“You sure know how to pick ’em, Harry,” Tom said after she’d gone. He couldn’t say whether he felt sympathetic or awed that Harry would even attempt flirting with a Q.
Harry slapped Tom between the shoulder blades. “Let’s find ourselves some disgruntled employees.”
Tuvok hadn’t liked her idea. He hadn’t expressed it in those exact words, B’Elanna granted, as she took her zero-g walk along the Monorhan hull. Vulcans didn’t show the kind of emotional attachment to decisions that implied “like” or “dislike.” His exact words had been “Your plan involves illogical risks”—accompanied by an eyebrow arched high enough on his forehead that it nearly touched his scalp. It wasn’t like B’Elanna was the biggest fan of EV operations either; they tended to make her sick to her stomach. But frankly, she didn’t care about logic, because her way was the only way this piece of spacefaring trash was ever going to find its way back home.
Featuring a more primitive version of the technology Voyager had encountered a week ago, this vessel’s hydrogen ramscoop-style propulsion system was useless. Parts critical to the ramscoop mechanism had worn out. Even more serious, an explosion in the hydrogen-processing system disabled the ship’s ability to create usable fuel. As B’Elanna perused the engineering specs stored in the ship’s database, she was hard-pressed to figure out how the Monorhans had managed to leave their planet in the first place. Surprisingly, the Monorhan shield technology was exceptionally advanced compared to what she’d seen previously. The shields hadn’t been fully functional since the fuel creation system broke, but B’Elanna made a few tweaks that would keep the shields operational—at least for the short term. What she was left with was deciding how best to introduce the ship to Mr. Newton and inertia.
The ship had a similar design to the one Ziv had been captain of: a flattened sphere formed the main hull. Dangling off the back were dozens of blocky passenger containers that, unlike on Ziv’s ship, were interconnected by a series of tubes. If she could look at the ship from above, she suspected that it would look like a kite, the passenger compartments hanging off the bottom. Presently, only half of the passenger containers were still inhabited—those farthest from the main hull where the radiation problems were the least serious.
She discovered that the hull was equipped with a mechanism that, when activated, could move the chain of passenger compartments around the perimeter of the hull. The process of moving the passenger compartments described in the database conjured an image from her childhood of her father holding her by her arms and swinging her around in a circle, causing her legs to fly out behind her. B’Elanna could use the cranking mechanism to move the compartments around the hull’s perimeter until a straight line could be drawn between the compartment farthest from the hull and Monorha, several hundred thousand kilometers away. Once the compartments were detached from the hull, they could be shot through space like an arrow to a target, provided B’Elanna could come up with the proper force to set them in motion—such as a controlled explosion.
Her first problem was accessing the crank that was mounted on the hull. The solution proved to be simple. Since she was already in an environmental suit, she needed only to go through one of the airlocks and walk from compartment to compartment until she reached the hull. Once the line of compartments was aimed toward Monorha, she would tackle problem number two: initiating a series of explosions in the empty compartments that would act like gunpowder behind a cannonball.
In spite of having the gravity controls set to comfortable, almost Voyager levels, the familiar detestable anxiety over zero-g conditions started in on B’Elanna’s stomach about twenty meters into her space walk. She ignored it. She managed to cover the length of the first compartment with little effort. When the time came to traverse the gap between the first compartment and the second, she hesitated. She looked down; vertigo assaulted her. Staggering backward a step, she felt overwhelming gratitude that she hadn’t eaten in the last twelve hours. You can’t do this, B’Elanna, she scolded herself. You’re on the clock. Indeed, she knew she was down to the last forty minutes before their shuttle would return to Voyager for good. Step NOW…
Avoiding the downward glance that had set her awry moments before, B’Elanna took a step, bent into a shallow squat, then jumped, sailing ever so gently over the gap between the compartments into space. When she cleared the distance, she pressed her grav thrusters and landed on the compartment’s surface. Good. One compartment down, four to go before I reach the hull. Adjusting the visual settings on her helmet, she was able to zoom in on a speck that was the cover over the mechanized cranking unit. Thankfully, it appeared to be intact.
Once she swung the compartments around so they were correctly situated, she would return to the shuttle via the route she was currently taking. As she walked back, she would depressurize the cooling conduits, causing a destabilization that, if her calculations were right, would cause an explosion about ten to fifteen minutes after she’d opened up the valves. She would then uncouple the occupied compartments—save a few empty compartments that would act as cushioning—from the unoccupied ones before beaming aboard the shuttle. Moments later, the explosions would start, cascading until the spherical hull became the last, most powerful part of the chain. She was counting on the final explosion’s being a doozy. The collective force of the explosions would launch the compartments toward Monorha. She’d run the physics past Tuvok, who, reluctantly, acknowledged that her plan should theoretically work.
With luck, the shuttle would have several minutes to get out of the way of the explosions. Not a lot of time, but as long as the shuttle escaped to Voyager, no one would complain too much.
She continued trudging atop the compartments, making her way toward the gargantuan sphere. She reached the sphere faster than she thought she would and discovered, much to her delight, that the crank mechanism worked beautifully. The compartments swung just the way she thought they would. Now for the fun part: the explosions.
As she walked, she considered how poetic it would be if she lost her life in hard vacuum wearing an EVA suit when, to her reckoning, one of the most significant times in her life had begun on her Day of Honor under circumstances similar to these. An image of Tom flitted through her mind. Maybe I’ll be seeing you sooner than you thought, Flyboy. Thoughts of Tom kept a smile on her face as she walked from compartment to compartment, preparing the compartments to be launched.
B’Elanna knelt down on the top of the third-to-last compartment and turned the knob that allowed the coolant to vent into the interior. Using her tricorder as a listening device, she waited until she heard the sibilant hissing through the paper-thin hull plating before she stood up and moved to the next knob. B’Elanna enjoyed fixing things, to be certain, but she also enjoyed blowing things up.
“Commander Tuvok to Lieutenant Torres.”
“Yes, Commander,” B’Elanna said, and unscrewed the next knob. A few moments later, the hissing began. She stood up and moved to the next junction.
“Ensign Tariq needs to return to Voyager now if he is to bring the rih-hara-tan back to their ships in time.”
The implication: they all needed to leave now. No time to wrap up loose ends on the return trip. She wasn’t done yet! To top it off, she couldn’t get this damn knob to open. She felt around on her tool belt and pressed the button that released her electromagnetic spanner. Grunting, she worked on loosening the knob. “Look—I need ten minutes. Why not call Voyager and have them send a second shuttle with the rih-hara-tan.”
“A logical suggestion. I will keep you updated.”
The comm went silent. B’Elanna yanked with all her strength on the fastener, but nothing. Even worse, the tricorder indicated that if she continued her efforts, she risked ripping the hull plating. Frustrated, she gave up and started clomping along toward the next compartment. Hopefully the leaks she’d initiated would be enough.
The Doctor knew he wouldn’t be able to touch Kes, skin-to-skin, as he had aboard Voyager. I
ronically, in her current state she had more in common with his holographic self than the organic form he currently took. He hesitated a moment, remembering how Kes’s transformation had destabilized Voyager’s structural integrity, but when he realized that her presence had yet to disrupt their surroundings, he relaxed.
“I’ve missed you,” Kes said, drawing closer to him. “A body suits you.” She circled around him, taking in his new look from all sides.
“You think so?” the Doctor said, holding up his arm so he could scrutinize his hand. “This body is a bit…hairy—and barrel-chested—for my taste.”
Kes laughed.
“I’m relieved you can tell it’s me,” the Doctor said.
“The body is a shell. I see beneath it.” She gazed at the furnishings, inhaled a deep whiff of air scented with the refuse of war. Not even the incense burning outside the tent flap could cover it. “We are on Ocampa, aren’t we? Just before the warming. The burnt-soil smell reminds me of the tunnels to the surface.” Kes drifted over to where Lia slept and studied her. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I know her. I have her memories from my imprinting.”
The Doctor resumed his place on the stool beside Lia’s cot. “She reminds me of you.” He took her vitals and examined her wounds; unsurprisingly, her symptoms had worsened. A low-level nervousness seized him as he began to wonder where Balim was….
Kes touched Lia’s forehead; the Doctor startled, fearing what such contact would do to the dying woman. The rosy blush that suffused Lia’s cheeks lessened his concerns somewhat. Lia shifted in her sleep without apparent pain.
“What did you do? Can you heal her?”
“I can’t give life to one appointed to death, but I can ease her passage.” Kes glanced at the Doctor, her lively eyes dancing beneath long lashes. “Another life awaits her.”
“Like yours?” the Doctor asked. Since Kes had left Voyager, he had longed to know—to understand—what had happened to her. Concern for her well-being had been with him continually for many months now.
“Not yet, but someday.” Kes turned away from Lia and asked, with such kindness the Doctor’s insides ached from missing her, “And what about you? How is it that you came to Ocampa—in this era?”
“That, my dear, is the million-quatloo question,” the Doctor said, arranging Lia’s bedding so she wasn’t chilled. He explained how he was accidentally taken from Voyager, his deal with Vivia, and his subsequent journey to Ocampa and his encounter with Lia and her army. Part of the way through their discussion, she held her hand so it hovered over his. His flesh warmed in her presence. All of it, from leaving Voyager to being thrown into Ced’s body, was worth it to be with Kes again. “And you? Where were you before—” He circled his hand several times.
“I was inside a star, exploring, when a voice called to me. There was a flood of light—as if a thousand stars had burned a hole in the fabric of space-time,” she said, her voice husky and soft; to the Doctor, she seemed far away. “A massive energy surge felt like it sliced through me. I thought I was undergoing another transformation. Now I’m here.”
“Are you well now?”
“I am.”
Sitting in companionable silence alongside her, the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to tell her about Balim—at least not yet. Perhaps he wanted her to himself a few minutes longer. Soon enough, she would belong to Balim and to the eternities. So he said nothing until she asked why she had been brought to Ocampa.
The Doctor folded down Lia’s blanket and turned Lia’s palm so Kes could see the ipasaphor. He saw comprehension in Kes’s expression.
“General Lia began her elogium yesterday. She had no intention of creating a child, because she believed her first duty was to Ocampa.” Taking a deep breath, the Doctor prepared for the next part, the more sensitive section. Kes’s look told him that she suspected where this conversation was headed, but that she would hear him out. “Now, she can’t continue to lead her troops, nor does she have the strength to carry a child.”
“There is a story that General Lia gave birth…” Kes began tentatively.
“I suspect that may be the case,” the Doctor said.
“But I have no memory of Lia taking a mate.”
“Her lover has unique gifts that can help Ocampa. He believes that his and Lia’s child could save your world.”
“The lover…he called me here—”
“Balim is his name.”
“I have only the barest recollection of him. He’s a shadow in her memory.”
“He is not like you or I. Perhaps he is more like you are now, but he is not like Lia.”
Kes contemplated the Doctor’s words for a long moment; her eyes widened. “He’s Nacene!”
The Doctor nodded. “He loves your people. As the Caretaker did—more, even. I believe he loves the Ocampa as much as you do and that is why I overstepped my bounds and allowed him to call you here.”
“Can I trust him?”
“I believe so.”
“What should I do? What do you want me to do?”
The Doctor looked at Kes, struck not only by her loveliness and grace, but by her confidence in him; she entrusted her destiny to his judgment without hesitation. A word from him and this whole charade would end. Lia would die and Balim would continue his fight alone. The Doctor would have to find another way to Voyager. Perhaps Kes could help me. As much as he longed to take Kes and escape this nightmare, he knew what he had to do.
Inhaling deeply, he said, “I can’t choose for you, but I believe this is a just and good cause. I won’t pretend to know the future, but Ocampa’s destiny may hinge on the outcome of this decision. Whether for the better or not I can’t say. I can only admonish you to trust your heart.” He met her unveiled gaze directly. Kes saw through him. She’d been his first best friend and that was why he owed her the truth.
“I need a private moment with Lia,” Kes said finally.
Excusing himself, the Doctor rose from his stool and went to the tent flap. He slipped through the opening unobtrusively and waited outside.
Balim stood a meter or so away, talking animatedly with two shrouded figures he didn’t recognize. The now familiar electric tingle hit him, but with less power and force than it had before. The Doctor realized this pair must be the Nacene prisoners—Mestof’s wizards. He waited, listened.
“For your penance, you must be their Caretaker,” Balim said to the taller one, who the Doctor surmised was male based on the clothing. “They will be helpless without water, without land. Unless you can build a home for them away from the surface, the Ocampa will die out. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“And you, Suspiria. You are young among the Exiles. You must help your mate until the day when my heir will return to repair the damage our kind has done.”
Suspiria! This is where the Caretaker came from. This is the beginning of the chain of events that brought Voyager to the Delta Quadrant!
For a moment, he toyed with an irrational thought. If he prevented the Caretaker and Suspiria from fulfilling their promise to Balim, Voyager would never be taken from the Alpha Quadrant. Knowing he was at a place where he could forever change history exhilarated and terrified him. But the momentary megalomania passed: he would not risk Kes’s future or the futures of any of her kind. Besides, where would he be without the Delta Quadrant journey? Another EMH module waiting around in a database until he’d be decommissioned when the better version came along.
From inside the tent, the Doctor heard Kes calling him. He’d raised the tent flap when Balim addressed him. The Doctor turned back.
“Is it time?”
“I believe so,” the Doctor said, and slipped inside.
Kes was kneeling beside Lia’s bedside, holding the general’s hand in her own. Lia had awoken and was talking intently to Kes in the quietest of tones. The Doctor cleared his throat, warning the women of his presence.
“I need…to say goodbye…Ced. To you and Balim,” Lia said, her
breathing labored.
“Then you’ve decided?” the Doctor asked them both.
Hand in hand, Kes and Lia exchanged looks; then Kes said, so softly he almost didn’t hear, “For Ocampa.”
Lia’s eyes closed. The Doctor heard a distinctive rattle in her chest indicating that she had little time left. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and asked whatever power in the universe that looked after the souls of Ocampans to guide Lia’s passage.
The tent flap rustled and parted, admitting Balim.
The Doctor never had fully comprehended how tall Balim was; he barely cleared the tent’s ceiling. He stood at least an imposing two meters by the Doctor’s estimation. And while he considered his holomatrix to be handsome, the Doctor had to confess that by torchlight on a bleak and lonely Ocampan night, Balim had much in common with a rather dirty, plain-garbed Lancelot. He glanced at Kes, gauging her reaction.
She was transfixed.
He stepped inside and knelt beside Kes, bowing deeply from the waist. “I am Balim.” He raised his head so Kes could better see him.
“I thought you were a fairy story,” Kes said, her eyes never leaving his. “A legend.”
He answered with a sad smile.
“You were—are—Lia’s companion. Her lover.”
He nodded. “You understand why I called you here?”
“To give Lia a child.” Kes placed her hand over Balim’s. “You should say goodbye.”
“She has slipped into the twilight between life and death. When the child is formed, I will know her again.”
“Then I am ready,” Kes said.
Twining his fingers with hers, he murmured words only Kes could hear. He raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm.
The Doctor felt like a voyeur standing idly by as Kes and Balim sought, and found, a connection. Part of him wanted to linger to protect Kes from harm the way Ced had failed to protect Lia; another part of him wanted to flee, to have no part in what the Doctor knew would be a painful ordeal for her.
String Theory, Book 3: Evolution Page 25