Davis frowned. “I don’t think that’s it. For one thing, Anderson and O’Halloran might like to clown around, but they also don’t miss much. If there was something wrong with the equipment, or if a scanner frequency was off by the smallest degree, one of those two would’ve found it. I swear their DNA was crossed with a bloodhound’s at some point.”
Rather than instill confidence that he was on the right track, the engineer’s words only served to heighten Xiong’s concern that he had done something wrong. It had to be something so obvious or innocuous that it was easy to miss. To reverse a popular idiom, it felt to him as though he was missing the lone tree that lurked in plain sight at the forefront of the forest commanding his attention.
Xiong sighed. “This sounds foolish to say out loud, but part of my frustration is that every advance we’ve made to this point has been almost by accident. We hypothesize and test and record data and draw conclusions from the results, and then we start the process all over again. It’s very slow, even when there’s progress. The only time there seems to be a significant development is when we happen across a Shedai artifact, or somehow back into getting some of their technology to work.” He shook his head. “We’re supposed to be smarter than this, especially considering how long we’ve been buying this stuff.”
“Maybe we should take that as a hint then,” Davis said. “After all, it seems that whenever we try to kick-start Shedai technology, it turns around and bites us on the ass.”
When Xiong turned to regard the engineer, he saw from the expression on the other man’s face that he was not at all serious with his suggestion, and it made him realize how negative he was sounding. “Okay, point taken. Besides, I really have no intention of waiting around for the next happy accident.” Eyeing the isolation chamber, he frowned. “I just feel like we’re poking a stick into a cage sometimes. I know I don’t like being poked. I like to be asked. Nicely.”
“So if I ask you nicely,” Davis said, “you’ll bring me breakfast?”
That made Xiong laugh, which in turn helped to dispel at least some of his somber mood. “I think not,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lifting his feet to rest on the edge of the console as he let his gaze wander across the set of status monitors at his station. The patterns of energy readings fed to the screens by the isolation chamber’s internal sensor network were almost hypnotic, and as his mind began to wander, he considered how the sensor probes might be received within the body of the artifact. He knew from previous scans that it was a complex latticework imbued with energy, even though the source of that power remained a mystery. As for the Shedai entity held within the artifact, of course it was present in a noncorporeal state, but beyond that? How did the Shedai’s energy—its life force, he allowed—exist within its crystalline prison? He doubted this bizarre incarceration was comfortable for the entity, but what else might be in play here? Could the sensor scans to which Xiong and his companions were subjecting the artifact be having some kind of detrimental effect on the Shedai? Was it possible that the life-form was in pain?
“I know that look,” he heard Davis say. “I see it on faces all over this ship. What are you thinking?”
Removing his feet from the console, Xiong pushed himself closer to the workstation and began entering a string of commands. “We’re telling the artifact what we want,” he said, more to himself than the engineer.
“Excuse me?” Davis asked.
Xiong did not look away from his console as he replied, “We’re scanning the hell out of that thing. We’re bombarding it with the most intensive data-gathering sensor probes we can throw at it. We’re practically screaming at the Shedai trapped inside, telling it what we want to know about it.” Pausing, he turned and offered a wry grin to his companion. “We’re not askingit.”
His eyes widening in surprise, Davis then nodded in appreciation. “Okay, that’s a bit out of left field, but everybody on this ship owns property out there. I see where you’re going. By subjecting the artifact to the intensive sensor sweeps and rudimentary linguacode hailing messages, we’re essentially trying to force the Shedai to talk to us.”
“Exactly,” Xiong said, feeling renewed excitement beginning to well up from within him. “We’ve known all along that we’re dealing with a life-form, but all our efforts have been directed at penetrating the artifact itself. The communications attempts have been secondary—almost an afterthought. We should instead be focusing on trying to talk to it.”
Davis’s brow furrowed as he considered the notion. “Can we do that? I mean, we’ve been hailing it, even if we’ve been clumsy about it.” Moving closer to one of the operations hub’s adjacent consoles, he began tapping a series of colored buttons. “We could try transmitting a standard hail using a tight-beam directional broadcast, like we would a message sent via subspace.”
Realizing what the engineer intended to do, Xiong held up a hand. “Wait. You want to try this right now?”
“Why not?” Davis asked. “You worried we might wake it up or something?”
Despite himself, Xiong chuckled. “No, of course not. It’s just that we haven’t discussed it or anything.”
Davis eyed him. “You want to wait until morning?”
It would be the prudent thing to do, Xiong knew. Even with the containment procedures in place, and given that this experiment would not even approach the level of intensity of the previous sensor scans inflicted upon the artifact, there was the omnipresent concern of some unexpected consequence of their action. However, days of sensor telemetry indicated such a development was unlikely.
When he saw the smile on Xiong’s face, Davis laughed. “Now you’re thinking like an engineer.” Reaching for the console, he input another string of commands. “We’ll use the same standard linguacode messages that are employed for first-contact scenarios. After all, when in doubt, go with what works.”
“We probably shouldn’t expect any sort of meaningful response,” Xiong said. “Then again, we don’t know anything about how the Shedai communicate with other life-forms.”
“One thing at a time, Lieutenant,” Davis said, his attention fixed on his workstation. “Activate the isolation protocols.”
Xiong carried out that task, nodding in satisfaction at the status indicators telling him the chamber was in full isolation mode. “Everything shows green. Transmit whenever you’re ready.”
“Here goes nothing,” Davis said as he pressed a final control. “Hailing frequency open; transmitting linguacode greeting.” Drawing a deep breath, the engineer looked to Xiong before adding, “Knock, knock.”
Pointing to a new set of data scrolling on one of his display screens, Xiong said, “I’m seeing indications that the beam’s scattering once it penetrates the artifact’s outer shell.”
“I can try changing frequencies,” Davis suggested, entering the necessary commands to his console. A moment later, he shook his head. “I’ve set the transmission to repeat on a rapid cycle through the frequency bands, but it doesn’t seem to be having any effect.”
“What about increasing power?” Xiong asked.
Pausing to consider that, Davis tapped the edge of his console. “This system isn’t all that powerful, but we can still kick it up a few notches and see what happens. If we really wanted some juice, we could pump the signal through a subspace relay.”
Xiong shrugged. “Got any of those lying around?”
“Sure,” Davis replied, “but they weigh about four hundred kilos and are around the size of a photon torpedo. Bring two, if you’re going.” Holding up a finger as though arriving at another idea, he said, “On the other hand, if we reroute through the Lovell’s communications array, that would almost certainly be more than enough power to get the job done.”
“And it would violate the isolation protocols,” Xiong countered. “I’m not ready to take that kind of risk just yet.”