst fears. “I have reason to believe that Lieutenant Commander LaValle’s death was no accident. I believe that the same influence that caused the ship’s computer of the USS Condalejo to malfunction and murder its crew, is somehow present and inherit within the systems of the USS Atalanta.”

There was a pause, as the Vulcan scientist took all of this in.

“An intriguing supposition, Captain.” Sivak nodded. “And not one without some framework of logic. However, to move beyond mere supposition and found this concern in more empirical – terms, rather than the lofty existential, I must ask what led you to this particular theory?”

Taesin exhaled. Subconsciously she knew that she had been gathering the shards of inference for so long, yet until she had attained the absolute calm of Sivak’s mind – state, her life had been to hectic and fractious to be able to take time to arrange those shards into a viable picture.

“I think that the Atalanta’s systems are compromised and don’t think that the problem is limited just to us.” She spoke the awful truth.

“I don’t believe in coincidences for coincidence’s sake. I think that whatever happened to the Condalejo wasn’t contained to that vessel or even originated there. I infer this from the ease with which I believe it has penetrated our own systems. The Nova – class’s data systems were dated, we are the newest cutting – edge vessel type in Starfleet with next gen hybrid Isolinear/Bio-neural processing substrates, yet it managed to subsume our systems just as equally and easily.”

“That infers that the threat may be uncontained and I cannot even begin to worry or wonder how far it may be spread. Certainly, through vessels within the Task Force is likely, possibly the entire Fourth Fleet is probable and even beyond? I don’t even want to think about that!”

Sivak regarded her dispassionately.

“You are speaking about a computer virus.” The Scientist posited.

Taesin shook her head dismissively.

“It has the characteristics of a virus, certainly.” She countered. “A high rate of mutation. The tendency towards host – specificity. The inability to grown or divide on its own. Yes, it acts like a virus, seeking to replicate and spread, yet the actions it take have been arguable beyond mechanistic in function and intent.”

Sivak did not look convinced, so Taesin was forced to elaborate.

“Virus’s display remarkable adaptability. That is a key behaviour by  which they defend themselves and survive. Imagine for a moment that Thierry did discover something that threatened the virus’s survival and it killed him to protect itself from that truth. Fine. That aligns with how we appreciate might act.”

Sivak nodded.

“But it could have just left Thierry at the bottom of that lift – shaft to die of the injuries sustained in the fall. Instead, it chose to ensure his death by crushing him with the Turbolift car.”

“And you infer that action as intent?” Sivak pressed her.

“I call it more than intent. That is a violent action, intended to inflict fear and suffering. I’d say that it denotes malice.” Taesin insisted.

The projection of the Vulcan put its fingers to its lips in a habitual display for deep thought, “Even if that were true, what evidence do you have that, what must surely be a rogue ‘Superintelligence”, if such a thing is held to exist, is more widespread and prevalent, beyond our own current dilemma.

Taesin appreciated Sivak’s informed scepticism. As a scientist herself, she appreciated being challenged on the validity of her theorem, yet deep down she knew that she had a tenuous grasp of a vitally important thread of logic and, if she did not keep pulling at it, there may not be time to understand the whole extent of the danger they all faced.

“There have been anomalous events transpiring across Federation space and beyond, in recent times.” Tae argued in the void.

“Take the incident aboard the USS Lexington in the Tsangaris Massif!” She pressed her point urgently. “An entire Hazard Team of Holographic – avatars suddenly claimed independence and mutinied. Eventually a Courts Martial concluded that they did have the attributes of sentience and were forced to concede limited rights to them! That kind of thing is so vanishingly rare as to be a coincidence?!”

Sivak crossed his arms and shook his head in opposition.

“Captain, you fail to infer that Hazard Team ‘Prism’ came into contact with the Holographic crew of a Romulan Sky – Rig, who had themselves already ‘malfunctioned’ and killed the sole organic member of the atmospheric processing unit.?”

“Who’s to say that our ‘Superintelligence’ is initially Federation in origin, or that it wasn’t source of the Sky – Rig Holocrew’s ‘malfunction’?” Girau protested.

“Besides blaming our mystery Ai for every unexplained act in the galaxy, there are precedents for Holographic life achieving true independent sentient status, without recourse to possession by homicidal viral machine – intelligences. Take the example of the EMH from the USS Voyager, for instance?” Sivak’s projection countered reasonably.

Exasperated, Taesin tried another track.

“Okay! What about the case of the destruction of the USS Arsenio? Warp-cores just do not fail like that!” The currently – ethereal CO argued, raising the recent unexplained destruction of the First Fleet Science vessel.

Sivak shook his head once more.

“Again, Captain Girau, you offer only inference and circumstantial evidence to support your hypothesis.” The Vulcan dismissed her.

“The Springfield – class is a venerable vessel – type with many years of active service. Whist Starfleet maintains a high degree of rigor in the maintenance of all of its vessels; old things do conceivable break down and sometimes with catastrophic consequences. With the investigation into the Arsenio disaster still underway, it is impossible to definitively infer such an interference as ours as a plausible causal factor to her loss.

“But, at the same time, we cannot entirely discount the possibility either, can we?” Taesin rounded on the chink in the ASCO’s confounding armor of logic.

Sivak conceded the point, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

“Indeed, we cannot. What is possible may also be probable.”

Taesin nodded, all of this conjecture was purely academic without recourse to definitive action.

“Regardless Lieutenant. It is my firm belief that our systems have become compromised by a ‘Superintelligence’. Whilst we cannot guess at its ultimate goal, the fact that many lives have been lost behoves us to act with a high degree of secrecy and compartmentalization, lest it becomes alerted that we are aware of its presence and chooses to deploy further lethal measures to ensure its own survival.”

Sivak nodded. In this he was in full alignment to the captain’s course of logic.

“To this end I intend to employ you as an ‘Informational Cut – out’, Lieutenant. A psychic dead – letter drop, if you will. You are tasked with being the conduit to covertly relay secure messages between myself and the senior staff, in an effort to circumvent the presumed ‘Superintelligence’ that we have to assume has taken control of the Atalanta.”

“Our priority is to establish the extent of the contagion and gather information that will assist us in regaining control of the ship. If we are discovered it may very well spell death for everybody aboard this ship and if we can’t warn Starfleet of the threat, then there’s no telling how many might die.”

She looked long and hard at the Lieutenant, fully aware of the precariousness of their situation and the unimaginable risk that she was asking the stoic Vulcan to undertake.

“Can I count upon your support Lieutenant?”

Sivak looked levelly at the captain and arched his eyebrow just a fraction more.

“If your fears prove well – founded, Captain Girau. Then any other course of action would be highly – illogical!”