Fife rested on the edge of his chair, his spine perfectly aligned maximizing both comfort and potential freedom of motion. He had activated a link between the main viewscreen and Captain O’Donnell’s quarters should he have any interest in the proceedings. As the probe launched, Fife honestly wondered what he hoped would result from the effort. Not too long ago, his focus would have been on the tactical dangers posed. He would have expected a hostile response and been mentally running scenarios to combat it. Now, he was satisfied to remain curious. Having barely survived a first-contact situation with the Children of the Storm, he was committed to at least considering the possibility that less-invasive, more diplomatic efforts could yield better results. A product of his training, Fife had begun his service as hostilities with the Dominion were escalating. But he was beginning to see how those early experiences had restricted his thinking. How many other possible responses were there in a situation such as this?
He actually wished that Captain O’Donnell had come to the bridge for the launch. No doubt, if Fife were to pose the question, the captain would have several alternatives, and he wanted to hear them right now. He made a mental note to discuss the question with the captain at the next opportunity.
“Commander,” Url called from tactical, “we are detecting a response to the probe’s entry into the cloaked field.”
“Onscreen,” Fife ordered, his pulse quickening.
He found the spectacle that played out before him disappointing on several levels.
“Report,” Chakotay demanded.
The first response to the probe’s contact had come only a few minutes after it passed into the cloaked area. EM readings had spiked, followed by detection of low-level tetryons.
“Something is emerging from subspace, sir,” Kim replied.
“Specify.”
Kim paused, studying the readings and immediately ordering the computer to run a comparison with the distortion ring. As he waited for the computer’s response, Kim settled for a visual analysis. Swirling greenish gas burst forth several thousand kilometers from the probe’s position. A dark point at its center began to expand, edged by sharp spikes Kim couldn’t help but think of as “teeth.” The ovoid darkness expanded as it moved to intercept the probe.
“Lieutenant Lasren, let’s see what the probe is seeing,” Chakotay ordered.
The image on the main viewscreen was split between Voyager’s sensor’s display of the probe’s course and an image taken directly from the probe’s visual sensors. Kim decided that from the probe’s point of view, the encounter was significantly more terrifying. As the swirling mass approached, a gaping maw opened, filled with jagged energy discharges. Were the probe capable of thought, it might have realized it was about to become dinner.
“Lieutenant Kim?” Chakotay asked again.
“It’s a wave form, sir,” Kim replied. “The EM readings are consistent with the distortion ring, but there are numerous other energy signatures previously unseen.”
“I don’t think its intention is terribly mysterious,” Paris added.
“How long until it reaches the probe?” Chakotay asked.
“Thirty seconds,” Kim replied. “Should I attempt to adjust the probe’s course?”
“No,” Chakotay said.
Thirty seconds later, the wave form reached its target. Its “mouth” had opened to a diameter of ten meters, wide enough to completely surround the probe. The moment it was engulfed by the wave form, the probe ceased transmission. Lasren reset the viewscreen to display sensor readings. An oval shape clamped down, and the gaseous mass around it was lit by streaks of orange and white light, evidence of the probe’s destruction. Seconds later, the gas began to disperse, and all evidence of the wave form vanished from the viewscreen.
Paris turned to Chakotay. “The probe was programmed to transmit our standard friendship greetings as well as an offer to assist anything that needed our help,” he said. “I think we have our answer, sir.”
Chakotay brought his hand to his chin, leaned forward, and nodded somberly.
As the computer finally began to relay its comparative analysis at Kim’s station, sensors registered two new EM spikes: one within ten thousand kilometers of Voyager, and the other an equivalent distance from Demeter.
“Two new wave forms are emerging from subspace, sir,” Kim reported at once.
“Red alert,” Chakotay ordered. “Helm, evasive maneuvers.”
“Demeter is altering course as well, sir,” Lasren advised.
“Is the comm link stable?” Chakotay asked.
“Aye, sir,” Lasren replied.
“Demeter, status?” Chakotay said.
“We’ve detected the wave form, sir,” Fife replied, unruffled. “We can evade at impulse speeds for now, but if necessary, we can go to warp. The drive is online.”
“Belay that!” a new voice ordered gruffly.
“Commander O’Donnell?” Chakotay asked.
“The EM frequency of this wave form is slightly different from the one that just destroyed the probe. We need to see what it wants, Captain,” O’Donnell replied.
“Even if that’s true,” Chakotay countered, “contact cannot be permitted at this time. The first one of these things we encountered halted us in our tracks and altered the physical configuration of our ship as it moved through us.”
“Is it saying anything, Lieutenant Vincent?” O’Donnell asked of his operations officer.
“No communications are incoming on any subspace bands, sir,” Vincent replied.
Chakotay looked to Lieutenant Lasren, who echoed Vincent’s response with a sharp shake of his head.
“Commander O’Donnell, I am ordering you to move your ship clear of harm’s way,” Chakotay said, rising from his chair.
“That’s a mistake, Captain,” O’Donnell said.
“No, that’s an order,” Chakotay said more forcefully.
After too long a pause, O’Donnell finally replied, “Understood.”
Kim watched as Demeter began to put significant distance between itself and the approaching wave form.
“Can we stop this one, Lieutenant Kim?” Chakotay asked.
“Yes, sir,” Kim replied. He’d spent six years studying the distortion ring and creating several tactical responses.
“Its speed is increasing, Captain,” Gwyn advised from the helm.
“Full impulse,” Chakotay ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
“Time to impact?”
“Three minutes at present speed,” Gwyn replied.
“Harry?” Chakotay demanded.
“Permission to attempt communication?” Kim requested.
“How?” Chakotay asked.
“I’m encrypting our standard greetings using the same code the first wave form used,” Kim replied. “If we can show it that we understood its message, maybe it will answer us.”
“Go ahead.” Chakotay nodded.
“Lasren?” Kim asked.
“Transmitting now,” Lasren replied.
Kim waited breathlessly for the wave form now approaching Voyager to halt its progress, transmit a reply, or give any sign that it had received the message. When a minute had gone by and none of these things had come to pass, Lasren said with obvious regret, “No response, sir.”
“One minute to contact,” Gwyn added.
“Neutralize the wave form, Lieutenant Kim,” Chakotay ordered.
“Aye, sir. Venting tetryon plasma,” Kim replied.
The tactical officer watched as the plasma dispersed from the ship’s nacelles into the path of the wave form. As expected, the concentrated gamma radiation disrupted the portion of the form that was still in subspace and the ever-widening dark center distorted visibly before collapsing altogether.
“The wave form has been forced back into subspace, sir,” Kim reported.
“Good work, Lieutenant Kim. Any additional contacts?”
“No, sir.”
“What is Demeter’s status?”
“The wave from approaching Demeter is accelerating,” Kim reported.
“Why haven’t they gone to warp?” Chakotay asked.
“I’m not sure they can now,” Paris suggested.
“They waited too long,” Chakotay murmured, clearly frustrated. “Ensign Gwyn, put us between Demeter and the wave form. Kim, prepare to vent plasma,” Chakotay ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Gwyn replied. Inertial dampers struggled to compensate as Voyager made a sharp turn to port.
Even moving at full impulse, the distance was too great. “We’re not going to make it,” Gwyn reported.
Kim watched as Demeter attempted to go to warp. The proximity of the wave form was disrupting subspace sufficiently to make formation of the warp bubble impossible.
“Options?” Chakotay asked.
“I’m realigning the deflector dish,” Kim replied. “Emitting a tetryon pulse.”
Kim wasn’t sure the pulse would have the same effect as the plasma, but it was Demeter’s only chance.
Bright flares shot forth from the deflector and flew into the heart of the wave form. For a few breathless seconds, they appeared to have no effect. Then, the wave form collapsed, less than a thousand meters from its target.
“Helm, set course six one nine mark three and engage at warp six,” Chakotay ordered. “Lasren, relay that course to Demeter.”
“Aye, sir,” Gwyn replied.
“Course transmitted,” Lasren reported. “Demeter has achieved warp speed and is following.”
Chakotay released a deep sigh and finally said, “Stand down red alert.”
Kim’s relief was palpable, but so was his curiosity. Was it possible he had misinterpreted the data? Did the wave forms no longer require help? They seemed eminently capable of defending their territory. But the request he had decoded had such a plaintive tone to it. And despite the many inconveniences of the first encounter, the distortion ring had done no real damage to Voyager. It seemed intent only on communicating with them.
What had Commander O’Donnell seen that he had missed?
“Captain?” Kim asked. “As soon as we have reached a safe distance, I would like to request permission to confer with Commander O’Donnell.”
“Noted,” Chakotay replied.
From his tone, Harry sensed that Chakotay probably intended to do a fair amount of “conferring” with O’Donnell as well.
Chapter Eight
STARFLEET MEDICAL, SAN FRANCISCO
Had her morning been even slightly less fraught, Admiral Janeway might have been able to cobble together some patience for Counselor Pyotr Jens. He had to be in his forties, but his boyish face belied any experience he might have gained in those years. A quick glance at his service record indicated that he had spent most of his career at Starfleet Medical. She didn’t want to judge him too harshly. Maintaining a positive attitude was essential, especially in trying times. But his earnestness read as condescension, his enthusiasm, forced.
Adding to a long list of worries was what Julia Paris was about to do to Tom, B’Elanna, and Miral. Unless Janeway managed to convince the very green Mister Jens to provide her with a sterling evaluation, she would quickly find herself without the authority to aid them in any way.
The problem was she had no idea who she was dealing with and therefore no way to formulate responses sure to satisfy him. For all his too-obvious sincerity, he remained aloof. She actually missed Hugh Cambridge. At least with him, she’d never had cause to doubt her footing or the savage truth of his assessments.
Just be honest, she reminded herself as each new question made her want to grab Jens and shake him. Instead, she kept her hands folded in her lap and did her best to keep her face neutral.
They had briefly discussed major events following Voyager’s return to the Alpha Quadrant. Jens then indicated that he wished to use most of this day’s session to cover her presumed death and experiences with the Q. “How much do you remember of the assimilation process?” he asked.
Enough.
“Not much,” she replied. “I had experienced a version of assimilation before.”
“Yes.” Jens nodded, clearly pleased with himself to already know this. “Stardate 54014, you, Commander Tuvok, and Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres allowed yourselves to be assimilated in order to gain access to the central plexus of a Borg vessel.”
“Yes.” Janeway nodded stoically, though Jens’s mispronunciation of B’Elanna—Buh Alana—almost sent her over the edge. “But we had been injected with neural inhibitors prior, which allowed us to retain our individuality during and after the assimilation process.”
“One wonders why such a miraculous innovation was not more widespread among the fleet during last year’s Borg attack. At the very least, it should have become a standard safeguard for anyone facing the Borg,” Jens mused. “It might have come in handy when you led the Einstein’s away team aboard the cube that assimilated you.”
No, one doesn’t.
“In the first place, it wasn’t entirely successful,” Janeway said curtly. “Lieutenant Tuvok was almost lost to the Borg. Second, almost every weapon and tactic successfully used against the Borg worked once, twice if we were lucky. Their ability to adapt was one of their greatest strengths. Our ability to innovate was the only thing that leveled the playing field. Finally, when the Borg came last year, they didn’t come to assimilate. They came to annihilate.”
“Yes, of course.” Jens seemed to realize on the spot. He should have been mortified to display such limited understanding of the subject, but he wasn’t.
“The two assimilations were nothing alike,” Janeway finally went on. “The first I seemed to watch, as if it were happening to someone else. The second was like drowning. It felt like a very long time before I realized that I still existed in some fashion, apart from the Queen they made from me. Where once I’d had full run of the house that I think of as myself, it seemed I was now locked in a very small closet and only granted access to what was being done with my body in brief, horrifying glimpses.”
“Do you now find yourself fearful of small places?” Jens asked.
“Not especially,” Janeway replied wearily.
It didn’t matter. Nothing she could say here was going to help her. The work she needed to do to come to terms with her recent past required the aid of an intellect and the wisdom of years this energetic young man simply did not possess. Janeway had no doubt that Montgomery had known this when he assigned Jens as her counselor. This exercise was meant to occupy her time, nothing more. Montgomery was going to cave to Akaar’s pressure, and Admiral Verdell was probably already working on salvaging whatever the admirals thought they could of the fleet’s mission.
Before she set foot on Earth, Janeway had readied herself to consider as honestly and deeply as possible the pros and cons of fighting for command of the fleet. She wanted to find the right answer to this question, both for herself and for those she loved. Farkas’s anger had shaken her, and Montgomery’s words about her ability to maintain perspective had struck at the heart of her misgivings. Janeway needed to satisfy herself that she could and would do what she must, and in the absence of that certainty, she would accept Command’s choice with grace.
The resistance to that acceptance now grew stronger with every word that fell from the counselor’s lips. It flowed from an irrational determination to refuse to bow to the political winds, not from an inner certainty that she should return to the fleet. It was empowering and felt all too familiar. Beating impossible odds was her comfort zone. But she could not say for sure that this was the battle she was supposed to be fighting.
For all his well-intended efforts, Counselor Jens wasn’t even capable of seeing the field, let alone joining her on it.
“Do you believe now, knowing all you know, that were you again faced with the choice to board that cube, you would still do so?” Jens asked, his batting average in obliviousness nearing one thousand.
“No,” Janeway replied. Bu
t who among us ever gets that chance? she shouted internally.
You did, a soft voice reminded her. You chose to rewrite history once when you didn’t like the outcome.
“That wasn’t me,” Janeway murmured.
“Admiral?” Jens asked.
“I’m sorry, Counselor,” she said quickly. “What was your question?”
Jens did not immediately reply, instead busying himself making a notation on his padd.
This can’t last forever, she reminded herself.
But she had no doubt that the outcome of these sessions would haunt her nearly that long.
STARBASE 185
The Doctor’s first thought entering Starbase 185’s sickbay was that it was badly in need of retrofitting. Data terminals, biobeds, even the tricorders were several years out of date.
He had downloaded the files of the patient designated as “C-1” into his memory buffers and spent the past two days analyzing the contents. The Starbase’s CMO, Doctor Sakrys Mai, was obviously at a loss and had made a number of errors in her initial evaluation. A treatment plan would have to wait until the Doctor could examine the patient personally.
Commander Clarissa Glenn accompanied the Doctor to the sickbay, where Doctor Mai, a short, plump woman from Cestus III, stood within the visible level-10 force field erected to protect the rest of the base from the patient. As the Doctor and Glenn entered, a nurse at a control panel lowered the field, allowing Doctor Mai to exit. The field was quickly restored as Mai crossed to offer the EMH her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” she said sincerely. Her voice had a lilting, almost musical quality that the Doctor found appealing. “And you, Commander Glenn,” Mai added.
Star Trek: Voyager - 042 - Protectors Page 11