VOY - String Theory 2 - Fusion (c)

by Star Trek

  Chapter 3

  Chakotay had been less than pleased when he called to Tom’s quarters and found that he was not, as he had been ordered, getting some extra rest. Chakotay was decidedly uneasy about how the next several hours were going to develop, and he wanted his helmsman in top form. The captain’s urgent call for him to gather the senior staff and meet in astrometrics had done nothing to allay his sense of foreboding, but he tried to put it aside as he entered the holographic research lab and found Tom and Ensign Kim conferring with Ensign Brooks. Chakotay suspected that Seven had been pulled from the quantum slipstream drive project earlier to consult with whatever had been found in astrometrics, so perhaps Tom’s presence there wasn’t evidence of willful disobedience, he reasoned. He was able to sustain that hopeful delusion until he stepped close enough to overhear the subject of their discussion without alerting any of the other three men to his presence.

  “Tom thinks there should be multiple settings increasing in intensity, but I’m thinking…hey, this is a ray gun. It’s only got one purpose—to blow up a planet. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Harry was saying.

  “But more settings would allow for a broader range of uses,” Brooks replied tentatively, then almost swallowed his tongue when he caught sight of Chakotay standing directly behind Tom and Harry.

  “Really, Ensign Brooks?” Chakotay said tersely. “And which part of our quantum slipstream drive will the ray gun in question be attached to?”

  Tom and Harry turned in unison to face their first officer. Harry immediately attempted to stammer out some excuse but Tom, as usual, was quicker on his feet.

  “I’m sorry, Chakotay. Brooks here was doing a great job on the new drive. I asked him to set it aside for a minute to help us…I mean me…” he faltered.

  “Imagine my surprise,” Chakotay replied.

  “And it isn’t a real ray gun,” Brooks added in an attempt to be helpful, “It’s for Chaotica’s mountain base.”

  “And Chaotica is…?” Chakotay asked.

  “A character in a holonovel,” Brooks replied, chagrined.

  “Right,” Chakotay snapped, certain that all three were now sufficiently apprised of his displeasure. “As you were, Ensign. Lieutenant Paris, Ensign Kim, you’re with me. We’re needed in astrometrics.”

  Tom and Harry moved quickly to keep pace with Chakotay as he strode briskly out of the lab. A few steps from the door to astrometrics, Tom’s stomach let out a growl of protest loud enough for all to hear. Without missing a step Chakotay inquired, “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Paris?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Tom replied. “I was just making a mental note to rethink cold pepperoni pizza during yellow alerts.”

  “I’ve heard worse ideas,” Chakotay said as the door to astrometrics slid open and he caught the first glimpse on the large viewscreen of the technological marvel Voyager was approaching.

  B’Elanna, Seven, and the captain were conferring quietly over one of the display panels. Chakotay overheard B’Elanna saying, “…at full impulse we’ll reach the array in approximately two hours, twenty-eight minutes,” before the captain turned and acknowledged his presence with a nod.

  “Well, Commander, Lieutenant, Ensign,” she asked, gesturing to the main viewscreen, “what do you think?”

  Chakotay didn’t get a chance to formulate a response. Suddenly the image of the amazing construct circling the singularity was replaced by the Doctor’s face looming large on the main display.

  As the Doctor was authorized to override main channels only in the event of a serious emergency, Chakotay didn’t expect that he was contacting them with pleasant news. But what really piqued his interest was the sight of the Doctor covered head to toe in a thick white powder.

  “Sickbay to the captain,” the Doctor said.

  “Go ahead, Doctor,” Janeway replied, as her eyes grew involuntarily large at the sight of him. Before he could continue, she asked, “Doctor, is there a problem with your holographic imagers?”

  The Doctor replied with the world-weary tone that Chakotay had come to know and occasionally love. “No, Captain, but thank you for asking. I am, as you can see, covered in a foreign substance.”

  “How can we assist you, Doctor?” the captain asked impatiently.

  “By sending someone, preferably Lieutenant Torres or Seven of Nine, to sickbay,” he replied acerbically. “A few moments ago the remains of the entity known as the Caretaker began to vibrate. Within seconds they had exploded. I stand here, just as I am, so as not to disrupt any of the evidence that might lead to a better understanding of just what might have caused this unusual and, dare I suggest, unsettling event.”

  As soon as the words “Caretaker” and “exploded” had fallen from the Doctor’s lips, Chakotay’s mind began to automatically render and prioritize possible scenarios that could account for such a thing. As usual, the captain and B’Elanna were also immediately in the hunt. The moment their eyes locked they began to speak in the fragments and clipped sentences that Chakotay had grown accustomed to between these two women whose passion for science was surpassed only by the apparent effortlessness with which they dug their teeth into a complex problem.

  “B’Elanna…” Janeway began.

  “I’m checking the sensor logs now,” B’Elanna said. After a brief pause, she went on, “The explosion was the result of an internal change in the resonance of the molecular structure of the Caretaker’s remains. The last time we saw something similar to this, the vibrations were created when subspace dissonance waves impacted the molecular bonds, temporarily destabilizing them. We were able to calculate the intensity of the wave force to guide us to the Caretaker’s mate. But even when Suspiria was on board Voyager the vibrations weren’t sufficient to completely break down those bonds.”

  The captain studied the display of Voyager’s sensor grid as she added, “None of our sensors are detecting any subspace dissonance waves now.”

  “Could the gravimetric interference generated by the singularity be impacting subspace?” B’Elanna posited.

  “It’s possible, but you would think whoever designed the stabilization field around the array would have compensated for that,” Janeway replied. “How else would they maintain structural integrity?”

  “Maybe they did,” B’Elanna continued, “but only in a highly localized area. The stabilization field surrounding the construct must be strong enough to dampen the intensity of the force generated by the singularity, but only in its immediate vicinity.”

  “So at this distance, both space and subspace might be affected, but our sensors wouldn’t be able to distinguish between the effects on each of them,” the captain finished.

  There was a brief pause as Chakotay worked diligently to wrap his brain around the nuances of the discussion. As usual, however, Seven was way ahead of him and did not hesitate to join the conversation.

  “What you are suggesting could also account for the irregular collapse of the white dwarf,” she said.

  Janeway immediately picked up the thread.

  “She’s right. Since we didn’t consider any excess gravitational flux in our calculations, we weren’t prepared to see the formation of the microsingularity. The white dwarf acted as a natural barrier between our sensors and this array.”

  “It would also explain why the microsingularity is growing at an unexpected rate,” Seven added.

  “What?” B’Elanna and Janeway snapped in unison.

  “The microsingularity has grown to approximately one hundred times its original size in the last twelve hours,” Seven replied serenely.

  Chakotay studied the readouts that Seven had pulled up on her display screen. “It should have taken at least two hundred years for it to reach its current size, and it is continuing to expand at an accelerated rate,” he said tensely. “Captain…”

  “I know,” Janeway said wearily. “For the time being, Monorha is safe, but if it continues to expand at the rate we’re seeing that will change in a m
atter of months.”

  “Oh, Captain…” the Doctor interjected.

  “I’m on my way, Doctor,” B’Elanna said, receiving a slight nod of approval from the captain. “I want to analyze the debris and confirm our hypothesis.”

  “Captain…” Chakotay began.

  But before he could continue, the ship buckled beneath their feet. Everyone quickly placed a secure hand on whatever was closest and firmly attached to the deck to avoid landing on the floor.

  Naomi sat up straight in her chair as Neelix placed the grilled cheese sandwich garnished with two slices of pickled leola root in front of her.

  “And what would you like to drink, my dear?” Neelix asked warmly.

  “May I please have a cup of coffee?” she asked.

  The faint brown spots that covered her Talaxian godfather’s head and neck darkened a little as he replied, “Not under any circumstances, young lady. You’re much too young to drink coffee.”

  “But Neelix,” she whined, “the captain drinks coffee all day long.”

  “And when you’re the captain, you can have anything you like. But as long as you’re a little girl and I’m in charge of the mess hall, your choices are water, juice, or milk.”

  Naomi wrinkled her nose in faint disgust as she decided that this was probably not a battle she was going to win.

  “Milk, please,” she said.

  Neelix returned moments later with a tall glass of cold milk, and seated himself across from her. She took a dutiful sip before digging into her sandwich with real gusto. Her mother loved grilled cheese sandwiches. There were other human foods that Naomi had no stomach for, strawberries, broccoli, and scrambled eggs among them. The Doctor had told her that it was probably the Ktarian half of her that didn’t like these foods—the half of her she had inherited from the father she had never known.

  She wanted to be just like her beautiful, kind mother. So she had forced herself to try and eat everything her mother ate, even when she ended up in sickbay for two whole hours once when she couldn’t stop throwing up after inhaling a dessert called “strawberry shortcake.” She had been thrilled to discover that melted cheese on toasted, buttered bread was something she and her mother could enjoy together. Even though her mother wouldn’t be able to join her and Neelix for lunch today, she had intentionally requested grilled cheese. She would save half to share with her mother when her duty shift was done.

  But there was a problem.

  Half the sandwich was already gone and Naomi was still hungry. As she considered the half she had mentally reserved for her mother, a third option sprang to mind.

  “Neelix?” Naomi asked.

  “Yes, my dear?” he replied.

  “Do you think you could make me another half a sandwich?”

  He smiled. “Of course,” he answered, rising to go to the kitchen. “I’ll wrap it up for you. Your mom will be pretty hungry when she gets off duty. It will make a perfect snack.”

  Naomi grinned broadly as she took a huge bite of the rest of her lunch. It was nice having a godfather who could read her mind.

  She was glad she had picked up her sandwich when she did. Moments later, her seat shook violently beneath her, spilling the still mostly full glass of milk all over her plate.

  Once the disturbance had passed, Janeway quickly tapped her combadge.

  “Janeway to the bridge. What was that?” she snapped.

  “We don’t know, Captain,” Rollins replied. “We’re reading some kind of electromagnetic discharge.”

  “Is it coming from the singularity?” was Janeway’s next question.

  “Negative, Captain. It originated within the ship. It might have been an overload in the power relays. Give me one moment.”

  Janeway could feel her anxiety rising to a fever pitch.

  “Lieutenant Rollins?” she finally asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

  “Captain, the discharge originated in your cabin.”

  Janeway started immediately for the door as she called out, “Send a security team to meet me at my cabin. I’m on my way there now.”

  “Understood,” Rollins replied.

  “Commander,” she said as Chakotay moved to join her, “I need all available personnel monitoring the array and the microsingularity.”

  “I’ll see to it,” he replied.

  Less than two minutes later, Janeway turned the corner to find three security officers standing outside her cabin, both their phasers and their tricorders at the ready.

  “Report,” she ordered when she reached them.

  All three of them seemed puzzled by the readings they were getting. Ensign Maplethorpe was the first to offer, “There’s a life-form in there, Captain. For a minute, it looked like more than one, but our tricorders don’t seem to be calibrated properly. I’ve never seen interference like this.”

  Janeway grabbed her phaser as she called to the computer, “Computer, can you identify the life-form in my cabin?”

  She was momentarily stunned at the computer’s reply.

  “Phoebe Janeway.”

  With her free hand Janeway entered the code to unlock her cabin door. When the door slid open, Ensign Maplethorpe and the others fell into formation behind her as she entered.

  Phoebe sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Janeway’s replicator. The front panel had been removed and placed beside her. She was pulling a damaged piece of conduit from an exposed, sparking wire.

  Janeway shook her head in disbelief.

  “Phoebe,” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Tuvok stood bathed in a bright white light. The source of the light was directly over his head at a distance of several meters, if the diameter of the circle on the floor around his feet could be used as any indication. Beyond the circle was an inky darkness. But it was not empty.

  They’re waiting for me to begin.

  He didn’t know how he knew this. But he was absolutely certain that a few arms-lengths beyond the circle of light, hundred…maybe thousands…were waiting in rapt attention for his next move.

  And then it hit him.

  He could no longer hear the music.

  It should have been a relief. But somehow the strange symphony that had first called to him hours ago had carved out a space of its own within his mind. Its absence left him feeling more than empty. He was suddenly incomplete.

  His continuing sense of the presence was a small comfort. He consoled himself with the thought that perhaps this was the next logical step in establishing communication with those that had called him here.

  “I have come,” he said quietly. “What do you want with me?”

  Each moment of silence that followed added exponentially to the agony of his exquisite loneliness. He wanted to step beyond the circle of light, but somehow he knew that he would not reach them physically. A deep chasm separated him from those he had come to find.

  He closed his eyes and attempted to reach out to them with his mind.

  Nothingness enveloped him.

  The next thing that rose to his consciousness was the 289th verse of Falor’s Journey. Tuvok had sung the epic poem to his children when they were young. He wasn’t certain if this fragment of his past seemed suddenly important because of its haunting melody, or because of this verse’s subject.

  Falor entered the temple of Kir

  Certain that at last his journey

  Had brought him to this place of peace

  So that his burdens and sorrows

  Could be lifted from his weary mind

  But all that greeted his newfound hope

  Was silence, only silence.

  Tuvok began to sing. The words pulled from his distant past were difficult to find at first. He let the melody lead him forward, until the story of Falor’s encounter with the monks of Kir and the lesson Falor had learned from their silence poured forth as easily as it had when he had sat beside his eldest son’s bed, and used the tale to lull the infant Sek to sleep.

  A faint
hum of recognition seemed to thrill his audience. He wanted to stop singing, so that he could focus more clearly on their response. But he was afraid to break the subtle connection he was beginning to forge.

  He continued, noting with relief that as he did so, the circle of light grew brighter, its range wider, giving powerful support to his rich baritone voice. A little more, he believed, and the light would extend to a range that would illuminate those he was trying desperately to reach.

  His right eye began to burn. There had been an uncomfortable stinging sensation present there since the moment he had awakened within the circle, but it was becoming more difficult to ignore. Determined to continue, he wiped his eye, attempting to remove any foreign substance that would account for his discomfort. When he touched his eye, he realized that it was caked almost completely shut by some hardened substance. A warm liquid oozed from the area above his eye, pouring into the small opening that remained, causing the unpleasant burn. He pulled his hand away to examine his fingers and discovered that they were covered with blood…green blood…his blood. He gently allowed his fingers to explore his forehead above his eye, and his alarm was intensified when he discovered a large gaping gash that was the source of the blood pooling into his eye. He was instantly alerted to a dull throbbing that intensified as he focused on it, making it impossible for him to continue singing.

  Suddenly, the pain was everywhere.

  His right arm was on fire. Tuvok had suffered his fair share of plasma and radiation burns in the years he had served in Starfleet. He estimated that the burn on his right arm was probably third-degree, while the one that covered much of his chest was second-degree. Mentally cataloguing the rest of his body, he realized that he couldn’t feel his left leg. His first thought was nerve damage. A sharp blow to his cervical spine could account for the lack of sensation, but as he turned to focus his one good eye on his left leg, he realized that he simply could not see it.