“Sure. But, Captain, the closer the probe gets, the more its signal will be subtended and distorted by gravity. I’m not sure how accurate the signal will be.”
“Understood.” Garrett punched a channel for engineering. “Mr. Kodell.”
“Here, Captain.”
“We’re heading deeper into the nebula. There may be a ship in trouble out there. How long can we stay before we get into trouble ourselves?” “Depends. With shields at maximum, and us doing nothing but looking, probably three hours, maybe four. But if you have to expend more energy in a rescue—using the tractor beams, for example—then it depends on how far for how long. The bigger the ship, the more we’ll cut into our energy reserves. We won’t even talk about the engines.”
“No, let’s not. If we find a ship, can we use transporters instead?”
“If we can get close enough, maybe. There’s a lot of interference. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be the one caught in a transporter beam trying to get from Ato B.”
“Understood.” Garrett toggled off. “Castillo, you ready?”
“Absolutely, Captain. Course?”
“That depends on Commander Bat-Levi.” Garrett turned her chair to face her acting XO. “Anything?”
“Yes, Captain.” Bat-Levi ineffectually brushed at her hair then seemed to give it up. “Routing information to the helm now.”
“All right, Mr. Castillo, take the probe in, match course and speed to maintain a distance of 6,000 kilometers between the probe and us. Take the probe in at 1,000-kilometer increments, nice and slow. Find me a ship, if there is one.”
After thirty minutes, Bulast sang out, “Proximity alarm! I’ve got something, Captain!”
Garrett came out of her slouch. “On speaker.”
A moment later, the bridge was awash with the sizzle of static. No one spoke. Garrett listened intently, closing her eyes to block out extraneous stimulation. “I don’t hear anything.”
Bulast put up a cautionary finger. “Wait. Let me filter the high end.”
He did and, an instant later, Garrett heard it: a steady pip, like the blipping of an ancient oscilloscope.
“Sounds like a distress beacon,” said Castillo.
“But not Starfleet,” said Garrett. “Bulast?”
“Matching beacon now with known Federation registry.” He shook his head. “Not one of ours.”
“But it’s somebody,” said Bat-Levi.
“Or was,” said Garrett. “Anything remotely resembling a ship out there?”
“Scanning, Captain. Negative. Nothing that looks like a ship, or even pieces of one.”
“Too far away,” said Glemoor, more to himself than Garrett. Before she could ask, he said, “It’s too far away, Captain. We found evidence of a warp core much further away. So how did the beacon get here, closerto us?”
“Maybe they launched it before they ejected the core,” said Castillo.
Garrett shook her head. “That’s not what I would do. Glemoor’s right. Too much distance. You don’t send out a distress call beforeyou have an emergency.”
“Unless they were in distress before they had to jettison the core,” said Bat-Levi. “Maybe they were under attack, like Castillo said.”
Garrett drummed the fingers of right hand on the arm of her command chair. “Then why not send out a general distress call beforeyou go into the nebula? With all this interference, it’d be a miracle for anyone to pick up the signal. Wedidn’t, and we were sitting right on the edge. No, we’re missing something. Castillo, where is that beacon? How distant?”
“Six thousand,” said Castillo, and stopped.
“Mr. Castillo?”
“One moment, Captain,” said Castillo. His fingers recalibrated his instruments. “Captain, it was6,000 kilometers distant from the probe.”
“Was? It’s falling toward the black hole?”
“No, ma’am.” A queer half-smile played over Castillo’s lips. “Reading five-nine-eight-nine kilometers. Eight-six. Eight- three.”
“Moving closer,”said Bat-Levi. “But how…?”
“I know,” Castillo blurted out. He colored as all eyes turned toward him.
“What?”said Garrett impatiently.
Castillo jerked his head in a quick nod. “Captain, if you found traces of warp core near the black hole, how did the beacon get way out here? Granted, the beacon probably had enough speed to go some distance, but it’s got limited fuel. So there’s no way a beacon could get far enough away notto end up falling backtoward the event horizon. But this beacon’s not even close,it’s at a right angleto the event horizon, and it’s getting closer.The only way that can happen is if something pushedit here and…”
“And something’s stillpushing it.” Bat-Levi’s eyes went round. “He’s right.”
At the same time, Garrett knew what it was she’d sensed before but not been able to put words to. “Of course! It’s riding on a jet of ionized plasma, on one of those Herbig-Haros! The beacon’s moving awayfrom the black hole because it was launched whilethe ship rode a jet. If I’d lost my engines, or only had impulse power, that’s what I would do. Ride the jet like a hawk on a thermal.”
“That has to be it, Captain,” said Glemoor. “Whoever was here… ishere understood that the only way to avoid being sucked past the event horizon would be if he could ride a jet of ionized plasma, and that’s why the beacon is moving at a right angle to the black hole.”
“But where’s the ship?” asked Bat-Levi.
Glemoor pulled at a frill. “Captain, we extrapolated this course on the basis of following the gravitational collapse of gas globules back into those protostars. Now, those globules are very dense, and that’s why they’re falling back. Well, a shipis much denser than a beacon, so…”
“So they’re falling back in,” said Garrett. “Not toward the black hole but right into a protostar. They won’t be crushed. They’ll burn up.”
“Presuming they haven’t already,” said Glemoor.
“Anything on long-range sensors?”
Glemoor consulted his instruments. “Possibly, Captain. A moment,” Glemoor’s slender fingers moved to coax a better resolution from the ship’s long-range sensors. “I think there’s something, Captain. Deeper in the nebula.”
“Is it a ship?”
Glemoor hesitated then shook his head. “Impossible to say, Captain. There’s too much interference. It is, however, moving away from us.”
“Falling back,” murmured Bat-Levi.
“Not if we can help it,” said Garrett. Her mind darted over the possibilities, though she knew there was, in the end, only one decision she could make.
“Bat-Levi, contact sickbay. Inform Dr. Stern to prepare to receive casualties. Then let Mr. Kodell know we’re likely to need all the power he can spare to the shields. All right, Mr. Castillo, plot a course for those sensor ghosts, best guess.”
“Aye, Captain. I’ll extrapolate back from the distress beacon…course plotted and laid in.”
“Go.” Garrett’s hands clutched the arms of her command chair. “Mr. Bulast, continuous hails.”
“You’ve got them, Captain.”
And now we wait.Garrett tried to think of anything she’d forgotten, and decided that she’d done everything she could. Whatever happened next depended upon time and luck. Mainly luck.
At his station, alongside Castillo, Glemoor drew in a sharp breath of surprise.
Garrett was instantly alert. “Glemoor?”
“I think I’ve got them, Captain.” The Naxeran’s normally calm voice was tight with tension.
Garrett was out of her chair and by Glemoor’s side in an instant. “A ship?” “Yes. She’s in a jet all right. The problem is all that ionized plasma makes sensor readings unreliable. Boosting power to the sensors.”
Garrett held her breath while Glemoor worked. She felt the muscles along her spine jump with anxiety. She didn’t want to prod, then did. “Well?”
Glemoor’s voice had reclaimed its calm, even tone. “In a moment, Captain. Yes, here. From the size and configuration, I would say that this is a small transport vessel, large enough to accommodate forty, or perhaps fifty crew. I detect no activity consistent with engine function, though there isevidence of warp coolant.”