U.S.S. Enterprise
Saucer Section
Defoe
“This is a lot sooner than I expected to feel this weight,” Carlotti said, a hand to her abdomen as she sat.
“These are the inconveniences involved in becoming part of a physics equation,” Galadjian said.
Pike saw both of them smile—an expression seldom seen before word of Spock’s survival spread. His science officer’s suggestion had worked out perfectly. A square of gravity plating two meters across had been placed on the surface of the nurses’ station; it was wide enough to hold a cot or a chair and desk, whichever she needed to use. “You ought to be able to get at least half the day in Earth gravity,” Pike said.
“And I felt cooped up before,” Carlotti said. “Maybe I’d better ease into it.”
Galadjian passed her a remote control. “This may be used to adjust the intensity of the gravity field for comfort.”
She tried it. “Oh, that helps. I’ll ease my way up to normal gradually. Thank you, Doctor.”
“My pleasure.”
“And thank you, Captain.”
Pike nodded and stepped out, followed by Galadjian. It was the end of a long workday for both of them, but Pike felt revived. They weren’t far down the corridor when the engineer said the very thing the captain had on his mind. “In all this, it is satisfying to help one person.”
“Yeah, no doubt.” He looked at the older man. “I was a little afraid the fact the idea came from Spock would have—I don’t know, put you back a little.” Even the instructions Galadjian had used had been of Spock’s design.
But Galadjian seemed unruffled. “The ideas cannot all flow from me, Captain. That was my mistake. Collaboration in the institute always meant that I directed, while the assistants tested. The discoveries were mine, but not always the difficult work.”
“I’m sure you’d already paid those dues in your field.”
“Yes, certainly.” He looked to the tool kit in his hands. “But I have grown complacent. Between putting variables on a screen, and observing the result, many steps exist—stages I have often missed. To be present at every moment from concept to completion is refreshing.”
Pike spied an upside-down door. “You want to stop here a moment?”
Galadjian squinted at the upside-down name beside the chocked-open door. “Doctor Boyce’s office?”
“Yeah, I do some of my best thinking here.” Pike stepped inside and reached up to a cabinet. Opening it, he gently removed a large medical kit.
“You are ailing?”
“Not as much as I would be if these broke,” Pike said, opening the bag on the floor. He drew out a bottle and glasses. “Looks like Phil was in a cognac mood before he left.”
“Then we will drink in his name.”
Seated against the walls in a corner, they poured and toasted Boyce, and the missing. For the refill, the toast was to success. “First of a series,” Pike said.
As they drank, they fell silent for several moments. Then Galadjian looked past his glass at Pike. “Do you know why I asked to join Starfleet, Captain?”
“I was thinking it had been on—well, a lark.”
Galadjian’s infectious smile returned. “This would be the worst whim of all time, would it not? To end in such a place?”
Pike laughed.
“I am an old man, Christopher. But when I was young, I grew up in Armenia. Under all the governments it ever had, the national symbol was a mountain. Ararat.”
Pike knew of it. “Where Noah parked his boat.”
“Ah, you know the story. I sometimes feel we are in an ark now.”
“And you’re the only engineer who made it up the gangplank.”
Galadjian looked down, self-effacing. “Two would have been of more help.” He shook his head. “No, the importance of this is all the time Ararat was on Armenia’s coat of arms, the mountain was in another country. It’s a dynastic memory, from a time when the map of the world was different. It was aspirational,” he added. “A dream.”
“They wanted it back. Or to go back.”
“Consider it. For hundreds of years, encoded in their symbols was an ancient desire to be elsewhere.” Galadjian looked at the far wall. “I think that is what happened to me. All those thousands of equations, all those math problems were my own personal seal—and yet they symbolized real activity happening in another place. Nobody needs a secondary field projection for a warp coil, except somebody going somewhere. I think, perhaps, I really did want to be in the experiment after all.”
“To Doctor O,” Pike said, gesturing with his glass.
“I just should not have been in charge,” Galadjian added. “I see that.”
“Don’t be so sure. There are many different kinds of vessels in Starfleet. On some research ships, you’d fit the bill perfectly.”
Galadjian raised his glass. “Ah, but I wanted the best. Enterprise is the crown jewel.”
“Halved and sitting upside-down in a poison sandwich.” Pike downed his drink and mused for a few moments. “You know, your story made me think about what Spock told me about the Boundless.”
“The force that captured him.”
“Yeah. Thing is, they’re not boundless. They’re tied to something, longing for it. Spock didn’t know what it was—but why would they still be here?”
“They, too, have an Ararat,” Galadjian said. “Find it. The answer is there.”
Pike didn’t have any idea when or if he would have the chance to find out. Feeling the drink, he considered heading back to his quarters. Instead, a communicator beep told him what his next project would be. “Nhan to Captain Pike.”
“Yeah, Nhan.”
“We haven’t been able to find you.”
Pike studied his glass. “I am in an important meeting with the chief engineer. We are discussing the history of the Caucasus as it relates to interstellar menaces.”
“Huh.” A pause. “Well, we’re looking for him too. I was just talking with Spock. Lieutenant Raden has figured out a way to right the ship.”
Pike set the cup down. “You did say you wanted ideas from the crew, Avedis.”
“By all means, let’s hear them. I am tired of looking up at the toilets.”
Pike sat in the crow’s nest an hour later, fully sobered by what he’d heard. “You really think it will work?”
“I lack the computational resources in this battlesuit to mount any more than a thought experiment,” Spock replied from Skon’s World. “But the principle is sound.”
“That’s what Raden said you’d say.”
“We know the impulse drive remains down. We know thrusters are insufficient for the saucer to leave Defoe. We question whether firing the dorsal thrusters, currently under the liquid surface, can alone break the surface tension.”
“Right. It hasn’t been worth shaking everyone up again.” Pike squinted at his notes from the meeting. “You’re saying we fire only the dorsal thrusters on the front half of the saucer—”
“While firing only the ventral thrusters on the rear half of the saucer, forcing the disc down into the ocean.”
“You want to flip it like a bar of soap.” Pike still blanched at the thought of firing the jets currently facing the sky to force any part of the saucer farther under the surface. “You’re sure we’ll come back up again?”
“The density of methane relative to Enterprise is a known variable,” Spock said. “The danger would be to those inside, who would, even under less gravity, be moved violently.”
“We already have scaffolds all over the place to work with the terminals that are operational. I guess we can invent some ways to keep people from being thrown about.” He shook his head. “We just got Nurse Carlotti’s office set up. We’ll want to stow the setup we’ve made for her and bring it out again after—presuming—we succeed.”
“My understanding is that the thrusters are not fully operational.”
“I’ve delayed getting people out on EVA to inspect the units on top until we had a need. This is it. Good idea, Spock.”
“Praise belongs to the sickbay patient whose idea Commander Nhan conveyed to me. I merely consulted. Mister Raden is strongly motivated.”
“He’d love to salvage even one part of the ship. But I’m also certain he’s anxious to get away from here. Everyone is. The fact the war still seems to be going on back home only makes it worse,” Pike said. “I know you’d thought it better that we remain to do science—but this isn’t what you had in mind.”
“Clearly not,” Spock said. “Opinions must evolve with the facts. What is the logic in staying away if there is nothing to come back to?”
Pike looked at the chronometer. The conversation window was about to close again—this time for longer, as Defoe and Skon’s World did their dance. “How are you faring?”
“I walked a glacial cirque today. The movement of nitrogen and water ices on this world suggests significant internal heat, either generated by radioactive decay or interactions with bodies such as yours.”
“Enjoy yourself, I guess.” Pike snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah—a couple of things. We checked out that term you said the Boundless were using.”
“K’davu.”
“Right. It’s not a Klingon word—and it doesn’t turn up in any other language. But I guess it could be a personal name. You’re sure of the spelling?”
“I am. It includes each of the first five characters of the Boundless alphabet, anagrammed. That is highly improbable, and suggests either that it predates the language, or that it is a later and purposeful neologism.”
“The giant space army likes wordplay?”
“I cannot say, but thinking about it inspired my similar tactic with the probe.”
“Then it was worth it,” Pike said. “I almost forgot. Speaking of words, I’m sending something up on the data feed before we’re out. Robinson Crusoe.”
“Appropriate. I do have the time.”
“You know, I had never read it,” Pike said. “Now, there was a guy who couldn’t take a hint. He’s nearly wrecked just getting from one part of England to another right at the start, and is shipwrecked again and enslaved long before he ever becomes a castaway.”
“If our lives are any indication, Captain, travel has become no safer.”