Infinity's Prism

by Christopher L. Bennett

  Still, he kept up a pleasant diplomatic face, saying, “The last time we met, I’m afraid we parted under less than ideal circumstances. I welcome the opportunity to improve relations between us.”

  “That is good to hear,” Odala purred. “In that case, perhaps you would be willing to cooperate in an inquiry.”

  “An inquiry of what nature?”

  “When you were last before this ministry, you were being used by Professor Forra Gegen to help promote his Distant Origin Theory, which he subsequently confessed was erroneous.”

  “I stood with Professor Gegen, yes.” He would have liked to say more, such as pointing out that Gegen retracted his conclusions only under the ministry’s threat of imprisonment for Voyager’s crew. But the Coalition still needed the Voth’s goodwill so long as Species 8472 remained a threat. Being a politician required a restraint he never would have needed as a Maquis. Luckily he’d had several years aboard Voyager to retrain his diplomatic instincts.

  “Gegen was subsequently reassigned to another circle and his inaccurate data was purged,” Odala went on, referring to the ministry’s deletion of all Gegen’s genetic and archaeological proof of the Voth’s common heritage with humanity. “However, subsequently to that event, the Distant Origin Theory began to spread among the common people despite having been renounced by its formulator. Investigation revealed that data files pertaining to the planet you call Earth and Gegen’s hypothesis of genetic ties between its inhabitants and the Voth were circulating among the common people, despite the ministry’s best efforts to ensure that they were protected from such misleading propaganda. These data files appear to have come from your vessel, Voyager. Can you explain this?”

  “Naturally, all of Gegen’s direct information about Earth came from Voyager. He downloaded our database when he first contacted us.”

  “Please do not waste this ministry’s time with obtuse replies, Legislator. Those files were purged. So how is it that supporters of Distant Origin were able to obtain further copies?”

  Chakotay shrugged. “Perhaps you simply missed a copy when you attempted to delete it. Gegen must have shared his information with his fellow scientists.”

  “He was barred from contact with the scientific circles before he encountered your vessel.”

  “You said the information was circulating among the commoners, not the circles.”

  “Do not evade the question, Legislator.”

  “I’ve attempted to offer possible explanations.”

  “There is another you have not offered. You had contact with Gegen after his public renunciation of his hypothesis. Did you give him anything?”

  “Just a souvenir. A globe depicting Earth as it appears in modern times.”

  “Did that globe contain any other information?”

  You mean like the hidden isolinear chip containing a copy of all Voyager’s scientific data on Earth? The one I never even told Kathryn that I’d given him? Chakotay had been unwilling to let Gegen’s achievement be eradicated, so he had slipped the database to Gegen concealed in the globe, not even telling him it was there but merely hinting at it, leaving him to discover and act on it for himself. It seemed that Gegen had wisely chosen to disseminate the information among the plebeian class, through channels it would be difficult for the elites—the intricately interlinking “circles” of scholar-bureaucrats responsible for Voth sciences, government, arts, education, and the like—to control.

  But for a member of the Vostigye Legislature, a representative of the Delta Coalition, to confess to such an act would scuttle relations with the Voth. So he chose his words carefully. “The globe was the only thing Gegen obtained from me beyond what he’d already obtained from Voyager’s database.”

  Odala leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You are being evasive.”

  “I’m stating a fact. Besides, does it really matter where the information came from? The people have it now. But where’s the harm in letting them study that knowledge and decide for themselves what it means?”

  “The harm,” Odala said, her voice growing harder, “is that the people are losing faith in the Doctrine which serves as the foundation of our society. Challenges against the ministry’s authority are growing more and more overt.”

  “With respect, is one scientific theory really to blame for that? Consider the circumstances. Last year, an entire city ship was destroyed by an attacker. It was the first time such a thing has happened in thousands of years. It’s no wonder that left your people uneasy, shaken from their complacency—that it’s gotten them to question a lot of their assumptions. That would have happened with or without Distant Origin. Perhaps, instead of trying to quash that process, you’d have better luck engaging with the people, acknowledging their right to their uncertainties and participating in a dialogue to find new answers.”

  “We have already been forced to make concessions to quell dissent,” Odala said with distaste. “We have allowed the Circle of Education to put forth the Parallel Origin Theory.”

  “The one saying that the Voth originated here, but that life on Earth and elsewhere in the galaxy may have branched off from them?” Chakotay nodded. “I suppose it’s fair to offer that as a possibility. But do you allow your educators to discuss the scientific and logical flaws in that hypothesis?”

  “Do not presume to tell the Voth how to teach our young. Doctrine has held our society together for millions of years.” Chakotay strongly doubted that. More likely, many regimes had come and gone over such a span, each one rewriting history and Doctrine to suit itself. “We were here while your ancestors crawled on all fours, and we will be here long after you are gone. You need our power to preserve your Coalition against the Scourge. Do not offend us, or you will lose our cooperation.”

  “You’re right, Minister,” Chakotay said. “We do need your cooperation. But you need ours, too. With all your power, all your wisdom, you were caught totally flat-footed when the Scourge attacked. You had nothing that could defend against them. And now, nine months later, you still have nothing. Perhaps because you’ve repressed any scientist who dares to devise new ideas rather than merely promoting state ideology. You don’t have anyone capable of innovating new defenses against a threat from beyond the universe as you know it. And that’s why you need us.”

  Odala seethed, but strove to regain her calm. “It is in both our nations’ best interests if the Voth remain stable. This dissent from within must be brought under control.”

  “Then maybe you should try trusting your people to think for themselves. Instead of trying to control what they’re allowed to know and believe, show some faith in their ability to make responsible decisions for your society. All they want is a say in their own destiny. Give them that, and they’ll be more willing to cooperate with you in return.”

  “It is the state’s responsibility to protect the people,” Odala de-claimed. “To renounce that would be a confession of inadequacy. And that would be the downfall of everything we are.”

  She drew herself up. “You are distracting this ministry from the issue before it. Do you confess to providing Forra Gegen with new information to support the Distant Origin fallacy?”

  “I confess to considering Forra Gegen a friend and a credit to his people. I confess to believing that his spirit of free inquiry is something the Voth can only benefit from.”

  “That is all you have to say?”

  “It will do, for now.”

  “Then you leave me no alternative.”

  Chakotay braced himself. Would she sever diplomatic ties, even though it was probable suicide?

  Odala took a heavy breath. “From this point forward, Delta Coalition citizens will no longer be granted visitation and travel rights aboard Voth city ships. Contact will be limited to diplomatic communication at the highest levels. In this way, we will restrict the potential for further contamination of Voth scientific thought.”

  Chakotay sighed. It was essentially a token gesture, one that would not prevent t
he knowledge of Earth from continuing to spread. And it would impact only the limited amount of tourism and research that Coalition members were allowed to engage in among the Voth; the tenuous military alliance was intact. Still, it was a petty gesture that rankled at Chakotay. In their insistence on serving their egos rather than the good of their people, the Voth Elders were as bad as the Cardassian leaders back in the Alpha Quadrant. And good people like Gegen still had to pay the price. Chakotay was prouder than ever of his little act of subversion.

  Outwardly, though, he kept his cool. “I’ll convey your decision to my government. But I will do so with regret, and with the hope that it is only a temporary measure.”

  “And it is my hope,” Odala told him, “that this truly is the last time I ever have to gaze on your pasty countenance.”

  It was the one thing she’d said that he could agree with. All he wanted now was to get back home to Kathryn. He hoped this new contact she’d made, the Vorta she’d told him about, would turn out to be a more palatable ally than the Voth.

  10

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Voenis…Captain Nagorim is dead.”

  Morikei Voenis had little use for the simulated sympathy in the voice coming out of the auxiliary medical probe, one of the new holographic AMPs that “the Doctor” had deployed around Ryemaren to deal with its many casualties. Such trappings could not change the fact that Azorav Nagorim, her friend and mentor, was gone—gone in the middle of a battle with the Scourge that Voenis now had to get the rest of her crew through alive, if she could.

  This is just like you, she silently cursed Nagorim as the AMP lifted his body away. You and your lessons. You just got yourself killed so you could challenge me to rise to the occasion. But if she wanted to survive that test, she had to focus on the task at hand. “Malken! Offensive and defensive status!”

  The Hirogen looked up from his tactical console, green light glinting from the Borg optical implant he’d chosen to keep for its sensory enhancements. “Torpedoes are expended. Phasers offline. Fore shields at two-eighths, aft at five-eighths. Fore point-defense beams nonfunctional, aft at six-eighths.”

  “Still venting drive plasma,” called Susan Nicoletti, the human at engineering. “Reaction efficiency’s down to five-eighths.”

  “Bioship closing again!” Malken barked.

  “Nicoletti!” Voenis called. “Am I correct that the low reaction efficiency means there are unaltered antiparticles in the plasma stream?”

  “Aye, Comman—Captain.”

  She didn’t let herself react to that, focusing on her distant memory of her engineering courses. True, antiparticles would annihilate on contact with matter particles, but such particles were tiny and could easily miss one another if inadequately confined. Some of the excess antiparticles would be hitting the walls of the plasma conduits and warp coils, slowly eroding them, but most would be escaping into space with the venting plasma.

  “Stop trying to halt the venting,” she ordered. “Purge the plasma completely between us and the bioship!” She turned to Malken. “When the bioship collides with the plasma cloud, it will cause a compressive shock wave. At that instant, hit it with all our aft defense beams to create a countershock.”

  Malken nodded, catching on. “Aye, Captain!” he answered with predatory fervor.

  It happened quickly, but the results were impressive. Compressed between the two shock waves, the particles and antiparticles in the plasma cloud were packed densely enough to react, and confined enough that the reaction was able to propagate and build. The resultant antimatter explosion ignited the rest of the drive plasma just as the bioship flew through it.

  Malken growled. “The prey survives. Wounded, though. Damage to its propulsion and weapons.”

  “Take advantage, helm. Best speed away from here.”

  “Bioship is retreating!” Malken crowed a moment later.

  “It did what it came here to do,” Voenis told him, her tone quashing his enthusiasm. Ryemaren and the rest of the task force had been unable to save the colony on Ragoelin from annihilation by the Scourge.

  Why did those fools have to settle on a planet in the first place? Voenis wondered. Most Vostigye knew better; planets were dangerous, capricious places, and they made sizable and stationary targets. Something about them brought out the worst in sapient beings, for wars always seemed to be fought over the acquisition of planets or parts thereof. Planetary living made sentient beings territorial, violent in their defense of places, whereas habitat dwellers could simply pack up and move on if one location became problematical to occupy.

  That was the only thing Voenis had against refugees and immigrants, really. Most of them were from planets, and so they brought with them all the follies and dangers, all the chaotic attributes, of such an existence. She had no problem with those among them who were willing to outgrow it and adapt, like Harry Kim or Susan Nicoletti. It was only those who clung to it who caused problems, but they were far too abundant.

  And Vostigye who reverted to planetary living bewildered her all the more. Indeed, they angered her. For they hadn’t just put their own lives at risk. They’d condemned other Vostigye to die defending them. Good Vostigye like Azorav Nagorim, who deserved better.

  But then, Azorav would have been the first to remind her that adaptation went both ways—that Vostigye needed to open their minds to alternatives as well. And now that she was captain, she would have to live up to that example. Ryemaren’s mission was to protect everyone in need, not just those whose lifestyles made sense to her.

  Besides, she could hear Azorav’s wry voice telling her, it doesn’t matter to the Scourge whether we live on planets or habitats. They want us all dead. That was clear enough from the way their attacks had suddenly amplified over the past two weeks.

  “Malken,” she said. “Captain’s office. Now.”

  Once she and the Hirogen were alone, she said, “This situation is unacceptable. We failed to save the colony. We barely survived. At best, we only inconvenienced the Scourge ship.”

  “We survived to hunt another day. That is enough.”

  “It isn’t close to enough. Stop thinking like a lone hunter and remember your duty to the Coalition. Our mission is to protect its members, not to throw our lives away in fruitless fights.” Malken growled, but acceded to her authority—or pack dominance, or however he saw it.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing you remember about them?” she pressed. “No Borg knowledge has surfaced after all this time?”

  He grew uneasy. “That time is over. Nothing of it remains.”

  “Except your souvenirs,” she said, gesturing at his cybernetic eye and the partial exoskeleton on his right arm. “I know you have neural implants remaining too. There must be a way to access those memories.”

  “No!” He subsided. “With respect, Captain…you cannot ask that of me. To remember what it was to be a…a captive beast, leashed by alien technology…” He shook his head convulsively. “That…thing was not Malken of the Hirogen. I will use its appendages to serve my prowess, but I will not take its thoughts into my head!”

  “I could order you!”

  “Try it and I would resign. I know the regulations.” He leaned closer. “And what if the drone mentality took over this body? Hirogen are formidable enough to begin with. I could rend you limb from limb in moments.”

  She didn’t like the implied threat, but knew her own threat was baseless. “Dismissed,” she told him, silently cursing his Hirogen pride and cowardice. One of us would understand the importance of sacrificing for others. Being Vostigye means I defend your right to uphold your culture’s values—but the bottom line is, ours are better than yours.

  But now she found herself questioning that assumption in a way she wouldn’t have before—now that she sat in Nagorim’s chair, forced to see things from his point of view. If I had been a liberated drone, my Unimatrix Zero personality safely segregated from my Borg identity…would I be willing to risk losing the identity I take suc
h pride in?

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Annika clasped Harry’s hand, trying to quell his anxiety even though it paled next to her own. “Yes, I do, Harry. Thousands of people are dying every day now, and there may be information in my head that can help them. I have to remember it.” She wished it were the only thing she would remember. How many innocent beings had she helped assimilate or kill as a Borg drone? How could she live with the guilt? But then, how could she live with the guilt of doing nothing when she could help now?

  “We can find another way. There are others like you.”

  “This isn’t about them. If I’m able to make a difference, I have to try.”

  “Annika,” Captain Janeway said, “if you’re doing this out of some belief that your contributions to this ship are inadequate…”

  “Don’t coddle me, Captain. I’m the girl who cooks and gardens and sings on talent night. But I’m also the girl who has the Borg database locked in her skull. If you’re going to tell me that’s no more important than the other stuff, then don’t. You’d just be lying.”

  After a moment, Janeway sighed. “I guess I would. But I also don’t feel you have anything to prove to me.”

  “Even if I didn’t have to prove anything to myself, I’d still have to do this, for all the others out there. Wouldn’t you?”

  The captain nodded solemnly. But Harry, still fidgeting, turned to the Doctor. “You’re sure there’s no other way to access her Borg memories? You can’t just download them into the computer?”