Ninety minutes and eight probes later, they were no closer to solving the mystery than when they’d first arrived. Retreating to the lab, Commodore Larsen summoned the rest of the brain trust from the Advanced Science, Technology and Research Activity. She hoped someone would have something because she had nothing, and she wasn’t a fan of Dr. Brooks’ proposal.

“Does anyone else have any ideas of how we can make heads or tails of what’s going on down there?” Commodore Larsen asked, her gaze intentionally falling on anyone but the temporal wayfarer who’d earlier proposed using their officers as guinea pigs.

The others just looked at each other.

No one had an answer.

“Ma’am, the problem is intrinsic to the methods of observation themselves,” Lieutenant Akil al-Qadir finally said. “Sensor suites based on boson-mediated signals rely on assumptions of smoothness within the spacetime medium in order to maintain coherence, and probes – even their most basic navigational subroutines – are designed around principles that do not hold true within a region of temporal fragmentation.”

Around the room, the others nodded.

They all knew it to be true.

“You may not like it, Liv, but there’s one surefire way to know for certain what’s happening on Chorad IXa,” Dr. Brooks repeated once more. “We go down there ourselves.”

“I heard you the first time,” Commodore Larsen sighed. “And I didn’t like it then either.”

“Yes, but as opposed to our sensors, where an echo is indiscernible its source, we won’t have that problem with ourselves,” Dr. Brooks insisted. He knew why she was wary. This fell far outside the comfort of conventional models, and the unknown was scary… but it was also where the fun was, and he was certain they could manage the risk. “There are ways to hold your footing, even when time forgets which way is down.”

“Sometimes, only boots on the ground solve the problem,” Voragh added, running with the metaphor. As much as he still felt himself an outsider among the Federation crew, the Klingon agreed with Dr. Brooks. This was the right approach unless they wanted to spend months attempting to design a whole new breed of sensor systems.

“How can you be so certain an away team won’t get shredded by the temporal fragmentation?” Commodore Larsen countered. She had no intention of any of them meeting the same fate as the probes.

“Not saying it’s not a possibility,” Dr. Brooks shrugged. “But there’s also a man sitting in a psych ward on Chorad III that’s proof you can come back.”

“Then why not start there?” Lieutenant Commander Sena asked. The former Tal Shiar operative wasn’t half the physicist some of her peers were, but she had a sense for alternatives theoreticians often overlooked, and right now, since the mathematical models were failing them, why not take a more applied approach?

“You mean with the pilot?” Commodore Larsen asked the Romulan.

Lieutenant Commander Sena nodded. “If we want to better understand dynamics we cannot assess by remote observation, why not ask the only person who has actually been there and returned?”

“Oh, Allison is going to love that,” Dr. Brooks laughed. The admiral was going to have some serious convincing to do. Not that he doubted her ability to do just that.

“And when she succeeds, you’re going to be the one to interview him,” Commodore Larsen offered.

“Me?” Dr. Brooks blinked.

Commodore Larsen nodded. “Somehow, I get the sense you two have something in common. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to take a field trip?”