It was an assignment Xiong had accepted with no small measure of uncertainty, given the need to return to the scene of so much wanton violence and death. Shouted orders and cries for help, phaser fire, and the strange tingling that irritated his exposed skin every time he looked up in muted horror to see the approach of the…

“Ming?” A calm voice intruded on his tortured thoughts. “Ming? Anybody home in there?”

Blinking rapidly as his mind returned to the present and the matter at hand, Xiong looked up from his tabletop scanner to see Lieutenant Mahmud al-Khaled, wearing a Starfleet-issue dark blue parka with the hood pushed back and regarding him with an expression of confusion and concern.

“Yes, of course,” Xiong replied, offering what he hoped would appear as a nod of reassurance to the other man.

An engineer and leader of the Corps of Engineers team assigned to the Lovell,al-Khaled already had proven himself months ago, when he and his crew of engineers had visited Vanguard with the task of resolving the rash of unexplained technical issues plaguing Starbase 47’s onboard systems in the weeks leading up to its coming into service. Indeed, it was al-Khaled who led the effort to identify the source of the problems, and now the young engineer was assisting here in the control chamber, where his skill and talents hopefully would aid Xiong in carrying out their latest demanding assignment.

“This place is incredible,” al-Khaled said, running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair, which Xiong noted appeared to be slightly longer than Starfleet regulations typically allowed. With a wave of his right hand the engineer indicated one wall with its banks of consoles that according to Xiong’s tests had lain idle for millennia. “No metal or plastic composites, just polycrystalline lattices fused together in specific configurations. What did you make of this during your initial investigations?”

Xiong said, “My first theory is that it must be organic. I’ve found no other means of explaining the construction method used here.”

Unzipping his parka, al-Khaled shrugged. “I’m no geologist, but it seems to me that the only way this sort of crystalline configuration could route power is in a manner similar to the way light is channeled through a prism; refracting across the various interior surfaces from its origin point until it reaches its destination.”

“Or perhaps something akin to electrical impulses moving through our brains,” Xiong offered.

Al-Khaled frowned. “You’re suggesting this material is sentient?”

“Not at all,” Xiong replied. “Only that it possesses some degree of biological components, though of course it would have to be a form of life we’ve not yet encountered. Perhaps a biomechanical combination? Living cells fused within a crystalline structure?” Releasing a frustrated sigh, the lieutenant added, “Of course, it’s just a theory.”

“Well,” al-Khaled said as he shook his head, “it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before, believe me.”

Of course you haven’t,Xiong thought, just as you’ve probably never taken a xenobiology course to study Tholians. If you only knew what I knew…

Once again, Xiong felt the weight of secrecy pressing down upon his shoulders, the supposed need for security preventing him from sharing all of his knowledge with al-Khaled. As always, he was baffled by Starfleet’s reluctance to engage its brightest minds—such as those belonging to al-Khaled here as well as to any number of scientists and engineers scattered throughout the Federation—in a bid to piece together the puzzle harbored by this region of the galaxy.

Instead, he could only sit and hold his tongue, listening as al-Khaled spoke aloud many of the same thoughts, ideas, and theories Xiong himself had put forth during the first days of his investigation, hoping that even without the assistance and information Starfleet already had accumulated here, the engineer might through his own skill and perspective provide some fresh avenue of insight, a new way of approaching the seemingly inexhaustible list of questions Xiong’s own efforts continued to accumulate.

“So,” Xiong said after a moment, “any ideas on how to interface our equipment?” He suspected he might be able to anticipate al-Khaled’s answer, given his team’s previous attempts.

Confirming his suspicions, the engineer replied, “We might try fitting a portable generator with a dynamic mode converter. Adjusting the converter’s polarity to account for the lack of a physical conduit with which to connect might give us an idea of how power flows through these circuits.” Frowning, he added, “If that’s what you want to call them, that is.”

Xiong nodded, pretending he was hearing the notion for the first time instead of already having seen the idea tested and proven successful several times. “Worth a shot, I suppose, though I have to wonder how effective it would be. We might be able to stimulate some of these…circuits…but I can’t see how that would give us any real interface to the technology.”

“It won’t,” al-Khaled replied as he moved back to the table where he had been working alongside Xiong. “It’d be like pressing our foreheads to a console aboard ship and trying to access the library computer through the electrical impulses in our minds. We’re not compatible.” He tapped his fingers atop the table, considering the problem for a moment. “What we’re missing is a piece of connective technology to bridge the gap between equipment and user.”

Xiong found himself impressed with the engineer’s capacity for deductive reasoning. For the past several days he had deliberated the theory that a form of biometric “key” might be required in order to gain access to the storehouse of ancient technology. Considering the sensor readings recorded by the Endeavourduring the previous incident here and factoring those readings in with the remarkable discovery made by Dr. Fisher during his examination of Xiong’s ill-fated friend Bohanon, the lieutenant now believed that the meta-genome almost certainly had to be a crucial component of such an interface.

Bioneural impulses channeled through a complex polycrystalline lattice,he mused. Makes the Tholian connection all that much more interesting, doesn’t it?

The discovery by Dr. Gek and his team that the subterranean power signatures detected both on Erilon and Palgrenax bore a distant and all-but-indistinguishable similarity to Tholian technology had thrown a spanner into the research data collected by Xiong and the Erilon research team. Such a parallel, no matter how superficial, brought with it the potential for a staggering change in the way he—and Starfleet—viewed their approach to learning the truth about the Taurus Reach.

That the enigma of the genome might somehow play a part in acquiring the means to understand this place and all it harbored was a hypothesis Xiong had shared with no one. Listening to al-Khaled begin to formulate a similar theory—a task he could never complete without possession of the knowledge he was denied thanks to the secrecy enveloping the meta-genome’s very existence—only added credence to his belief that there must be some substance to his own conjecture.

“Mahmud,” Xiong said, choosing his words with care, “we know it’s possible for a living organism to generate neural impulses that an artificial construct can interpret and react to. We have prosthetic limbs, devices to aid with visual impairments, and so on.” He indicated the row of inert control consoles along the chamber’s far wall. “What kind of connection would be required in order to tie into equipment like this?”

Al-Khaled rubbed his chin as he pondered the question. “Something akin to a keypad or even a fingerprint or retinal scan. A bioneural interface of some sort.”

“What if the artificial and biological components were bonded at the genetic level?” Xiong suggested.