“Could the Borg be convinced to coexist peacefully with the rest of the galaxy, we would not be having this discussion. But they cannot. As far as they are concerned, there will be no reason to rest until the entirety of the Milky Way has been assimilated. Our only reasonable course of action is to stop them before they have the opportunity to achieve their stated goals.
“The most unfortunate reality, however, is that genocide, even of a species like the Borg, runs counter to every principle upon which our Federation is founded. We’re not talking about sending a fleet of ships with the capability to face and defeat the Borg. We’re not going to attack them. That’s not what we do.
“So what are our options?
“As Admiral Batiste has suggested, we will likely one day find ourselves facing the Borg again in the Alpha quadrant, when they have mustered sufficient numbers and resources to mount an invasion and discovered another route from their space to ours. We must begin to prepare for that day. But I believe he is wrong to suggest that we do not already possess the knowledge and the determination to face that threat.
“We know more about the Borg today than we have ever known. We have detailed schematics of their vessels and armaments, and several encounters under our belts which will enable us to predict their tactics. We possess weapons, both offensive and defensive, which we know to be effective, and we must dedicate every available resource to enhancing them and building upon them.
“I do not doubt that any Starfleet crew assigned to a mission in the Delta quadrant would accept the challenge. We are trained to seek out such adventures. But I remain unconvinced that such a mission would most effectively utilize our current resources, and might only lull us further into a sense of complacency. What are we doing right now to avert catastrophe at the hands of the Borg? We’re investigating them further, we might say to ourselves.
“And while we investigate, they are building ships and weapons and, quite possibly, looking for another way to send them to the Alpha quadrant.
“We know the Borg are a serious threat. But we should consider realistically the best way to counter that threat, and sending one or a handful of vessels with untested and unreliable technology on what might be a one-way suicide mission hardly qualifies in my mind as rising to the level of serious action. We must begin here at home, preparing for an eventuality which may be inevitable, but hopefully is still many years in the future.”
When Eden ended the playback, she found herself brushing tears from her eyes. She had continued to believe in the rightness of their cause, even after Starfleet’s second refusal, Eden had to admit that Janeway had made a compelling case. If Willem was to be believed, she had left that session and rendezvoused shortly after with Chakotay, where their relationship had changed forever. Eden did not believe that Janeway’s intentions toward Chakotay had clouded her judgment on the issue or even factored into the equation. No one who hadn’t lived those seven years in the Delta quadrant could possibly speak to the hardships her crew had endured, and Janeway’s unwillingness to send them back on what must have seemed like a dangerous whim was perfectly understandable.
Eden had always believed that if one wanted to make the gods laugh, all one had to do was make a plan. But rarely, even in the aftermath of recent events, had she considered the gods cruel. Nor had she ever been so cognizant that the road to the hell in which she now found herself had been paved with such good intentions.
Chakotay sat unflinching under Cambridge’s stern gaze. To his credit, the counselor hadn’t even attempted a witty retort to Chakotay’s last statement.
Instead, he sighed, uncrossed his legs, and moved forward to place his elbows on the table between them, bringing his face to rest in his hands.
“All right,” he said simply, “let’s move on for now.”
Chakotay only nodded in reply.
“Let’s go to stardate 57585,” Cambridge offered.
“The Orion ship?” Chakotay asked by way of confirmation.
“In fairness, I’ll advise you that for several weeks prior to this incident, your crew was already expressing concerns about your mental and emotional state,” Cambridge said.
“In fairness, at the time, I shared their concerns,” Chakotay replied.
“Let’s talk about that day,” Cambridge suggested, “and then we’ll continue on with the series of events that culminated in your request nine weeks ago for an extended leave.”
“I’m sure you remember it all as well as I do,” Chakotay countered. “You were there and serving under my command at the time.”
“Still, I’d like to hear the story from your point of view.”
“Fine.” Chakotay nodded. “Stardate 57585…”
AUGUST 2380
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Chakotay rounded the corner to find the entrance to the turbolift blocked by Lieutenant Harry Kim and one of Vorik’s new engineers, Ensign…Ensign…
Damn it. What is her name?
His head was still throbbing dully, and despite the fact that his tongue felt like a huge lump of sandpaper and his stomach was rumbling, the thought of actually ingesting anything made his gorge rise. While updating his personal log the night before, he had polished off a full decanter of spiced Bolian ale—a mistake he didn’t plan on making again any time soon. He needed to ease off for a few days at least, but synthehol never managed to help him find sleep the way the real thing did.
Maybe it’s time to crack that case of Château St. Michelle I’ve been saving, he thought briefly.
Still, it troubled him that he couldn’t put a name to the face of the petite blonde woman Harry had backed against the wall. She didn’t seem to mind. Propping himself up with one hand resting on the wall just to the right of her head, Harry was leaning in and whispering something that made her simultaneously blush and giggle.
Chakotay refused to admit that the ire stoked by this little scene had as much to do with his hangover as its impropriety.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the bridge, Lieutenant?” he said sharply.
Both Kim and the ensign jumped to attention at the sound of his voice.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry stammered, abashed. “We were just waiting for the turbolift.”
The captain stepped past them, and the moment he came within range of the proximity sensors, the doors whisked open.
Her face a bright shade of red, the ensign hurried away as Kim stepped in behind his captain.
They rode for a few moments in silence until Harry asked, “Any word this morning on the Orion ship?”
“If you were at your post where you were supposed to be, you wouldn’t need to ask that question, Lieutenant,” Chakotay replied.
Harry said nothing further, and allowed Chakotay to step onto the bridge before hurrying to relieve Cappiello, the gamma shift officer, at tactical.
Tom Paris rose to greet Chakotay with a “Good morning, Captain.”
“That remains to be seen,” Chakotay replied as he settled himself into his chair and began to review the prior shift’s reports.
All around him, his officers were all studiously engaged in their duties. A tense hush had descended upon the bridge the moment he entered, broken only by the occasional beep or blurt of a console.
“Captain, long-range scanners have detected a vessel,” Lasren called out from ops.
“Is it them?” Chakotay asked.
“A moment, sir,” Lasren requested.
The initial scan results were already being rerouted to Paris’s interface, and after a moment he said, “The power signatures and hull configuration are a match. I think we’ve got them, Captain.”
“Red Alert,” Chakotay ordered. “Adjust course and speed to intercept.”
After only a few blares Kim muted the klaxon, for which Chakotay was silently grateful, but the bridge was bathed in pulsing crimson light.
“There’s no way to mask our approach, Captain,” Tom advised him.
“So we go in hard and fa
st,” Chakotay replied.
Within moments their quarry had detected the danger and had moved into attack position.
“They can’t possibly believe they outgun us,” Paris noted. The ship’s primary function was transport, though a few nasty-looking disruptor cannons had been cobbled onto the hull. And given that they were members of the Orion Syndicate, it was fair to assume they had a handful of other destructive aces in the hole.
“Their port engine is offline, and I’m detecting a coolant leak in their starboard engine,” Lasren added.
“Looks like they’re done running. Scan their cargo hold,” Chakotay ordered.
“They’re still carrying the half kiloton of kemocite they stole from Deep Space 5, sir.”
“Hail them, Ensign.”
After a few seconds Lasren replied, “No response, Captain.”
“Open the channel.”
“They can hear you, sir.”
“Orion vessel, this is Captain Chakotay of the Federation Starship Voyager. Power down your weapons, drop shields, and prepare to be boarded.”
“They’re still not responding, sir,” Lasren advised.
“Life signs?” Chakotay asked.
“Six confirmed,” Lasren replied.
“Orion vessel,” Chakotay called out again, “we have scanned your ship and confirmed that you are illegally in possession of kemocite ore. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
In response, the Orion ship fired several quick disruptor bursts and began evasive maneuvers.
Voyager shuddered slightly under the barrage.
“Shields are holding,” Kim reported from tactical. “Attack pattern, sir?”
“At your discretion,” Chakotay replied.
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, then added, “Helm, prepare to execute attack pattern delta six.”
Under Tare’s confident hands the ship rolled to starboard, easily evading another volley, simultaneously firing a steady stream of phasers from their ventral array.
“They just lost twenty-eight percent of their shields,” Kim reported, clearly pleased.
“Bring us around,” Chakotay ordered.
A few minutes later, the Orion vessel had been completely stripped of its cannons and most of its shields, and was running on maneuvering thrusters only.
“Are they ready to talk yet, Ensign Lasren?” Chakotay inquired.
“No response to repeated hails,” Lasren replied.
“Harry, is your security team ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tractor them into the shuttlebay, and let’s make sure we give them a nice, warm welcome.”
A pale blue beam struck the Orion vessel and began drawing it toward Voyager.
Suddenly, a massive jolt shook the bowels of the ship, and the beam blinked out of existence.
“What the hell was that?” Chakotay demanded.
Paris was the first to assess the situation. “It’s an optronic pulse. They modified their remaining disruptor bank to emit it.”
“Our tractor beam is disabled. We can’t bring them in or tow them,” Harry advised.
“Then we board them,” Chakotay resolved. “Assemble a security team for transport. And if they so much as twitch again, open fire.”
“Captain,” Paris said, clearly dismayed.
“Problem, Commander?”
“That pulse was the bottom of their bag of tricks. Their shields are failing and they’re not going anywhere. If we fire on them now, they’ll be destroyed.”
“They’re transporting kemocite ore they stole from a Federation starbase, killing fifteen people that we know of in the process. That was their first mistake. Their second was firing on this ship. They’ve been warned, and they understand the consequences of their actions, Commander,” Chakotay replied coldly. “This isn’t a game.”
“The boarding party is ready for transport,” Kim reported.
“Captain,” Lasren interrupted, “I’m detecting a plasma leak in their warp core.”
“Is their core about to breach?” Tom asked.
“Can’t tell. All of their systems have sustained heavy damage. It could just be a malfunction.”
“Tare, let’s put some distance between us,” Tom ordered, rising to stand behind the helm station.
“Arm photon torpedoes,” Chakotay added.
“Sir?” Paris asked, turning abruptly to face Chakotay.
Chakotay stood and squared off with his first officer.
“It’s not a malfunction. When the warp plasma hits that kemocite it will create a temporal disruption. They’re still trying to evade capture, Commander, and that’s not going to happen today.”
“Torpedoes armed,” Kim said.
“Lasren, is that channel still open?” Paris asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Orion vessel, we are detecting a leak in your warp core. Do you require assistance?” Paris said.
An unintelligible burst of static blared over the comm system.
“Can you clean that up, Ensign?” Tom asked.
“There’s too much interference on their end,” Lasren replied.
“Harry, take out the last of their shields and have the transporter rooms lock onto the crew and beam them aboard,” Paris said.
“Belay that,” Chakotay said immediately.
“What?” Paris asked, incredulous.
“There’s no time. Lieutenant Kim, fire photon torpedoes,” Chakotay ordered, his eyes fixed defiantly on his first officer’s.
“Belay that!” Paris ordered.
“Commander Paris, you are relieved,” Chakotay barked. “Mr. Kim, destroy that ship.”
There was a moment of stunned silence in which no one on the bridge seemed willing or able to move.
“Harry—” Tom began.
“Lieutenant Kim, follow my orders or stand aside,” Chakotay said, turning to face Harry.
Kim hesitated for only another second, and then fired the torpedoes.
Simultaneously, Lasren called out to Chakotay from ops, but his words were drowned out by the obliteration of the Orion ship.
“Get off my bridge,” Chakotay growled at Tom. “Stand down from Red Alert.”
“Captain—” Lasren began.
“What?” Chakotay snapped.
Only after Paris had reached the turbolift did Lasren continue, his voice shaken, “Just before the torpedoes hit, they managed to lock down the warp plasma leak. I think they were trying to comply, sir.”
Paris turned to look at Chakotay. The captain met his eyes without flinching.
“They brought it on themselves,” Chakotay answered. “Lieutenant Kim, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room.”
He could feel the eyes of everyone upon him as he turned away from his crew and retreated into his private sanctuary.
Only when he was safely ensconced did he begin to shake. Chakotay kept telling himself it had all happened too fast for him to make another choice. The ship they had just destroyed had been responsible for the deaths of four Starfleet officers and eleven civilians when it had blown its way out of Deep Space 5. It was carrying the dangerous ore that, when refined, was a key component in weapons of mass destruction.
They didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, he assured himself, and no one was going to mourn their passing.
The captain stepped toward the replicator, debating whether he should order the water his body desperately needed or something a little more bracing, when a chime sounded at his door.
“Come in,” Chakotay called.
Counselor Cambridge entered.
“What do you need, Counselor?” Chakotay asked.
“I just had a very interesting conversation with Commander Paris,” Cambridge said evenly. “Would you like to give me your version, or shall I wait for your report?”
“I’ve already relieved one of my senior officers from duty, and it’s not even time for lunch yet,” Chakotay replied. “If your services are required, I’ll l
et you know. Until then…” Chakotay gestured toward the door.
Cambridge considered him for a moment before saying, “Then may I at least make a suggestion, sir?”
“If you must.”
“Unless you want to end up alone on that bridge, you might try directing your obvious anger at the person for whom it is meant rather than your crew.”
“And who might that be?” Chakotay asked.
“Kathryn Janeway, sir,” Cambridge replied, then exited the room before Chakotay could order him out.
Several hours later, Harry entered holodeck three to find Tom waiting for him in the cold gray room.
“He didn’t confine you to quarters?” Harry asked.
“He’s giving me a few days to think about my behavior,” Tom replied, “and a few extra duty shifts in waste reclamation.”
Harry nodded. “Then we’d better get started. A little time with Chaotica should cheer both of us up.”
Tom nodded and moved toward the holodeck control panel, but before activating the program he turned to Harry and asked softly, “Are you as worried about him as I am?”
“You have to ask?”
“What are we going to do?” Tom said.
“What can we do?” Harry asked. “He’s the captain.”
“I talked to Doctor Kaz this afternoon,” Tom said. “He’s going to review Chakotay’s report of the incident, but given the circumstances, he doesn’t think he can relieve him of duty based on this alone. There’s a case to be made that they intended to allow the warp plasma to hit the ore. The captain could have been right.”
“But he wasn’t,” Harry replied grimly. “And he never used to err on the side of violence.”
“Why did you fire?” Tom wanted to know.
Star Trek: Voyager®: Full Circle Page 29