by Star Trek
“To you, certainly,” Phoebe said. “But we can undo what has been done.”
Janeway remembered the Caretaker, the first Nacene she encountered. She remembered how he had dismissed her as a “minor bipedal species.” Given what she now knew…what it was to be Nacene, she could hardly blame him. But she had never imagined hundreds or thousands like him, randomly experimenting with the fabric of space and time, matter and antimatter, life and death, simply because they could.
“Who is the Nacene in the chair?” Kathryn asked.
“They are the Others…the ones who locked themselves inside our former home when the gateway was closed.”
“The gateway…?” Janeway said, and as she did so, realized that Phoebe could be referring to only one thing…the entire artificially constructed Monorhan system.
Phoebe smiled, pleased at her pupil’s progress.
“The gateway is no longer stable, is it?” Janeway thought aloud. “When we collapsed that star and the singularity was formed…the singularity that is growing larger by the microsecond…we broke something we didn’t even know was there, didn’t we?”
“You couldn’t have known,” Phoebe said. “What you experience as ‘Monorhan space’ is unstable in ways you do not fully comprehend. Its instability is now unacceptable. The initial imbalance was temporarily corrected by closing the gateway, but I, and many others, believed that the patch would not hold. Those, like me, who remained in your construct did so in an honest effort to solve this problem, and now we require your help.”
Kathryn hated to rush to judgment, but based on what she had already seen, she had a hard time imagining herself helping Phoebe or her people do anything. The only being she had ever encountered with anything approaching their destructive capability was Q. But for all of his irritating arrogance, he had never done anything to her knowledge as massively careless as the Nacene.
Finally she asked, “Why must I help you?”
“Because you are the only one who can.”
Chapter 13
Chakotay hadn’t spent much time alone in the captain’s ready room. Apart from her quarters, Kathryn had only this modest space off the bridge to call her own. Though most Starfleet captains serving aboard smaller Federation vessels made do with similar accomodations, Voyager had been designed with other amenities for the captain’s exclusive use, including a private dining room, which had been sacrificed to the necessity of Voyager’s circumstances and become Neelix’s kitchen. The uneasy first officer paced the area between the entrance and the windows, awaiting B’Elanna’s arrival, and did his best to avoid even looking at the empty chair behind Kathryn’s desk. She had disappeared over ten hours earlier, and though he was a long way from losing hope, every moment that passed without finding her, or even a solid lead as to where she might have gone, added to the weary burden he bore.
He respected Kathryn. She was a force of nature who had entered his heart four years earlier and taken up permanent residence. Her absolute certainty that Voyager and her crew would overcome all of the odds stacked against them and return to the Alpha Quadrant someday reinforced his faith and transformed his doubts to hope.
Without her…
He would do what he could and what he must. He would not dishonor her by failing to live up to her fierce and lofty expectations. But her loss would break his spirit in a way he would never be able to express…to anyone but her. He was not willing to even consider that possibility at the moment. Duty demanded that he push it from his mind until every alternative had been exhausted. The tightrope they had walked daily together since their journey home had begun was suspended above a pit of uncertainty, and Chakotay had always secretly suspected that the rope would snap without their unflinching mutual resolve.
His gaze strayed again to her empty desk. Despite the room’s illumination, the faint blue light of the docking bay pouring through the room’s observation windows cast a pulsating glow across its lonely surface that beat in rhythm with his heart. Each beat marked the distance between them, and with their inexorable passing pushed him closer to accepting the unacceptable.
A chiming at the door pulled him from these thoughts and he called, “Come in.”
To his surprise, Neelix entered, asking, “Am I disturbing you, Commander?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “Report.”
“I have finished my study of the Monorhan documents we recovered, and there are a few things I felt I should bring to your attention.”
“Certainly,” Chakotay nodded. He remained standing, shifting his weight slightly from side to side.
Neelix could sense his discomfort, and, keeping his eyes fixed on Chakotay’s face so as not to even suggest the loss that hung heavy between them by acknowledging the emptiness of the rest of the room, began to speak.
“I believe that the entity we came to know as ‘Phoebe’ may very well be related to the entity the Monorhans call their Blessed All-Knowing Light. At the very least, she…or they…will most likely be fighting on the same side of the battle that is to come.”
“What battle?” Chakotay asked.
“Are you familiar with the Heresy of Gremadia, Commander?” Neelix asked.
“Of course,” he replied. “That was the belief in the promised city called Gremadia…the belief that caused division between the Fourteenth Tribe and the other tribes of Monorha.”
“That’s almost right,” Neelix said. “Had that belief been the only difference between the Fourteenth Tribe and the others, I don’t believe the Fourteenth Tribe would have been so difficult for the rest of Monorha to accept.”
“Explain,” Chakotay said.
“The real problem with the heresy is not its assumption of the promised city. The problem is the suggestion that the Blessed All-Knowing Light, the one god worshipped by all Monorhans, would have had to build the city in the first place in order to do battle with other entities, or gods. You see, for most of Monorha, monotheism is an essential tenant of their faith.”
“I see,” Chakotay said.
“Dagan said that the All-Knowing Light would restore the ‘harmony that was broken.’ But that harmony could only be overcome at the end of a battle between the All-Knowing Light, and his followers, against some he called the Others.”
“Are you suggesting that we have found ourselves in the middle of some kind of civil war?” Chakotay asked.
Neelix nodded. “I am, Commander. Naomi’s description of Phoebe in her true form and the effect on the Caretaker’s remains mean that Phoebe was probably Nacene. Just as the Caretaker unintentionally destroyed Ocampa and devoted the rest of his existence to compensating for that broken harmony, I believe the Nacene were also instrumental in damaging Monorhan space. There are too many properties to this system that do not obey natural laws. Ensign Kim was kind enough to explain in some detail the few that I could understand. But with the Caretaker and Suspiria, there was disagreement between them as to how to proceed once the harmony had been broken. The Caretaker remained aboard the array so that he could tend to the Ocampa. Suspiria took some of the Ocampa with her. Phoebe and the Blessed All-Knowing Light must have found themselves in a similar disagreement with these Others.”
“But we don’t know why Suspiria took…” Chakotay interrupted.
“Kes did,” Neelix added.
This was news to Chakotay.
“Kes and I talked many times about her experiences while in contact with Suspiria. Though Suspiria was able to exponentially heighten the natural abilities that Kes and all of the Ocampa share, and that was alluring to her, Kes always believed that ultimately Suspiria’s intentions toward her people were malevolent. Suspiria didn’t care for her people, the way her mate did. She took them so that she could continue experimenting with them. Kes sensed a need for power and control in Suspiria that went far beyond the more nurturing, if misguided, efforts of the Caretaker.”
“If what you’re saying is correct,” Chakotay said, “then one Nacene, or group of Nac
ene, may be functioning like the Caretaker, stabilizing Monorhan space, while the other, Phoebe and/or this All-Knowing Light, are working to undermine their efforts for their own ends.”
“Which is where the Key comes in,” Neelix added.
“How so?”
“The Key opens the conduit of light,” Neelix continued.
“Assylia told me that her people believed that was merely a metaphor for the truth the Key revealed,” Chakotay said.
“I think they might have been wrong about that,” Neelix said. “Dagan does describe the mechanism where the Key fits and I have found something very similar to what he described aboard the array.”
“Where?”
Neelix handed Chakotay a padd that showed a diagram of the mechanism’s location. It took Chakotay only a moment to realize that the mechanism was centered at the base of the spore sack he had discovered aboard the array.
Neelix continued as Chakotay tried to work this piece into the puzzle. “According to Dagan, the ‘owner’ of the Key is the only one who can use it to unlock the conduit of light. This will destroy the boundary that separates the All-Knowing Light and his followers from the Others.”
“So if the captain were to place the Key in this mechanism…” Chakotay began.
“And if the boundary that separates them is Monorhan space…” Neelix added.
“Then Phoebe and the Nacene who are with her will be forced to fight the battle with the Others who are trying to maintain this space,” Chakotay finished.
“That’s why she took the captain,” Neelix said. “She has to keep the captain away from the Key and the lock.”
“Why didn’t she just kill her?” Chakotay wondered.
Neelix hesitated before he said, “If Seven was right about Dagan’s death causing the changes in the Blue Eye, then it is possible that the captain’s death might destabilize the system in a similar way. Perhaps Phoebe was trying to prevent that from happening. At any rate, we don’t know the limits of the Nacene’s abilities, but if this array is any indication, they go far beyond what we know of the Caretaker or Suspiria. Bottom line, Commander, if the captain is still alive, I doubt very much that Phoebe will ever return her to us.”
Chakotay swallowed hard. Much as he hated to admit it, Neelix was probably right.
But even as the fragile shards of hope that he was clinging to began to slip from his grasp, Chakotay realized that he still had at least one final card to play in this game.
“What would happen if someone other than the captain placed the Key in its lock?” he asked.
Neelix paused to consider.
“I honestly don’t know. Probably nothing,” he replied.
“Or Phoebe might come back to stop us. If the captain is dead then the next person to touch it should be the new owner.”
“I don’t know, Commander…” Neelix said warily.
But Chakotay felt his spirits reviving as he continued. “If the captain is the only one that can use the Key, and we place it in the lock…it won’t work. And we’ll know she’s still alive. If it works…”
“But won’t that be worse…for all of us?” Neelix asked.
“I doubt very much that Phoebe will let us get that far,” Chakotay said.
The door chimed again. Chakotay called, “Enter,” and B’Elanna strode quickly into the room, Tom and Harry at her heels.
“Chakotay,” she began without waiting for permission to speak, “you have to see this.”
“What is it?” he asked, somewhat unwilling to be derailed from his present line of thinking.
“Tom and Harry…” she said before obviously realizing that in her enthusiasm she was stealing their thunder. She nodded to Tom, who was beaming from ear to ear.
“Lieutenant?” Chakotay directed at Tom.
“We’ve discovered how the tetryon transport system works,” he said.
“Can we use it to leave the array safely?” Chakotay asked.
Things might be falling into place after all. If we can force Phoebe to return the captain, and we can use the array’s transporters to leave…
Chakotay’s mind was racing with new possibilities.
“No,” Harry jumped in.
Chakotay looked between the three of them, crestfallen and curious as to why, based on this statement, they were all still smiling.
“Then what…?” he said, at a loss.
“We can use it to get a lot farther than that,” Harry said.
Tom stepped slightly forward. His bright blue eyes blazing, Tom finally made their enthusiasm clear for Chakotay.
“We can use it to get home, Commander.”
Vorik felt better. As he rested on one of sickbay’s empty biobeds, the crushing weight that had descended so suddenly upon his mind had begun to lift, thanks in large part to the neural inhibitor that the Doctor had placed on his forehead. The Doctor stood beside him, running a medical tricorder around his head and neck and clucking softly at the readings he was seeing.
Taking several slow, measured breaths, Vorik tried to remember exactly what he had been doing before the painful interruption…something about the singularity’s event horizon…
Vorik.
The voice was in his mind. The shooting pain that had so recently brought him to his knees threatened to cripple him again as the Doctor stopped in midscan to ask, “What just happened, Ensign?”
“I don’t know…” he managed through gritted teeth, clutching his head in both of his hands to keep it stabilized atop his neck.
“I’m detecting a drop in neuropeptide production in your limbic system,” the Doctor said, attempting to hide his alarm.
The Doctor quickly coded a hypospray, and with a soft hiss the medication flowed from Vorik’s neck directly into his bloodstream.
A few breaths later, Vorik again seemed calmer.
“Can you tell me when…” the Doctor began.
But Vorik couldn’t hear him. This time, what entered his mind was a fragment of a memory. He was seated across from Tuvok in the mess hall, long after his duty shift had ended. They were playing kal-toh, a Vulcan strategy game where several small pieces were arranged to form a semblance of a sphere, but only the proper alignment of each piece in relation to the others would result in perfection. Tuvok was a master of the game. This particular match had taken place over several days and, if this moment was any indication, would take as many more as Vorik’s dense brain would require. It wasn’t that Tuvok was letting him win, though Vorik knew full well that had Tuvok so desired, their game would have ended within hours of its inception. This was meant to be instructional for the young Vulcan, an exercise in disciplined strategic thinking more than a test of the players’ respective skills.
What differentiated this moment from his actual recollection of the game was that as he sat staring at the configuration of metal pieces, he could actually see the solutions.
All of them.
The complexity of the game lay partially in the fact that hundreds of different combinations could result in a victory. A skilled player could see several dozen steps ahead of any given move. Tuvok could probably see twice that many.
But when Vorik played, he was, invariably, making a best guess with each move.
Until now.
Somehow the precise order of nineteen moves that would lead to the quickest victory, no matter how Tuvok chose to counter, was as clear to him as any text on a padd. Fifty variations that would draw the game out longer but lead to the same conclusion were also vividly playing out in his mind.
What was overwhelming about this experience was the absolute peace that accompanied the certainty which consumed him. It was unlike anything he had ever known before.
Vorik.
The voice again.
This time Vorik knew it was Tuvok’s voice.
Turning his head slightly to the right, he saw Tuvok lying behind the forcefield, a mass of pulsing tentacles obscuring most of his body. But Tuvok…whole and separate from the enti
ty that was joining with him…was still an individual apart from that creature.
And Tuvok needed him.
Over the Doctor’s strenuous objections, Vorik sat abruptly up and crossed to the forcefield.
“You must allow me to pass,” he said with a soft urgency.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Ensign,” the Doctor replied. “Now kindly return to your biobed. You may be in serious danger…”
With uncharacteristic rage, Vorik slapped his hand against the forcefield. Willing himself to endure the pain as his fingers began to fry, he stared hard at the Doctor, who called within seconds, “Computer, lower the forcefield around station one.”
Without another glance, Vorik moved to the head of the bed and gingerly placed his hands on what little flesh of Tuvok’s face remained visible.
“Ensign, what are you…?” the Doctor stammered, fully aware that he was not in control of this moment but somehow flabbergasted just the same at how quickly the worm had turned.
“My mind to your mind,” Vorik said softly, initiating the mind-meld that he somehow knew would be Tuvok’s last link to the living world. “My thoughts to your…”
But before he could complete the last word…thoughts…the meld took him and he returned to the state of peace and harmony that he had never before known.
The Doctor stood by, virtually helpless. True, he could have overpowered Vorik had he chosen and forced him to comply with his wishes. He was not a huge fan of mind-melds in theory or practice, though he had to acknowledge that this skill had come in handy on a few occasions in his practice aboard Voyager.
But the simple fact of the matter was that he had run out of options for treating Tuvok. The creature would be fully formed in a few hours, perhaps less. Tuvok was about to die, and there was nothing…absolutely nothing…that he could do about it unless Tuvok stopped resisting his only treatment option. He allowed himself to nurture a silent hope that whatever Vorik was doing might somehow bring Tuvok to his senses. After his last disastrous attempt to separate Tuvok from the creature, he had been forced to conclude that the cause of his failure had been Tuvok himself. He did not want to be cured. He had indicated in every way imaginable from the moment he had been brought back on board that he wanted this transformation to happen. At the very least, should Vorik succeed, he might gain some insight into Tuvok’s thoughts. The Doctor had faced failure of this magnitude on precious few occasions and didn’t like to admit to himself that he hesitated to stop Vorik because the attempt was the lesser of all evils he was currently facing.