Unlike the main engineering room aboard the Lovell, one thing al-Khaled noticed most about Starbase 47’s primary engineering control center was the near lack of background noise generated by engines. Whereas his ship’s massive power plant was located in proximity to the work spaces inhabited by the small, fragile beings tasked with caring for it, the low thrum of Vanguard’s power generators—ensconced as they were deep in the bowels of the station—was all but concealed by internal dampening systems.

He still was able to sense the reverberations, of course, as would any decent engineer.

The other thing al-Khaled observed about his current surroundings was that, considering the sheer size of Starbase 47, the station’s main engineering center was downright claustrophobic.

“You’d think your fellow engineers would have looked out for you when designing this place,” al-Khaled said, turning in his seat as Curtis Ballard walked toward him.

Vanguard’s chief engineer shrugged. “They made up for it. This is the main hub, but there are five auxiliary control rooms spread across the station. Even if something happens here, we can oversee every onboard system from any of those locations. All six stations also have direct turbolifts and Jefferies tube access to the station’s power grid.”

Al-Khaled nodded. The design approach was but one of several innovations incorporated into the Watchtower-class stations, making them the most technologically advanced model of autonomous, self-sustaining space-based habitats. Once operational, Vanguard would be capable of supporting itself and its crew of twelve hundred for a decade without outside aid, and in addition to its ship-maintenance and repair facilities the station boasted formidable weapons and defensive systems that would allow it to face any threat that might present itself. It was an important consideration out here in the Taurus Reach, light-years from normal Starfleet patrol routes.

The only problem with that plan, of course, was that it required the station in question actually to have onboard systems that worked.

Settling into a chair at a console adjacent to the one al-Khaled occupied, Ballard rubbed his eyes before running both hands through his disheveled blond hair. “You know, I hate staff meetings on the best of days.”

Al-Khaled offered a sympathetic nod. “Lieutenant Farber told me about the crew member they found. I was sorry to hear about that.” While death in the line of duty was a possibility faced by every Starfleet officer, that normally did not extend to being murdered while carrying out regular, even mundane assignments within the supposed safety of one’s own starship—or starbase, as the case may be—and while living and working among one’s own trusted colleagues.

“Not something you expect, that’s for sure,” Ballard replied. “If I know Lieutenant Jackson and his security team, though, they’ll tear this station apart to find who’s responsible.” Shaking his head, he turned to his workstation. “In the meantime, I’ve got my hands full here.” As he spoke the words, he cast a wry, humorless grin toward al-Khaled. “Sorry, I meant we’ve got our hands full.”

“No offense taken,” al-Khaled replied. At first, he was concerned that Ballard might take issue with outside engineers being brought in to help him resolve the station’s problems, but the lieutenant had not batted an eye at Commodore Reyes’s decision. A consummate professional, Ballard knew that deploying fresh minds and eyes against a problem was an effective means of finding a solution.

“You know, Mahmud,” the engineer said after a moment, “I’ve been in Starfleet for seven years. I’ve been on shakedown cruises for three different star-ships, and I was part of the team that got Station K-5 up and running when Starfleet needed it operational six months ahead of schedule.” He shook his head. “That was a host of headaches, let me tell you, but it was nothing compared to the ulcers this place is giving me. I’ve never run into anything like the problems we’ve been facing here.”

Repeated inspections of the hardware and software components that comprised those systems experiencing the irregular and unexplained malfunctions—sensors, the internal communications and computer network, power distribution grids—had found nothing. Even prior to the Lovell’s arrival, Ballard and his team had been working with the theory that something external to the station must be responsible, but scans of the surrounding region revealed nothing—natural or artificial—that might be the cause.

That hypothesis gained credibility when personnel still on duty aboard the Lovell began reporting isolated odd happenings with the ship’s systems, though nothing as extensive as whatever plagued the station. Then al-Khaled received a surprise when Lieutenant Diamond contacted him with news about the odd power fluctuations aboard the Orion merchant ship, the only other vessel currently docked at Vanguard.

“I’ve never fully shaken the idea that the Klingons or Tholians might be covertly jamming us,” Ballard said as he leaned back in his chair. “It would make sense, especially given what’s happening aboard the Lovell and that Orion ship, but we haven’t found a single shred of evidence to support the idea.”

Al-Khaled frowned. “Even if they were capable of doing something like that without us finding it, they’ve got their own people on board. You’d think they’d want measures in place to protect their own communications and computer access.”

As part of Vanguard’s mission to safeguard diplomatic relations between the Klingon Empire and Tholian Assembly as the Federation continued its push into the Taurus Reach, the station also played home to embassies from all three governments. Both the Klingon and Tholian ambassadors were supported by a staff of attachés and aides, all of whom were in regular contact with their respective home-worlds and appropriate political entities.

“Their communications and computers have been having the same problems as the rest of the station,” Ballard replied. “Of course, any such protection would be pretty obvious once we started looking for the cause. I’d like to think we had the edge on Klingon technology, but as for the Tholians…” He shrugged. “Hell, nobody really knows about them, do they?”

The door to the control center swooshed open to admit Isaiah Farber, who entered at a run, and al-Khaled swore he could feel the deck plates vibrating beneath his feet in response to the muscled lieutenant’s heavy footfalls.

“I think I know what’s going on,” Farber said by way of greeting. “Remember Buquair III?”

Al-Khaled could tell that Commodore Reyes, while doubtless an intelligent and articulate man, preferred to concentrate on the larger, grander picture while leaving the trivial details to those he commanded.

It also was obvious that the commodore was not a man of great patience when it came to having to listen to such details.

“What about this colony?” Reyes asked from where he sat behind his desk as he reached for the coffee cup near his left hand.

From where he sat next to the commodore’s intelligence officer, Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn, Captain Okagawa replied, “Two years ago, the Lovell was one of several ships sent to Buquair III after an underwater earthquake generated a tsunami and it slammed into the Glassner Colony established by the Federation.”

Farber said, “While we were helping out with repair and reconstruction efforts, we discovered a very subtle power reading coming from somewhere just offshore. It turned out to be the wreck of an alien spacecraft that had crashed and sunk there decades earlier, and was buried beneath ocean silt.”

“The earthquake unburied it, Commodore,” al-Khaled added, “and we picked up the distress signal it was still transmitting, though it was on a frequency so low that normal communications channels couldn’t detect it. We picked up the power readings well enough, but we had to recalibrate our ship’s sensors before we could lock on to the signal.”

Holding up his tricorder, its black exterior practically swallowed by his meaty left hand, Farber said, “I was recalibrating this after replacing its power cell when I picked up an odd reading. I had our people on the Lovell retune the ship’s sensors in a manner similar to what we did at the colony, and that’s when we found it.”

Turning in her seat, T’Prynn asked, “You are alleging that something comparable to what you discovered on Buquair III is occurring here?” She shifted her gaze—stern and unwavering in typical Vulcan fashion—between al-Khaled and Farber, and for an odd moment al-Khaled found himself realizing that he found her quite attractive. She was dressed in the female officer’s version of the standard Starfleet gold tunic, with its high, thick collar almost but not quite concealing her long, thin neck. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in a regulation hairstyle that left her small, pointed ears exposed while seeming exotic as it framed her lean features.

Clearing his throat as he returned his attention to the matter at hand, al-Khaled nodded. “Yes, Commander.” Crossing the commodore’s office to the viewer mounted on the bulkhead to Reyes’s right, he added, “This is what our sensors picked up.”

He touched the control pad set into the wall next to the viewer, and the screen activated to display a computer-generated silhouette of Vanguard station superimposed over a starfield. Dominating the image was a series of blue lines, uneven and rippling as they expanded from one edge of the star map toward the station.

“We’re calling it a ‘carrier wave’ for now,” al-Khaled said, pointing to different lines on the screen. “It’s definitely an artificial occurrence, transmitting on a frequency so low that sensors in their normal configuration would never register it.”

Reyes frowned. “But my people retuned the station’s sensor arrays looking for something like this even before you arrived.” Looking to where Ballard stood near the bulkhead opposite the viewscreen, he asked, “I’m not misremembering anything, am I, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir,” the engineer replied. “We didn’t pick up so much as a twitch.”

Stepping closer to al-Khaled, Farber said, “The sensors aboard the Lovell have been modified with modern components like those aboard newer and larger ships, and our teams have also enhanced them to a significant degree beyond their normal operational limits.”

“A consequence of hauling a shipload of engineers traveling from assignment to assignment and looking for ways to pass the time,” Okagawa added. “Welcome to my world, Commodore.”

Nodding, Reyes even smiled a bit at that. “Nice card to have in your deck, though.”

“Even with our sensors,” al-Khaled said, “we detected nothing until we made additional recalibrations, and then we only just barely picked up the signal.”

“And you believe this to be the source of our technical problems?” T’Prynn asked. The thin eyebrow over her right eye arched as if to punctuate her question. Not waiting for a response, she turned to Reyes. “An interesting hypothesis.”

“I don’t understand,” the commodore said, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together as he rested forearms atop his desk. “If this signal, wave, or whatever you want to call it is so weak, how can it be causing all of this trouble, not only to my station but also the Lovell, that damned Orion’s ship, and anybody else wandering through this area?”

Al-Khaled replied, “We’re only just starting our analysis, Commodore, but our preliminary theory is that this carrier wave is like a hailing frequency, intended to be received and processed through a device operating along specific parameters similar to that of the carrier wave’s source. The signal is cyclic, repeating approximately every twenty-four minutes, but it lacks any real complexity. Based on what we’ve learned so far, it seems that sensitive equipment such as computer interfaces, sensor arrays, and communications networks are susceptible to minor disruption.”

“In some respects,” Farber added, “it’s not unlike the distress signals utilized by civilian transport ships several decades ago, which were designed to interfere with the navigational systems of passing ships and attract attention in the event the signal itself was too weak to be interpreted by proper communications systems.”

As his colleague provided his analysis, al-Khaled glanced toward T’Prynn and saw that the Vulcan’s attention appeared focused on the viewscreen and its representation of the carrier wave.

She noticed his scrutiny and cocked her head in his direction before asking, “Lieutenant, have you been able to locate the carrier wave’s origin point?”

“No, Commander.” Al-Khaled pointed to the image on the screen. “So far, all we’ve been able to determine is that it comes from somewhere in the Taurus Reach. According to the information at our disposal, the area where we believe the signal originates has only been charted by automated probes, and even that was done in the most cursory manner. Our analysis to this point also suggests it may only have been transmitting intermittently during the past several weeks, corresponding to the time you began experiencing stationwide malfunctions. We hope to learn more as we continue our research, of course.”

Sitting back in his seat, Reyes said, “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.”

Though taken aback by the abrupt statement, al-Khaled still noticed the quick glance the commodore exchanged with T’Prynn. It was no doubt intended to be subtle, something shared only between them, but there was no mistaking the look that flashed only briefly in Reyes’s eyes.

We just stumbled onto something interesting.

“Commodore,” Okagawa said, “I don’t understand. It seems my people are into the middle of something here.” Though the statement did not reveal anything, al-Khaled was familiar enough with his captain’s mannerisms and thought processes to know that he must have caught the look between the Vanguard officers as well, and was doing some fishing of his own.

“Don’t get me wrong, gentlemen,” Reyes said as he rose from his chair. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to this point, including what looks to be finding the source of our problems. What I need from you now is your expertise in figuring out a way for my station to operate in spite of this interference, sooner rather than later. We do have a rather compressed schedule to keep.” He looked to Ballard. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

“Absolutely, sir,” the engineer replied.

Reyes nodded, then glanced at T’Prynn again before continuing, “As for the signal itself and where it might be coming from, I have a whole staff of scientists I can task with that. Transfer all information you’ve gathered to this point to Commander T’Prynn, and she’ll take it from there.”

The commodore was smooth, al-Khaled decided, so practiced and polished was his delivery that he almost certainly was a consummate poker player. His instructions were of course completely proper and—on the surface, at least—lacking any hint of ulterior motive. Still, there was no denying the swiftness with which he had reassigned responsibility for determining the source and content of the mysterious carrier wave.

What are they worried about?

Rising to his feet, Okagawa nodded. “Understood, Commodore. I’ll have my engineers get back to helping your teams right away.”

After departing Reyes’s office and making their way across the operations center, it was not until al-Khaled, Farber, and Okagawa were in a turbolift heading back toward the docking bays and the core of the station that anyone said anything.

The captain broke the silence. “Is it just me, or did we just get hustled?”

Farber nodded. “Not just you, sir.”

“I’m thinking I’m going to be very busy after dinner this evening,” al-Khaled said. “I want to get another look at the data we’ve collected so far.”

Okagawa held up a hand. “Not so fast, Lieutenant. For now, we play it the commodore’s way. Transfer everything we’ve got on that signal to Commander T’Prynn. You and your team have a job to do. Let’s help get this station up and running the way it’s supposed to be.” Shaking his head, he added, “Besides, after that mess with the environmental control system, I don’t want my ship coming down with any serious troubles of its own.”

Though he acknowledged his captain’s orders and started turning the thoughts running through his mind toward his primary assignment, al-Khaled could not shake loose the feeling that there was much about the mysterious carrier wave in which to be interested.

He also was certain that Commodore Reyes and Commander T’Prynn held similar opinions.

It’s as though they were waiting for something like this to happen.