“It will be difficult to do that if we’re hit by another pulse,” said Ra-Havreii.

  “You think that’s likely?” said Riker.

  “Though I’ve never heard of an occurrence on this scale, quantum disruptions are common with primitive warp devices, Captain,” said Ra-Havreii. “Whoever is using such low-end technology almost certainly has no idea of its grander effect. Thus they have no reason to stop.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so sure that the pulse was caused by sentients,” said Troi. “I’m not sensing anything in this area outside of Titan’s crew.”

  “If you’ll allow us, ma’am,” said a low voice from behind them. “I think we can answer that.”

  Everyone’s head turned toward the two ensigns who had been standing nearby, apparently awaiting the opportunity to speak.

  “For those of you who are unfamiliar with them,” Riker said, “these are Ensigns Loolooa Tareshini and Y’lira Modan. It seems, while all of us were trying to keep the ship in one piece, the ensigns found our culprits.”

  “Well,” said Modan, stepping forward, her partner now obviously a little too nervous to go on. “We found their footprints at least.” Her thick braids shifted ever so slightly as her gaze swiveled between the faces of her superiors.

  “Footprints?” said Ree. “What does that mean?”

  “We’re cryptolinguists,” said Tareshini, chiming in again. “Whenever Titanencounters anything that could be classified as a signal of sentient origin, all relevant data is automatically cross-linked with our work stations.”

  “Signal of sentient origin,” Jaza repeated. “By that I take it you mean something other than the Starfleet signal we were investigating.”

  “No, sir,” said Tareshini nervously. “I mean, yes, sir. But there’s more. A lot more.”

  “The Starfleet signal was affected by the same distortion that we understand corrupted your mapping of Occultus Ora,” said Modan. Jaza looked about to interject something but instead leaned back in his seat, letting the younger woman go on. “You were so occupied trying to salvage the damage caused by the quantum ripples, you didn’t give the ripples themselves more than a cursory look. We did.”

  “What prompted you to look at all?” said Ra-Havreii.

  “Candidly, sir, we didn’t know what we were seeing,” said Tareshini. “The computer kept informing us of a pattern being present, but it took us all this time to isolate it. And, of course, the pulse didn’t help.”

  “And what is that pattern, Ensign?” said Tuvok. He had left off his note taking and had fixed Tareshini with that penetrating stare for which his people were famous.

  “Each of the quantum ripples contains signal information,” said Tareshini. “This information corresponds to the same sort of signal bleed we’d detect from broadcasts coming off a planetary civilization with class K technological development or better.”

  “But the quantum rippling is just an aftereffect,” said Jaza. “Like waves in a pond after a stone drops in.”

  “Nonetheless, sir,” said the Antarean ensign, clearly excited. “I found what has to be months, perhaps years, of broadcast signal bleed-informational communications, some sort of dramatic entertainment, sports contests-all compressed and recompressed so many times they initially came across as static.”

  “How is that possible?” said Jaza.

  “We don’t know, sir,” said Modan. “Our mйtier is linguistics, code-breaking, not physics.”

  “This certainly adds weight to the theory that the pulse was created by sentients,” said Riker. “If we can find these people, we might be able to convince them to stop whatever it is they’re doing that’s causing this.”

  “At least until we make repairs and locate Charon,” said Vale. “I’d settle for that.”

  It was clear from the electric silence that descended upon the party that more than a few of those present agreed with the XO, though Troi cautioned against too much optimism. There were still a great many unknowns to account for, any one of which could pull the rug out from under them.

  “After all, we have no idea as yet who these people are,” she said. “Or how they may respond to an alien first contact.”

  “Well,” said the captain. “Let’s hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

  “In other words,” said Vale, forcing her face into a plastic grin, “standard operating procedure.”

  “Well put, Number One,” said Riker.

  For a moment, the frictions that had been burning the life out of the room regressed to a simple simmer.

  Captain Riker, grateful for the momentary sea change, sailed forward, tasking his people with providing him with as many options as they could in as short a time as possible.

  The cryptolinguists’ information had to be catalogued and translated. The mystery civilization had to be found, understood, and contacted.

   Titanwas almost completely dead in space, and though she seemed to have ridden out the worst of the pulse effect, it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere. There were hours of hard work ahead on that score, if not days.

  Their duties set, the officers fairly scrambled to get to work, leaving Vale alone.

  “That was enlightening,” said a scratchy, high-pitched voice, apparently from nowhere. “And this was a much better plan than hiding me in a satchel.”

  “You heard all of it then,” said Vale.

  “With ears this size?” said Huilan, climbing out from where he’d concealed himself beneath the table. “Most definitely.”

  “And?”

  “And,” said the little S’ti’ach, scrambling up into what had been Troi’s chair. “I think you’re right about them all.” Vale knew it was only an illusion created by the natural structure of his face, but Huilan’s perpetual smile softened her mood somewhat.

  “So, I’m right that the command staff is on the verge of a complete meltdown,” said Vale. “Great.”

  “But the pigment in your hair smells lovely,” said Huilan. “Take comfort in that.”

  Hours crept along like weeks as the crew split their time between repairing as much of Titanas they could and ferreting out the location of the mystery aliens deemed responsible for their predicament.

  The warp core gave the engineers fits, refusing to initialize despite their most creative efforts. Titan’s sensor nets, ironically the most durable of the state-of-the-art systems, were back online, their operators trying furiously to penetrate the soup of exotic particles that held the ship in the subatomic equivalent of a tar pit.

  As more of the mystery signals were tagged and deciphered, Troi spent increasing time shuttling between Tuvok and Jaza’s coordinated effort to pinpoint the broadcast source and Ensign Modan’s station in the linguistics lab.

  If nothing else, Vale was grateful that their predicament had forced Troi squarely into her role as diplomatic officer, leaving Counselors Huilan and Pral glasch Haaj to manage the emotional well-being of the crew.

  Ra-Havreii remained a problem, but no longer a serious one. Once Riker had spelled out in no uncertain terms precisely how little leeway the engineer had when it came to upgrading versus repairing, the chief engineer had beat a polite but clear retreat back to his quarters.

  Under normal circumstances Vale would have forced him back onto the floor with the rest of his people. Yet, somehow, in spite of his self-imposed mini-exile, Ra-Havreii managed to stay on top of the repair schedule, disseminating the necessary orders and recommendations via the comms. Department heads-particularly chief engineers-were afforded a degree of latitude in how they ran things in their corners of a starship. The Efrosian’s tendency to ruffle feathers notwithstanding, Vale had to concede that he was getting the job done.

  The impulse engines, while still unable to shift Titanmore than a few thousand kilometers in any direction, managed to remain a point or two above the red zone.