Xiong asked, “How’s Node One?”
That was the designation for the array’s only occupied crystalline artifact. The operating system Klisiewicz had designed using the new intel from T’Prynn had made it possible to monitor the status of every linked node in the array and identify each by a unique number.
“Containment’s solid, boss,” Theriault said. “No change in output.”
“So far, so good,” Xiong said. He rubbed his hands together before setting them back on the master controls. “Okay, folks, time for step two. We’re going to slowly increase the power from standby level to what we estimate is the normal operating level. Look sharp.”
With one fingertip, he gradually traced the outline of a circle on his panel, and it responded by switching from cool blue to bright red at his touch. A low-frequency hum from inside the isolation chamber sent a sympathetic shiver down Theriault’s spine.
“Fifty percent,” Xiong said, still nudging the power levels upward.
The deep droning from the array increased in volume and pitch. Crooked bands of blue lightning hopscotched over the linked crystals. Xiong called out, “Sixty percent.”
“Interface is still five by five,” Klisiewicz said. “Good to go.”
Xiong looked left toward Theriault. “Energy readings?”
His request broke the machine’s spell over her, and she eyed her gauges. “Pass-through is clean, no distortion. Minor fluctuations in output from Node One.” She double-checked the levels against their redlines. “All readings are within rated norms. Good to go.”
“Substations,” Xiong said, his voice echoing from the lab’s PA system, “any red flags?”
The ring of blue-shirted Starfleet specialists all worked in silence, and then Ensign Kirsten Heffron, a much-lauded wunderkind of biophysics and quantum chemistry who had been assigned as the out-station supervisor for this experiment, signaled “good to go” via her console’s link to the lab’s secure internal network.
“Grab your socks, then,” Xiong said, increasing the power. “Seventy percent.”
The droning oscillated in an eerie manner, and the high-pitched sound developed a deep contrapuntal undertone that filled Theriault with sensations of dread. The same blue ribbons of energy that danced across the array began to appear spontaneously outside the isolation chamber—climbing the walls, snaking over consoles, and twisting up and around the scientists manning the stations that surrounded the chamber. Theriault arched one eyebrow as she watched an energy ribbon snake over her green jumpsuit. “That doesn’t look good.”
Over the PA, Xiong said in his most reassuring voice, “It’s all right, don’t be alarmed. It’s harmless. The systems are insulated against this, and it’ll disperse as it’s drawn up to the grounding coils in the ceiling.” Moments later, as he’d predicted, the phenomenon ceased, and all that was left were the fear-inducing banshee wails and groans of the machine. “Increasing power to eighty percent.”
Theriault shuddered as an intense prickling coursed through her body, starting in her feet and traveling up her spine. It stung her head with heat and left a metallic taste in her mouth. She heard a static-electric crackling, then caught her faint reflection on the transparent shield in front of the master console: her hair was standing on end, floating as if in zero gravity. “This is a new look for me,” she quipped. “Also temporary, I hope?”
“It should pass in a few seconds after the array’s capacitors catch up,” Xiong said. He asked the group, “Everyone all right?” Reports of status: nominal came back from every station, and he increased the power. “Coming up on ninety percent.”
“We’re getting action from Node One,” Theriault said as one of her gauges jumped in output. “Signal output is up three hundred percent and climbing.”
Excited and concerned at the same time, Xiong asked, “Containment?”
“Locked down tight,” Theriault said. “Good to go.”
“Ramping up to full power in ten seconds,” Xiong said. “Steve, stand by to bring mission applications on line as soon as we have a green signal.” Klisiewicz nodded.
As the array thrummed and pulsed to full power, the atmosphere inside the Vault took on a quality that Theriault could describe only as narcotic. Some unknown property of the array, some emanation that Federation science hadn’t yet quantified, made the immeasurably powerful device simultaneously hypnotizing and thrilling. It became a labor to tear her eyes from it to monitor her panel’s readouts. She forced herself to blink and look away until her focus returned, despite the siren song of the machine’s unearthly resonance.
“Full power,” Xiong said. “Load mission apps. I want to see what this thing can do.”
Klisiewicz launched a series of programs, most of which had been written and designed based only on the first artifact the Vault team had acquired. A number of simulations had suggested that the same control interfaces would be scalable to the much more sophisticated demands of the array; Theriault hoped the simulations proved correct. She didn’t want to imagine what might happen if a system channeling as much power as was being fed into the array were to suffer a rapid cascade failure. At the very least, she doubted anyone would ever find her body—or much of the station, for that matter.
“I think I have something,” Klisiewicz said. Xiong and Theriault pressed in to watch over his shoulders as he worked at his panel. “This is the program your team wrote for detecting Shedai energy signatures. It can read everything from Jinoteur Pattern sources to passive Conduit responses to living Shedai.” He processed a batch of new data, resulting in one enormous cluster of red and a multihued flurry of far-flung specks. “This is what we just picked up with the array.”
Theriault squinted to see if perhaps she had missed something other than the dots. “So, what exactly are we looking at here?”
“The blue are Conduits,” Xiong said. “The red are living Shedai.” He pointed at the cluster. “And it looks like they’re having some kind of town meeting.”
“It’s a Colloquium,” Theriault blurted out. Klisiewicz and Xiong looked at her. “It’s what they call it when they gather to make decisions. It’s what they were doing on Jinoteur when the Sagittarius crashed there.”
Xiong sounded worried. “I thought they’d been scattered.”
“I guess they got the band back together,” Theriault said.
“Most of them, anyway,” Klisiewicz added. “We’re showing a few stragglers.”
Pointing at some of the sidebar menu items on the screen, Theriault asked, “Can you show us exactly where they are in relation to the station?”
“In theory, yes.” Klisiewicz entered commands as he spoke. “I’m overlaying a local star map and tactical grid. That should give us a fair idea of where they . . .” His voice trailed off as the composite graphic took shape on his screen. Xiong seemed about to ask what was wrong, but then he, too, stared slackjawed at the display. Growing more alarmed by the minute, Theriault leaned forward to get a clearer view—and regretted it immediately.
“Oh, that is not good,” she said.
Xiong stood in the station commander’s office facing Nogura, T’Prynn, and Captains Nassir and Khatami. The four senior officers stood side by side, their stances and grave aspects giving Xiong the impression that he was facing a rhetorical firing squad. “To be precise,” he said, continuing his report, “Lieutenant Klisiewicz made three very alarming discoveries.”
He inserted a yellow data card into a slot beside Nogura’s wall-sized star chart. “I’m sure you all recognize this map of the Taurus Reach.” With a tap on one button, he superimposed over the map the Shedai sensor data produced by the array. “Long story short: the blue dots are Conduits. There are a lot more than we thought, and some appear to be within the boundaries of Federation space. That’s the first bit of bad news. The second is that the red dots represent living Shedai entities, and it seems like almost all of them still in existence have gathered on Velara II, out by the Pleiades Cluster.”