Enigma Ship by J. York (small books to read .TXT) 📕

“Based on its course,” said Duffy, “Enigma just crossed the Ronde void, a region almost devoid of stars. The area beyond it is unexplored by the Federation. All we know about it is from scattered reports purchased from the Ferengi. I bet that’s where these species came from.” He watched as a turbaned vendor draped a jeweled chain around the neck of a skeptical customer. “But we’ve got no way of knowing if all of them are really present, or if they’re simply re-created from someone’s memory.”

Gomez watched another of the “elephant trains” pass by, this one carrying egg-shaped gondolas full of passengers.

“What I don’t understand, is how anyone could not know they’re in a simulation, after they’ve seen the kinds of things we did.”

P8 reared up on her back four legs, her antenna waving. “We did not enter Enigma on a colliding ship. Our experience may not be typical.”

Duffy shrugged. “She’s right. Maybe there’s an automatic response to a ship collision, and they just end up in simulated space until a more complete simulation can be created.”

Gomez nodded. “Of course. They wouldn’t need a simulation until the colliding ship was supposed to reach a planet.”

Duffy frowned. “I have one other concern. If we do find our way out, how do we know we’ve found our way out? We could end up like the rest of these prisoners, passengers, whatever you want to call them. We could be back on the da Vinci, happy as targs in blood, when we’re really still in a simulation.”

“The difference between all of them, and us,” Gomez said, holding up the magnetic probe, “is that we have the key to reality.” She activated it, and pushed it through the metal bench.

Pattie made one of her contemplative noises. “The light entity—do you think it is part of Enigma’s crew, or some aspect of the ship’s automated systems, or its holoprogramming?”

“Maybe part of the program,” said Gomez. “It seems pretty single-minded.”

“I am not so sure,” said Pattie. “If all these other beings can survive here, there’s no obvious reason the crew shouldn’t be alive as well.”

Duffy looked up at a nearby vendor’s tent. “Maybe we should just ask. Here it comes.”

They turned and watched as the ball of light approached. It changed form; this time it was fully humanoid, Bolian to be exact, and it wore a Starfleet uniform. “You don’t belong here,” it said, “but now I know where you do belong.”

“We’re from the Federation Starship da Vinci,” said Gomez, standing and showing her open hands. “We mean no harm to this ship. Are you part of its crew? We need to speak with the crew.”

The pseudo-Bolian looked puzzled. “I am a keeper of order. I keep the stories on their paths. You don’t belong here. You take me from my own story, and I wish to return to it.”

“Please,” said Gomez, “are you real?”

She reached for the magnetic probe again, activated it, and extended it towards the Bolian.

He shimmered, and for a moment, Duffy could see what was underneath—a floating machine a little bigger than his torso. On top of it, a small creature looked out at him with intelligent, yellow eyes.

Then the Bolian was restored, an annoyed expression on his face. He pushed the probe away, seemingly no longer affected by it. “That device interferes with the story. It disrupts the experience. You should not use it.” He frowned. “You don’t belong here.”

Gomez’s eyes went wide. “Kieran, helmets, now!”

Duffy affixed his helmet to his head, just as the Bolian image reached out a hand, and his stomach lurched—

Chapter9

They were floating, floating among stars. Duffy was relieved to see that his helmet’s seals were intact. A quick glance over to Gomez showed that hers was also.

Gomez, meanwhile, looked at their Nasat companion. “Pattie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Like you, Commander, I anticipated this and closed my breathing passages before our transport.”

Duffy looked around. “Is this really space? The stars look right.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Gomez, “but there’s nothing to test with the probe. If it’s real space, though, where’s the da Vinci?“

Duffy activated his suit’s communicator. “Away team to da Vinci, do you read? Can you get a transporter lock on us?”

“Stand by,” said an unfamiliar voice, “we’re homing in on your signal.”

Duffy saw something moving at the edge of his vision, and turned to face it—a bright, moving, dot that quickly grew larger in the distance.

“It’s a Federation ship,” said Pattie, “but it’s not the da Vinci. “

As Duffy watched, the dot resolved itself into the sleek shape of an Intrepid-class starship. He could just read the markings U.S.S. LINCOLN across its bow when the transporter effect enveloped him.

*     *     *

Fabian Stevens put down his molecular welder and looked up over the torpedo casing on his workbench.

Across the hololab, Soloman sat bolt upright in a chair, looking straight ahead, unmoving. Only the furious flashing of the lights on his belt-mounted data buffer hinted at how hard he was working.

“Thank you,” said Stevens, “for your help on programming, Soloman. This is well beyond my humble computer skills.”

Soloman turned his head slightly towards Stevens. “Thank you for asking me. The construction of a narrow-bandwidth, data-redundant, self-installing message worm to operate in the limited environment of a tricorder is a stimulating challenge. It is good to have function, to participate in the rescue of my crewmates. I feel”—he paused, as a rapid burst passed through the data buffer—“responsible for their disappearance.”

Stevens shook his head. “Now that’s just silly, Soloman. There was nothing you could have done. If you hadn’t been standing by, we might not even have been able to warn them.”

Soloman blinked rapidly. It reminded Stevens of the lights on the data buffer.

“Lt. Commander Corsi had me beamed from the module immediately after their disappearance. If I had been on station, I would have been in a position to be of more