VOY - String Theory 2 - Fusion (c)

by Star Trek

  Poring over the sensor data from the transports, he began to form a rough theoretical premise which was so simple, yet so beyond anything he had ever imagined possible, that he almost scrapped it entirely and gave up. He silently wished that B’Elanna could spare a few moments to help him with his analysis, but at the same time was certain that based on what he had, she would dismiss the project out of hand as altogether too dangerous to pursue.

  Ensign Brooks approached and informed him that the system integration had been complete. One of the two necessary transporter alcoves had been embedded within a wall of the shuttlebay. The other alcove was placed five meters opposite it but connected to its mate by a series of fine, fragile cables. Tom had decided that for his next series of tests, he would re-create as best he could the operating parameters of the alcoves as they were set up on the array. Putting enough distance between the pair to accommodate a shuttle was a hurdle he would deal with later.

  Tom was now free to test the transporter again, but there was one insurmountable problem. He didn’t need to transport himself or any other individual within either the ship or the array. He needed to use the mechanism to transport objects, a probe and in the very near future a shuttle, using the tetryon technology, and no inanimate object could “think.” Even he was unwilling to risk just strapping himself in and mentally focusing on his destination as the beam intersected the shuttle. As best he could tell, he would successfully be transported to whatever coordinates in space he chose, but if he arrived without his shuttle…

  Tom was daring, not suicidal.

  The first several probe tests were disastrous. He programmed a series of coordinates into the probe’s navigational array that should have transported it to a stable position several hundred kilometers beyond the array, and each time the probe remained stationary within the transport mechanism. It went absolutely nowhere. The same held true for any inorganic substance he placed within the transporter’s beam.

  He had all but given up when Harry entered, flushed with excitement, to tell him they had successfully made contact with the Monorhan presence they had detected aboard the Betasis. Though Tom was obviously pleased for Harry—any success at this point brought all of them one step closer to getting off the array—he couldn’t hide from Harry his frustration with his own project.

  “So…” Harry began, after Tom had halfheartedly congratulated him on his work, “how’s it coming down here?”

  Tom shrugged, dejected. “Don’t ask,” he replied.

  Harry looked about the shuttlebay and soon saw the fully functional tetryon transport station that had been set up. “Tom, this is amazing,” he said, crossing to examine its operational parameters, adding, “I didn’t think you’d be able to get this far.”

  “I did,” Tom replied. “But thanks anyway for your vote of confidence.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Harry asked.

  “You want them in alphabetical order, or order of importance?” Tom answered.

  Harry returned to Tom’s side and placed a conciliatory hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had anything but a couple of stale nutrient bars in the last twenty-four hours. Why don’t we head up to the mess hall, grab a quick bite, and see if we can put our heads together on this?”

  Tom accepted the offer with a nod. He wasn’t giving up, but he doubted that once Harry had seen his results, the by-the-book ensign wouldn’t waste any time in telling him to scrap it.

  They entered the mess hall engaged in a mild disagreement they had every time they ate together and either one or both of them had replicator rations to spare. On days like this, more than anything, Tom would have preferred to replicate a meal. Though he appreciated Neelix’s efforts in the mess hall, there were times he simply couldn’t face the Talaxian’s cooking, and this was one of them. Harry still felt, even after almost four years in the Delta Quadrant, that as senior officers they were required to constantly set a good example for the rest of the crew, and that included eating, heartily and without complaint, anything Neelix chose to put in front of them.

  Tom saw a good omen in the fact that once they arrived, they found several of their fellow crewmen eating replicated dinners. Given the enormous power transfer they had received the day before and the fact that Neelix was otherwise occupied, Chakotay had left a standing order that until further notice, the kitchen was to be closed and the replicators made available to all personnel, regardless of the number of replicator rations they had at their disposal.

  As Harry, carrying a tray of grilled salmon over a bed of sliced leola-root slaw, joined Tom and his double serving of macaroni and cheese, Tom stopped in midbite to ask, “Harry, what are you thinking? Leola slaw?!?”

  “I like it,” Harry replied defensively. “Now shut up and tell me what the problem is.”

  Tom continued shoveling food into his mouth. He hadn’t realized until he started eating just how famished he was, and macaroni and cheese was the ultimate in comfort food.

  “The problem is I understand the mechanics of how the tetryon transporter works, but what I can’t figure out is why.”

  Harry thumbed through a padd filled with the preliminary test results. He paused, a forkful of salmon halfway to his mouth, when he reached the equations the computer had generated to show in mathematical terms exactly how the transporter worked.

  “What’s this ‘t’ variable?” Harry asked.

  “Thought,” Tom replied simply.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You have the results right in front of you, Harry!” Tom snapped, rising to replicate some fresh melon to follow his dinner.

  Harry read and reread the equations before him. By the time Tom had returned to his seat, Harry had pushed the food in front of him away and begun to modify Tom’s equations into something resembling reality as he knew it.

  Finally he muttered, “Dazhat’s Theorem.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Tom replied.

  “Dazhat was a Cardassian defector,” Harry explained. “He gave a lecture at the Academy just before I graduated.”

  “How many people were in the audience?” Tom joked.

  “Not many,” Harry conceded. “He had spent most of his life studying the Breen.”

  “From a safe distance I hope,” Tom interjected.

  “The Breen use organic ships, and are capable of achieving warplike fields without antimatter. He was relegated to a minor role in the Cardassian scientific community because all they were interested in were the weapons that were attached to the ships, but Dazhat believed that the ultimate strength and greatest vulnerability of the Breen might lie in their reliance on the organic component of their ships’ navigation and propulsion systems.”

  “And this has exactly what to do with…” Tom began to ask.

  “Dazhat detected traces of tetryon particles in the wake of Breen ships going into their version of warp. The Federation has never delved too deeply into the use of tetryon particles because they are so unstable. Dazhat believed that the instability was a result of the interaction between space and time in the presence of tetryons. It wasn’t that the tetryons were unstable, it was that they made space-time unstable.”

  For the first time since Harry had mentioned the name Dazhat, Tom was intrigued.

  “In concentrated quantities, tetryons actually created curves in space-time reality. The Breen ships weren’t actually moving through space, or subspace as we do. Their propulsion system actually bent space. No one has ever been able to prove this, but his analysis showed that it was theoretically possible.”

  “You think these transporters are bending space?” Tom asked.

  “I do. And I know why your inorganic experiments aren’t working.”

  Now it was Tom’s turn to push his plate of food away.

  “Monorhan space can’t be bent to accommodate the tetry
on field. We can’t even create a stable warp field in this system. The array seems to be immune to the system’s anomalies, and as long as Voyager is aboard the array, the space inside our ship is too. But no matter how many times you try, you aren’t going to be able to use the array’s alcoves to transport anything from this ship into Monorhan space.”

  “But beyond Monorhan space…” Tom began.

  “Exactly,” Harry finished his thought.

  “But how do we teach a probe to think?” Tom went on. “Even if we can transport something outside the system and track it on our sensors, we still aren’t past the ‘t’ factor.”

  “Yes, we are,” Harry said rising. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Harry and Tom returned to the shuttlebay. Less than twenty minutes later, with a little help from B’Elanna, they had completed their first successful probe transport.

  Assylia’s first request after her introduction to Chakotay was that they speak privately. After instructing Seven to create a holographic seating area filled with the low cushions the Monorhans preferred, Chakotay dismissed the other officers and joined the rih-hara-tan in what was for him an extremely uncomfortable half-squatting position on the pillows. Chakotay was relieved to see that she seemed content and surprisingly at ease as she began to pepper him with questions. Although he did not immediately warm to her, her carriage and demeanor demanded that he respect her right off the bat.

  “How did this vessel discover the space city?” was her first question.

  “One of our crewmen left the ship while we were in orbit around Monorha. He did not explain his actions and we were forced to follow him. His trail ended here,” he answered honestly.

  “Are all of your crewmen so undisciplined?” she asked, adding a faint click of her tongue which Chakotay interpreted as disdain.

  “They are not,” he replied quickly. “His actions were out of character and cause for great concern. We believed then, as now, that he might have received a telepathic communication from someone or something aboard the array.”

  Assylia sighed deeply. Chakotay sensed regret.

  “They called to him,” she said with emphasis. “They have led you all to your death.”

  “They being the parasites that attacked your people?” Chakotay asked.

  “No. They are not the parasites. I know of whom you are speaking. They may be the parasites’ keepers…I do not know. In the years that have passed since my people were annihilated I have sensed their presence. I have lived in constant awareness of them. Their pain is all-consuming. Their desires are insatiable. Like the parasites, they are of this place, but they are not the primary danger you are facing, nor is your crewman the first they have called to. He is merely the first that answered, and I assure you, you will die regretting his choice.”

  “For the moment we appear to be safe,” Chakotay said simply. “Our sensors have detected thousands of creatures which we assume are the parasites you spoke of. We chose to try and free your consciousness from your ship in hopes that you might be able to tell us something more about them, as well as anything you might know about an object called the Key to Gremadia.”

  Assylia’s eyes widened as a series of sharp clicks echoed through the room. “You have discovered the Key?” she asked with awe.

  “It was given to us by your people,” he replied.

  “That is impossible!” she stormed, rising from her seat and beginning to pace. “The Key was lost generations ago. And no Monorhan would have given you something which is so precious to us.”

  With as much humility as possible, Chakotay explained their first encounter with the Monorhans and the lengths to which he and the crew had gone to save the planet from imminent destruction. His story ended with the presentation of the Key to Captain Janeway.

  “They were fools,” Assylia stated flatly, once his story was done. “The Key has meaning only for my people, and those we left behind had no right…”

  “Kaytok seemed sincere,” Chakotay interjected. “He believed he had seen a real vision of his grandfather, Gora.”

  “Gora died, just like all the others,” Assylia said menacingly. “And the Key was not Kaytok’s to give.”

  Chakotay silently wondered whether or not Assylia’s cooperation might hinge on the return of the Key to its rightful owners, but hesitated to offer it, even as a conciliatory gesture, until the potential Nacene connection could be verified. As far as their enemies went, Chakotay still believed that the Nacene posed a greater threat than Assylia for the time being.

  “What is the Key’s significance?” he asked.

  “That depends entirely upon who you ask,” she replied.

  “At the moment, I’m asking you,” Chakotay said diplomatically.

  “The Key was a gift from the Blessed All-Knowing Light to His true followers. The haran who discovered it was given wisdom beyond that of any Monorhan who had come before or since. Dagan was a prophet who told us the truth about our God.”

  “What truth was that?”

  “That the Blessed All-Knowing Light was not alone. That He did not create Monorha and fill it with life so that we could simply honor and revere His name. The All-Knowing Light created Monorha so that those who rose to life on its surface could join Him in His battle with those who oppose life and help Him overcome them.”

  “As I understand your history, that was a difficult concept for most of your people to accept,” Chakotay offered.

  “It was. The members of my tribe were ridiculed and then punished for holding to that belief. But the All-Knowing Light foresaw our struggle. He created a place for us between the stars where His true followers would find Him.”

  “Gremadia?” Chakotay asked.

  Assylia nodded.

  “And do you believe you found that place?”

  “Of course not,” she hissed. “In the dark days that followed our discovery of this station I came to believe that perhaps the others were right and that Dagan was, at best, insane.”

  “What is the purpose of the Key to Gremadia, and why did you leave it behind when you left the planet?” Chakotay asked.

  “Dagan wrote of a conduit of light which the Key would unlock. This would mark the beginning of the final battle between the Blessed All-Knowing Light and the Others. Although we based our faith on Dagan’s visions, we were never naive enough to take every word he said in a literal sense. The Key was lost to my people hundreds of years ago. We assume that the light he spoke of was the light of truth. The Key had unlocked the true vision of our people and our destiny which should have been Gremadia. But we have failed our God. We did not find Gremadia.”

  “Are you certain?” Chakotay asked gently.

  “You know what became of my people,” Assylia said with barely concealed contempt. “If this place were the promised city, our All-Knowing Light would never have allowed any harm to come to us while we were here.”

  Chakotay hesitated to reply. He had his own theories about Assylia’s All-Knowing Light and how the array might fit into their mythology, but he hesitated to provoke her further.

  “I’m sorry for your suffering,” he said simply. “It is the most difficult thing imaginable to lose lives that have been entrusted to your care.”

  “If that is true, why did you not heed my warning?”

  “Our captain has disappeared. We believe she has been taken by a life-form which has a specific interest in this array and the Key. Unless we can determine what that interest is, we may never find her.”

  “It is only a matter of time until the parasites find and attack you. Your captain would, no doubt, gladly sacrifice her own life for the safety of her people.”

  “You are right,” Chakotay nodded. “But we will not abandon her without the certainty that she is beyond our help.”

  “If she boarded the array, the parasites have undoubtedly found her already,” Assylia said. “For all you know this creature that took your captain might control the parasites. It might be in league with t
he presence that called your crewman here.”

  “Several of our officers have boarded the array over the last two days. Only one, the first to arrive, has been infected by a parasite,” he replied. “I have seen one of the parasites myself. I do not doubt their hostility. But our officer who was attacked had psionic abilities, similar to those of your people. I believe this may have some significance. Otherwise it is inconceivable to me that all of the parasites we have detected have not already attacked this ship.”

  Assylia considered his words. After a moment, she said, “What did the creature you saw look like?”

  Chakotay struggled to find words Assylia could relate to. Hideous butterfly came to mind, but he didn’t know what the universal translator would make of that.

  “The creature floated on several pairs of ragged wings. When it began to attack, a small set of pincers emerged from behind it. I hardly saw its face. I believe it was humanoid, but devoid of any compassion or beauty,” he finally finished.

  “That was not a parasite,” Assylia replied flatly.

  “Then what was it?” Chakotay asked.

  “I do not know,” she replied honestly.

  “What do the parasites look like?” Chakotay asked.

  A series of clicks and pops accompanied Assylia’s next words. “They were small, wormlike…does that…?”

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “We found them in a large spherical sack, suspended within a biological preserve.”

  Chakotay shivered as he remembered the huge room he had discovered and the torn sphere still suspended within it.

  “Did you disturb the sack in any way?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” she replied. “I was not present when the sack was discovered, but I was told that the moment the first hara approached, the sack began to glow and pulsate. The parasites emerged and flew toward my people. They were ingested before anyone knew what had happened. The first died within moments.”