Ghost Dance

by Christie Golden

  She, her crew, and the noble Voyager vessel that had gotten them this far had undergone a great deal together over the past six years. They had had their share of adventure, seen things both sublime and horrific, borne witness to some of the bravest, most compassionate acts living beings could commit as well as the most craven and appalling.

  But the last couple of weeks had nearly eclipsed everything that had gone before.

  She sipped her coffee substitute slowly. It was pretty good. A touch grainlike, but the aroma was damn near perfect.

  It had begun with a series of mysterious wormholes that had apparently been following the ship. That led to the reunion with the Romulan scientist Telek R’Mor, who had told them a tale that seemed straight out of the realm of fiction. It was a story of dark matter and the aliens who manipulated it, of so-called Shepherds both benevolent and hostile. They had seen firsthand what this peculiar, mutated dark matter could inflict: murderous rage, paranoia, recurring nightmares, hallucinations, memory loss, cancers that wouldn’t respond to treatment.

  You name it, Janeway thought wryly, her mouth curving into a hint of a smile, we had it.

  It had almost destroyed them and their ship, until they had managed to track down one of the kinder Shepherds, Tialin. She had appeared to them as an old woman and given them what B’Elanna Torres had taken to calling That Damned Ball. Inside That Damned Ball Tialin had placed all the dark matter that had been contaminating the ship. Right now, Torres, Telek, and Seven were hard at work trying to unlock the mystery of Shepherd technology as exemplified by the sphere. Once they understood it, they could put it to work and be about the surprising next phase of their journey. It was a good, old-fashioned quest in the cause of what was right. Tialin had asked them to take the orb and help the Shepherds track down and gather up the mutated dark matter still prevalent in the quadrant.

  Janeway had agreed.

  Her smile at the thought of herself as King Arthur leading the quest for the Holy Grail faded a little. Her best knight was not with her. There had been a price exacted, and even now Janeway didn’t know how dear that price would eventually be. While on the planet, Commander Chakotay, her first officer and friend, and Ensign Tom Paris had disappeared.

  Then, of course, there were the Romulans, and Khala. How they were going to make sense of all of this, Janeway had no clue.

  Even as her thoughts turned to the young woman, Shamraa Khala Remilkansuur entered the mess hall with Harry Kim. People stopped in mid-chew, then hurriedly returned their attention to their meals. No one wanted to be rude, but Janeway knew her crew was desperately curious about Khala. She had been the only living thing on a dead planet, claiming to have no knowledge of how she had gotten there. That was a mystery, but nothing compared to the mystery Khala herself posed. The Doctor had run every test he could think of on their new guest, and it was beyond doubt. Khala was unlike any sentient creature with whom the Federation had ever come into contact.

  She appeared humanoid enough, and beautiful at that: tall, slim, long, pale blue hair, blue eyes, opalescent blue skin. Save for her coloration, she could pass for human. But inside, things were “all wrong,” as the Doctor put it. Her DNA sequencing was backward, and the very elements that comprised her seemed to be almost flip-flopped from standard humanoid development.

  She stood hesitantly at the door, obviously very much aware of the interest she was generating simply by being present. Gently, Harry touched her shoulder and subtly urged her to step fully inside. Janeway was glad that Harry had taken such an interest in their guest. He was kind and humorous, and put Khala at ease.

  Khala came to an abrupt stop in front of Neelix’s kitchen area. She practically gaped.

  “You … cook?” she said, with the faintest hint of disdain. Gingerly, as if it might explode in her hand, she reached to pick up a ripe red tomato. “You cook with plants?”

  Neelix was in full regalia, from his apron to his signature droopy chef’s hat. “Indeed I do,” he said, standing up to his full less-than-imposing height.

  Khala turned to Harry. “But you told me about the replicators, how they functioned. I just had a cup of green tea in my quarters. I’ve had all my meals like that. That’s how food is prepared, not like … like …” She broke off, her shock and distaste warring with her desire to be polite to the people who had shown her such care.

  Janeway rose and moved swiftly, hoping to nip this cultural clash in the bud. “Good morning, Khala,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s taken Harry this long to bring you to the mess hall. He’s been remiss. There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal.”

  “Captain, I am so sorry. Clearly I’m being rude.” She straightened as if preparing to undergo torture. “Of course I’d love some … some cooked plants.”

  Neelix’s annoyance was changing to compassion. “You poor child,” he said. “Do you come from a place where there are no fresh foodstuffs?”

  Immediately Janeway thought of war, of rationing. The Doctor had kept a close eye on Khala while completing his tests. It was only yesterday he had agreed to let her have free access to the ship. They hadn’t had much chance to talk with her, learn about her very alien culture.

  Khala blushed, her pale cheeks turning a deeper shade of blue. “Again, I apologize. On my planet, only the Culilann actually plant fruits and vegetables. They even raise living animals for slaughter. Can you imagine?”

  Janeway thought of the occasional unreplicated leg of lamb she had enjoyed from time to time back on Earth. “Yes,” she said, “I can imagine.” She softened the words with an understanding smile and patted Khala gently on the arm. “And your people? What do they eat?”

  “We are the Alilann. Many, many generations ago, we decided to embrace technology and science. The Culilann chose to forswear it. We can genetically engineer foods and supplements that are far superior in taste and nutritional value to anything that comes out of the ground.”

  Harry smiled a little. He reached over and with a raised eyebrow silently asked permission to borrow a knife. “Oh, please,” said Neelix. Harry carefully cut the tomato into quarters and sprinkled it with a little salt.

  “We grow the food in the aeroponics bay,” he said. “No dirty soil there. And believe me, I think this tomato can beat a supplement for taste any day. This is how my father used to eat them—right out of the garden with just a sprinkle of salt. Try it.”

  He placed the quartered tomato to Khala’s lips. For a second she pressed them shut tightly, then opened them and delicately took a small bite. Her eyes went wide with pleasure and her blue lips curved in a smile. Then, like a curtain descending, an expression of nausea passed over her features. She spat the half-masticated tomato into her palm.

  “I am so sorry, I just … the thought of eating what the Culilann eat … I just can’t do it.”

  “Don’t worry, Khala,” said Janeway at once. “It’s no problem if you want to eat replicated food.”

  Her eyes lowered, Khala brushed off the offending piece of tomato onto a plate. “Captain, if this is how the crew eats, I don’t want any special treatment.”

  “We eat fresh foods prepared by Neelix because we like them,” said Harry. “We prefer real food to rations or even replicated food. But like the captain said, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll get you something to eat over here.”

  Again, the gentle hand on the arm, steering Khala away from her faux pas to the replicator. Janeway could no longer hear their conversation, but she didn’t have to.

  Neelix was silent, diligently cutting up fruit for juicing. “She meant no offense, Neelix,” said Janeway.

  “I know that,” said Neelix. “I’m not angry. I just feel really sorry for her. Imagine not wanting this delicious tomato!”

  Janeway stared at the red fruit. On impulse, she took a quarter, salted it, and popped it into her mouth. Neelix jokingly applauded her. Harry had been right. No replicated tomato could touch this for flavor and general sensuous satisfaction.

  *
* *

  The ball floated serenely about five feet in the air, emanating a cool purple light, seemingly oblivious to their increasing frustration with it.

  Seven of Nine was irritated. She was irritated with their lack of progress, with Lt. Torres’s comments, with Telek R’Mor’s slightly supercilious attitude. The team was a logical one, but a tense combination as well. They could not even seem to agree on which step needed to be taken first.

  “Let us start again from the beginning,” said Telek R’Mor, as calmly as if they had not already tried to start from the beginning at least four times. “Perhaps there is something we missed.”

  Seven stifled her irritation and inclined her head. Torres muttered something in Klingon, rolled her eyes, and folded her arms, but nodded anyway.

  “We followed signs of Shepherd activity to the planet,” said Telek. “When we reached the inside of the cave, we found a large floating sphere, like this,” he nodded toward That Damned Ball. “It emanated a purple light. Commander Chakotay’s tricorder indicated that there was some kind of energy located within the sphere itself that animated it.” His dark eyes flickered from Seven to Torres. “I was not permitted to closely examine the cloaking apparatus given to us by Lhiau, but it was similar to this orb: small and beautiful, made of some sort of crystalline material. It pulsed with light.”

  “The light coming from That Damned Ball is steady,” said Torres, almost nastily.

  Telek stiffened, then said calmly, “I see the dark matter that has begun to permeate your system again is affecting your temper.”

  “Lieutenant Torres does not require mutated dark matter to display irascibility,” said Seven. She felt a peculiar sense of pleasure at the scowl that furrowed Torres’s face.

  “It is immaterial,” said Telek. “But since we have seen similar elements in three different pieces of Shepherd technology, it would be logical to assume that this is an integral part of all of their technology. When Captain Janeway touched the sphere in the cave, light poured forth from the orb. From within the sphere, or so it seemed, Tialin seemed to be … hatched.”

  “The orb in the cavern was most likely a form of teleportation device,” said Seven, repeating the same conclusion they had reached a few hours ago. “The captain’s manipulation of the orb sent a signal that Tialin’s presence was desired, and she appeared.”

  “But it broke the orb,” said Torres. “And we’ve handled That Damned Ball repeatedly and nothing’s happened. It seems completely unbreakable.”

  “If we are to contain the dark matter within it,” said Seven logically, “then we should be grateful that it is unbreakable.”

  Torres turned on Seven and was about to retort when Telek held up a hand. “Silence! A moment, please … let me think.” Torres bit her lip and stayed silent, though the effort was clearly costing her.

  Seven watched Telek, studying him. She had learned much from the Romulan about his way of thinking, of approaching problems. Cognitive analytical reasoning seemed to be a strength of his, and Seven, though not directly of the Borg Collective any longer, still had a deep instinct to take what she could from others and make herself the better for it.

  Finally Telek stopped. “We’ve been going about this all wrong,” he said.

  “Oh, great,” said Torres. “What do you mean?”

  “We have been thinking that Tialin gave us the orb to contain the dark matter once we were able to extract it.”

  “Well, she put the dark matter in it,” Torres replied.

  “Yes, but perhaps only to show us something.” Telek stepped forward and plucked the orb out of the air. It lay quietly in his palm. “I think she meant this as an example. What was it she said … I can’t remember exactly.”

  “Your tricorder,” said Seven suddenly. “If it was functioning properly, it should have recorded your entire encounter with Tialin.”

  “If the dark matter hasn’t gotten to it first,” muttered Torres, but she too looked more hopeful. She went to a console and called up the records. “It seems to be intact. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  They stepped back and watched the encounter with the Shepherd unfold.

  “Only a few yards now,” said the videorecorded voice of Telek. “I don’t understand why they’re so still—they must be waiting to greet us formally.”

  Telek scowled at the naïveté his recorded self displayed. “Or kill us,” said Janeway. “We’ve got to be ready for that possibility.”

  “The area opens up into a cavern,” said Telek on the recording. “Right around the corner.”

  “Phasers at the ready,” ordered the captain.

  The three assembled in engineering watched the soft, purple illumination flooding the cavern. Floating in the clearing, as its smaller cousin was doing right now in engineering, was the large sphere that was creating the light.

  “It’s humming,” said Torres sharply. “This one isn’t humming.”

  “Noted,” said Seven, her eyes on the screen. She was pleased. Already, they had learned something. “Perhaps the sound indicates a level of activity.”

  “The apparatus Lhiau gave us also hummed when it was activated,” said Telek.

  The videorecording of Chakotay was speaking now. Seven felt a slight pain inside as she saw both Paris and Chakotay, who were missing now, alive and well on the recording.

  “It’s like no technology I’ve ever seen,” Chakotay said. “There’s some kind of energy animating the sphere, coming from inside, but I don’t know how to explain it. I can’t even estimate its function.”

  “Telek? Any thoughts?”

  “This appears to be similar to the apparatus they gave us to manipulate dark matter. My method of tracking down the Shepherds was never exact, Captain. I knew how to look for signs of their activity. I incorrectly assumed that this signified their presence, not simply a piece of their technology. I apologize for our failure.”

  “It’s ancient, that’s for sure,” said Chakotay. “This sphere has been here for hundreds of thousands of years. Its energy is only detectable on the very narrow, precise band that Telek gave us. I’d say it’s unlikely that the inhabitants of this planet were even aware it was here.”

  “The narrow band,” said Seven. “The orb has been impervious to all attempts to scan it. Perhaps we should reconfigure the tricorders to this precise frequency.”

  Torres nodded, her excitement growing. “When we’re done with this, we’ll get on that right away.”

  Janeway stepped up to the orb in the cavern and placed her hand on it. The light increased. A shape appeared inside the orb. It curled and twined, but began to take on a definable form. The orb shattered.

  A blond woman stepped out.

  “Mother?” breathed Seven, her chest contracting. How could it be?

  “B’Kor?” said B’Elanna at the same time. “Grandmother? What …”

  “Tialin appeared differently to each of us, in the form of an elderly female we all knew and trusted,” said Telek quickly. “I should have warned you.”

  The woman Seven saw was not elderly, but it was the only woman the child Annika had ever known. She steeled herself to watch and learn, and not be distracted by whatever form Tialin the Shepherd chose to assume.

  “I am Tialin of the Shepherds,” said Annika’s mother. “You need my help—and we need yours.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Janeway. “You need our help?”

  Tialin sighed. “I suppose after your encounter with Lhiau I can understand your suspicion.”

  “You bet,” muttered Torres.

  “I don’t have time for this,” snapped Janeway, stepping forward. Her hands went to her hips. “Are you a member of the Q continuum? You’re certainly behaving like one.”

  “Oh God,” said Torres over the captain’s next comment. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  “Ah, the Q,” Tialin said. “Most amusing. Tricky folk, though, don’t you find?”

  “No trickier than you,” sai
d the videorecording of Telek. “We are dying. My people back in the Alpha Quadrant are dying, and all because of Shepherd—”

  Looking uncomfortable, Telek stepped forward and pressed the keypads. The recorded image sped forward. “There is nothing here about the orb,” he said by way of explanation. “Tialin explained that Lhiau was a rogue. This was when she removed the dark matter. There is absolutely no physical indication of how it was done. Here. This is where the sphere appears.”

  “Gaze into the sphere,” said Tialin. “See there, caught safely, the First Things which have so plagued you. We have removed every trace of altered dark matter from your bodies and your vessels, and have contained it all within this sphere. I have rendered it visible to your limited range of viewing. It will trouble you and your crew no longer.”

  “See? She put it in That Damned Ball,” said Torres.

  “But think, Lieutenant. The sphere contains all the dark matter from our bodies and the ship, yes. But Tialin later indicates that there’s much more out there. How can this small orb contain so much dark matter? It must be an example, not the final container.”

  “Dark matter is very tiny,” Torres pointed out.

  “So is a drop of water,” said Telek. “But an ocean is a very large thing indeed.”

  Seven gazed at the levitating orb. “Perhaps there is more to this sphere than we think.” She was anxious to begin examining it on the precise frequency Telek had used before and was impatient with the recording. Nonetheless, it had proved useful already. There might yet be more to learn from it.

  On the video, Tialin was tossing the ball to Paris. Torres’s expression sobered somewhat. They listened in silence as Tialin explained that dark matter existed simultaneously in all universes, completely in none, save when it came into contact with subspace. This was what the evil Lhiau was doing: pulling the dark matter completely into the universe, rendering it incredibly dangerous. She asked for Voyager’s help in tracking down the rest of the mutated dark matter.