Star Trek: Voyager - 042 - Protectors

by Kirsten Beyer

  With that, Voyager cleared the gateway and entered the stream.

  The journey was brief and reminiscent of the one Voyager had traversed along the corridors that had been claimed by the Turei. The first thing Harry Kim saw when they were again in open space was the sight of Demeter, beautiful and undamaged, but now free of the proctors who had brought them here.

  The second was a sight that made the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

  The stream ended in a system, warmed by a single G-class star. A blue-green gem of a planet hovered nearby, surrounded by at least two visible large space stations where several vessels were docked. Light traffic orbited the planet, and Kim surmised that Lasren was now busy cycling through the comm traffic.

  The tactical officer smiled to himself. He’d seen a lot in the Delta Quadrant in over seven years of exploration. Numerous space-faring people had crossed Voyager’s path organized as empires, imperiums, collectives, cooperatives, and species. None of them had reminded him so viscerally, at least on the surface, of the Federation.

  It troubled him to think of how this confederacy had come into being. But what they had built was promising at first glance. Kim had always appreciated how big the galaxy was. Today, however, it seemed somehow smaller.

  Chakotay had only moments to take in the scene before the image on the viewscreen was replaced by the faces of Commander O’Donnell and Lieutenant Commander Fife, standing side by side on Demeter’s bridge. Fife was calm and professional. O’Donnell’s eyes held a curious light.

  “It’s good to see you in one piece, Captain,” O’Donnell offered.

  “You, too,” Chakotay said.

  “Welcome to the Confederacy of the Worlds of the First Quadrant,” O’Donnell said.

  “Is it just this one system?” Chakotay asked.

  O’Donnell shook his head.

  “Have you encountered any hostility?”

  “We’re all friends here, apparently,” O’Donnell said. “Unauthorized ships that enter that subspace tunnel are destroyed on sight when they get here. But ships that come under the protection of the wave forms are not. The general indicated that no ship has been deemed worthy of the protector’s attention in more than a century.”

  “What happened to the proctors . . . I mean, protectors?” Chakotay asked.

  “They dispersed almost as soon as we entered the system,” O’Donnell said, his voice thick. “I guess they took too much damage . . .”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Chakotay said.

  O’Donnell nodded, then continued, “A delegation has been dispatched from the First World to meet us. We’ve been asked to hold our ships at these coordinates until the diplomats arrive.”

  “We will comply,” Chakotay said. “We need to begin making repairs in the meantime.”

  “Need any help?” O’Donnell asked.

  “Any and all you can provide,” Chakotay answered.

  “I’ll see to it.”

  “Mister Fife,” Chakotay said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Excellent work.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Fife said.

  “Captain,” Lasren called, “General Mattings is hailing us.”

  “On screen,” Chakotay said.

  “We’re monitoring your ship-to-ship transmissions, Captain,” he said by way of greeting. “I expect that doesn’t surprise you.”

  “It doesn’t,” Chakotay said. “But we have nothing to hide.”

  “Good to know,” Mattings said. “Your official delegates will arrive shortly, but in the meantime, permit me to formally welcome you to our confederacy. Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked proudly.

  “Actually,” Chakotay said, “I have.”

  This seemed to surprise the general. After a moment he said, “You know, the diplomats probably won’t arrive until shift change. Protocol and all that. In the meantime, would you care to see the Twelfth Lamont? I’ll cover your tab.”

  “I would,” Chakotay said sincerely. “May I bring a few of my officers with me?”

  “As long as they don’t carry side arms,” Mattings said. “I’ll send a pod along to collect you.”

  “Thank you. Voyager out,” Chakotay said, trusting his gut and choosing not to reveal Voyager’s transporter technology. He was certain the Confederacy ships were scanning their vessels, but he was not going to do likewise until he was assured of his people’s safety. Even passive scans might be considered offensive by the force of superior numbers at this stage of the game. Since Mattings had offered to send a ship, Chakotay could only assume that either they did not possess transport technology or they were keeping some of their cards hidden.

  Chakotay turned to Paris. “Commander, you have the bridge. I want a full report on our repairs when I return. Bring any of Demeter’s crew over to assist repairs via shuttle. No transporters, and no power to them.”

  “Captain,” Doctor Sharak, who was already treating the injured on the bridge, spoke up, “I have patients who will require transport to sickbay.”

  Chakotay looked to Paris, who nodded in understanding. “I’ll take care of it, Captain. We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “Good,” Chakotay said. Doctor Sharak had scanned his injuries, repaired them, and administered an analgesic for the pain as they traversed the subspace corridor. But a clean uniform was definitely in order.

  Turning, Chakotay smiled and added, “Counselor, Mister Kim, Mister Lasren, get yourselves cleaned up and report to the shuttlebay. You’re with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  VESTA

  Captain Regina Farkas sat at her ready room’s desk as Commander Malcolm Roach, her first officer, stood at ease before her. Five months of service hadn’t tempered the stern young man. He remained as crisp and tightly wound as ever. A stocky man of medium height whose width was from serious muscle he maintained in the ship’s gym, Roach had just returned from one of the recon missions. They were awaiting the arrival of Admiral Janeway so he could make his report.

  The doors of Farkas’s sanctuary slid open, and the admiral entered, nodding briskly to both of them. She moved immediately to one of the two chairs opposite Farkas and said, “Take a seat, Commander, and tell us what you found.”

  Roach did as ordered, Farkas smiling inwardly at the pain it caused him to do anything that resembled relaxing in the presence of a superior officer.

  “We had completed our scans of sector Three One Nine, confirming operational status of the relays there likely to be targeted according to Lieutenant Bryce’s calculations. None of them has been damaged,” Roach began.

  “But you found something unusual?” Janeway coaxed.

  “We did, Admiral,” Roach said. “We ran discreet scans for anomalous readings and discovered a higher than expected concentration of tetryons. We altered course to investigate. As we did so, our scanners clearly picked up a cloaked vessel.”

  Janeway shot a glance at Farkas, who leaned forward over her desk.

  “We hailed them. Something must have malfunctioned on their end. For twenty seconds, the ship decloaked, and we were able to perform a cursory scan. They re-initialized their cloak and set course away from the relays. As per our orders, we did not pursue.”

  “Very good, Commander,” Janeway said. “We need intelligence right now, not casualties.”

  “That was my understanding, Admiral,” Roach said.

  “Any life-signs?” Farkas asked.

  “Aye, Captain,” Roach said. “There were four individuals present, but only one we could identify.”

  “Who?” Janeway asked.

  “A member of the Voth species, Admiral,” Roach said.

  Janeway’s eyes widened and her posture stiffened. “Anything else?” Janeway asked.

  “No, Admiral. We have added the readings to our databases. All recon ships will now be on the alert in case they come across anything similar. Repairs and upgrades to the relays are due to be complete within the next two da
ys.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Janeway said.

  “Dismissed,” Farkas added, and Roach rose gratefully and returned to Vesta’s bridge.

  As soon as the door shut, Farkas said, “The Voth?”

  Janeway stood, started to pace, and clearly thought better of it. Instead, she planted her hands on the back of the chair she had just vacated.

  “If I remember correctly, they are not friendly?” Farkas asked.

  “Not even a little,” the admiral said.

  “Are they local?”

  “We encountered them three years into Voyager’s journey home. Their space is tens of thousands of light-years away. I honestly can’t imagine how they could be here, nor can I understand why they would venture so far from home or who they might be working with. They were xenophobic in the extreme and aggressively territorial.”

  “Humanoid?” Farkas asked.

  Janeway smiled bitterly. “Saurian. We uncovered compelling evidence that they originated on Earth millions of years ago. They considered that heresy against their doctrine. We were only freed from captivity when the scientist pursuing the research in question recanted his testimony.”

  “They captured your crew?” Farkas asked, surprised.

  “They captured Voyager. Their technology was formidable,” Janeway replied coldly.

  “Well, I’d hate to waste time out here going up against amateurs,” Farkas observed grimly.

  “I just doesn’t make any sense,” Janeway insisted.

  “Bridge to Captain Farkas,” came the voice of Vesta’s ops officer.

  “Go ahead, Jepel,” Farkas said.

  “We’ve just received a subspace message from Voyager, Captain. They are en route to rendezvous with us here and will arrive within six hours.”

  Janeway stood upright and brought a hand to her mouth, which failed to hide her relieved smile.

  “Acknowledged,” Farkas said as she rose from her desk, then added, “What about Demeter?”

  “Captain Chakotay’s transmission includes a preliminary report on their recent mission. Demeter is remaining at Voyager’s last coordinates pending review of the preliminary report.”

  “Thank you, Jepel,” Farkas said. “Farkas out.”

  “Okay,” Janeway said, clearly rifling through the ever-shifting priorities she now held in her head.

  “I’ll advise you as soon as they arrive, Admiral,” Farkas said.

  “Thank you,” Janeway said. “I’ll want you, Glenn, and Chakotay in the briefing room as soon after as possible.”

  “It’s been awhile since I actually looked forward to reading a report,” Farkas said and smiled.

  “Me, too,” Janeway agreed.

  Chakotay had been prepared to see the Vesta as soon as he received the transmission Captain Farkas had dispatched advising Voyager of Vesta’s current position and new rendezvous coordinates. He had not expected the magnitude of relief he felt when he first caught sight of her. Hard as it was to believe, she was actually a little larger than either Quirinal or Esquiline. During his conversations with General Mattings and the diplomatic delegation of the First World, Chakotay had done his best to communicate in broad strokes the capabilities and interests of the Federation. They seemed reluctant to accept his words, particularly the diplomats. “Why would any organization as vast as this Federation send such comparatively small vessels so far?” they’d asked. As soon as Vesta entered Confederacy space, Chakotay knew they would revise their assumptions.

  Captains Farkas and Glenn were waiting with Admiral Janeway when he entered the briefing room. One look at Kathryn told him the time spent away had been good. Her normally fair skin was lightly tanned and her eyes were shining. She looked more like herself than she had when she departed for Earth and was clearly at ease in her new role.

  “Welcome aboard the Vesta,” Captain Farkas greeted him, moving to shake his hand.

  “She’s a beautiful ship, Captain,” Chakotay replied.

  Kathryn communicated in a brief nod her relief and happiness in seeing him again but said crisply, “You’ve been busy, Captain.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, and smiled.

  “Let’s get going. We have a lot of ground to cover,” Janeway ordered.

  “Yes, Admiral,” Chakotay said, taking a seat between Farkas and Glenn.

  “I’ve reviewed your initial reports,” Janeway began. “It seems that distortion ring was a great deal more than met the eye. I commend you for your decision to focus on establishing meaningful and workable communications with them in regards to the Ark Planet.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Chakotay said.

  “And obviously your discovery of the Confederacy is astonishing,” Janeway went on. “What are your impressions of them? What didn’t you include in your formal report?”

  Chakotay nodded, understanding the question. “They are an extremely complicated group of people,” Chakotay began. “I had the opportunity to meet with several of their military officers as well as representatives from their diplomatic corps. Their Confederacy is older than the Federation, but smaller. Some fifty-three worlds are members, and six more have signed non-aggression pacts with them. They are fortunate to have found a corner of the Delta Quadrant relatively inaccessible to many space-faring species and don’t seem interested in expansion. The organization of their society doesn’t lend itself to growth.”

  “How so?” Farkas asked.

  “Member worlds are represented in the confederate government on the First World and vote on all matters relating to the entire confederacy. Control is very centralized. They have their ways of doing things and aren’t all that interested in incorporating new ways of thinking.

  “Their military, and they view their interstellar fleet as such, is large and tasked with maintaining civil order as well as dealing with interstellar threats. Their technology is advanced in some ways, but I don’t think they’re on par with Starfleet. They don’t possess transporters, replicators, or advanced propulsion systems like ours. They maintain a centralized system of currency, and trade is highly regulated.

  “They consider most species that are not part of their confederacy as beneath them, but they seemed impressed by what I told them of our Federation.”

  “That’s troubling,” Janeway noted.

  “Not when you consider their origins,” Chakotay replied. “The Confederacy was founded five hundred years ago by two species who had long been at war but found themselves equally powerless against the Borg. They fled their home-worlds, suffered great losses along the way, but eventually discovered a subspace tunnel leading to the system that is the home of their First World. They chose to extract resources from several large systems on the other side of what they call ‘the stream’ and worked for hundreds of years to rebuild what they had lost. Apparently those who discovered the first world assigned it religious significance, and there were edicts against disturbing the soil to build what they needed. It’s both telling and unfortunate that those edicts did not extend to every planet they encountered. The technology they created—the wave forms—to harvest those resources they had no compulsion about taking eventually developed beyond their programming and became resistant. Ultimately the ancient ones, the wave forms we encountered, were abandoned, and the area of space was hidden by a vast cloaking matrix.

  “Some of their history is troubling, but not necessarily any more so than ours. They like their place in the universe, if that makes sense,” Chakotay said. “They don’t allow outsiders to enter the stream, and any vessels that slip through are usually destroyed. We were a special case because we were brought there by some of the ancient wave forms.”

  “Have any outsiders petitioned for membership in the Confederacy?” Glenn asked.

  “They recognize that most species from beyond the stream are simply too far away to be managed effectively. It would strain their resources to an untenable point.

  “They are, however, very interested in le
arning more about the Federation.”

  “To what end?” Janeway asked.

  “A formal alliance that included sharing some of our more advanced technology seemed to intrigue them,” Chakotay said.

  “What do we get out of it?” Farkas asked.

  “A base of operations in the Delta Quadrant,” Janeway said. “A powerful refuge closer than the Alpha Quadrant in the event communications are severed and a real presence beyond any we could establish with a small exploratory fleet.”

  “Precisely,” Chakotay said.

  “Bottom line,” Janeway said. “Do you trust them?”

  Chakotay considered his words carefully. “For the most part.”

  “All right,” Janeway said. “I’ve already run your initial reports by Command. They have ordered us to return to the Confederacy to further explore the potential for diplomatic relations. But there are other matters to consider.”

  “Did you note the section of my report when I indicated that some of the vessels that attacked us before we accessed the stream were old acquaintances?” Chakotay asked of Janeway.

  “I did,” she said. “And we have a similar problem here.”

  “How so?”

  “A number of our relays have come under attack in the last few months. We have discovered that the Voth are among those perpetrating the attacks.”

  Chakotay’s jaw dropped. “The Voth?”

  “I felt the same way when I read that the Devore had joined the Turei and Vaadwaur,” Janeway said.

  “An unlikely coincidence?” Farkas asked.

  “Very,” Janeway said. “Can you think of any explanation, Captain?” she asked Chakotay.

  “The stream is one of many subspace corridors we already knew about. Perhaps in the absence of the Borg, other races have come across them and are beginning to utilize them,” Chakotay said.

  “As individuals, I can see that,” Janeway said. “What doesn’t seem possible is their willingness to work together to accomplish anything.”

  Chakotay shrugged. “I agree.”

  “Clearly, they know the Federation has sent ships out here, and they don’t seem happy about it,” Janeway offered.