Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies

by Kirsten Beyer

  “Maybe here they did,” the counselor said, pushing himself off the table’s edge. “How long has that temporal portal existed?” Cambridge asked of Silbrit.

  “About fifty years. At first, we simply used them to map as much as we could of some of the alternate timelines. Our resources are extremely limited. They’ve only seen significant use as transporters in the last decade.”

  “Do we know exactly when we are?” Admiral Janeway asked.

  “Assuming the portal was functioning properly, it’s the same as the timeline we left, a little over two hundred years after the destruction of Batibeh,” Silbrit replied.

  “So that portal has only been here for fifty years as well,” the denzit confirmed. Turning toward Cambridge, she asked, “But you believe the Rilnar accessed them one hundred fifty years earlier than that?”

  “Yes. Even before the portals were constructed, those chroniton pools were there. Rahalla discovered them more than two hundred years ago. The legend of the brothers said they used the pools to show the leaders of their day what would happen on Sormana if they failed to make peace,” Cambridge said, pacing restlessly as he struggled to put the pieces together.

  “That still doesn’t explain why this place exists if these brothers ultimately failed to bring peace about,” Silbrit argued.

  The denzit stiffened. Three figures, two female and one male, wearing knee-length, light-brown tunics belted at the waist and soft boots had emerged from one of the structures below. They were approaching the table calmly but purposefully. It was clear they were not armed. Their hands swung freely at their sides, and there were no cloaks or jackets to conceal weapons.

  “Let’s meet them halfway,” the admiral suggested. The group followed her down the hill. As they came closer to the natives, it was clear that they were from Sormana, but it was harder to distinguish the Rilnar from the Zahl. The young male and one female had similar, dark complexions. Both had the characteristic Zahl nasal ridge and some of the epidermal pitting. The other female was almost ancient, her hair thin and white, her pale face deeply wrinkled.

  The denzit was struck by the realization that in all her years on Sormana, she had rarely seen a Rilnar that had lived so long, even at Felstar.

  The two groups met each other just outside the grove of jastin trees. The natives looked them over, curious, but without any sign of fear or hostility. They focused a little longer on the denzit and the admiral, smiling placidly and sharing silent glances of surprise between them. Finally, the younger woman stepped forward and said, “On behalf of my fellow Keepers, permit me to welcome you to Batibeh. I am Irix. Normally pilgrims are brought here by shuttle from Jaxom. We apologize that we were not properly prepared to greet you.”

  The admiral stepped forward. “No apology is necessary. We didn’t arrive here using conventional means.”

  The older woman spoke, her bright blue eyes twinkling. Her long white hair fell freely about her face. “You are time travelers.”

  The fact that this was stated with such simplicity seemed to both shock and relieve the admiral. The Temporal Prime Directive had been rendered moot by the Krenim’s actions but she would not have chosen to reveal more information than was necessary to these strangers for fear of corrupting their timeline. It appeared that wasn’t going to be a problem.

  “You could call us that,” the admiral replied. “How often do other pilgrims utilize the temporal displacement fields like the one up on that hill?”

  “Never,” the blue-eyed woman replied. Turning back to the rest of her group for confirmation she continued, “There are a few similar portals all over the planet. All have been appropriately marked and are not used by the Keepers. But we have often wondered if others from alternate realities might discover one in their own time and use them.”

  “They are naturally occurring?” the admiral asked.

  “Yes. They began to appear about fifty years ago. We believe they are a by-product of the chroniton pools located on Rahalla. Scientists from far and wide often come to study them, but none of us have kept up on their research.”

  Cambridge was studying the group with a grin of unabashed delight. Finally he ventured, “Has your planet always been like this?”

  “Always is a long time,” the male Keeper replied. “Sadly, for many centuries, before the time of the brothers, Sormana was gripped by constant strife. This city, Batibeh, was destroyed in that conflict. Its destruction heralded a new era for our people. The Rilnar and Zahl agreed to abandon Sormana, to allow time and nature to heal the wounds they had inflicted on this world and one another. Most of the larger cities have fallen into disuse, although a few are still home to the Keepers. Batibeh was a special case. It was rebuilt as you see it now, as a reminder of our mutual beginnings and as a memorial to those who succeeded in bringing peace to Sormana.”

  “Do you know the identity of the brothers?” Cambridge asked.

  The blue-eyed woman smiled shyly. “This way,” she said, directing them toward the grove of trees.

  The denzit felt a slight chill creep over her as they entered the grove and the voluminous jastin branches blocked the sun. Bright beams broke through in places, illuminating the monument that lay in the center of the grove, a series of small pools of water, clearly meant to represent the chroniton pools at Rahalla. Above them, two figures stood carved in a beautiful cream, red-veined stone. They were a little taller than most men, but clearly meant to be larger than life, despite the realism with which the faces and fine details of their clothing and hands had been rendered.

  Cambridge immediately moved closer to the statues, marveling at them.

  The denzit was struck first by their pose. They stood perhaps a meter and a half apart, their arms outstretched, reaching for each other. Between them, suspended by some unknown method, a perfect sphere floated.

  “Do you, by any chance, know their names?” Cambridge asked.

  “Of course. This one,” Irix said, indicating the taller of the two whose strongest feature was his chin and a tangle of dense, curly hair that fell almost to his shoulders, “was Obristian. And this,” she continued, pointing to the other whose features, while handsome, were softer and whose hair had obviously been fine and straight, “was Danyaran.”

  The denzit felt the air around her begin to spin. Her feet suddenly seemed to have left solid ground. The admiral inhaled sharply beside her, and one of the Keepers placed firm hands on the denzit’s shoulders to steady her.

  “Danyaran,” Janeway said, turning abruptly to the denzit, who was now having trouble breathing.

  “Dayne,” she managed on a shallow breath.

  Without another word, the denzit turned and rushed from the grove. She set a torturous pace for herself, climbing toward the stone table. Neither the burning in her chest nor the tears flowing freely from her eyes slowed her.

  “Please, wait,” a soft voice called behind her.

  When she had finally reached the table, she placed both hands on its edge to steady herself. Her inhalations were heavy gasps. Her ears buzzed. Her limbs trembled with exertion and an overabundance of adrenaline.

  A few moments later, the blue-eyed Keeper reached her. “Are you all right?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on the denzit’s back.

  Kathryn turned, wiping her face and nose with her sleeve, and struggled valiantly to compose herself. Some deeply ingrained training took over, forcing her to display a sense of calm she did not feel. “I’m fine. I will be. I just need a few minutes.”

  “Your world is not like ours,” the woman said kindly.

  Kathryn shook her head. “My world,” she began, “the planet of my birth is actually very much like this. But I never dreamed I would see anything like it on Sormana.”

  “In your timeline the war still continues?”

  Kathryn nodded.

  “We have always known that the existence of the other timelines meant that not all who have lived on Sormana knew the peace the brothers brought to us. It must be
difficult for you to believe this is even possible.”

  “Where I come from, the brothers . . .”

  Never existed, she started to say, but immediately realized her error. They did exist, at least Dayne did. But he had clearly done something to change the actions for which he was now memorialized in this timeline. Had he brought peace to Sormana before they met? If not, why would he have tried to change Sormana’s past after they had fallen in love? Changing the past would alter the future. They would probably never have known each other. Was that his intention?

  The woman’s eyes were glistening as well. She seemed to be struggling with some deep emotion. Clearly she knew something of the other timelines and was moved to think she had encountered someone who was probably living during a time of strife and terror.

  Kathryn attempted to smile, to reassure this kind soul that she would be fine. For the first time, she noticed subtle differences about her. The woman’s age had been deceptive. The flesh of her cheeks was crisscrossed with deep wrinkles, but they were likely caused by years of exposure to the sun rather than inherited like the Rilnar’s and Zahl’s. The bones of her skull were structured a little differently. The nasal ridge was absent but her forehead seemed to be a little wider.

  “Were you born on Sormana?” Kathryn asked.

  “I was. I have lived one hundred and fifteen years on this planet, all of them in peace and prosperity. Most of the Keepers are children of the Wise Generation. It was our grandparents who came to this table and brought the war to an end. A handful chose to remain behind when Sormana was abandoned, both Rilnar and Zahl. They stayed so that they could witness Sormana’s transformation. We are the Keepers of history. We remain so that no one will ever forget.”

  “What is your name?” Kathryn asked.

  The woman smiled sadly. “I am Mollah.”

  “Kathryn.”

  Mollah’s smile widened and warmed. “I—” she began, but turned at the sounds of the rest of the group approaching. It was a somber procession. Only the counselor and Silbrit were engaged in animated conversation with the male Keeper.

  The admiral approached Kathryn warily. Mollah stepped back, rejoining the other Keepers.

  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Janeway said softly.

  “You knew?”

  “Not this. I never imagined . . . but it fits, doesn’t it? Dayne is Krenim. We know he has had a great deal of experience passing as a Rilnar. He was the one who sent me back to Sormana. He told me that his people had already executed a series of incursions. This had to be one of them.”

  “But when? If it happened after we met, our reality should no longer exist. That it still does means that at some point, he changed it again. I don’t understand. If he was capable of creating this, why wouldn’t he have let it be? Who could ever look at this and want to change it?”

  “He might have been looking for a way to make your suffering unnecessary,” Janeway suggested. “More likely, however, this was done and undone before you ever met.”

  “But why?”

  “I wonder . . .” Janeway said, tuning back to the Keepers. “In whose space is Sormana currently located?”

  “Our entire star system has been declared neutral territory. Our nearest borders are shared on one side with the Zahl colonists and the other by the Rilnar,” Mollah replied.

  “And the Krenim?” Janeway asked.

  The Keepers exchanged curious glances. “I’ve never heard of them,” Irix said.

  “They are an alien species,” the male Keeper said. “They control a single system very far from here and have a long history of conflict with the Mawasi and the Nihydron. I believe both the Rilnar and Zahl have tried to intercede. Offers of diplomatic and humanitarian aid have been made. But they do not welcome interference from outsiders.”

  “Forgive us,” Mollah said. “Most of us are too busy with our other duties to follow interstellar politics with the same energy as Welfrek.”

  “Don’t be so modest,” Welfrek chided her good-naturedly. “Mollah here has written extensively on the way in which Sormana’s past has informed the current political climate beyond Sormana. She is one of our most revered Keepers.”

  Janeway turned back to the denzit, who had begun to tremble violently. “This might have helped Sormana, but at a cost too great for the Krenim to abide.”

  “Admiral,” Silbrit said, his tone clearly communicating his desire to end this diversion.

  Janeway nodded. “Thank you all for sharing this with us. We have to go now.”

  “Will you send others here, now that you know we exist?”

  “Perhaps,” Silbrit replied.

  The Keepers bid farewell to their pilgrims, noting that they would always be welcome at Batibeh. As they began to make their way back down the hill, Janeway addressed Silbrit and the denzit.

  “I’m not sure I would risk bringing any of your contemporaries here.”

  “We shouldn’t have to. Now that I know what we’re looking at, I can use the portal displays to show our leaders everything they need to see,” Silbrit said.

  “Assuming we and the portals survive,” Cambridge pointed out.

  Janeway nodded. “It’s time to talk to Dayne.”

  “He’s here?” the denzit demanded.

  “He’s back there,” Janeway said, pointing toward the shimmering air beside the stone pillar.

  Without another word, the denzit rushed forward and vanished into the portal.

  SORMANA

  Dayne was about to lose consciousness. His mangled face was beet red and his gasps were desperate. A slight adjustment to the placement of Tuvok’s thumbs would result in his immediate death. Much as Tuvok wished to crush his fragile windpipe and cervical spine, he could not until he heard the truth from this man’s lips.

  Bending low so that their faces were centimeters apart, Tuvok demanded vehemently, “Where is your daughter?”

  Suddenly Tuvok’s grip loosened. Chakotay had grabbed him under both shoulders from behind and was attempting to drag him off of his quarry. Dayne took the opening and bringing both hands up between Tuvok’s in a frantic gesture, broke free. He rolled onto his side, choking and coughing violently. On one elbow he attempted to drag himself clear of Tuvok.

  “Tuvok, stand down. That’s an order,” Chakotay shouted.

  The Starfleet officer who had served with dedication and distinction for decades understood the seriousness of those words. Elieth’s father ignored them. Jerking free of Chakotay’s grasp, Tuvok kicked Dayne hard in the ribs. A faint, satisfying crack could be heard over his agonized shout.

  “Where is she?” Tuvok roared.

  That Dayne had lied to the denzit, tortured her, betrayed her, and left her on Sormana to die, was unacceptable. He had strayed far beyond the bounds of civilized behavior and forfeited his right to mercy. But what turned him from a person to a thing in Tuvok’s mind was his theft of Kathryn’s child. For that, he must suffer, just as all those who embraced evil and wanton destruction of the lives of others should be made to suffer.

  The torment of Elieth’s senseless loss shook free of its shackles in Tuvok’s mind. Over the last several months, he had sought to exert control over this most primal of emotions. But that control had been an illusion. His agony had waited patiently for a moment of free rein and Tuvok released it now, pouring it into Dayne with savage, righteous fury. Not long ago he had welcomed the thought of his imminent death. Now he wanted to live, if only long enough to destroy this monster.

  Chakotay placed himself between Tuvok and Dayne, taking him firmly by the shoulders and locking eyes with him. “Tuvok, this isn’t the way.”

  “This is all that evil comprehends. This is its native tongue,” Tuvok raged. Grabbing Chakotay’s upper arms in a brief embrace, he threw the captain clear and turned back to Dayne.

  “Where—” Tuvok shouted again.

  “She’s dead,” Dayne gasped. “I couldn’t . . . save her. Too . . . great . . . a risk.�
�

  “Dayne!”

  The anguished cry that brought Tuvok back to his senses was Kathryn’s. Turning, he saw that the denzit had returned and was rushing toward him. Admiral Janeway followed on her heels, taking in the chaotic scene before her: Dayne curled into a fetal position, Tuvok’s madness, and Chakotay picking himself up off the ground.

  “What the hell is happening here?” Janeway demanded.

  The denzit pushed Tuvok aside and knelt beside Dayne. As she did so, he spared a brief moment to meet her eyes with pity and a hint of disgust. He then grasped his right wrist with his left hand and vanished in a swirl of light.

  “We’re out of time,” Chakotay announced. Tapping his combadge he shouted, “Chakotay to Vesta. Now, Captain.”

  A massive explosion sounded. The cavern was suddenly alive again with flame. The scalding heat had barely kissed Tuvok’s flesh when he felt the transporter beam take hold of him.

  25

  VESTA

  Four hundred and twelve?” Captain Regina Farkas asked.

  “Four hundred and eighteen if you count us,” Kathryn Janeway replied.

  The two women sat alone in Farkas’s ready room, awaiting the arrival of the admiral. Kathryn, no longer the denzit and perhaps never again to be a Starfleet officer, had arrived ten minutes early for their meeting. Roach had escorted her to the bridge and Farkas had immediately ushered her into the ready room to spare her the understandable, curious glances of the bridge crew.

  They’d managed small talk for a few painful minutes before accepting that silence was more comfortable. Farkas had broken it to ask how many had survived the destruction of the island base. Vesta’s transporter logs from those few desperate moments when they had struggled to retrieve as many as possible and move them to the nearest coastline could not provide an accurate count as they had not been based on discrete bio-signatures. The process had only begun after the successful transport of the full complement of chroniton torpedoes to Vesta’s hold and had been cut short by Chakotay’s signal.