On the second display Fenn studied, probes seeded along the Bonneville Flats supplied sensor readings of the surrounding space and of the three other Starfleet vessels there. The small support ships Canaveraland Ad Astrahad joined Enterpriseto assist, observe, and record Universe’s flight testing. Fenn knew that such field trials typically involved the abetment of more ships and more personnel— Canaveraland Ad Astraeach carried crews of only a few dozen—but she surmised that, given the current diplomatic turmoil, Starfleet Command had not wanted to draw attention to Universe.The radical design of the ship not only promised increased efficiencies in warp-field geometries, but also afforded a test bed for a new propulsion system, a development neither the Romulans nor the Klingons would likely appreciate.

Enterprise’s crew had been given few details about Universe,other than the fact of its installation of so-called hyperwarp engines. Fenn assumed that Starfleet intended the new drive as a replacement of the failed transwarp program, which had been initiated a few decades past. If successful, the crew had been told, hyperwarp would revolutionize spaceflight and launch a new era of exploration—goals Fenn found both laudable and exhilarating. Nor was she alone in her views. Since Enterprisehad departed KR-3 two days ago, the topic of what the achievement of hyperwarp drive would mean had occupied the crew, and the sense of anticipation and excitement aboard had been palpable. Right now, only moments before Universewould make its first test run, the atmosphere on the bridge felt electric.

“Captain, we are being hailed by the Ad Astra,”Fenn heard Lieutenant Kanchumurthi say at his side of the tactical-and-communications console.

“Put Saren-Sah through,” Captain Harriman said.

“It’s not Captain Saren-Sah, sir,” Kanchumurthi said. “It’s Admiral Harriman.”

Fenn turned from her station and gazed over to where the captain sat in the command chair. Since Enterprisehad arrived at the Bonneville Flats, contact with Ad Astrahad included Saren-Sah and his officers, but not the admiral, and Fenn wondered how Captain Harriman would react. Although she knew from her long service with him that he did not have a good relationship with his father, she saw now that he did not appear flustered or anxious, but simply professional.

“Then put the admiral through,” he said. “On screen.”

“Yes, sir,” Kanchumurthi said, and worked his console.

Fenn glanced over at the main viewer with her left eye, leaving her right trained on the captain. On the viewscreen, an empty field of stars was replaced by the image of Admiral Harriman. Broader than his son, with a rugged appearance and a head of hair that had silvered completely, the admiral looked very much like a man in charge. Fenn could see the resemblance between father and son, but even before the admiral said anything, she also noted that the two men carried themselves differently. In her time aboard Enterprise,Fenn had always appreciated how accessible and even-tempered Captain Harriman had been, and how his easy confidence had in turn inspired the crew’s confidence in him. By contrast, the admiral’s mien made him appear angry and unapproachable, and though he was likely a man very sure of himself, Fenn doubted that his conviction would motivate her to want to follow him into battle.

“Captain Harriman,”the admiral rumbled, his voice rough and loud, giving the impression that yelling came naturally to him. “What’s the status of your ship and crew?”From the admiral’s lips, the standard question sounded somehow like an accusation.

“Enterpriseis in position, Admiral,” the captain reported. “All the probes have been deployed along Universe’s flight path, and my crew have completed all of their pre-test duties.” While Canaveraland Ad Astrawould monitor Universe’s field trials from either end of the Bonneville Flats, Fenn knew, Enterprisewould hold a position midway along the test route, its crew observing and recording both through direct sensor contact and via the sensor packages on the probes.

“Reconfirm the operation of the probes,”the admiral ordered, unnecessarily, Fenn thought. But she immediately spun back to her station, anticipating the captain’s command.

“Ensign Fenn,” he said, obviously not feeling the need to repeat the admiral’s demand.

“Checking, sir,” she responded. As she scrutinized her readouts, she sent the four fingers on each of her hands racing across her controls, testing the strength of the communication signals traveling to and from the probes. The semitransparent, chitinous membrane that encased her fingers—as well as the rest of her body—tapped rapidly on the console. As quickly as she could, she verified the active status of each of the probes, as well as the stability of Enterprise’s comlinks with them. When she had completed the task, she turned back toward the captain. “Reconfirmed, sir,” she said. “The probes are fully operational and the contacts with them are strong and steady.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” the captain said, nodding in her direction before looking back at the main viewscreen. “Admiral?”

“All right,”the elder Harriman said. “Let’s open the continuous comlink between all four ships.Canaveral, this is Admiral Harriman aboard the—”

To Fenn’s left, the port-side doors opened, drawing her attention away from the admiral. She looked over and saw Commander Sulu step onto the bridge from the turbolift. The ship’s first officer stopped for a moment and looked over at the captain, then turned and walked over to the sciences station. “Borona,” Sulu said, leaning in beside Fenn, “anything to report on the navigational deflector?” Sporadically over the past eighteen months, Fenn’s sensor scans had detected a random dispersion of the force beam that Enterpriseprojected ahead while in flight, in order to push matter from its path. The cause of the intermittent problem had so far been elusive. Although it was not a threat to the ship, triggering only an infinitesimal and nearly undetectable power drain, Commander Sulu had asked Fenn to be alert for more occurrences of the dispersion.

“Not since just after we left KR-3,” Fenn said. Shortly after Enterprisehad departed the starbase, the problem had recurred, but it had lasted only a few seconds before resolving itself. “I’ve been working all shift with the probes we sent out to monitor Universe,though,” she added, “so I haven’t inspected the logs today. Let me check them now.”

“Thanks, Borona,” Sulu said with a smile.

Fenn worked her console to locate and then access the sensor logs. As she pressed one control surface, pain suddenly shot through her hand and up her arm, as though a knife had been thrust into her palm and then dragged through her flesh up to her shoulder. She suppressed the urge to cry out, but could not prevent a quick expulsion of breath. Sulu must have heard her, because she asked, “Are you all right, Borona? Are you—”

The first officer stopped abruptly, and when Fenn looked down at her own hand, she saw why. A five-centimeter section of her exomembrane had fallen off of one of her fingers and now lay atop her console like a dead insect. Where the exomembrane had fallen away, her gray-green flesh had been completely exposed.

“I’m all right,” Fenn said, although she doubted that she sounded very convincing. The sharp pain had already subsided to a dull ache, but the shock of seeing her bare skin remained. It’s too soon,she thought. She was too young to be starting the Shift—

—except that wasn’t true. Fenn was young for the process to be commencing, but not tooyoung. A small percentage of Frunalians did undergo the Shift this early in their lives, and she certainly could not dispute the evidence of a piece of her exomembrane falling from her body.