Time it with a beat, choo, choo choo…”
All they needed was someone jumping a pew, Garcia thought. This was a happening place, a revival
unparallel since the invention of tents. The audience was clapping along. Niki danced as she played the
guitar.
“There are dog days ahead, when the power goes dead, when the oil runs dry, what can we try?” “We can use the sunlight” Niki offered in song.
“But it don’t shine at night,” Afu returned to her.
And they agreed to share, “Nuclear fission leaves a nasty emission.”
“Soon the pistons will be humming steam will have a second coming, woo, woo woo! See the light,
see the light, see the light, see the light at the end of the tunnel ohhhhhh,” Afu held the note out longer than
anyone expected him to as the chorus went divergent on their own parts. “Let the water boil, say goodbye to
oil. At the end of the tunnel is a light.” Afu nailed it.
Garcia took a moment to save the recording he had just made intending to review it later on. Nikita
put the guitar in the cradle and hugged Afu. “That was awesome,” Nikita said.
“I have a good band,” Afu said.
“Since we’re still twentieth century, why don’t we do a Partridge Family Song,” Nikita requested. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Brittany said, looked at Garcia, and then added, pretending to be
pleased, “Because that would be so awesome.”
Nikita jumped, clapping, and then hugged Brittany. She retrieved the guitar and began playing “I
Think I Love You,” by the Partridge Family, never once wondering who was calling up the music on all the
PADDS that the band referred to for their scores. In an attempt to be humorous, she gave it more of an edge,
as if it had been remade by Guns and Roses. She screamed with delight at the conclusion and winked at
Garcia.
“Your turn, Tam,” Nikita said.
“Five O’Clock World, by the Voques,” Garcia requested, and the words came up for them. “Your
turn, Nikita,” Garcia threw the ball back to her.
“Sunshine, Paul Westerberg’s version.” They sang it.
Jody Newell made a request. “Know any Cat Stevens songs?” “Yes,” Nikita said, and strummed the
guitar playfully. “How about ‘Oh Very Young?’”
Garcia nodded approval, picking up a Banjo. They followed the selection with three other Cat
Stevens’s song: “Trouble,” “Don’t Be Shy,” and “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out.” The latter Garcia sang
with Nikita in harmony. Nikita moved to a place beyond happiness, her eyes moist.
“Let’s make this next one the last number for the day,” Garcia said, feeling strangely tired. Ilona and
Duana had been singing along, and dancing. It did make the music more enriching for him, since he could
hear their harmonies, but it was also a bit draining. McCoy was in the audience, apparently enjoying the
music as well. He was sitting in the empty seat next to Nancy Carter, along with Troi and Lal. Nikita protested a little, but she quit the moment Garcia gave her a look that suggested don’t do that.
“Can I pick it?” she asked.
“Sure,” Garcia said. No one in the band would have protested since this was more for Nikita than for
any of them.
Nikita closed her eyes to think of a song that she had always wanted to perform, remembering her
daydreams where she and Garcia were in a band, just like now. Garcia was known for his affinity towards
retro and had spent thousands of hours listening to music that was on his influence list. “Dreams, by the
Cranberries,” she said, and started playing her guitar before the band even had their music cued up. They all
caught up to speed before she started the vocal. “Oh, my life is changing everyday, every possible way. Oh,
my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems, never quite as it seems. I know I’ve felt like this before. But now I’m
feeling it even more, because it came from you. And then I open up and see. The person falling here is me.
A different way to be.”
Nikita danced, playing, singing notes without words. She danced around Garcia, playing flirtatiously.
He blushed slightly, feeling the heat in his cheeks. Tatiana seemed amused by Garcia discomfort. “I want more. Impossible to ignore. Impossible to ignore. And they’ll come true. Impossible not to
do. Impossible as it seems. And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don’t hurt me. You’re what I
couldn’t find, a totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind. You’re everything to me. Oh my life, it’s
changing every day, in every possible way. It’s never quite as it seem. Cause you are a dream to me.” Everyone applauded as Garcia motioned to the star, Nikita, and then the rest of the band. He then
started putting the instruments away as the band and audience, the crew, mixed, discussing and chatting about
the event. Everyone in the band gave Niki a hug. After Tatiana hugged and complimented Niki, she joined
Garcia in the stowing of the instruments.
“How is it you know so much about twentieth century music,” Tatiana asked.
“My birth mother,” Garcia said, taking the flute apart and cleaning it before stowing it back in its case.
“Most of it I got viacariously through her, still prenatal. The Kelvan had raised her in a mock up of America
late 90’s to develop a particular minds set and paradigm for her. By controlling the way she thought, they had
hoped to better control the way I would think.”
“Brain washing?” Tataina asked.
“Yes,” Garcia said. He closed the flute and watched Niki as she was talking to her music instructor.
“The kind of techniques used either result in complete compliance or complete rebellion.” “And, so you became the rebel,” Tatiana said.
“Why would you say that?” Garcia asked, feigning hurt.
They both heard Niki laugh, causing them both to look over to see Afu clowning around with her. Her
mom was there and so was Lenar, but Niki was definitely the center of attention.
“She’s pretty good,” Tatiana said. “This is a good thing you’ve done, Tam.”
“She’s the only kid on the ship,” Garcia said, trying to dismiss the complement. “Everyone has a job
and something to do but her.”
Tatiana turned back to him. “You don’t acknowledge that this is a good thing for her? That she’ll
remember these days for the rest of her life and it’s because of you?”
Garcia took a moment to read Tatiana’s eyes. He nodded. “It’s a very good thing. She’s very talented,
as are you. I may have facilitated this, but it was all of you that made it happen so well. All of us.” Niki skipped up to them. “I’m sorry, do you need some help?”
“Sure, Niki,” Tatiana said, roughing Nikita’s hair. “Why don’t you gather up the mic stands. The
mics go in that box there, and drops in the cubby hole there.”
Niki joyously complied.
“If only you could harness that to drive a spaceship,” Tatiana said. She shook her head, remembering
moments from her childhood that were equally happy. “Will you be joining us for dinner, Tam?” “Not tonight,” Garcia said.
Nancy Carter came out of no-where and greeted Garcia with a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank
you, so much.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The days passed with routine work, studying the Iotian tapes, frustrating counseling sessions, music
lessons for Nikita Carter, technical work on the HROV, improvisational band playing to a now full
auditorium, and an occasional sparring match with Tatiana. Captain Munoz grew more and more annoyed by
the illusive Ferengi ship Oman, which had not returned to pick up Brock and return their Officer. The
Ferengi, Brock, did take several calls from the Oman, but no one knew that DaiMon Tolro had given Brock
specific orders not to come back without a contract. Munoz was not pleased when she finally discovered that
Brock’s only reason for being on her ship was to negotiate a deal with Garcia, allowing them to have
distribution rights to his music over the Ferengi Alliance Network. The Captain’s prerogative was to have
Garcia simply sign it over to them, but it was not something she could ask, ethically or legally. By the time
they dropped out of warp near Iotian space, they were all relieved for the change in pace, but still a little on
edge for being cooped up for so long. Perhaps a holodeck upgrade wasn’t such a bad idea after all, she
considered to herself. Thank god for the music.
The USS Philadelphia Freedom dropped out of warp approximately nine point three million miles from
the Iotian sun and began taking scans. The ship rested on the boundary between interstellar space and Ioitan
space, as described by their sun’s solar wind. They began an intensive scan of the system. “No sign of the USS Minnesota,” Owens announced. “Possible debris halo around Ioitan prime is of
sufficient mass, with the right material composition, to suggest it could be what we’re looking for.” “Mr. Anson?” Munoz asked.
“I agree with Owens, but reserve my opinion till I have examined some of debris up close,” Anson
said.
“I’ll give you that inspection soon enough, but for now, speculate,” Captain Munoz said. “The debris field and material composition is consistent with what we would find if a Starship’s warp
core collapsed,” Anson said. “I do not care to speculate as to what might have caused that collapse at this
time.”
From the Com/Ops station, Garcia had been recording live Iotian broadcasts since their arrival in Iotian
space. He found the use of the word, “live,” ironic, since the radio waves he was recording would have been
transmitted roughly seventy-six hours ago to have reached this point in space. That was factoring in Iotia
prime’s current position in its orbit to where Freedom was about to enter the solar system. An energy spike in the gamma frequencies drew Garcia’s attention, but by the time he had adjusted his
monitoring equipment, the energy signature was gone. It could have been anything from just a rogue energy
wave, a single gamma particle hitting one of the sensors directly, to just normal space back ground noise.
Still, he ran through the list identifying all the radio signals in the system. Both gas giants produced radio
signatures. All gas giants have unique radio wave signatures, a finger print if you will that allowed space
travelers to navigate and made space a very interesting place to listen to. He compared it to the old days when
sailors listened to the songs of whales, amplified by their sailing vessels. Sailing vessels were as good at
amplifying whale songs in the same way that the acoustical properties of an acoustical guitar amplified the
sound of the strings.
There was another spike in the gamma range and Garcia redirected a minimal amount of sensors to
focus on a nearby object. Sensors described the object as a comet. He pulled up a visual image. It looked like
a comet. He did a chemical composition and the computer alerted him to an anomaly. The mineral
composition of the comet did not match the signature mineral composition for items originating in the Iotian
system. For every solar system, there was a reasonably consistent trace mineral finger print, going back to the
initial stirring of matter before it became a star system. A comet or meteor that came from outside the solar
system would most probably have a different finger print, or chemical composition.
“Prepare to take us in,” Captain Munoz told the helm.
“Captain,” Garcia interrupted. “I found something interesting. May I have a moment?” Captain Munoz turned her chair to Garcia and looked up at his screen.
“Comet watching?” Munoz asked.
“I noticed an intermittent spike in the gamma frequencies, and I think it came from this comet,” Garcia
said. “I did a standard scan and the computer reported an anomaly.”
“Indeed,” the science officer confirmed. “The comet did not originate in this system.” “What’s so unusual about that,” Captain Munoz asked. “There are stray comets all over the place.
Stars fling old ones off and pick new ones up all the time.”
“I understand that, Captain, but there are two unusual things about Garcia’s comet. One, I am unable
to scan the interior of the comet, and two, the outer composition of ice and trace elements is an exact match
for material for the Earth’s solar system,” Anson said.
“This comet came from the Sol system?” Munoz asked. “What are the odds of that?” “Astronomically against it,” Garcia offered. “However, if we assume that life on earth was originally
seeded by a passing comet, as the leading theorists have proposed, then it would explain how it might be
possible that the Ioitan’s have had a similar biological evolution to that of Earth’s. They were seeded by the
same comet.”
“I’m more willing to buy that than your alien abduction theory,” Munoz said.
Owens stepped a little closer to Garcia’s screen. “Is that metal sticking out of the comet?” “On main viewer, magnify,” Munoz ordered, and turned her chair to face the screen. She stood up. “That,” said the Chief Engineer, “Looks like the tail end of a warp engine nacelle.” “Helm, take us in closer,” Munoz said. “Two hundred KPH. Bring us to within fifty meters and give
us some illumination. Anson, are you telling me you still can’t scan that.”
“The comet is resistant to all scans,” Anson said.
“Captain, may I try something?” Garcia asked.
Captain Munoz looked to Garcia. “Clarify.”
“I believe it may be possible to simulate the dolphin’s ability of echolocation,” Garcia said. “If I were
to send a pulse of energy at the comet, I might be able to induce a harmonic resonance. I can then use the feed
back to generate a three dimensional map of the comets interior.”
Captain Munoz looked to her Science Officer. He did not look happy. “In theory,” he finally
conceded. “It could work.”
“Give it a shot,” Captain Munoz said.
Garcia pushed one button and a laser was emitted from the forward section of the ship. Captain
Munoz looked to Garcia for an explanation for how he had been so prepared to do this trick. “When Anson announced that we are unable to scan the comet, I began formulating this procedure,
hoping to provide you with an alternative option,” Garcia said, all the while adjusting the frequency of the
laser emission by tapping on his panel. The station’s speaker offered a sound that rose in pitch, correlating to
a blue shift from red in the laser’s light. That was Garcia’s audio cue to confirm his activity while he spoke to
the Captain.
“Thank you, Ensign,” Munoz said.
“Got it,” Ensign Garcia announced. “It’s only a partial map, but sufficient to give you an idea of what
we found. Computer, color code the variations in details, and look for a match from our ship’s library. Over
lap this graphic with the image on the main screen.”
There was a limited picture of the ship, for the deeper it went into the comet the hazier the image
became until it finally gave way to nothing. But it was enough to reveal the answer to a mystery and raise a
multitude of new questions.
“The Horizon!” Captain Munoz said, astonished. After all these years, they finally found it. “More than likely,” Lt. Anson said. “It does appear to be an NX class ship, and that class was
decommissioned in 2161…”
“I know my history, thank you,” Captain Munoz said. “I want to see my senior Officers in the
Conference room. Nice work, Garcia. Also, page Lt. Carter to join us.”
They reconvened in the conference room and began talking about the find. Nancy Carter slipped into
the room as they were going over the stats of the Horizon, and discussing the possibilities. “I’d like to volunteer to go on board the Horizon,” Lt. Sutton said.
“Jared, I need you here. I will need your expertise in trying to find out what happened to the
Minnesota,” Captain Munoz said.
“Well, I’ll volunteer,” Garcia said. “It’s not like you’ll miss me, since I can’t go planet side, anyway.” “Sorry, Garcia, but I need you, too, and you know that,” Captain Munoz said. “I know you have an
interest in this sort of archaeological find, and that’s what this is, an archeological find, but I can’t divert a lot
of man power to it. Can we send in your HROV and you operate it from Iotian prime?”
“No, the distance would be too great,” Garcia said. “Well, I mean, I could preprogram it for certain
tasks, but with no way to check in for updates… I don’t think it’s ready for that.”
“Well, that leaves me little choice…”
“I’ll go,” Nancy volunteered. “I can take a portable Auxiliary Power Unit, plug it in, and work on
retrieving the data banks. It should only take me about four hours at best, a couple of days if I have to rebuild
any circuits.”
“Are you sure?” Captain Munoz said. “In addition to being away from Freedom, there is a potential
for discovering some biohazards.”
“You mean, the dead crew of the Horizon,” Carter said. “I’m not afraid of ghosts, Captain.” “Very well,” Captain Munoz said. “I want you to take shuttlepod Darwin, and link up to the service
access panel, here, at the end of the engine nacelle. From there, you should be able to crawl to the number two
Jeffries tube, and climb down to the engine room. Garcia, I want you to help her get her supplies together and
double check that she has everything she might need for this sort of excavation.”
“Captain,” Owens interrupted. “I really don’t think she should go alone. May I volunteer?” “No,” Munoz said. “I have a crew of twenty percent cadets and I really can’t spare senior and
experienced officers. If we get to Iotia and there are no issues, I will consider allowing you to bring back a
whole engineering team to look at the possibility of salvaging the Horizon.”
“Owens has a valid point, Captain,” Osaka said. “If she were to get injured and was unable to call for
help, a second team member would be invaluable. So, if this is a time to vote or add suggestion, I say we
either delay in this tangent until we can spare the full resources to do the job correctly, or we increase the
Away Team by at least one member.”
Munoz reflected over her First Officer’s comment, neither frowning nor smiling. She finally nodded.
“I consider this a minimal risk excursion, however, Osaka, I agree that safety should come first. Lt. Carter,
you can take Cadet Jody Newel with you. Are you okay with that?”
“I can do it alone,” Carter said. “But, I admit I would prefer the company.”
“Very well,” Captain Munoz said. “Can you have your shuttle stocked and prep in an hour?” “With my help, she’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” Garcia said.
“Fine, you have one hour,” Captain Munoz said. “Dismissed.”
kjº
Jody Newel made a prompt appearance on the shuttle deck. Near the main hatch was an anti-grav skid
with a pile of supplies being handed up into a shuttle. Garcia was handing the supplies to Carter, who turned
and stowed them in a compartment, or simply flung them on the floor. Jody approached Garcia. “Excuse me?” Newell asked. “