base in building them…”
“I would say, Captain,” Tuvok said, “that they did not so much destroy their industrial base as consume it, transferring it entirely to the fleets. The larger vessels here would appear to be fully self-contained and self-maintained—that, combined with the need for maximum firepower, explains their immense size.”
“Then you think these fleets are all that’s left of the Hachai and P’nir technologies?” Janeway asked.
“Indeed,” Tuvok said. “That would appear to be the case.”
Janeway turned and stared at the main screen.
“Incidentally, Captain,” Tuvok continued, “it would appear that the dust cloud surrounding us, and extending for several million kilometers in all directions, is emanating from the battle. The cloud is made up of gases and particulate matter from destroyed or damaged ships. The density increases with proximity to the battle, and within the battle itself the density is sufficient to significantly interfere with our sensors; that, combined with the interlocking energy fields of the defensive shields, was why our initial readings indicated a single construct.”
“Particulate matter?” Kes asked. She was watching everything with intense interest.
“Dust,” Janeway told her.
“Metallic dust, ice crystals, and several other substances, including two varieties of what I take to be circulatory fluid,” Tuvok explained.
“You mean blood,” Chakotay said.
“Or ichor, yes,” the Vulcan confirmed.
“Hachai and P’nir, presumably,” Janeway said.
“Presumably,” Tuvok agreed.
Kes shivered, and looked uneasily at the viewer.
“We’re inside a cloud of blood?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tuvok said flatly.
Janeway looked at the vast, incredibly complex pattern of moving ships, weapons fire, and flaring shields, and asked, “Can you tell who’s winning?”
“At the moment, Captain,” the Vulcan replied, “neither side is winning.”
“You mean it’s a draw? A stalemate?” Janeway turned to look at the Vulcan.
“If by that you mean that no winner will ever emerge, then no, that is not necessarily the case,” Tuvok replied. “If this battle is fought to a conclusion without outside interference and without any major change in the tactics employed, there should indeed be a victor, at least in a technical sense.
There is every indication that the combatants intend to continue to an end, rather than withdrawing or negotiating. Therefore, an eventual winner can be expected, and in that sense, it is not a stalemate.”
“Well, then, which side will win?” Janeway asked. “Can you tell?”
“Regrettably, Captain, I cannot,” the Vulcan admitted. “I have only begun to analyze the battle formations, which are staggeringly intricate—so intricate that they form a system where major disruptions in one time and place might be absorbed without significantly affecting the whole, while elsewhere a single minor change could alter the entire course of the conflict. Above a certain level of complexity such systems cannot be reliably predicted with the resources we have aboard this ship.”
“You can’t even offer us odds?”
“The odds, Captain, would be fifty-fifty. It is already quite clear that as Mr. Neelix told us, the two sides are very evenly matched—so evenly that the loss of a single ship in the right time or place could determine the outcome. And in a battle as hard-fought as this, a ship could be lost to a single crew error or equipment failure at any time.
There is no way to predict such a happenstance—but if the battle continues long enough, it is a statistical certainty that such an event will occur eventually.”
“And when it does,” Janeway said, “when that random ship is lost, the other side will capitalize on it—and win.”
“Not a random ship, Captain,” Tuvok corrected her. The loss would need to happen at the right time and place. Otherwise, the damaged side will adjust, regroup, and wait, and
“I would say, Captain,” Tuvok said, “that they did not so much destroy their industrial base as consume it, transferring it entirely to the fleets. The larger vessels here would appear to be fully self-contained and self-maintained—that, combined with the need for maximum firepower, explains their immense size.”
“Then you think these fleets are all that’s left of the Hachai and P’nir technologies?” Janeway asked.
“Indeed,” Tuvok said. “That would appear to be the case.”
Janeway turned and stared at the main screen.
“Incidentally, Captain,” Tuvok continued, “it would appear that the dust cloud surrounding us, and extending for several million kilometers in all directions, is emanating from the battle. The cloud is made up of gases and particulate matter from destroyed or damaged ships. The density increases with proximity to the battle, and within the battle itself the density is sufficient to significantly interfere with our sensors; that, combined with the interlocking energy fields of the defensive shields, was why our initial readings indicated a single construct.”
“Particulate matter?” Kes asked. She was watching everything with intense interest.
“Dust,” Janeway told her.
“Metallic dust, ice crystals, and several other substances, including two varieties of what I take to be circulatory fluid,” Tuvok explained.
“You mean blood,” Chakotay said.
“Or ichor, yes,” the Vulcan confirmed.
“Hachai and P’nir, presumably,” Janeway said.
“Presumably,” Tuvok agreed.
Kes shivered, and looked uneasily at the viewer.
“We’re inside a cloud of blood?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tuvok said flatly.
Janeway looked at the vast, incredibly complex pattern of moving ships, weapons fire, and flaring shields, and asked, “Can you tell who’s winning?”
“At the moment, Captain,” the Vulcan replied, “neither side is winning.”
“You mean it’s a draw? A stalemate?” Janeway turned to look at the Vulcan.
“If by that you mean that no winner will ever emerge, then no, that is not necessarily the case,” Tuvok replied. “If this battle is fought to a conclusion without outside interference and without any major change in the tactics employed, there should indeed be a victor, at least in a technical sense.
There is every indication that the combatants intend to continue to an end, rather than withdrawing or negotiating. Therefore, an eventual winner can be expected, and in that sense, it is not a stalemate.”
“Well, then, which side will win?” Janeway asked. “Can you tell?”
“Regrettably, Captain, I cannot,” the Vulcan admitted. “I have only begun to analyze the battle formations, which are staggeringly intricate—so intricate that they form a system where major disruptions in one time and place might be absorbed without significantly affecting the whole, while elsewhere a single minor change could alter the entire course of the conflict. Above a certain level of complexity such systems cannot be reliably predicted with the resources we have aboard this ship.”
“You can’t even offer us odds?”
“The odds, Captain, would be fifty-fifty. It is already quite clear that as Mr. Neelix told us, the two sides are very evenly matched—so evenly that the loss of a single ship in the right time or place could determine the outcome. And in a battle as hard-fought as this, a ship could be lost to a single crew error or equipment failure at any time.
There is no way to predict such a happenstance—but if the battle continues long enough, it is a statistical certainty that such an event will occur eventually.”
“And when it does,” Janeway said, “when that random ship is lost, the other side will capitalize on it—and win.”
“Not a random ship, Captain,” Tuvok corrected her. The loss would need to happen at the right time and place. Otherwise, the damaged side will adjust, regroup, and wait, and
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