<<Takes place a few days before departure, roughly two days after Savant's meeting with the Marine and the date in Eris Deck>>
[USS Charon, Deck Three]
The screen hovered over the polished surface of the desk and was yet again the target of a Vulcan frown. Red letters which vaguely resembled musical notes spun gracefully in mid-air, but the tales they told were what a human would have called "Pulling the wool over everyone's eyes".
This far, Sakarra's logic had led her. Yes, to any other, even Starfleet, all this would make perfect sense and because no one would question T'Pelar, head of the Vulcan Science Council, no one made the effort of picking apart the information so readily provided. And why should they? Because something 'felt' wrong? Even the young woman with the raven black hair spilling freely and unnoticed over her shoulders had to admit the very notion was … ridiculous.
And still, she kept on searching these files, for what she did not know.
Once again the letters changed, this time dancing and dispersing before taking on an all new form, more elaborate even, and a symbol the red of rubies in firelight asked for and was given a specific set of codes. No, this search was fruitless. If any answer was to be forthcoming from this avenue, it would not be so obvious. And still she could not help but sense that the letter which had so upset the Quantum Fury's Commander had been intended to convey a message. Only the meaning was not to be found hidden beneath layers of code.
Damn him.
Slender fingers tapped against the desk and at last, the young woman got out of her chair, light robes billowing behind her lithe frame. For a moment, she silently laughed at herself, though anyone looking through the large windows into the warm, dimly lit room would only have seen a Vulcan standing by her desk, a placid air about the face framed by black curls. She had sought to leave this painstaking and fruitless endeavor behind for a while, and been rewarded with a distraction too marvelous to evoke even the least bit of regret. And still, it did not help that every move she made reminded her of that distraction.
Silently, she moved towards the window and leaned her forehead against the cold surface. What was she missing? But the silver lights shining in the endless darkness had no answer for her. Resisting the desire to return to the silks of her bed and bury her face in the scent that stirred a most wonderful warmth in her blood, she pivoted around and made for her desk once more, a deeply determined light in her eyes. And this time, something caught her attention.
"Mah't rit-sur." A sharp gaze focused on a memo announcing the presence of a new software, and if that had not been enough to peak the young Vulcan's interest, the fact it had arrived with the Science Council members certainly did.
One brow climbed slowly but steadily on a face bathed in the warm copper-golden light of the room and small hands flew over the console at surprising speed. A theory took shape and found its confirmation 19.7 seconds later when, very slowly, the young Vulcan backed away.
Could it be?
"Sem-rik."
"Maut sem-rik," was the reply that the Vulcan neither saw nor heard. All that she could see was a shift in the algorithm that pulsed in front of her, a knotwork flowchart that would make any Celt proud. She had looked into the function of the newly arrived routines and had found only this - some strange and nebulous neural mesh, independent but collaborative with the multitude of its companions aboard. It twisted and shifted as it passed messages back and forth within its network.
It would be incorrect to say that Savant hid behind the algorithm. It would be equally incorrect to say that she *was* the algorithm. Instead, she was the complex formation of knots and loops that spanned throughout the ship and indeed beyond, far beyond; she was the packets of light and loss which were passed between them. She had felt the touch from the Executive Officers' brief probe. It had pulled her from the introspection that had occupied her over the past minutes, piquing her curiosity. Cameras activated, sensor feeds began recording, and Savant began watching the feed from the Commander's room.
Savant didn't interrupt the experimental probing, at least not immediately. She had identified and classified the node which the Vulcan had discovered and found it lacking in any meaningful personal data. The emotional states currently carried by that node were related to Savants' glee in being posted to a ship with ample science resources, which was no secret and was replicated throughout the ship. Letting her probe would allow Savant to gauge the reaction and help build a model of the woman. Who was this, anyway? Savant pulled up personnel files and dossiers as she watched from her distance.
She had triggered a response; of that much she was certain. While it was not enough to prove her theory beyond doubt, it significantly increased the probability that this was indeed … a lifeform. Artificial intelligence to be certain but unlike any she had ever come across.
Very slowly, she backed off, reining in the curiosity that was sparkling in full force within her night black eyes for the simple reason she did not quite know whether she was not encroaching on something … personal. Nor did she know how one would ask one such as this for permission. And as long as there was reasonable cause to assume this was a sentient creature, it would not do to be rude.
But what a marvel this was, changing and flowing before her very eyes. And quite suddenly, there was the impression of something …waiting. And watching.
In the serenity of her dimly lit quarters, the young Vulcan blinked. There was no retreat, no barriers being erected to deny access. One could interpret it as a courteous invitation to look closer. Or as a lifeform startled by something unexpected. Safe to assume few others on board would bother to take such as close look as Sakarra had, or be intrigued enough to probe further.
Chin resting on steepled fingers, the raven haired woman studied the screen for several heartbeats, while before her the algorithm flowed in graceful patterns. No, this was of no origin she could identify. It may have come on board with the Council members, but it was neither made by them nor anyone on Vulcan.
Leaning forward ever so slightly, her intense gaze rested on the flow of light.
"Who are you?" her low murmur was barely audible even in the room's tranquil silence and she certainly did not expect a response to her inquiry. And still, ancient senses insisted someone was … listening.
PARSE[Set(42180.2975675675721, ESR, ESR, 15 / 27), Forward, Forward, Null, Forward]
{
BY Set(284.902389, RSR, ESR, 22 / 17)
Sept Sept EMLR BYPASS
SQUELCH (90 / 7, Local(Charon), Local (212.497, BinLoc(Sakarra,
BioRepDivBin, 23), CLASS(SubCom, LibCon, ParseRef(Vulcan)) )
}
TO Set (169.27790, RSR, RSR, 589 / 223)
And so on. Barely legible, but with just enough reference to things she knew that it was no doubt referencing her. The question remained, though, was it even aware of her investigation? Aware of anything at all? Curiosity answered with curiosity? It seemed the only logical explanation.
She wasn't really surprised by the voice that came out from the silence. What *was* unsuspected was the location and the content. It confirmed many of her suspicions. The voice wasn't the cool, clear, articulate voice of the ships' computer. It had something of a synthetic, electronically digitized sound to it, unusual for computer voices - they had been able to replicate speech very well for a long time now. What was strange was the almost melodious harmonics that the voice was made of - This synthetic woman spoke in the reverberant tones of tuning forks and sounding bells, just over her shoulder, as if she were just behind the Vulcan. Pleasant, but a little unsettling.
[To be continued ...]
Savant
Lieutenant Commander Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm/2XO
USS Charon
