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

The captain put out his hand to Gomez. “I’m Captain Newport, welcome to the Lincoln.”

“I’m Commander Sonya Gomez, first officer of the U.S.S. da Vinci, and this is my second officer, Lt. Commander Kieran Duffy, and one of our engineers, P8 Blue.”

He gestured at a trio of chairs arrayed around his desk. “Please sit down.”

Gomez and Duffy took their seats. P8 climbed into the chair, but it wasn’t designed for her, and she perched awkwardly on the arm.

Gomez turned her attention back to the green man. She became aware of a curious smell, a little like sage and cinnamon. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. “You must be Wayne Omthon, first officer of the Vulpecula.”

He smiled nervously. “Ex-first officer, actually. My former captain and I had a falling out. That’s why I’m still on the Lincoln. They’ve made me their guest until we meet up with a ship headed back to Orion.”

Gomez tried to hide her puzzlement. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Newport’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know his name, and how did you come to be floating in mid-space, six light-years from the nearest star, and conveniently right along our course?”

Gomez glanced at the others, uncertain what to say next. Well, try the truth. “Well sir, we were sent to rescue you after a collision you had with an object we call Enigma.”

Newport still looked serious, but he laughed. “If you’d hoped to rescue anyone, you might have brought a ship.”

She studied the room casually, trying to get some sense of the officer she was dealing with. A collection of antique gunpowder-and-bullet firearms filled a glass case behind his chair. A small shelf of old-style paper books was displayed in a glass case with an elaborate lock, on the wall to his left. She could only just see the title of one of them, The Spy Who Loved Me. It appeared Newport had an interest in espionage.

“We did, sir, an S.C.E. vessel. In fact, we sort of expected them to pick us up, not you.”

“You said you’re from the da Vinci. We show that vessel in transit to Deep Space 7, nowhere near the so-called Enigma object.”

“Yes sir,” said Gomez, “that was our course before we were called in to investigate your ship’s disappearance, but we diverted in response to the Chinook’s call. You never left the Enigma, sir. This is all an illusion.”

Newport’s face started to redden. “You’re not the first to try and sell me that bill of goods. This is no illusion. This is a Federation Starship.” The captain stood so abruptly his chair nearly fell over. “I want to know what’s going on here, what’s affecting the minds of my crew. Even Mr. Omthon was confused when we first brought him aboard, though his mind has since cleared. Just what are you? Telepaths? Changelings? Section 31?”

Gomez noticed Mr. Omthon looking at her with an odd expression; not threatening, but pained, almost apologetic. Something in his eyes told her confronting Newport wasn’t the way to go.

She also wondered about Newport’s grip on reality. Telepaths were a semi-reasonable paranoia, but all the shape-shifting Changelings that ruled the Dominion had gone back to the Gamma Quadrant after the war, and Gomez didn’t even know what a “Section 31”was.

“Sir, I’m telling you what I believe to be true. I will admit that, since leaving our ship, we’ve been feeling some, uh, confusion. Disorientation. Perhaps your doctor should take a look at us.”

Newport’s expression immediately softened, and he looked hesitant. It was almost painful to watch a Starfleet officer in this condition. Clearly this was his personal simulation, and he was deeply locked into what Reg had called “hyperreality.”

Newport took a deep breath, slowly released it, then sat heavily back in his chair. “Understand, Commander Gomez, I’d like to believe you. Our scans tell us you are what you claim you are, though we know scans can be fooled. All of your identification data match the Federation database, and we do show you assigned to the da Vinci. But you must understand, we escaped this ‘Enigma’ days ago, with the help of Mr. Omthon here and the aid of the Chinook. We’re now three and a half light-years away from your Enigma, and your story doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

*     *     *

Gomez looked over her shoulder, at the guard who now held their tricorders and the magnetic probe. They were being led down a corridor, and this time the security officers had their phasers drawn.

They were being led to the brig, not the VIP quarters.

Newport had been conflicted about giving the order, but he seemed to be sinking into a paranoid fantasy, finding spies behind every bulkhead.

She wondered what it was like, to have almost godlike power over events and your surroundings, and to have no idea it was happening. To have no idea any of it might, or might not, be real.

For Newport, the universe was exactly what his unconscious mind expected it to be. It was no wonder he was intoxicated by the experience.

Enigma was a trap from which so many had never escaped, and Gomez could understand, with frightening clarity, exactly why.

The tricorders, both clipped to the guard’s belt, began to chirp a warning tone. The guard stopped and stared at them suspiciously, then pulled one out and flipped it open. “What’s this?”

“I have no idea,” said Gomez. “I didn’t leave mine running.” She looked at Duffy, who shook his head.

The guard stared at the screen, licking his lips nervously, then turned the tricorder around so that they could see it. Gomez read the text there.

“WILL ATTEMPT TO SHUT DOWN ALL ENIGMA HOLOGRAMS AND FORCE FIELDS, 2100 HOURS SHIP’S TIME. BELIEVE WE WILL SUCCEED. WILL ATTEMPT TO LOCATE AND RESCUE THEN. THIS IS OUR ONLY TRANSMISSION TILL 2100. MAZEL TOV.—GOLD.”

The guard looked worried. “What does this mean?”

“For us,” said Duffy, “it’s great news. For the countless other beings I suspect are on this ship, it means an ugly death in