Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy

by Kirsten Beyer

  Eden nodded, as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Batiste went on, “Once they’re aboard, have Chakotay and Seven confined to the brig. I’ll begin questioning them as soon as they arrive.”

  “You will?” Eden asked incredulously.

  “Absolutely,” Batiste replied firmly. “I hardly think any of their former crewmates should have a duty such as this imposed upon them.”

  “As chief of security …” Kim began to object.

  “You report to me, Lieutenant,” Batiste barked. “End of discussion.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Commander Glenn didn’t have to think twice when she received word that Counselor Cambridge was requesting emergency transport for himself, Chakotay, and Seven to Galen’s sickbay. She immediately approved the request and sent word to Voyager, assuming that one or more of them had been injured during their away mission.

  She reached the sickbay to find Chakotay and Cambridge conferring quietly while the Doctor treated an unconscious Seven on one of the main biobeds.

  “Report,” Glenn ordered as soon as she entered.

  The Doctor did a quick scan of his most recent diagnostic results before crossing to join the small group and said quietly, “She has suffered mild neurological inflammation, undoubtedly brought about by the communication she received from the Neyser. It appears to have overwhelmed her catoms.”

  “I realize we’re talking mostly hypothetically when we’re discussing catoms at all,” Cambridge said, “but should that really have happened? We know they’ve done significantly more extraordinary things.”

  “Yes, but Seven’s seem to have been specifically designed to have a very limited capacity. Without an external power source, their transformational ability could not compare with those that made up an entire organism like a Caeliar. I’m also beginning to believe that in addition to comparatively minimal power, they might have minimal intended use.”

  “You think they were meant to keep her alive and nothing else?” Chakotay inferred.

  The Doctor nodded. “Yes. And, quite possibly, to ease her transition from Borg to human.”

  “‘You are Annika Hansen,’” Cambridge mused softly.

  “Correct,” the Doctor replied. “The Caeliar might have assumed that anyone in Seven’s position would have been comforted by this reassuring voice during and just after the transition.”

  “Pity they don’t really know our Seven,” Cambridge noted.

  “Indeed,” the Doctor concurred. “Because Seven could not or would not accept the message, the voice has grown stronger.”

  “But if she had accepted it long ago, it might have disappeared altogether?” Chakotay asked.

  “I think so,” the Doctor said. “Since she was unwilling to do that, however, we’ve asked her to try to control them—to force the issue, so to speak—”

  “And her catoms are responding as best they can,” Cambridge agreed. “She is learning to control them, but by expanding their uses beyond what was intended, she’s also made herself vulnerable to them. They will do whatever her mind can clearly instruct them to do, including facilitate this telepathic link with the Indign species, but at great cost to her.”

  “This last effort left her physically exhausted. I have already begun liquid nutrient infusions, but I don’t want to wake her until I can be sure that the neurological inflammation has diminished.”

  Glenn followed their exchange carefully. “Thank you, Doctor,” she finally said. Turning to Cambridge, she asked, “How exactly were these injuries sustained?”

  “Seven was able to make telepathic contact with one of the Neyser on the fourth planet,” he replied.

  “The Neyser in question had been seriously injured by a Starfleet-issue weapon. A dozen others in its village were dead when we arrived,” Chakotay added somberly.

  “Who could have …?” Glenn began.

  “There’s more,” Cambridge cut her off.

  “More?”

  “Before she lost consciousness, Seven said that the canister the Indign sent to Voyager was not intended to be a method of communication.”

  “What was it?”

  “A weapon.”

  Glenn turned to the Doctor, who immediately said, “I have thoroughly evaluated Ensign McDonnell’s physical condition and I can assure you that she was not harmed during the—”

  Suddenly the sickbay was awash in flashing red lights. Alarm Klaxons blared harshly.

  Glenn’s gut tightened as she tapped her combadge. “Glenn to the bridge.”

  “Lawry here,” the terrified ensign’s voice replied.

  “Who ordered Red Alert?” Glenn asked, conscious of the brittle edge in her voice.

  “I did, Captain. I’m locked out of helm controls. The warp drive has come online but the helm is not responding.”

  “Glenn to Lieutenant Benoit,” she called.

  “Go ahead, Captain,” the harried chief engineer responded.

  “I want the warp drive shut down immediately,” Glenn ordered.

  “We’re trying,” Benoit assured her. “We’re locked out of the system and I’m trying to find a way through but the code is pretty dense and the system is not responding to my overrides. I could use some help.”

  “I’ll see to that. Keep me advised,” Glenn replied. “Glenn to Lieutenant Barclay.” When there was no immediate response, she called, “Computer, locate Lieutenant Barclay.”

  “Lieutenant Barclay is in the holographic research lab.”

  “Barclay, this is Commander Glenn,” she attempted again. “Please respond.”

  He didn’t.

  “Computer, dispatch a team of security holograms to the lab and have them bring Lieutenant Barclay to me on the bridge. And bring the Emergency Engineering Holograms online to assist Lieutenant Benoit,” she said as she turned toward the door. “This is getting out of hand,” she added, frustrated.

  “Don’t you mean more out of hand?” Cambridge asked too cheerily to be taken seriously. “Captain, is the Galen equipped with emergency escape pods?”

  “Of course, Counselor. Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  Eden sat in her ready room, waiting for further word from Commander Glenn. She trusted Glenn’s assumption that if Seven had been injured on the away mission, Chakotay would have wanted her evaluated by the Doctor. It would explain the team’s request to transport to the Galen . Of course, it was also possible that Chakotay might know that his time was running short and intended to use the Galen to further his own ends.

  “Bridge to the captain.”

  “Go ahead, Ensign Lasren,” Eden replied.

  “Galen has broken formation and is headed toward unknown coordinates at high warp.”

  Eden instantly came to her feet and hurried to the bridge. As soon as she arrived, Eden ordered, “Hail the Galen. ”

  After a moment, Commander Glenn’s tense face appeared on the viewscreen.

  “What’s happening, Clarissa?”

  “We’ve lost control of the helm. Our engineering specialists are working on it, but for now, we’re at the mercy of whatever or whomever is controlling our ship.”

  “Do you know where you’re headed?”

  “Lawry has plotted several possible destinations, all of which are deep in the heart of what used to be Borg space.”

  “ Helm, lay in pursuit course,” Eden said. “Lasren, advise Captain Itak to hold position here until we make further contact.” Turning again to Glenn, she said, “Captain, at Admiral Batiste’s request, I am ordering you to take Chakotay into custody.”

  “I don’t understand …”

  “Confine Chakotay to secure quarters,” Eden cut her off.

  “Aye,” Glenn agreed.

  “ Voyager out,” Eden said, closing the transmission. “Ensign Gwyn, stay with them.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the helmsman replied crisply.

  As she took her seat, Eden found her thoughts turning inexplicably to the first day of her honeymoon.
At the time, she had pretended to enjoy herself. Years later, she realized that it had been an exercise in lowering expectations. The very first day, when she had planned a tour of Delgara’s botanical gardens, Batiste had insisted on remaining in their suite, working.

  Analyzing encrypted Cardassian intercepts.

  Perhaps these memories pestered her now because it had been the first in what would become a long line of disappointing days with Willem. It was during that lonely week that Eden had first confronted the reality that Willem was a very good liar.

  It was there, right in front of her. In one version, Chakotay had worked daily to undermine her position since he had come onboard. Their report of the Indign threat was one of many red herrings meant to throw Eden off. He had to be responsible for whatever was now going wrong on the Galen. In a few short hours, Eden knew she would be proven right. Her only concern now was making sure her ship and her crew survived what was coming.

  The Doctor checked Seven’s vital signs and found to his great relief that she seemed to be stabilizing. The inflammation of the tissue surrounding what had once been her cortical node had subsided and her electrolyte levels, organ functions, and blood count were all, once again, within normal ranges. He considered injecting her with a stimulant to wake her, but decided against it. Commander Glenn had ordered the Doctor to report on Seven’s communication with the Neyser as soon as possible. He thought it best that she continue to rest until she regained consciousness. His attention was diverted from her by the entrance of two security holograms, a Klingon and a Gorn. They were carrying the unconscious form of Reg Barclay.

  “Report,” the Doctor ordered as they placed Reg’s body on the nearest biobed. The Gorn hologram responded in perfect Standard, “He was found in the holographic research lab. His body had been hidden beneath the deck plating, which had been forcibly dislodged. Our scans suggest mild concussion of his occipital lobe.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” the Doctor replied curtly. “That will be all.”

  The holograms nodded in unison and left him to his patient. He quickly confirmed their initial assessment and then injected him with a hypospray.

  Reg’s eyes opened wide and immediately found the Doctor’s.

  “Where is she?” were Reg’s first, disquieting words.

  “Where is who?” the Doctor replied gently.

  Barclay immediately pushed himself up on his elbows but was thwarted by a wave of nausea and pain. He winced, bringing his hand to his forehead as he murmured, “Ouch.”

  “I’ve provided you with an analgesic that should ease your discomfort, but you need to rest,” the Doctor advised him.

  “There’s no time,” Barclay replied, steeling himself to endure the throbbing in his head as he pulled himself into a seated position and then lowered his feet to the floor. He stumbled a little, obviously dizzy.

  “Reg, I really must insist that you—”

  “Doctor, I’d like you to route your program through your mobile emitter and come with me.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “We have to find Meegan,” Reg insisted. “She’s been compromised by the Indign. The consciousness never left her. It’s still in control.”

  “How do you know that?” the Doctor demanded.

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Reg, really,” the Doctor said in his most soothing voice. “Why don’t you lie down again, and—”

  “No,” Barclay said, holding his head between both hands as he shook it. “I know what to look for. You have to come with me. In case she tries to stop me again.”

  “Reg, I have another patient to attend to.”

  Reg saw Seven’s still form.

  “Did Meegan do this too?” he asked with obvious concern.

  “Of course not,” the Doctor replied. “Seven’s injuries were sustained on an away mission.”

  Reg immediately went to the nearest control console and activated a holographic nurse to attend to Seven.

  “Once the Doctor and I have departed, you are to seal the sickbay and under no circumstances are you to open those doors to anyone without the Doctor’s order or mine,” Reg instructed.

  “Yes, sir,” the EMH responded, unperturbed.

  He then hurried to the Doctor’s office and retrieved his mobile emitter, affixing it unceremoniously to the Doctor’s sleeve.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Reg, I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” Reg replied. “But I promise, I’ll explain when all this is done.”

  Despite his odd behavior, the Doctor had no reason to mistrust his friend or the urgency of his intentions. Satisfied that Seven would be well cared for in his absence, he followed Barclay from sickbay.

  276 KIRSTEN BEYER

  “Captain, the Galen has dropped out of warp.”

  “Stay with them, Ensign,” Eden ordered Gwyn. “Where are we, Lieutenant Lasren?”

  “We have traveled more than four light-years from the Indign system,” Lasren reported.

  “Are there any nearby star systems or inhabited planets?” Eden asked evenly.

  “No, Captain,” Lasren said. “This area was previously charted by Hawking . It contains a high concentration of subspace instabilities. It is likely that dozens of transwarp tunnels once intersected this sector.”

  Paris shot a knowing glance at Eden who only nodded stoically.

  “Hail the Galen,” Eden requested. Commander Glenn’s face filled the viewscreen. Her sea green eyes were stormy, but filled with resolve.

  “What’s your status?” Eden inquired.

  “We appear to have arrived,” Glenn noted, “but we’re still locked out of helm controls.”

  “I could transport Conlon and one of her teams over to provide assistance,” Eden offered. Both women knew that Galen’s engineering staff was the least experienced in the fleet. The Galen and Demeter hadn’t been intended for deployment in combat areas.

  Circumstances change, Eden thought grimly.

  “I’d appreciate that,” Glenn replied.

  “Expect them momentarily,” Eden confirmed.

  “Chakotay is in custody as ordered,” Glenn added.

  “Acknowledged,” Eden replied, then nodded to Lasren to close the channel.

  “Bridge to Conlon.”

  “Go ahead, Captain,” Nancy’s voice replied. The trepidation it held was impossible to miss.

  “Assemble a team for transport to Galen. They are still locked out of their helm controls.”

  After a brief pause, Conlon replied, “I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t spare anyone at the moment. We have a little problem of our— Damn it, Neol, I told you to shut it down!”

  Eden rose automatically from her chair. Her instincts already told her what was coming.

  “Nancy, what’s happening?” Eden demanded.

  “We’ve lost control of the deflector,” Conlon replied. “The protocol for opening a rift to fluidic space is overriding every other system. Give us a minute.”

  “Belay that,” Eden ordered calmly.

  “Captain?”

  “I doubt you’ll be able to disengage the system in time anyway,” Eden added. Turning to Paris she said, “Computer, locate Admiral Batiste.”

  “Admiral Batiste is in the main shuttlebay.”

  “Lock it down,” Eden instructed Kim. “Commander Paris, the bridge is yours.” As she hurried toward the turbolift she added, “Lieutenant Kim, dispatch a security team to meet me at the shuttlebay. They are not to enter until I arrive.”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  “Captain?” Paris said. “You might want to see this.”

  A bright beam shot forth from Voyager’s deflector dish. Where its energy dispersed, a roiling greenish-white miasma churned before them. Eden’s stomach fell at her first actual glimpse of fluidic space.

  “Red Alert,” she ordered immediately. “Lieutenant Kim, can you close that rift?” she demanded.

  “Yes, Captain,”
Kim replied confidently, “but it may take a few minutes.”

  “Best possible speed, Lieutenant,” Eden requested.

  Paris crossed to stand at Eden’s side, watching expectantly.

  “Get to the shuttlebay,” he said softly. “I’ve got this.”

  Eden met his eyes and nodded briskly.

  “Anything comes through that rift—”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he assured her.

  Without another word, Eden left the bridge. She now knew to a certainty who. She was finally going to learn why.

  Captain Itak was meditating in his quarters, as was his custom at the end of a duty shift. His breath was slow and regular. His limbs were light as feathers. He floated in a sea of tranquillity, at one with the universe in its vast, mysterious harmony.

  “Ops to Captain Itak.”

  “Go ahead, Ensign,” Itak responded as he gingerly shifted his weight and rose from a kneeling position.

  “Long-range scans are detecting two dozen Indign vessels moving in formation away from their planetary system.”

  “Heading?” Itak asked, moving intently but unhurriedly to the door of his cabin. From there he was mere meters to the bridge.

  “They’re headed straight for us!” Bloom announced with less restraint than Itak would have wished.

  “How soon will they intercept our vessel?” Itak said evenly as he entered the bridge and moved gracefully to his chair.

  “Nineteen minutes, sir,” Bloom replied.

  “Red Alert,” Itak ordered. “Send a priority message to Admiral Batiste, advising him of our position, and request instruction.”

  After a brief moment, Bloom confirmed, “Message sent, sir.”

  Lieutenant T’Pena arrived moments later and assumed the bridge tactical station.

  “Analysis, Lieutenant T’Pena?” Itak requested.

  “Twenty-four vessels, moving at high warp. Their shields are raised and their weapons are online.”

  “Are their offensive systems similar to those of the first Indign vessel we encountered?”