Infinity's Prism

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “But I should’ve been following yours as well. You understood that we could adapt without losing who we are.” She moved closer. “I’m sorry I let my stubborn pride come between us. I should never have allowed that.”

  “You clung to what you believed was right. I’ve always admired that about you, even when I’ve disagreed with you.”

  “It was more than that. I resented you, I think. On some level, I believed that if you hadn’t talked me out of my alliance with the Borg, Tom, Tuvok, and the others might not have been killed.”

  “More likely we all would’ve been.”

  “You’re probably right. Allies with the Borg? What the hell was I thinking?” They shared a laugh. “Especially when there are so many better allies to choose from. Instead of a deal with the devil, we’ve made true friends. Maybe even…a new home.” She cleared her throat. “For some of us. Those who are willing to embrace it.”

  “You still have regrets,” he divined.

  “I still plan to take Voyager home someday, along with anyone else who’ll come. I don’t begrudge anyone else their right to stay here, in the new lives they’ve built.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine asking Kes to settle for the limited role she’d have on Voyager. And Harry would never have the chance to rise through the ranks the way he has here.

  “Still…all of you have been my family. And I regret that we’ve had to grow apart to fulfill our true potential.”

  “We’ve stayed in touch. We’re still a family.”

  “But we’re not as close as we were, and that’s bound to continue.” She shook off her melancholy and smiled. “Don’t mind me. Just a case of empty nest syndrome.”

  “For what it’s worth, Kathryn…I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here if you need me.”

  “And I always will.” She studied him for a moment, made a decision. “But not as my first officer.”

  He frowned. “Kathryn?”

  “You’ve become more than you were on Voyager too. You’ve become a leader in the community, and not just to Voyager’s crew. I think you should accept Dobrye’s invitation to run for office.”

  He took a moment before responding. “I have been thinking it would be a good idea.”

  “In more ways than one,” she said, her voice becoming soft, vulnerable. She spoke tentatively. “You told me recently…that we shouldn’t let life pass us by while we’re pursuing other plans. And you were right. There’s an opportunity that’s been staring me in the face for four years, and I’ve always let my sense of duty keep me from pursuing it. But I don’t know if I’ll ever find a better one.” She was close to him now, gazing up at him. “I’ve lost so many people close to me. If I don’t learn now to take my opportunities while I have them, I never will.”

  And she kissed him. And he returned the kiss as though it were the most natural thing in the galaxy.

  Part Three

  June–September 2375

  8

  Voyager shuddered as weapons fire strafed its shields. “Surt, can you identify them?” Janeway called.

  “Not a known design, Captain,” replied the stout, gray-brown humanoid at ops. His small eyes narrowed. “Wait, the computer has a record of it…. It belongs to a species called the Jem’Hadar.”

  Janeway turned to stare at Surt, as did Harry Kim beside her. “Are you certain?”

  “The computer is.”

  “On-screen.”

  A magnified, enhanced image of the vessel appeared as it came around for another pass. “He’s right, Captain,” Harry said. “I recognize the design. We had to familiarize ourselves with them at the Academy, just after they were first encountered.”

  “Been a long time since then, eh, Lieutenant Commander?” she asked Harry.

  Her first officer smiled and nodded. “And they’re a long way from the Gamma Quadrant. Looks like we’ve found another member of the Caretaker Club.”

  “Now we just need to convince them of that. Hail them, Surt.” The round-faced crewman nodded when the channel was open. “Jem’Hadar vessel. This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Delta Coalition starship Voyager. We bear you no hostile intentions—in fact, we have something in common, and we may be able to assist you. Please cease fire so we can discuss the situation.”

  A moment later, a face appeared on the screen—not a Jem’Hadar, but a more humanlike female with long, dark hair and backswept, scalloped ears. Janeway remembered the briefings she’d studied a few months before Voyager’s abduction. She was a Vorta, a member species of the Dominion, as were the Jem’Hadar themselves. “Delta Coalition? What trickery is this? And how does a Federation starship come to be so far from home?” she added with frank suspicion.

  “Probably the same way you did, Ms….”

  “You may call me Kilana.”

  “Kilana. I’m pleased to meet you.” Janeway spoke to her about the Caretaker, his abduction of ships from all over the galaxy, and Voyager’s subsequent experiences leading to its membership in the newly formed Delta Coalition. It was a speech she had made more than once in recent months. Once she had committed Voyager—and herself—to the defense of this quadrant and its inhabitants, she had realized there was an obligation she had overlooked for years. Many ships had been brought here by the Caretaker, left to fend for themselves in hostile space just as Voyager had. And yet she had never made more than a token effort to seek them out. In the first weeks following Voyager’s arrival, she had ordered periodic scans and hails to see if any other abductees were in the vicinity; but upon finding none within range, she had essentially written them off and continued on course for home. In retrospect, that felt like a foolish decision; it would have been wiser to survey the region thoroughly first. Even just a few other ships could have helped with resource shortages and defense against local hostiles.

  But once she had committed to staying in the region—at least until Species 8472 was dealt with and the Coalition’s survival assured—Janeway had chosen to take Voyager back through the Nekrit Expanse and the perils of Swarm territory, back into the realm of the Kazon and Vidiians, in search of any remaining refugees who had managed to survive. It was a risk, taking Voyager away from the Coalition at a time when attack might be imminent; but the alliance was strong enough to spare one ship, and her search might bring back more allies who could make valuable contributions to the Coalition’s defense.

  Some had called it a fool’s mission; what were the odds that any other Caretaker refugees were still alive, or still in the vicinity, after more than four years? And it would take years to track all the way back to the Ocampa system, while the Coalition was unwilling to let her extend the search past five months this first time out. At most, she could only find those who had traveled more or less toward the galactic core as Voyager had.

  Truth be told, sometimes Janeway doubted her own motives for this mission. Despite her avowed commitment to joining Vostigye society and the Coalition that centered on it, was she perhaps still pulling away from that community by finding a new quixotic quest to pursue? She preferred to believe that she was making amends for a mistake, for her excessive haste to flee this quadrant rather than fulfilling her responsibilities to its occupants, indigenous or otherwise. Maybe that was compensation for her guilt at failing to get her crew home, but it was still a worthy goal. She owed it to her fellow abductees to search for them, at least; and the fledgling Coalition could use all the members it could get.

  As it happened, a number of Caretaker abductees had banded together for mutual protection, thus saving Voyager the effort of tracking them down individually. Most were from the Alpha, Beta, and inner Delta Quadrants, and thus were heading in roughly the same direction. A few were familiar species: Kobheerian, Betelgeusian, Carnelian. The others had been from parts of the galaxy Starfleet had not yet reached, including Vomnin and Shizadam from the Beta Quadrant and Nygeans and S’paaphonn from distant parts of the Delta. Mister Surt himself was a Caretaker abductee, a member of a secretive inner Del
ta Quadrant civilization known only as the Hierarchy, a people skilled at surveillance and stealth but not big on individual initiative. (Annika Hansen, with her typical playfulness, had dubbed them “the Potato People,” and though Janeway strove to discourage such characterizations, she had a hard time denying the resemblance.) He had proven a valuable replacement for Nemulye, the Vostigye ops manager who had been killed in the passage through Swarm space. And his people’s cloaking technology would be invaluable for getting the convoy safely back through Swarm territory to the Coalition.

  The members of the convoy, which now waited for Voyager in a nearby system, had told of various other abductees they had met or heard of. Some had already found new worlds of their own to settle on, some had been destroyed, and some had headed off on vectors to more distant parts of the galaxy. Janeway had decided to take her search antispinward, toward the Gamma Quadrant, in hopes of intercepting another convoy she’d heard rumors of. They might not be willing to turn back and accept lives in the Coalition, but at least she could offer them supplies and information on the region’s dangers before wishing them a good journey.

  Still, it was a surprise to encounter a Dominion vessel here; if her knowledge of the Dominion’s location was correct, a direct course from Ocampa would not have brought it this close to Coalition space. They must have been forced to go around a major obstacle, perhaps the Krowtonan Guard she had heard of from the convoy members, or something even more dangerous. At this point, they might welcome the help the Coalition could provide.

  Still, Kilana remained skeptical when she had finished. “Why should I believe any of this? It’s all some Federation trick!”

  “If we wished to deceive you, why wait over four years? We have extensive records that will verify our story.”

  “And will those records reveal what became of the device that could have sent us home? We heard that it was destroyed by a Starfleet vessel.”

  Oh, dear. This was a prickly issue. But she’d found it best to confront it openly. “I was the one who made that decision, Ms. Kilana. If I hadn’t, then the Array would have fallen into the hands of the Kazon, and they would not have allowed anyone else to use it to get home. Moreover, they would have used its power to inflict great harm on the species of the region.”

  “The Kazon are petty thugs. We could have taken the Array from them easily—if you had left us anything to take.”

  Janeway spread her hands. “Maybe that’s so. But what will you accomplish by fighting us over it?”

  “Your destruction would only be just.”

  “But what would it get you? I can offer something better.”

  Kilana was wary. “Explain.”

  “You asked about the Delta Coalition. It’s an alliance of regional powers united for mutual defense and the sharing of knowledge and resources.”

  “Just another Federation.”

  “Is the Dominion so different?” Janeway replied, though privately she was confident that it was. “You also cooperate for mutual benefit.”

  “We serve the Founders, our gods. No one else will ever have our allegiance!”

  “Uh-oh,” Harry muttered.

  “We don’t require allegiance,” Janeway said. “But you’d be welcome as our guests. The Coalition has assisted many people who had no homes to return to or no hope of seeing home in their lifetimes. Including Voyager and a number of others brought here by the Caretaker. Some of us have clashed with one another back home, but we’re a long way from those conflicts here.”

  Kilana kept up a brave front, but Janeway hadn’t become a star-ship captain without learning how to read people. The Vorta was nervous, uncertain. Janeway recalled her briefings: The Founders of the Dominion were shape-shifters who had genetically engineered their servant races. The Vorta were their bureaucrats, the Jem’Hadar their enforcers. And Kilana’s devotion to them seemed absolute. If she had been without the guidance of her “gods” for over four years, it was no wonder she seemed afraid.

  Janeway offered one last incentive. “We have many scientists in the Coalition as well. There are efforts under way to develop transwarp drive or enhanced subspace communication with distant parts of the galaxy. I, for one, still hope to see my homeworld again. There may be hope for you as well.”

  After a time, Kilana nodded. “Very well. You may escort us to this ‘Coalition.’ But if this is a trick, you will regret it.”

  The screen went dark. “Whoa,” Harry said. “Now, there’s someone who’s in over her head. I wonder how she’s survived for four years.”

  “Plenty of battle damage on their hull,” Ayala said from tactical. “They’ve been through a lot of fights, and won. I wouldn’t recommend getting on their bad side, Captain.”

  “We’re already there, Mister Ayala. The goal is not to stay there.” She smiled. “But if things do get messy, it’s good to know we have allies nearby.”

  Harry shook his head. “I’m still getting used to the idea of the Vidiians as allies.”

  “So are they. But I think we can count on them in a pinch.” Indeed, ever since the Doctor and Danara Pel had cured the Phage, the Vidiians had been beside themselves with gratitude. They were still struggling to rebuild their civilization, but they had pledged their protection to Voyager—still home to the Doctor’s core program—as long as it remained anywhere near their territory.

  “And this Vorta and her Jem’Hadar?” Harry asked. “Do you think we have a chance of winning them over?”

  “I think they have a need for a hierarchy to belong to. Whatever they feel about us, maybe the Coalition can offer them that.” She gazed out at the menacing, insectlike vessel. “And the way things are going, we need all the good fighters we can get.”

  Over the past seven months, Species 8472—or “the Scourge,” as it had become popularly known—had solidified its advantage over the Borg. The Collective was scattered, fragmented, nearing total defeat. The Scourge was broadening its attacks, striking at the Coalition’s borders as well as sending more vessels to attack the Voth. The uneasy mutual alliance between those two powers had helped hold their raids at bay, but Coalition analysts projected that the conflict would likely escalate soon. If anything, they were surprised that it hadn’t already done so.

  Harry shook his head. “Voyager, Vostigye, Voth, Vidiians, Vomnin, and now Vorta. What is it with this quadrant?”

  “I take it as a good omen,” Janeway said, and smiled at his puzzlement. “V for victory.”

  Harry Kim loved helping Annika Hansen take her clothes off.

  It wasn’t just due to his admiration of her exceptional beauty; Annika herself took palpable pleasure in disrobing (in private, anyway), and that was what brought him the most joy. After the Doctor had removed her Borg exoskeleton and most of her implants, he’d still required her to wear a close-fitting dermal sheath that protected and nourished her newly formed skin, as well as taking over certain of the exoskeleton’s sensory and motor feedback functions, which her remaining implants still required to operate at full efficiency. Wishing to avoid unsightly bulges, the Doctor had secreted the few bulky components of the sheath in high heels that the holographic physician insisted were quite stylish, though Annika insisted she would stumble over them constantly if not for the balance-regulation mechanisms built into them. But stylish or not, the sheath was embarrassingly tight for Annika, and she normally wore loose, bright dresses over it.

  But as time wore on and her body continued to adapt, Annika was able to spend more time per day out of the constricting sheath, and she preferred Harry to be with her when she did—a sentiment he wholeheartedly shared. True, it was partly because the sheath was easier to remove and put on again if she had assistance, but he was gratified that it was his assistance she preferred. He was glad that Captain Janeway had seen fit to maintain a relaxed policy toward shipboard romances since Voyager’s recommissioning. Perhaps her own belated relationship with Chakotay—and regret at her long delay in pursuing it—had contributed to that
decision. Of course, Annika had no formal rank; a life of leisure in Unimatrix Zero had not been sufficient preparation for service on a Delta Coalition ship. She filled some of the roles Neelix and Kes had performed in the past, helping grow food in the aeroponics bay and then preparing it as the ship’s chef. Even though there was no longer any need to ration replicator use, Voyager’s crew still enjoyed meals prepared by hand—and frankly, they found Annika’s culinary tastes rather more palatable than Neelix’s.

  Finally the sheath fell free, and Annika stepped forward and stretched, reveling in the freedom. Harry was happy to watch her. He looked forward to doing much more, but she enjoyed taking time to revel in the air against her skin and the freedom of movement. She liked to make conversation while he watched, to distract him from his inevitable reactions to the sight. “That Kilana’s pretty,” she said.

  “I didn’t notice.”

  She threw him a skeptical look, her full lips quirking. “I didn’t like those Jem-har of hers.”

  “Jem’Hadar.”

  “Whatever. They were really unfriendly, and didn’t even try the food.”

  “Their loss. But they’re good fighters. They could be useful against the Scourge.”

  Her skepticism grew more serious. “Unlikely. All they have is fighting prowess. We have plenty of fighters already. What can they do against a power as advanced as the Scourge?”

  Harry was reminded again of the keen mind that resided beneath her girlish manner. He’d been hesitant to respond to her interest at first, not wanting to take advantage of her inexperience. Also, in the wake of B’Elanna, he’d entertained a hope that he might be able to build a relationship with Lyndsay Ballard, whom he’d had a crush on since the Academy. But his duties and Lyndsay’s had kept them apart, and in her correspondence, she had shown no more than friendly interest in him. Whereas Annika had quickly proven that she was sharp-witted and also very determined, skilled at getting what she wanted and not easily bent to others’ wishes. She’d also proven that her life in Unimatrix Zero had given her considerable experience in matters of physical intimacy. She still sometimes mourned for Axum, her lover in the virtual world. She had never known where he was located in real life, but if he was anywhere close enough to be reached in less than half a lifetime, he had most likely died in the war already. But she was strong and adaptable, so she had coped with her loss and moved on with her life, deciding to make Harry a part of it. By the time he’d rejoined Voyager’s crew, any thoughts of romance with Lyndsay Ballard were well behind him.