Star Trek: Voyager: Children of the Storm

by Kirsten Beyer

  Eden sat back in her chair and glanced at Chakotay. After a moment she said, “Lasren told us to release the sphere. He said the children understood him and that they would help us.”

  “How could he know that without direct communication?” Kim asked.

  “How, indeed?” Cambridge added.

  “I don’t know,” Eden confessed. “But he was adamant.”

  “Why don’t we return to the system they inhabit and release them there?” Paris asked. “If they truly want to help us, they need to tell their friends to let our ship go.”

  “I agree,” Chakotay said. “We came here hoping that this ‘mother’ might have some influence over her Children. Clearly, she does not.”

  “Then why did our arrival agitate them?” Gwyn asked.

  All eyes turned to her and her face reddened visibly.

  “Go ahead, Ensign,” Eden said.

  “I mean, they don’t know her, but they obviously recognized something in her.”

  “It could have been a genetic memory,” Cambridge suggested.

  “What’s that?” Gwyn asked.

  “Essentially it is the notion that buried within our DNA is all of the knowledge ever accumulated by anything that contributed to its creation. Sentient life-forms rarely access or use it, though it is thought by some to be the basis for the psychological premise of a collective unconscious.” After a moment of thought he went on, “Given the origins of these creatures, their beginnings as simple thoughts, it might be more likely to exist here. They may not understand their connection to their ‘mother’ but are nonetheless vulnerable to it.”

  “Does that help us?” Tom asked.

  “Lasren is the only one of us who even has a sense of these creatures, let alone their intentions,” Gwyn argued. “He’s spent days working with them. If he says they can help us, we should let them.”

  “It’s not quite that simple,” Chakotay said.

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence, all heads turned back to Eden.

  “Or maybe it is,” Eden finally said.

  “Captain?” Chakotay asked sternly.

  “Despite our success in locating the organism we were seeking, as it stands now, we are no closer to defending ourselves against an assault from the Children of the Storm like the one that destroyed Planck,” Eden said evenly. “Ensign Lasren’s work has confirmed their passion for Demeter’s cargo, and I believe that they will fight with every weapon available to stop any attempt we make to rescue the ship. While we could certainly formulate an all-out assault that might kill enough of them to allow us to secure Demeter and run for our lives, I am willing to countenance such destruction only as a last resort.”

  “I believe we have reached the end of our options,” Chakotay said.

  “We have to prove to the Children that we are not what they believe us to be. That is the only way to begin a dialogue that might ultimately result in the release of our people. Ensign Lasren believes we can trust those with whom he has made tentative contact. While I agree that it is impossible to know whether or not that belief came from Lasren or the Children, it is the only option before us that does not include a body count. If it fails, as it might, we still have the more extreme tactical option. But if it succeeds, it will greatly increase our odds of a rescue.”

  “Even if it does succeed, in some measure,” Seven said, “how will we know?”

  “Exactly,” Tom added. “Are we going to wait for Lasren to recover before we try this? Without him, who will the Children use to reach us?”

  “Seven and I should take a nap,” Gwyn suggested, and all eyes again turned to her, this time filled with confusion.

  “If we’re boring you, Ensign—” Kim began.

  “No, she’s right,” Patel cut him off. “The Children may need a telepath for direct communication, but they were able to take over the bodies of many of Quirinal’s crew by invading them as they slept. Doctor Sal believes that in a sleep state anyone’s mind is vulnerable to them. Both Seven and Gwyn have a greater capacity to be of use to them. We would simply have to modulate the psionic field protecting the ship so that it did not affect the area where they were resting.”

  “That’s what I meant,” Gwyn added sheepishly.

  “It’s an excellent idea, Ensign,” Eden confirmed.

  “But if it fails?” Chakotay asked.

  “Then we will accept it and move on,” Eden replied simply. “I believe that we must align our actions with our highest principles. No matter the outcome, we will not have failed if we act from our best intentions.”

  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Captain,” Chakotay said with equal certainty.

  “So is the road to peace,” Cambridge observed.

  After a moment of silence, Eden said, “We’re going to release the sphere and see what happens. My only question now is, how do we do that?”

  It took Lieutenant Conlon almost an hour to figure out a way to safely get the sphere from the cargo bay to the shuttlebay, from which it could safely be released. A path was cleared between the two points, and the psionic field was gradually weakened along the path to draw the sphere toward its freedom. The suppression beam that kept the sphere from exploding was modified so that the sphere would not be free of it until it had cleared Voyager.

  Eden and Chakotay observed the sphere’s progress through the ship from the bridge in tense silence. Eden was convinced that this was the most dangerous part of her plan, and Chakotay agreed. His biggest fear was that once free, the sphere would simply depart the area at maximum speed, leaving them with nothing to exchange for Demeter.

  Patel had been stationed in astrometrics to observe the “mother’s” response to the emergence of the sphere. Seven and Gwyn had reported to sickbay, where Doctor Sharak had stationed them in the private surgical suite and provided each of them with a mild sleep aid. Conlon would drop the psionic field around that suite once the sphere was free and clear.

  It took the sphere six minutes to reach the shuttlebay, but as soon as it was in range of the open door, it increased its speed and flew into open space. Its initial trajectory took it soaring high above the ship, increasing its distance from its “mother.”

  “Lieutenant Kim, how long will we be able to keep them in sensor range?” Eden asked.

  “Unless they alter course and speed, we will need to lay in a pursuit course in two minutes.”

  “Helm, plot course,” Eden ordered Ensign Gleez, Gwyn’s gamma-shift replacement.

  The clock had almost run out when the sphere abruptly reversed course and dived toward “mother.”

  “That’s more like it,” Eden said softly.

  The sphere paused several thousand meters from the edge of “mother’s” atmosphere and held position. It then moved quickly to another location and again remained stationary for a few minutes.

  “What’s it doing?” Chakotay asked.

  “I have no idea,” Eden replied.

  A few moments later it began to descend closer to the atmosphere.

  “Waters, continue to track the sphere as best you can,” Eden ordered as it disappeared from sight.

  “Its configuration is so different from the rest of the organism that there is little danger we’ll lose it in there,” Waters confirmed.

  “Be on the lookout for any other incoming signals,” Chakotay warned.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Five minutes passed in silence. Chakotay did his best during that time to quiet his growing doubts and temper his frustration with Eden. For all that she might have doomed his ship and Demeter to oblivion, he could not deny after hearing her reasons that she was doing what she absolutely believed was best.

  “Patel to the bridge.”

  “Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Chakotay replied.

  “I’ve been monitoring the sphere within the atmosphere, and I believe it is attempting to collect several of the infant life-forms. Two have already successfully been integrated into it.”

 
; Chakotay turned a puzzled face to Eden as he asked of Patel, “Do you have any idea why they would do that?”

  “The resonance frequencies of the individuals they have collected are unlike any of the others present in the sphere. Perhaps they may be used to make direct contact with us.”

  “Keep us advised, Devi,” Chakotay ordered.

  “Acknowledged.”

  To Eden he said, “How long are you prepared to wait?”

  “Longer than five minutes,” she replied confidently. “Less than five days,” she added in a tone that was considerably lighter.

  It took almost half an hour for the sphere to once again emerge from the atmosphere. It flew swiftly toward Voyager and held position just off the ship’s port bow.

  Less than two minutes after that, Sharak’s voice called out over the comm. “Sickbay to Captain Eden. Please report here at once.”

  Eden rose and said briskly, “Mister Paris, the bridge is yours. Captain Chakotay, with me, please.”

  With a new sense of optimism, Chakotay followed her out, though he kept his own counsel as they walked silently to sickbay.

  There, they found Ensign Gwyn seated on her biobed. Seven remained asleep beside her. Sharak said softly, “She awoke of her own accord and asked to speak to our commander.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Eden replied, moving to stand as close to the suite as possible without crossing the barrier of the psionic field still protecting her and the rest of the ship.

  “You command this vessel?” Gwyn asked, once Eden had settled herself. It was eminently clear from her voice and demeanor that whoever was speaking was not, in fact, the ensign.

  “I command the fleet of vessels assigned to this region of space,” Eden replied. “I am Captain Afsarah Eden. Captain Chakotay,” she added, gesturing to him, “commands this vessel, the Federation Starship Voyager.”

  “Where is the one who flew with us?” the alien asked.

  “Ensign Lasren was weakened by his contact with you and will require rest before he can work with you again, though I am certain he would like the opportunity to speak directly with you.”

  “You are not destroyers of worlds,” the alien said. “You are unlike any we have encountered before. You brought us to a home we never knew existed and to many lost Children. We are grateful.”

  “It pleases me to hear you say so,” Eden replied. “We came in peace, seeking only to better understand you. We believe, however, that you have taken one of our ships captive and we would ask that you help us retrieve it.”

  “We took the life,” the alien replied dispassionately. “We cannot part with it now.”

  “I understand your passion for the life,” Eden replied, “but it is my hope that we might come to a new agreement that would include your ability to continue to enjoy the life, but would also free our people.”

  “Your people may not have survived,” the alien warned.

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  “No. We were separated from the others. But they would not have allowed anyone to endanger the life.”

  “Assuming they are still alive, will you help us?” Eden asked.

  After a long pause, the alien replied, “We will.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  THIRTEEN HOURS EARLIER

  U.S.S. DEMETER

  Eight days had passed with Demeter’s status essentially unchanged, excepting the fact that they were now eight planting cycles, or less than two days, from exhausting their supply of stored seeds. Fife had begun to advise O’Donnell on a regular basis of their diminishing stocks, but the captain had taken the news without a hint of dismay. His continued absence from the bridge and seeming lack of interest in his crew’s welfare convinced Fife that either he was working on his supposed plan to “help” the Children, or he was hiding.

  The next forty-eight hours would prove critical in more ways than one. O’Donnell’s increasing distance from his people had given Fife an easy opening to discuss his fears and plans with Falto and Vincent. Like Url, they had hesitantly agreed to follow his commands should O’Donnell prove unwilling or unable to lead them to safety. Once the supply of seed had run out, the Children would undoubtedly respond, likely with violence. At that point, Fife believed they would have no option other than putting his plan into effect. He had personally prepared the drones for launch and worked with Url to devise the most destructive firing patterns possible and had programmed the phasers to run continuously in the event that the officer manning tactical was compromised in any way.

  It was also possible that at any moment, one or more of the other fleet vessels might arrive to aid them. They were now five days past their scheduled rendezvous with the rest of the fleet. Fife assumed that they would be unable to communicate with any of their fellow ships, but he intended by their actions to communicate their desire to escape captivity at any cost, as well as the fact that the Children were still considered hostile enemies.

  It came as something of a surprise, then, when bright and early that morning, O’Donnell had broken his silence and ordered a meeting of the senior staff, including their chief engineer, Lieutenant Elkins, at 0800 hours.

  Everyone assembled as ordered. Fife would have appreciated it if Url, Falto, and Vincent had attempted to look a little less uncomfortable. They had agreed to aid him, but their uneasiness was palpable, especially once O’Donnell entered and hastily took his seat. Fife knew that they were all capable officers, but they needed a true leader and O’Donnell simply wasn’t up to that task. Soon enough, he would no longer be an issue, Fife decided, settling in and greeting the captain with professional cordiality.

  For his part, Elkins looked a little lost. He was a plump fellow in his late fifties who had spent the last three weeks assisting with the regular planting cycles and providing maintenance for the overused hydroponic and aeroponic systems. As there was nothing else in his engine room that needed work, Fife assumed he had stepped in with the labs to alleviate boredom. Sometime in the next few hours, Fife would have to brief him on their plan to attempt escape so that he could prepare the slipstream drive.

  As O’Donnell spent a moment studying the padd he had brought with him, Fife chose to open the meeting by saying, “Brill has confirmed this morning that we have enough supplies for only eight more planting cycles.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” O’Donnell said, brushing aside his concerns. Fife noted the glance of alarm that shot between Url and Falto at this. “All of you, except for Lieutenant Elkins, were here several days ago when I told you that I intended to find a way to help the Children.” O’Donnell sighed, and a curious light came into his eyes. “I’m pretty sure we can now do that.”

  Url straightened in his chair, looking positively relieved. “How, Captain?” he asked.

  “Until now, the Children have had to rely on external sources of amusement; namely, us. Their passion for all things botanical is a given. Until now, however, no species has existed that could live in their home, or, more specifically, the atmosphere contained by their energy shells.”

  “Until now?” Fife asked dubiously. Admittedly he knew next to nothing about botany, but the idea that anything other than the Children themselves could live in the toxic atmosphere they inhabited seemed positively ludicrous.

  “Over twenty years ago I began working on a unique hybrid flower I intended to call Crateva religiosa-Kressari. The process was incredibly difficult, given the limited amount of genetic material between the Terran and Kressari parent plants that was in any way compatible. I have been assured by many in my field that such a hybrid was impossible. Ironically, our discovery of the Children has finally enabled me to complete this work. The atmosphere contained within the shells is extremely toxic to almost all conceivable life-forms, but it has proven to be the catalyst for a unique mutation that enables Crateva religiosa-Kressari to thrive.”

  “Congratulations, Captain,” Url said sincerely.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” O’Donnell replied wa
rmly. “So we now have an opportunity to provide the Children with a botanical life-form that can coexist with them. There’s only one problem.”

  “Only one?” Fife said—a little too sarcastically, as no one else at the table appeared to be amused in the least.

  “Yes,” O’Donnell replied without taking offense. “We need a delivery system, and for that, I’m looking to you, Lieutenant Elkins.”

  “Oh, good,” Elkins said simply. “I was worried you were going to ask for a miracle. Instead you want something that’s just this side of impossible.”

  “What’s the difficulty?” Vincent asked.

  “You want to insert this thing inside one of the energy shells, yes?” Elkins asked more seriously.

  O’Donnell nodded.

  “Then the difficulty is in creating an instrument that can puncture the energy shell and deliver the hybrid cells into it, without destroying the shell. Despite the incredible pressure required to maintain the atmosphere within those shells, they can’t even stand up to low-level phaser fire, so a photonic-based tool probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Agreed,” O’Donnell said, nodding.

  “Never mind the delivery system,” Url said, his earlier enthusiasm dimming a bit, “how are we going to get one of the spheres inside Demeter to perform the insertion?”

  “We’re not,” O’Donnell replied.

  Url looked lost.

  “I’m going out there to deliver the specimen personally. I just need a tool that will allow me to get close enough to a single sphere without killing myself, or damaging the sphere, to inject the genetic material. Once inside, it should begin to grow immediately.”

  “A subtle knife,” Elkins said thoughtfully.

  O’Donnell smiled. “Exactly.”

  “What’s that?” Url asked.

  “A myth,” O’Donnell replied, “but if we had one, it would sure come in handy right now.”