Star Trek: Voyager: Children of the Storm

by Kirsten Beyer

  Miral jerked around to see him, slid quickly off her chair to run over to him, and raised her arms for him to pick her up. “Are you ready to have some fun today, Miral?”

  Miral nodded with a smile that held the unchewed portions of her toast.

  Tom crossed to the Doctor and said, “I can’t thank you enough for making room for my girls.”

  “It’s not a problem at all,” the Doctor tried to toss back casually, though his obvious delight in Miral suggested how excited he truly was by the prospect of B’Elanna and Miral bunking with him on Galen while Voyager went in search of the “mother” and Demeter. “Are you certain, B’Elanna, that it wouldn’t be more convenient for you to oversee repairs of Quirinal from Achilles? I’m sure they could accommodate you both.”

  “Positive,” B’Elanna replied.

  She gave Tom a quick kiss and said, “See you in a few days.”

  Tom wanted to pull her back to him, but knew he didn’t dare. Part of him couldn’t believe he was letting them go, but the realities of duty made any other choice impossible.

  He didn’t seriously consider resigning his position, however, until Miral reached for him from the Doctor’s arms.

  Pulling her into a last embrace and whispering softly, “Be a good girl for your mommy and the Doctor,” he realized just how much of himself he would be leaving behind. His only solace was his belief that B’Elanna and Miral would be infinitely safer where they were than where he and Voyager were headed.

  Eden stood in astrometrics as Seven briefed her on the five planetary bodies she had discovered that in her opinion were the best candidates for the Children of the Storm’s “mother.” They were scattered across the five nearest star systems beyond the debris field and spanned a range of ten light-years.

  “We’ll start there,” Eden decided, choosing the closest system.

  “I will forward the coordinates to the bridge,” Seven replied without comment.

  As Eden turned to head for the bridge, the doors slid open to reveal Doctor Sal and a petite ensign Eden had never met. The young woman’s features were perfectly placid, though there was a hint of tension in her eyes.

  “Captain Eden,” Sal began in introduction, “I’d like you to meet Ensign Ti’Ana, one of our science officers.”

  Eden immediately extended her hand. “It’s my understanding that you were able to establish communication between your captain and the Children of the Storm,” Eden said graciously. “On behalf of the entire fleet, I offer my thanks for your services.”

  Ti’Ana’s face flushed slightly as she said, “Is there someplace we could speak privately, Captain?”

  “Of course,” Eden replied, glancing quizzically at Sal.

  “I’ll be getting back to my ship,” Sal informed Eden. “Safe travels, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Eden said as she led Ti’Ana from the room.

  Ti’Ana kept her eyes glued straight ahead as they traveled the short distance to the turbolift. Eden ushered her into her office and offered Ti’Ana a seat before her desk as she perched on its edge to hear whatever the young woman had to say. Her reticence suggested Eden wasn’t going to like it, but the captain hoped that was only evidence of her Vulcan restraint.

  “How can I help you, Ensign?” Eden asked, attempting to begin the conversation.

  “Permission to speak freely, Captain?” Ti’Ana asked.

  Eden nodded for her to continue.

  “In the days since the crash, I have begun to remember what it was like to be invaded by the consciousness of one of the Children of the Storm.”

  “I am certain it was a very difficult experience,” Eden offered.

  “I also understand that you have another officer attempting to communicate with them now and that he has developed a sort of sympathy for them.”

  “Perhaps concern would be a better word, but yes,” Eden granted her.

  “You must believe me when I tell you that these creatures do not deserve our mercy. They are beings of rage and hatred, and there is no common ground to be forged between them and us.”

  The young woman’s tone chilled Eden, but she tried to remember how painful Ti’Ana’s only encounter with the aliens must have been.

  “We are talking about an entire race, Ensign,” Eden reminded her gently. “While it is possible that you are appropriately characterizing the individual with whom you were in contact, I hesitate to judge the entire species by a single entity.”

  “Then judge them by their actions, Captain,” Ti’Ana insisted. “The being that spoke through me directed the others to destroy Planck. They killed with no hesitation, no thought, and no emotion beyond pleasure at the ease of their success.”

  “Again—” Eden began.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Ti’Ana interjected. “Your crewman may have the best of intentions, but if he thinks he has found any redeeming qualities in these creatures, he is mistaken and he is leading you toward your destruction.”

  “Ensign Lasren has spent days trying to reach the inhabitants of the sphere your ship captured,” Eden answered evenly. “He has sensed their anger and rage, but also more subtle emotions. We may not be able to reach all of them, but we don’t have to in order to forge some kind of understanding. We may only need to find one who is sympathetic toward our cause. And if that helps us rescue Demeter, it is certainly worth the effort.”

  “You don’t understand,” Ti’Ana said, clearly growing more frustrated. “They will never release Demeter.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” Eden asked.

  “Their need for the life as they called it was absolute. I have never been near death, but the force of their desire made me feel that without it, they would die. They would never destroy it, but they would absolutely kill anyone or anything that tried to come between them and it.”

  Eden rose, and Ti’Ana took this as her cue to stand as well.

  “Thank you for your analysis, Ensign,” Eden said firmly. “I will take your words into consideration as we proceed.”

  “But you will not reconsider returning to their space?”

  “I believe the Demeter is still intact, and I cannot leave them behind, no matter how strenuously you or the Children of the Storm might wish otherwise.”

  Ti’Ana nodded, the grief at her failure to persuade Eden clear on her face.

  Once Ti’Ana had gone, Eden sank into the chair the ensign had briefly occupied. One thing she hadn’t considered was the possibility that the Children of the Storm had captured the ship but killed its crew. If all they needed were the simple life-forms aboard her, they might have opted to rid themselves early on of the humanoid “destroyers” that were part of the package.

  Of course, none of this changed the fact that Eden had to know for certain that her people were beyond hope before she continued on without them.

  But at what price?

  Weighing the needs of the many over the needs of the few was the most difficult lesson every Starfleet captain learned. It was so ingrained as to be reflexive in nature. Eden was about to lead over a hundred to rescue a handful, and it wasn’t supposed to matter that Demeter’s forty-seven crewmen and officers were the least prepared of any in the fleet to face sustained battle with a hostile alien force.

  But it does matter.

  She had just received intelligence that should have given her pause about the entire operation, as if she needed more than Quirinal’s shredded hull to remind her of the dangers inherent in their mission. Demeter was a crew of scientists, led by a young commander and an eccentric captain who would no doubt struggle valiantly to survive, but simply did not have the resources to overcome a force as powerful and single-minded as the Children of the Storm.

  Am I wasting time trying to find the origins of these creatures in order to prevent Demeter’s destruction, or will my actions insure it?

  If she thought Voyager stood a chance against the Children now, Eden would have set course for Demeter at once, but somethi
ng in her gut told her that they were still missing a vital piece of this puzzle. Perhaps the true history of the Children of the Storm was unknowable. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Most troubling of all was the thought that the researcher in her needed completion when the reality of space exploration was that there were mysteries out there that were never going to be solved.

  As these dispiriting thoughts raced through her mind, Eden realized she had never felt so alone in her entire life. For all that she had loved and hated Willem, and would argue a point with him until it had disintegrated into dust, there had been something comforting in the knowledge that in the end, the hard choices were his to make. Had she not accepted this command, Starfleet might have recalled the entire fleet and Eden might have lost the chance forever to discover the truth about her own elusive past. Was that chance really all that had brought her to this moment, and more important, was it worth it?

  Stop it, a voice chided her.

  With a twinge of regret, she recognized it as Willem’s. Though he had lied to her with every breath for years, he had valiantly imitated a Starfleet admiral and pretended to uphold the Federation’s values. He had privately believed that those values would damn the Federation to destruction.

  But his voice was right to halt her racing thoughts. Fear, hope, regret, doubt—they meant nothing. Her motives in choosing to join and then lead the fleet meant less than nothing. All that mattered was her determination to do right by her people, and the greater good here was learning what she must to safely bring as many of her people home as possible. It might be easier, and more satisfying in a way, to throw all of their weapons against a foe that had shown them nothing but hostility up to this point, but it would not further the cause to which she had dedicated her life when she had joined Starfleet.

  Peace is born of mutual understanding.

  If there was one thing the Federation could not afford, it was the luxury of solutions made easy by the sheer force they could bring to most difficult situations. War had its place, but it had to be the last resort.

  Ti’Ana had learned in one brief encounter to hate the Children of the Storm. Eden could not allow her heart to succumb to that most powerful of emotions. She must seek out the dim and troubled path that might lead to understanding.

  And if it cost Eden the lives of Demeter’s crew, so be it. She would never forgive herself, but she would accept responsibility for her choices, and take comfort from the certainty that she was at the forefront of a new age. The Children of the Storm had called them “destroyers of worlds,” and had demonstrated on a vast scale that they knew how to conquer those who came to destroy.

  Eden knew now that what she wanted most of all was to prove them wrong.

  No matter what the cost.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  NINE DAYS EARLIER

  U.S.S. DEMETER

  Fife had never been so anxious to see Liam O’Donnell’s face. He and Url had worked through a full four duty shifts, running dozens of simulations born of Url’s idea, and Fife was chomping at the bit to put their plan into action.

  The captain’s eyes were heavy and surrounded by dark circles as he took his place at the head of the briefing room table. Fife and Url were seated on either side of him, and when he settled himself and turned toward Fife, the commander took the initiative and began.

  “Lieutenant Url and I have come up with a new plan, based largely on your analysis of the Children of the Storm,” Fife said, hoping O’Donnell might warm to the notion if he felt his work had been its foundation.

  O’Donnell’s face remained inscrutable as he glanced at Url.

  Clearing his throat, Url explained.

  “There are currently four hundred and sixty-three alien vessels in this system. The inhabitants of perhaps a hundred more form the energy field surrounding Demeter.”

  O’Donnell nodded faintly. Fife refused to believe he was genuinely as disinterested as he appeared.

  “You have already discovered that each sphere contains hundreds of life-forms that resonate with a handful of distinct frequencies. If, as you suspect, each frequency determines that individual’s function among the group, then at best, only a fraction of each sphere’s inhabitants would resonate at the frequency required to destroy our ship.”

  When O’Donnell remained impassive, Fife picked up where Url had left off.

  “We believe that the aliens currently holding Demeter are not capable of destroying it,” he said.

  “What makes you think that?” O’Donnell finally seemed interested enough to ask.

  “Two things,” Fife replied. “The first is that they do not resonate with the same frequency as those that surrounded Planck just prior to its destruction. The second is actually based upon the deaths of Bell and Lamoth.”

  O’Donnell tensed as if struck by the unpleasant memory, but said nothing.

  “Two spheres merged with the field just before their deaths. We believe those spheres must have contained the life-forms that killed our crewmen.”

  “But perhaps the best evidence that they can’t destroy us, Captain,” Url interrupted, “is that they haven’t.”

  “Yet,” O’Donnell said.

  “Of course,” Url replied.

  “But that doesn’t mean the hypothesis is totally without merit,” O’Donnell allowed.

  Encouraged, Fife continued, “If we’re right, it might take as many as a hundred of the remaining spheres to engulf and destroy Demeter. But we’ve already learned, thanks to our attempt to launch the drone, that they can be distracted.”

  “Surely you’re not going to suggest—” O’Donnell began.

  “That we try to escape again?” Fife finished for him. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what exactly are you proposing?”

  “We could rig another three drones with enough ordnance to take out at least a hundred of the spheres each currently holding position around the ship. At the same time, we could program our phasers for wide dispersal and with some luck take out fifty or sixty more before they could converge on our position and create their destructive field.”

  O’Donnell’s mouth fell open.

  “You want to destroy hundreds of thousands of them in a matter of minutes?” he asked, aghast.

  “If we succeed in destroying half that many, it may be enough to distract them long enough to escape,” Fife said.

  “Or it might eliminate the possibility that enough of them still exist to destroy us, Captain,” Url added.

  O’Donnell took a deep breath and rose from the table.

  “Captain?” Fife asked.

  “No,” he said simply.

  “May I ask why not?” Fife said.

  “I can’t believe you have to,” O’Donnell replied sharply.

  “Captain—” Url began.

  “End of discussion, gentlemen,” O’Donnell said clearly. “You are contemplating death on a scale I am unprepared to even consider.”

  “Death of our enemies, Captain,” Fife reminded him.

  “Death of countless sentient life-forms,” O’Donnell said, raising his voice to silence further debate. “I didn’t come out here to kill. We’re not murderers. We were sent here to make peaceful contact with alien races, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  “What’s peaceful about being held against our will?” Fife asked.

  “Nothing, but that’s not our doing, it’s theirs,” O’Donnell replied. “For our part, we’re going to behave like Starfleet officers, damn it all.”

  “How?” Url asked incredulously.

  “We’re going to help them,” O’Donnell replied before storming out of the room, leaving both Url and Fife momentarily speechless.

  A few moments after O’Donnell had stormed out, Url rose to return to his station. Though he agreed that the attack they had planned might come with an unusually high casualty rate, he had been unprepared for the captain’s flat rejection of the idea. As to “helping” them, he was also at a loss to imagine in
what way they could possibly assist these creatures, beyond continuing to plant endless specimens for their amusement. If O’Donnell was truly unwilling to consider any alternative … But Url hesitated to even allow his thoughts to go further in that direction.

  “Lieutenant, please keep your seat,” Fife instructed.

  Curious, Url did as ordered.

  Fife appeared to consider his next words extremely carefully. Finally he said, “I never intended to discuss what I’m about to share with you with any member of this crew. I do so now only because I believe all of our lives may depend upon it.”

  “I’m listening, Commander.”

  “When I was assigned to my post, Admiral Batiste called me in for a private meeting. He essentially told me that Commander O’Donnell was only given command of Demeter because of his seniority and scientific expertise. At the time, given Demeter’s purpose within the fleet and the likelihood that we would be kept far from any field of battle, the admiral did not believe this assignment posed any risk. But he told me that I was to provide tactical support to O’Donnell should the need arise, and he assured me that the commander would defer to my judgment in any such matters.”

  Fife paused to search Url’s face for a response before continuing. “I assumed he and the commander had a similar discussion and that the understanding of our respective roles would not become a point of contention. I believe that Commander O’Donnell has just indicated, however, that he does not intend to honor the admiral’s orders.”

  Url couldn’t help but note Fife’s continued use of O’Donnell’s actual rank rather than the title captain, indicating his function aboard Demeter, which had gone essentially unquestioned by the crew up to this point.

  “Are you attempting to justify your desire to assume command of this vessel?” Url asked evenly.

  “If the commander is unwilling to act in the best interests of this crew, I don’t believe I have any choice,” Fife replied.

  Url shook his head. “I’d feel a lot better about this if you hadn’t already questioned his fitness to command over a week ago. Last time you tried to convince me he was mentally unbalanced.”